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Gi^ 


Heavens!   only  look!      What  have  u^e  here. 

In  all  my  days  ne'er  saw   I  such  a  stght. 

Jewels'  which  any  noble  dame  might  wear 

—p.   114 


CONTENTS 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  FAUST 

PACK 

Dedication 7 

iprologue  for  the  theatre 9 

Prologue  in  Heaven i6 

Part  I 21 

THE  TRAGICAL  HISTORY  OF  DOCTOR  FAUSTUS  .  199 

EGMONT 247 

HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA 

Calliope 335 

Terpsichore •    .    •  345 

Thalia       358 

Euterpe 3^4 

Polyhymnia 376 

Clio 3^7 

Erato •... 402 

Melpomene 412 

Urania •••••••••.417 


i—voL.  XIX  1  HC 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

JoHANN  Wolfgang  von  Goethe,  the  greatest  of  German  men 
of  letters,  was  horn  at  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  August  28,  1749. 
His  father  was  a  man  of  means  and  position,  and  he  personally 
supervised  the  early  education  of  his  son.  The  young  Goethe 
studied  at  the  universities  of  Leipsic  and  Strasburg,  and  in 
1772  entered  upon  the  practise  of  law  at  Wetzlar.  At  the  in- 
vitation  of  Karl  August,  Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar,  he  went  in  1775 
to  live  in  Weimar,  where  he  held  a  succession  of  political  offices, 
becoming  the  Duke's  chief  adviser.  From  1786  to  1788  he  trav- 
eled in  Italy,  and  from  17QI  to  1817  directed  the  ducal  theater 
at  Weimar.  He  took  part  in  the  wars  against  France,  1792-3, 
and  in  the  following  year  began  his  friendship  with  Schiller, 
which  lasted  till  the  latter's  death  in  1805.  In  1806  he  married 
Christiane  Vulpius.  From  about  1794  he  devoted  himself  chiefly 
to  literature,  and  after  a  life  of  extraordinary  productiveness 
died  at  Weimar,  March  22,  1832.  The  most  important  of 
Goethe's  works  produced  before  he  went  to  Weimar  were  his 
tragedy  "Gots  von  Berlichingen"  (1773),  which  first  brought 
him  fame,  and  "The  Sorrows  of  Young  Werther,"  a  novel  which 
obtained  enormous  popularity  during  the  so-called  "Sturm  und 
Drang"  period.  During  the  years  at  Weimar  before  he  knew 
Schiller  he  began  "Wilhehn  Meister,"  wrote  the  dramas,  "Iphi- 
genie,"  "Egmont,"  and  "Torquato  Tasso,"  and  his  "Reinecke 
Fuchs."  To  the  period  of  his  friendship  with  Schiller  belong  the 
continuation  of  "Wilhehn  Meister,"  the  beautiful  idyl  of  "Her- 
mann and  Dorothea,"  and  the  "Roman  Elegies."  In  the  last 
period,  between  Schiller's  death  in  1805  and  his  own,  appeared 
"Faust,"  "Elective  Affinities,"  his  autobiographical  "Dichtung 
und  Wahrheit"  ("Poetry  and  Truth"),  his  "Italian  Journey," 
much  scientific  work,  and  a  series  of  treatises  on  German  Art. 

Though  the  foregoing  enumeration  contains  but  a  selection 
from  the  titles  of  Goethe's  best  known  writings,  it  suffices  to 
show  the  extraordinary  fertility  and  versatility  of  his  genius. 
Rarely  has  a  man  of  letters  had  so  full  and  varied  a  life,  or 
been  capable  of  so  many-sided  a  development.  His  political  and 
scientific  activities,  though  dwarfed  in  the  eyes  of  our  generation 

3 


4  INTRODUCTION 

hy  his  artistic  production,  yet  showed  the  adaptability  of  his 
talent  in  the  most  diverse  directions,  and  helped  to  give  him 
that  balance  of  temper  and  breadth  of  vision  in  zvhich  he  has  been 
surpassed  by  no  genius  of  the  ancient  or  modern  zvorld. 

The  greatest  and  most  representative  expression  of  Goethe's 
pozvers  is  without  doubt  to  be  found  in  his  drama  of  "Faust"; 
but  before  dealing  with  Goethe's  masterpiece,  it  is  worth  while 
to  say  something  of  the  history  of  the  story  on  zvhich  it  is 
founded — the  7nost  famous  instance  of  the  old  and  widespread 
legend  of  the  man  zvho  sold  his  soul  to  the  devil.  The  his- 
torical Dr.  Faust  seems  to  have  been  a  self-called  philosopher 
zvho  traveled  about  Germany  in  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  making  money  by  the  practise  of  magic,  fortune-telling, 
and  pretended  cures.  He  died  mysteriously  about  1540,  and 
a  legend  soon  sprang  up  that  the  devil,  by  whose  aid  he  wrought 
his  wonders,  had  finally  carried  him  off.  In  1587  a  life  of  him 
appeared,  in  which  are  attributed  to  him  many  marvelous  ex- 
ploits and  in  which  he  is  held  up  as  an  azvful  warning  against 
the  excessive  desire  for  secular  learning  and  admiration  for 
antique  beauty  which  characterized  the  humanist  movement  of 
the  time.  In  this  aspect  the  Faust  legend  is  an  expression  of 
early  popular  Protestantism,  and  of  its  antagonism  to  the 
scientific  and  classical  tendencies  of  the  Renaissance. 

While  a  succession  of  Faust  books  were  appearing  in  Germany, 
the  original  life  zvas  translated  into  English  and  dramatised 
by  Marlowe.  English  players  brought  Marlozve's  work  back  to 
Germany,  where  it  was  copied  by  German  actors,  degenerated 
into  spectacular  farce,  and  finally  into  a  puppet  show.  Through 
this  puppet  shozv  Goethe  made  acquaintance  zvith  the  legend. 

By  the  time  that  Goethe  was  twenty,  the  Faust  legend  had 
fascinated  his  imagination;  for  three  years  before  he  zvent  to 
Weimar  he  had  been  working  on  scattered  scenes  and  bits  of 
dialogue;  and  though  he  suspended  actual  composition  on  it 
during  three  distinct  periods,  it  was  always  to  resume,  and 
he  closed  his  labors  upon  it  only  with  his  life.  Thus  the  period 
of  time  betzveen  his  first  experiments  and  the  final  touches  is 
more  than  sixty  years.  During  this  period  the  plans  for  the 
structure  and  the  signification  of  the  work  inevitably  underwent 
profound  modifications,  and  these  have  naturally  affected  the 
■unity  of  the  result;   but,   on   the   other  hand,  this  long  com- 


INTRODUCTION  S 

panionship  and  persistent  recurrence  to  the  task  from  youth  to 
old  age  have  made  it  in  a  unique  way  the  record  of  Goethe's 
personality  in  all  its  richness  and  diversity. 

The  drama  was  given  to  the  public  first  as  a  fragment  in 
1790;  then  the  completed  First  Part  appeared  in  1808;  and 
finally  the  Second  Part  was  published  in  1S33,  the  year  after 
the  author's  death.  Writing  in  "Dichtung  und  Wahrheit"  of  the 
period  about  1770,  when  he  was  in  Strasburg  with  Herder, 
Goethe  says,  "The  significant  puppet-play  legend  .  .  .  echoed 
and  buzzed  in  many  tones  within  me.  I  too  had  drifted  about  in 
all  knowledge,  and  early  enough  had  been  brought  to  feel  the 
vanity  of  it.  I  too  had  made  all  sorts  of  experiments  in  life, 
and  had  always  come  back  more  unsatisfied  and  more  tormented. 
I  zvas  now  carrying  these  things,  like  many  others,  about  with 
me  and  delighting  myself  with  them  in  lonely  hours,  but  without 
ivriting  anything  down."  Without  going  into  the  details  of  the 
experience  which  underlies  these  words,  we  can  see  the  begin- 
ning of  that  sympathy  zvith  the  hero  of  the  old  story  that  was 
the  basis  of  its  fascination  and  that  accounted  for  Goethe's 
departure  from  the  traditional  catastrophe  of  Faust's  damnation. 

Of  the  elements  in  the  finished  Faust  that  are  derived  from 
the  legend  a  rough  idea  may  be  obtained  from  the  "Doctor 
Faustus"  of  Marlowe,  printed  in  the  present  volume.  As  early 
as  1674  a  life  of  Faust  had  contained  the  incident  of  the  philoso- 
pher's falling  in  love  with  a  servant-girl ;  but  the  developed 
story  of  Gretchen  is  Goethe's  own.  The  other  elements  added 
to  the  plot  can  be  noted  by  a  comparison  with  Marlowe. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  Goethe's  "Faust"  does  not  derive 
its  greatness  from  its  conformity  to  the  traditional  standards 
of  what  a  tragedy  should  be.  He  himself  was  accustomed  to 
refer  to  it  cynically  as  a  monstrosity,  and  yet  he  put  himself 
into  it  as  intensely  as  Dante  put  himself  into  "The  Divine 
Comedy,"  A  partial  explanation  of  this  apparent  contradiction 
in  the  author's  attitude  is  to  be  found  in  what  has  been  said 
of  its  manner  of  composition.  Goethe  began  it  in  his  romantic 
youth,  and  availed  himself  recklessly  of  the  supernatural  ele- 
ments in  the  legend,  with  the  disregard  of  reason  and  plausibility 
characteristic  of  the  romantic  mood.  When  he  returned  to  it 
in  the  beginning  of  the  new  century  his  artistic  standards  had 
changed,  and  the  supernaturalism  could  now  be  tolerated  only 


6  INTRODUCTION 

by  being  made  symbolic.  Thus  he  makes  the  career  of  Faust 
as  a  whole  emblematic  of  the  triumph  of  the  persistent  striving 
for  the  ideal  over  the  temptation  to  find  complete  satisfaction 
in  the  sense,  and  prepares  the  reader  for  this  interpretation  by 
prefixing  the  "Prologue  in  Heaven."  The  elaboration  of  this 
symbolic  element  is  responsible  for  such  scenes  as  the  Walpurgis- 
Night  and  the  Intermezzo,  scenes  full  of  power  and  infinitely 
suggestive,  but  destructive  of  the  unity  of  the  play  as  a  tragedy 
of  human  life.  Yet  there  remains  in  this  First  Part  even  in  its 
final  form  much  that  is  realistic  in  the  best  sense,  the  carousal 
in  Auerbach's  cellar,  the  portrait  of  Martha,  the  Easter-morning 
walk,  the  character  and  fate  of  Margaret.  It  is  such  elements 
as  these  that  have  appealed  to  the  larger  reading  public  and 
that  have  naturally  been  emphasized  by  performance  on  the 
stage,  and  by  virtue  of  these  alone  "Faust"  may  rank  as  a  great 
drama;  but  it  is  the  result  of  Goethe's  broodings  on  the  mystery 
of  human  life,  shadowed  forth  in  the  symbolic  parts  and  elabo- 
rated with  still  greater  complexity  and  still  more  far-reaching 
suggestiveness — and,  it  must  be  added,  with  deepening  obscurity 
— in  the  Second  Part,  that  have  given  the  work  its  place  with 
"Job','  with  the  "Prometheus  Bound,"  with  "The  Divine  Com- 
edy," and  with  "Hamlet." 


DEDICATION 

Ye  wavering  shapes,  again  ye  do  enfold  me. 
As  erst  upon  my  troubled  sight  ye   stole; 
Shall  I  this  time  attempt  to  clasp,  to  hold  ye? 
Still  for  the  fond   illusion  yearns  my  soul? 
Ye  press  around !    Come  then,  your  captive  hold  me. 
As   upward   from   the  vapoury  mist   ye   roll ; 
Within   my  breast  youth's  throbbing  pulse  is  bounding, 
Fann'd  by  the  magic  breath  your  march   surrounding. 

Shades    fondly   loved    appear,   your    train    attending, 

And  visions   fair  of  many  a  blissful   day; 

First-love  and   friendship   their  fond  accents  blending. 

Like    to    some    ancient,    half-expiring    lay; 

Sorrow  revives,  her  wail  of  anguish  sending 

Back    o'er    life's    devious   labyrinthine    way, 

And  names  the  dear  ones,  they  whom  Fate  bereaving 

Of  life's  fair  hours,  left  me  behind  them  grieving. 

They   hear   me  not   my  later   cadence   singing, 

The  souls  to  whom  my  earlier  lays  I  sang; 

Dispersed   the  throng,   their   severed   flight   now   winging; 

Mute  are  the  voices  that  responsive  rang. 

For  stranger  crowds  the  Orphean  lyre  now  stringing. 

E'en  their  applause   is    to  my  heart   a  pang; 

Of  old  who  listened  to  my  song,  glad  hearted, 

If  yet  they  live,  now  wander  widely  parted. 

A  yearning   long   unfelt,   each    impulse   swaying, 
To  yon  calm  spirit-realm   uplifts   my   soul; 
7 


DEDICATION 

In  faltering  cadence,  as  when  Zephyr  playing. 
Fans  the  -lEolian  harp,  my  numbers  roll; 
Tear  follows  tear,  my  steadfast  heart  obeying 
The  tender  impulse,  loses  its  control; 
What  I  possess  as  from  afar  I  see; 
Those  I  have  lost  become  realities  to  me. 


PROLOGUE  FOR  THE  THEATRE 

Manager.    Dramatic  Poet.    Merryman. 

MANAGER 

Ye  twain,  in  trouble  and  distress 

True  friends  whom  I  so  oft  have  found, 

Say,  for  our  scheme  on  German  ground. 

What  prospect   have   we  of   success? 

Fain  would  I  please  the  public,  win  their  thanks; 

They  live  and  let  live,  hence  it  is  but  meet 

The   posts   are   now    erected,   and   the   planks, 

And   all  look  forward  to  a   festal   treat. 

Their   places   taken,  they,  with   eyebrows   rais'd. 

Sit  patiently,  and   fain  would  be   amaz'd. 

I  know  the  art  to  hit  the  public  taste, 

Yet  ne'er   of   failure    felt   so   keen   a  dread; 

True,  they  are  not  accustomed  to  the  best, 

But  then  appalling  the  amount  they've  read. 

How   make   our  entertainment   striking,  new, 

And  yet  significant  and  pleasing  too? 

For  to  be  plain,  I  love  to  see  the  throng. 

As  to  our  booth  the  living  tide  progresses; 

As  wave  on  wave  successive  rolls   along. 

And  through   heaven's   narrow   portal   forceful   presses; 

Still  in  broad  daylight,  ere  the  clock  strikes  four. 

With  blows  their  way  towards  the  box  they  take; 

And,  as   for  bread   in  famine,   at  the  baker's  door, 

For  tickets  are  content  their  necks  to  break. 

Such   various   minds   the  bard   alone  can   sway, 

My  friend,  oh  work   this  miracle  to-day! 

POET 

Oh  of  the  motley  throng  speak  not  before  me, 
At  whose  aspect  the  Spirit  wings  its  flight! 
9 


10  PROLOGUE 

Conceal  the  surging  concourse,   I  implore  thee, 
Whose  vortex   draws  us   with  resistless  might. 
No,  to  some  peaceful  heavenly  nook  restore  me, 
Where  only  for  the  bard  blooms  pure  delight. 
Where  love  and  friendship  yield  their  choicest  blessing. 
Our  heart's  true  bliss,  with  god-like  hand   caressing. 

What  in  the  spirit's   depths  was  there  created, 
What  shyly  there  the  lip  shaped  forth  in  sound; 
A  failure  now,  with   words   now  fitly  mated. 
In  the  wild  tumult  of  the  hour  is  drown'd; 
Full  oft  the  poet's  thought  for  years  hath  waited 
Until  at  length  with  perfect   form   'tis   crowned; 
What  dazzles,  for  the  moment  born,  must  perish; 
What  genuine   is  posterity  will   cherish. 

MEREYMAN 

This  cant  about  posterity  I  hate; 

About   posterity   were    I    to    prate. 

Who   then   the  living  would   amuse?     For   they 

Will  have  diversion,  ay,  and  'tis  their  due. 

A  sprightly  fellow's  presence  at  your   play, 

Methinks   should   also   count   for  something   too; 

Whose  genial  wit  the  audience  still  inspires, 

Knows  from  their  changeful  mood  no  angry  feeling; 

A  wider  circle  he  desires, 

To   their  heart's   depths   more  surely  thus   appealing. 

To  work,  then!     Give  a  master-piece,  my  friend; 

Bring  Fancy  with  her  choral   trains  before  us. 

Sense,   reason,   feeling,   passion,  but  attend! 

Let  folly  also  swell  the  tragic  chorus. 

MANAGER 

In   chief,   of  incident  enough   prepare ! 

A  show  they  want,  they  come  to  gape  and  stare. 

Spin    for  their    eyes    abundant   occupation, 

So  thart  the  multitude  may  wondering  gaze, 

You   by  sheer  bulk   have  won  your  reputation. 

The  man  you  are  all  love  to  praise. 


PROLOGUE  jl 

By  mass  alone  can  you  subdue  the  masses, 

Each  then  selects  in  time  what  suits  his  bent. 

Bring  much,  you  something  bring  for  various  classes. 

And  from  the  house  goes  every  one  content. 

You  give  a  piece,  abroad  in  pieces  send  it! 

'Tis  a  ragout — success  must  needs  attend  it; 

'Tis  easy  to  serve  up,  as  easy  to  invent. 

A  finish'd  whole  what  boots  it  to  present  I 

Full  soon  the  public  will  in  pieces  rend  it 

POET 

How  mean  such  handicraft  as  this  you  cannot  feel! 
How  it  revolts  the  genuine  artist's  mind ! 
The  sorry  trash  in  which  these  coxcombs  deal. 
Is  here   approved  on  principle,  I  find. 

MANAGER 

Such  a  reproof  disturbs   me  not  a  whit! 

Who   on    efficient   work    is    bent, 

Must   choose   the    fittest   instrument. 

Consider !  'tis  soft  wood  you  have  to  split ; 

Think  too  for  whom  you  write,  I  pray! 

One  comes  to  while  an  hour  away; 

One  from  the  festive  board,  a  sated  guest; 

Others,  more  dreaded  than   the  rest. 

From   journal-reading   hurry    to   the    play. 

As   to  a  masquerade,  with  absent  minds,  they  press, 

Sheer  curiosity  their  footsteps  winging; 

Ladies  display  their  persons  and  their  dress, 

Actors   impaid   their   service   bringing. 

What  dreams   beguile  you   on   your   poet's  height? 

What  puts  a  full  house  in  a  merry  mood? 

More  closely  view  your  patrons  of  the  night! 

The  half  are  cold,  the  half  are  rude. 

One,  the  play  over,  craves  a  game  of  cards; 

Another  a  wild  night  in  wanton  joy  would   spend. 

Poor  fools  the  muses'  fair  regards. 

Why  court  for  such  a  paltry  end? 

I  tell  you,  give  them  more,  still  more,  'tis  all  I  ask, 


12  PROLOGUE 

Thus  you  will  ne'er  stray  widely  from  the  goal; 
Your  audience   seek  to   mystify,   cajole; — 
To  satisfy  them — that's  a  harder  task. 
What  ails  thee?  art  enraptured  or  distressed? 


POET 

Depart!  elsewhere  another  servant  choose 
What!  shall  the  bard  his  godlike  power  abuse? 
Man's  loftiest  right,  kind  nature's  high  bequest, 
For   your  mean  purpose  basely   sport  away? 
Whence  comes  his  mastery  o'er  the  human  breast. 
Whence  o'er  the  elements  his  sway, 
But  from  the  harmony  that,  gushing  from  his  soul. 
Draws  back  into  his  heart  the  wondrous  whole? 
With  careless  hand  when  round  her  spindle,  Nature 
Winds  the  interminable  thread  of  life; 
When  'mid  the  clash   of   Being  every  creature 
Mingles  in   harsh  inextricable   strife ; 
Who  deals  their  course  unvaried  till  it  falleth, 
In   rhythmic  flow  to  music's  measur'd  tone? 
Each  solitary  note  whose  genius  calleth. 
To  swell  the  mighty  choir  in  unison? 
Who  in  the  raging  storm  sees   passion  low'ring? 
Or  flush  of  earnest  thought  in  evening's  glow? 
Who  every  blossom   in  sweet  spring-time   flowering 
Along  the  loved  one's  path  would  strow? 
Who,   Nature's   green   familiar  leaves   entwining, 
Wreathe's  glory's  garland,  won  on  every  field? 
Makes  sure  Olympus,  heavenly  powers  combining? 
Man's  mighty  spirit,  in  the  bard  reveal'd! 

MERRYMAN 

Come  then,  employ  your  lofty  inspiration, 

And  carry  on   the   poet's   avocation, 

Just  as  we  carry  on  a  love  affair. 

Two  meet  by  chance,  are  pleased,  they  linger  there. 

Insensibly  are  link'd,   they   scarce  know  how; 

Fortune   seems   now  propitious,  adverse  now. 

Then  come  alternate  rapture  and  despair; 


PROLOGUE  IS 

And  'tis  a  true  romance  ere  one's  aware. 

Just  such  a  drama  let  us  now  compose. 

Plunge  boldly  into  life — its  depths  disclose! 

Each  lives  it,  not  to  many  is  it  known, 

'Twill   interest   wheresoever   seiz'd   and  shown; 

Bright  pictures,  but  obscure  their  meaning: 

A  ray  of  truth  through  error  gleaming, 

Thus  you  the  best  elixir  brew, 

To  charm  mankind,  and  edify  them  too. 

Then  youth's  fair  blossoms  crowd  to  view  your  play, 

And  wait  as  on  an  oracle;  while  they. 

The  tender  souls,  who  love  the  melting  mood. 

Suck  from  your  work  their  melancholy  food; 

Now  this  one,  and  now  that,  you  deeply  stir. 

Each  sees  the  working  of  his  heart  laid  bare. 

Their  tears,  their  laughter,  you  command  with  ease, 

The  lofty  still  they  honour,  the  illusive  love. 

Your  finish'd  gentlemen  you  ne'er  can  please; 

A  growing  mind  alone  will  grateful  prove. 


Then  give  me  back  youth's  golden  prime, 

When  my  own  spirit  too  was  growing, 

When    from   my  heart   th'   unbidden  rhyme 

Gush'd  forth,  a  fount  for  ever  flowmg; 

Then  shadowy  mist  the  world  conceal'd, 

And  every  bud  sweet  promise  made. 

Of  wonders  yet  to  be  reveal'd. 

As  through   the  vales,   with  blooms  inlaid, 

Culling  a  thousand  flowers   I   stra/d. 

Naught  had  I,  yet  a  rich  profusion! 

The  thirst  for  truth,  joy  in  each  fond  illusion. 

Give  me  unquell'd  those  impulses  to  prove; — 

Rapture  so  deep,  its  ecstasy  was  pain. 

The  power  of  hate,  the  energy  of  love, 

Give  me,  oh  give  me  back  my  youth  again! 


14  PROLOGUE 


MERRYMAN 

Youth,  my  good  friend,  you  certainly  require 
When  foes  in  battle  round  are  pressing. 
When  a  fair  maid,  her  heart  on  fire, 
Hangs  on  your  neck  with   fond  caressing. 
When  from  afar,  the  victor's  crown, 
To  reach  the  hard-won  goal  inciteth; 
When  from  the  whirling  dance,  to  drown 
Your  sense,  the  night's  carouse  inviteth. 
But  the  familiar  chords  among 
Boldly  to  sweep,  with  graceful  cunning, 
While  to  its  goal,  the  verse  along 
Its  winding  path  is  sweetly  running; 
This  task  is  yours,  old  gentlemen,  to-day; 
Nor  are  you  therefore  less  in  reverence  held; 
Age  does  not  make  us  childish,  as  folk  say. 
It  finds  us  genuine  children  e'en  in  eld. 

MANAGER 

A  truce  to  words,  mere  empty  sound. 

Let  deeds  at  length  appear,  my  friends! 

While   idle  compliments  you  round, 

You  might  achieve  some  useful   ends. 

Why  talk  of  the  poetic  vein? 

Who  hesitates  will   never  know  it; 

If  bards  ye  are,  as  ye  maintain. 

Now  let  your  inspiration  show  it. 

To  you  is  known  what  we  require. 

Strong  drink  to  sip  is  our  desire; 

Come,  brew  me  such  without  delay! 

To-morrow  sees  undone,  what  happens  not  to-day 

Still  forward  press,  nor  ever  tire! 

The  possible,  with  steadfast  trust. 

Resolve  should  by  the  forelock  grasp; 

Then  she  will  ne'er  let  go  her  clasp. 

And  labours  on,  because  she  must 

On   German  boards,  you're  well  aware, 
The  taste  of  each  may  have  full  sway; 


PROLOGUE  IS 

Therefore  in  bringing  out  your  play, 

Nor  scenes  nor  mechanism  spare! 

Heaven's  lamps  employ,  the  greatest  and  the  least, 

Be  lavish  of  the  stellar  lights, 

Water,  and  fire,  and  rocky  heights, 

Spare  not  at  all,  nor  birds,  nor  beast. 

Thus  let  creation's   ample  sphere 

Forthwith  in  this  our  narrow  booth  appear, 

And  with  considerate  speed,  through  fancy's  spell. 

Journey  from  heaven,  thence  through  the  world,  to  hell! 


PROLOGUE  IN  HEAVEN 

The   Lord.     The   Heavenly    Hosts.     Afterwards 
Mephistopheles. 

The  three  Archangels  come  forward 

RAPHAEL 

The  Sun,   in  ancient  guise,  competing 
With  brother  spheres  in  rival  song, 
With  thunder-march,   his   orb  completing, 
Moves  his  predestin'd  course  along; 
His  aspect  to  the  powers  supernal 
Gives  strength,  though  fathom  him  none  may; 
Transcending   thought,   the  works   eternal 
Are  fair  as  on  the  primal  day. 

GABRIEL 

With  speed,  thought  baffling,  unabating, 
Earth's  splendour  whirls  in  circling  flight; 
Its   Eden-brightness    alternating 
With   solemn,   awe-inspiring   night; 
Ocean's  broad  waves   in  wild  commotion. 
Against  the  rocks'  deep  base  are  hurled; 
And  with  the  spheres,  both  rock  and  ocean 
Eternally    are   swiftly   whirled. 

MICHAEL 

And  tempests  roar  in  emulation 
From  sea  to  land,  from  land  to  sea. 
And  raging  form,  without   cessation, 
A  chain   of  wondrous   agency. 
Full  in  the  thunder's  path  careering, 
3^ 


PROLOGUE  17 

Flaring  the   swift  destructions  play; 
But,  Lord,  Thy  servants  are  revering 
The  mild  procession  of  thy  day. 

THE  THREE 

Thine  aspect  to  the  powers  supernal 

Gives   strength,  though   fathom  thee  none  may; 

And  all  thy  works,  sublime,  eternal. 

Are  fair  as  on  the  primal  day. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Since  thou,  O  Lord,  approachest  us  once  more, 

And  how  it  fares  with  us,  to  ask  art  fain, 

Since  thou  hast  kindly  welcom'd  me  of  yore. 

Thou  see'st  me  also  now  among  thy  train. 

Excuse  me,  fine  harangues  I  cannot  make, 

Though  all  the  circle  look  on  me  with  scorn; 

My  pathos  soon  thy  laughter  would  awake, 

Hadst  thou  the  laughing  mood  not  long  forsworn. 

Of  suns  and  worlds  I  nothing  have  to  say, 

I  see  alone  mankind's  self-torturing  pains. 

The  little  world-god  still  the  self-same  stamp  retains. 

And  is  as  wondrous  now  as  on  the  primal  day. 

Better  he  might  have  fared,  poor  wight, 

Hadst  thou  not  given  him  a  gleam  of  heavenly  light; 

Reason,  he  names  it,  and  doth  so 

Use  it,  than  brutes  more  brutish  still  to  grow. 

With   deference  to  your  grace,  he  seems  to  me 

Like  any  long-legged  grasshopper  to  be, 

Which  ever  flies,   and  flying  springs. 

And  in  the  grass  its   ancient  ditty  sings. 

Would  he  but  always  in  the  grass  repose! 

In  every  heap  of  dung  he  thrusts  his  nose. 


THE  LORD 

Hast  thou  naught  else  to  say?     Is  blame 

In  coming  here,  as  ever,  thy  sole  aim? 

Does  nothing  on  the  earth  to  thee  seem  right? 


PROLOGUE 

MEPH ISTOPHELES 

No,  Lord !    I  find  things  there,  as  ever,  in  sad  plight 
Men,  in  their  evil  days,  move  my  compassion ; 
Such  sorry  things  to  plague  is  nothing  worth, 

THE  LORD 

Know'st  thou  my  servant,  Faust? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  doctor? 

THE  LORD 

Right. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

He   serves   thee  truly   in   a  wondrous   fashion. 
Poor  fool !    His  food  and  drink  are  not  of  earth. 
An  inward  impulse  hurries   him  afar. 
Himself  half  conscious  of  his  frenzied  mood; 
From  heaven  claimeth  he  the  fairest  star. 
And  from  the  earth  craves  every  highest  good. 
And  all  that's  near,  and  all  that's  far. 
Fails  to  allay  the  tumult  in  his  blood. 

THE  LORD 

Though  in  perplexity  he  serves  me  now, 
I  soon  will  lead  him  where  more  light  appears; 
When  buds  the  sapling,  doth  the  gardener  know 
That  flowers  and  fruit  will  deck  the  coming  years. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What  wilt  thou  wager?     Him  thou  yet  shall  lose. 
If  leave  to  me  thou  wilt  but  give. 
Gently  to  lead  him  as  I  choose! 

THE  LORD 

So  long  as  he  on  earth  doth  live, 
So  long  'tip  not  forbidden  thee. 

Man  still  must  err,  while  he  doth  strive,  it 

i 


PROLOGUE  19 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  thank  you;   for  not  willingly 

I  traffic  with  the  dead,  and  still  aver 

That  youth's  plump  blooming  cheek  I  very  much  prefer. 

I'm  not  at  home  to  corpses ;  'tis  my  way, 

Like  cats  with  captive  mice  to  toy  and  play. 

THE  LORD 

Enough!   'tis  granted  thee!     Divert 

This  mortal  spirit  from  his  primal  source; 

Him,  canst  thou  seize,  thy  power  exert 

And  lead  him  on  thy  downward  course, 

Then   stand  abash'd,   when  thou  perforce  must  own, 

A  good  man  in  his  darkest  aberration, 

Of  the  right  path  is  conscious  still. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Tis  done!     Full  soon  thou'lt  see  my  exultation; 
As  for  my  bet  no  fears  I  entertain. 
And  if  my  end  i   finally  should  gain. 
Excuse  my  triumphing  with  all  my  soul. 
Dust  he  shall  eat,  ay,  and  with  relish  take, 
As  did  my  cousin,  the  renowned  snake. 

THE  LORD     '^ 

Here  too  thou'rt  free  to  act  without  control; 

I  ne'er  have  cherished  hate  for  such  as  thee. 

Of  all  the  spirits  who  deny, 

The  scoffer  is  least  wearisome  to  me. 

Ever  too  prone  is  man  activity  to  shirk, 

In  unconditioned  rest  he  fain  would  live; 

Hence  this  companion  purposely  I  give. 

Who  stirs,  excites,  and  must,  as  devil,  work. 

But  ye,  the  genuine  sons  of  heaven,  rejoice! 

In  the  full  living  beauty  still  rejoice! 

May  that  which  works  and  lives,  the  ever-growing, 

In  bonds  of  love  enfold  you,  mercy-fraught, 


20  PROLOGUE 

And  Seeming's  changeful  forms,  around  you  flowing, 
Do  ye  arrest,  in  ever-during  thought! 

{Heaven  closes,  the  Archangels  disperse.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (olonc) 

The  ancient  one  I  like  sometimes  to  see, 
And  not  to  break  with  him  am  always  civil; 
'Tis  courteous  in  so  great  a  lord  as  he. 
To  speak  so  kindly  even  to  the  devil. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF   FAUST 

DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Characters  in  the  Prologue  for  the  Theatre 
The  Manager.        The  Dramatic   Poet.        Merryman. 

Characters  in  the  Prologue  in  Heaven 

The  Lord. 

Raphael,      Gabriel,      Michael,        (The  Heavenly  Host), 

Mephistopheles. 

Characters  in  the  Tragedy 

Faust.      Mephistopheles.      Wagner,   a  Student. 

Margaret.        Martha,  Margaret's  Neighbour. 

Valentine,  Margaret's  Brother.     Old  Peasant.     A  Student. 

Elizabeth,  an  Acquaintance  of  Margaret's. 

Frosch,      Brander,      Siebel,      Altmayer, 

(Guests  in  Auerbach's  Wine  Cellar). 

«7itches;  old  and  young;  Wizards,   Will-o'-the-Wisp,  Witch  Pedlar, 

Protophantasmist,  Servibilis,  Monkeys,  Spirits,  Journeymen, 

Cotintry-folk,  Citizens,  Beggar,  Old  Fortune-teller, 

Shepherd,  Soldier,  Students,  &c. 

In  the  Intermezzo 
Oberon.  Titania,  Ariel.  Puck,  &c.  &c. 


PART   I 

NIGHT 

A  high  vaulted  narrow  Gothic  chamber. 

Faust,  restless,  seated  at  his  desk. 

Faust 

I  HAVE,  alas  !  Philosophy, 
Medicine,  Jurisprudence  too. 
And  to  my  cost  Theology, 
With  ardent  labour,  studied  through. 
21 


22  GOETHE 

And  here  I  stand,  with  all  my  lore, 

Poor  fool,  no  wiser  than  before. 

Magister,  doctor  styled,  indeed. 

Already  these  ten  years  I  lead. 

Up,  down,  across,  and  to  and  fro, 

My  pupils  by  the  nose, — and  learn, 

That  we  in  truth  can  nothing  know  ! 

That  in  my  heart  like  fire  doth  burn. 

'Tis  true  I've  more  cunning  than  all  your  dull  tribe, 

Magister  and  doctor,  priest,  parson,  and  scribe; 

Scruple  or  doubt  comes  not  to  enthrall  me. 

Neither  can  devil  nor  hell  now  appal  me — 

Hence  also  my  heart  must  all  pleasure  forego ! 

I  may  not  pretend,  aught  rightly  to  know, 

I  may  not  pretend,  through  teaching,  to  find 

A  means  to  improve  or  convert  mankind. 

Then  I  have  neither  goods  nor  treasure, 

No  worldly  honour,  rank,  or  pleasure ; 

No  dog  in  such  fashion  would  longer  live ! 

Therefore  myself  to  magic  I  give. 

In  hope,  through  spirit-voice  and  might. 

Secrets  now  veiled  to  bring  to  light. 

That  I  no  more,  with  aching  brow, 

Need  speak  of  what  I  nothing  know ; 

That  I  the  force  may  recognise 

That  binds  creation's  inmost  energies; 

Her  vital  powers,  her  embryo  seeds  survey. 

And  fling  the  trade  in  empty  words  away. 

O  full-orb'd  moon,  did  but  thy  rays 

Their  last  upon  mine  anguish  gaze ! 

Beside  this  desk,  at  dead  of  night. 

Oft  have  I  watched  to  hail  thy  light: 

Then,  pensive  friend !  o'er  book  and  scroll. 

With  soothing  power,  thy  radiance  stole ! 

In  thy  dear  light,  ah,  might  I  climb. 

Freely,  some  mountain  height  sublime. 

Round  mountain  caves  with  spirits  ride. 

In  thy  mild  haze  o'er  meadows  glide, 

And,  purged  from  knowledge-fumes,  renew 

My  spirit,  in  thy  healing  dew ! 


FAUST  23 

Woe's  me !  still  prison'd  in  the  gloom 
Of  this  abhorr'd  and  musty  room ! 
Where  heaven's  dear  light  itself  doth  pass, 
But  dimly  through  the  painted  glass ! 
Hemmed  in  by  book-heaps,  piled  around, 
Worm-eaten,  hid  'neath  dust  and  mould. 
Which  to  the  high  vault's  topmost  bound, 
A  smoke-stained  paper  doth  enfold; 
With  boxes  round  thee  piled,  and  glass. 
And  many  a  useless  instrument. 
With  old  ancestral  lumber  blent — 
This  is  thy  world !  a  world  1  alas ! 
And  dost  thou  ask  why  heaves  thy  heart. 
With  tighten'd  pressure  in  thy  breast? 
Why  the  dull  ache  will  not  depart. 
By  which  thy  life-pulse  is  oppress'd? 
Instead  of  nature's  living  sphere, 
Created  for  mankind  of  old. 
Brute  skeletons  surround  thee  here. 
And  dead  men's  bones  in  smoke  and  mould. 

Up  !    Forth  into  the  distant  land ! 
Is  not  this  book  of  mystery 
By  Nostradamus'  proper  hand. 
An  all-sufficient  guide?     Thou'It  see  • 
The  courses  of  the  stars  unroll'd; 
When  nature  doth  her  thoughts  unfold 
To  thee,  thy  soul  shall  rise,  and  seek 
Communion  high  with  her  to  hold, 
As  spirit  doth  with  spirit  speak ! 
Vain  by  dull  poring  to  divine 
The  meaning  of  each  hallow'd  sign. 
Spirits  !    I  feel  you  hov'ring  near ; 
Make  answer,  if  my  voice  ye  hear ! 

(He  opens  the  book  and  perceives  the  sign  of  the 

Macrocosmos.) 

Ah !  at  this  spectacle  through  every  sense, 
What  sudden  ecstasy  of  joy  is  flowing! 
I  feel  new  rapture,  hallow'd  and  intense. 


24  GOETHE 

Through  every  nerve  and  vein  with  ardour  glowing. 

Was  it  a  god  who  character'd  this  scroll. 

The  tumult  in  ray  spirit  healing, 

O'er  my  sad  heart  with  rapture  stealing. 

And  by  a  mystic  impulse,  to  my  soul, 

The  powers  of  nature  all  around  revealing. 

Am  I  a  God  ?    What  light  intense ! 

In  these  pure  symbols  do  I  see, 

Nature  exert  her  vital  energy. 

Now  of  the  wise  man's  words  I  learn  the  sense ; 

"  Unlock'd  the  spirit-world  is  lying, 
Thy  sense  is  shut,  thy  heart  is  dead ! 
Up  scholar,  lave,  with  zeal  undying, 
Thine  earthly  breast  in  the  morning-red !  " 

(He  contemplates  the  sign.) 

How  all  things  live  and  work,  and  ever  blending, 
Weave  one  vast  whole  from  Being's  ample  range ! 
How  powers  celestial,  rising  and  descending, 
Their  golden  buckets  ceaseless  interchange ! 
Their  flight  on  rapture-breathing  pinions  winging. 
From  heaven  to  earth  their  genial  influence  bringing. 
Through  the  wild  sphere  their  chimes  melodious  ringing! 

A  wondrous  show !  but  ah !  a  show  alone ! 

Where  shall  I  grasp  thee,  infinite  nature,  where? 

Ye  breasts,  ye  fountains  of  all  life,  whereon 

Hang  heaven  and  earth,  from  which  the  withered  heart 

For  solace  yearns,  ye  still  impart 

Your  sweet  and  fostering  tides — where  are  ye — where? 

Ye  gush,  and  must  I  languish  in  despair? 

(He  turns  over  the  leaves  of  the  book  impatiently,  and 
perceives  the  sign  of  the  Earth-spirit.) 

How  all  unlike  the  influence  of  this  sign ! 
Earth-spirit,  thou  to  me  art  nigher, 
E'en  now  my  strength  is  rising  higher, 
E'en  now  I  glow  as  with  new  wine ; 
Courage  I  feel,  abroad  the  world  to  dare. 


FAUST  25 

The  woe  of  earth,  the  bliss  of  earth  to  bear, 
With  storms  to  wrestle,  brave  the  lightning's  glare, 
And  mid  the  crashing  shipwreck  not  despair. 

Clouds  gather  over  me — 
The  moon  conceals  her  light — 
The  lamp  is  quench'd — 

Vapours  are  rising — Quiv'ring  round  my  head 
Flash  the  red  beams — Down  from  the  vaulted  roof 
A  shuddering  horror  floats, 
And  seizes  me ! 

I  feel  it,  spirit,  prayer-compell'd,  'tis  thou 
Art  hovering  near ! 
Unveil  thyself ! 

Ha!     How  my  heart  is  riven  now! 
Each  sense,  with  eager  palpitation, 
Is  strain'd  to  catch  some  new  sensation ! 
I  feel  my  heart  surrender'd  unto  thee ! 
Thou  must !     Thou  must !     Though  life  should  be  the  fee ! 
{He  seises  the  book,  and  pronounces  mysteriously  the  sign 

of  the  spirit.     A  ruddy  flame  flashes  uP;  the  spirit 

appears  in  the  flame.) 

Spirit 
Who  calls  me? 

Faust   {turning  aside) 
Dreadful  shape ! 

Spirit 

With  might, 
Thou  hast  compelled  me  to  appear. 
Long  hast  been  sucking  at  my  sphere, 
And  now — 

Faust 
Woe's  me !    I  cannot  bear  thy  sight ! 

Spirit 
To  see  me  thou  dost  breathe  thine  invocation. 
My  voice  to  hear,  to  gaze  upon  my  brow; 
Me  doth  thy  strong  entreaty  bow — 
Lo !    I  am  here ! — What  cowering  agitation 


26  GOETHE 

Grasps  thee,  the  demigod !     Where's  now  the  soul's  deep 

cry? 
Where  is  the  breast,  which  in  its  depths  a  world  conceiv'd 
And  bore  and  cherished?  which,  with  ecstasy, 
To  rank  itself  with  us,  the  spirits,  heaved? 
Where  art  thou,  Faust?  whose  voice  I  heard  resound, 
Who  towards  me  press'd  with  energy  profound? 
Art  thou  he?    Thou, — who  by  my  breath  art  blighted, 
Who,  in  his  spirit's  depths  affrighted. 
Trembles,  a  crush'd  and  writhing  worm ! 

Faust 
Shall  I  yield,  thing  of  flame,  to  thee  ? 
Faust,  and  thine  equal,  I  am  he ! 

Spirit 
In  the  currents  of  life,  in  action's  storm, 

I  float  and  I  wave 

With  billowy  motion ! 

Birth  and  the  grave 

A  limitless  ocean, 

A  constant  weaving 

With  change  still  rife, 

A  restless  heaving, 

A  glowing  life — 
Thus  time's  whirring  loom  unceasing  I  ply. 
And  weave  the  life-garment  of  deity. 

Faust 
Thou,  restless  spirit,  dost  from  end  to  end 
O'ersweep  the  world ;  how  near  I  feel  to  thee ! 

Spirit 
Thou'rt  like  the  spirit,  thou  dost  comprehend. 
Not  me!  (Vanishes.) 

Faust  {deeply  moved) 
Not  thee  ? 
Whom  then? 


FAUST  27 

I,  God's  own  image! 

And  not  rank  with  thee!  {A  knock.) 

Oh  death !  I  know  it — 'tis  my  famulus — 

My  fairest  fortune  now  escapes ! 

That  all  these  visionary  shapes 

A  soulless  groveller  should  banish  thus ! 

(Wagner  in  his  dressing  gown  and  night-cap,  a  lamp 
in  his  hand.     Faust  turns  round  reluctantly.) 

Wagner 
Pardon !     I  heard  you  here  declaim ; 
A  Grecian  tragedy  you  doubtless  read? 
Improvement  in  this  art  is  now  my  aim, 
For  now-a-days  it  much  avails.     Indeed 
An  actor,  oft  I've  heard  it  said,  as  teacher, 
May  give  instruction  to  a  preacher. 

Faust 
Ay,  if  your  priest  should  be  an  actor  too, 
As  not  improbably  may  come  to  pass. 

Wagner 

When  in  his  study  pent  the  whole  year  through, 
Man  views  the  world,  as  through  an  optic  glass, 
On  a  chance  holiday,  and  scarcely  then, 
How  by  persuasion  can  he  govern  men? 

Faust 
If  feeling  prompt  not,  if  it  doth  not  flow 
Fresh  from  the  spirit's  depths,  with  strong  control 
Swaying  to  rapture  every  listener's  soul. 
Idle  your  toil ;  the  chase  you  may  forego ! 
Brood  o'er  your  task !    Together  glue. 
Cook  from  another's  feast  your  own  ragout. 
Still  prosecute  your  paltry  game. 
And  fan  your  ash-heaps  into  flame ! 
Thus  children's  wonder  you'll  excite, 
And  apes',  if  such  your  appetite ; 


28  GOETHE 

But  that  which  issues  from  the  heart  alone, 
Will  bend  the  hearts  of  others  to  your  own. 

Wagner 
The  speaker  in  delivery  will  find 
Success  alone ;  I  still  am  far  behind. 

Faust 
A  worthy  object  still  pursue ! 
Be  not  a  hollow  tinkling  fool ! 
Sound   understanding,  judgment   true. 
Find  utterance  without  art  or  rule ; 
And  when  in  earnest  you  are  moved  to  speak. 
Then  is  it  needful  cimning  words  to  seek? 
Your  fine  harangues,  so  polish'd  in  their  kind. 
Wherein  the  shreds  of  human  thought  ye  twist, 
Are  unrefreshing  as  the  empty  wind, 
Whistling  through  wither'd  leaves  and  autumn  mist ! 

Wagner 
Oh  God !  How  long  is  art, 
Our  life  how  short !    With  earnest  zeal 
Still  as  I  ply  the  critic's  task,  I  feel 
A  strange  oppression  both  of  head  and  heart. 
The  very  means  how  hardly  are  they  won. 
By  which  we  to  the  fountains  rise ! 
And  haply,  ere  one  half  the  course  is  run, 
Check'd  in  his  progress,  the  poor  devil  dies. 

Faust 
Parchment,  is  that  the  sacred  fount  whence  roll 
Waters,  he  thirsteth  not  who  once  hath  quaffed  ? 
Oh,  if  it  gush  not  from  thine  inmost  soul, 
Thou  has  not  won  the  life-restoring  draught. 

Wagner 
Your  pardon !  'tis  delightful  to  transport 
Oneself  into  the  spirit  of  the  past. 
To  see  in  times  before  us  how  a  wise  man  thought. 
And  what  a  glorious  height  we  have  achieved  at  last. 


FAUST  29 

Faust 
Ay  truly !  even  to  the  loftiest  star ! 
To  us,  my  friend,  the  ages  that  are  pass'd 
A  book  with  seven  seals,  close-fasten'd,  are ; 
And  what  the  spirit  of  the  times  men  call. 
Is  merely  their  own  spirit  after  all. 
Wherein,  distorted  oft,  the  times  are  glass'd. 
Then  truly,  'tis  a  sight  to  grieve  the  soul ! 
At  the  first  glance  we  fly  it  in  dismay; 
A  very  lumber-room,  a  rubbish-hole; 
At  best  a  sort  of  mock-heroic  play, 
With  saws  pragmatical,  and  maxims  sage. 
To  suit  the  puppets  and  their  mimic  stage. 

Wagner 
But  then  the  world  and  man,  his  heart  and  brain ! 
Touching  these  things  all  men  would  something  know. 

Faust 
Ay !  what  'mong  men  as  knowledge  doth  obtain ! 
Who  on  the  child  its  true  name  dares  bestow? 
The  few  who  somewhat  of  these  things  have  known, 
Who  their  full  hearts  unguardedly  reveal'd. 
Nor  thoughts,  nor  feelings,  from  the  mob  conceal'd. 
Have  died  on  crosses,  or  in  flames  been  thrown. — 
Excuse  me,  friend,  far  now  the  night  is  spent, 
For  this  time  we  must  say  adieu. 

Wagner 
Still  to  watch  on  I  had  been  well  content. 
Thus  to  converse  so  learnedly  with  you. 
But  as  to-morrow  will  be  Easter-day, 
Some  further  questions  grant,  I  pray ; 
With  diligence  to  study  still  I  fondly  cling; 
Already  I  know  much,  but  would  know  everything. 

(Exit.) 
Faust  (alone) 
How  him  alone  all  hope  abandons  never. 
To  empty  trash  who  clings,  with  zeal  untired. 


30  GOETHE 

With  greed  for  treasure  gropes,  and,  joy-inspir'd, 
Exults  if  earth-worms  second  his  endeavour. 

And  dare  a  voice  of  merely  human  birth, 

E'en  here,  where  shapes  immortal  throng'd,  intrude? 

Yet  ah !  thou  poorest  of  the  sons  of  earth. 

For  once,  I  e'en  to  thee  feel  gratitude. 

Despair  the  power  of  sense  did  well-nigh  blast, 

And  thou  didst  save  me  ere  I  sank  dismay'd. 

So  giant-like  the  vision  seem'd,  so  vast, 

I  felt  myself  shrink  dwarf 'd  as  I  survey'd ! 

I,  God's  own  image,  from  this  toil  o£  clay 

Already  freed,  with  eager  joy  who  hail'd 

The  mirror  of  eternal  truth  unveil'd. 

Mid  light  effulgent  and  celestial  day: — 

I,  more  than  cherub,  whose  unfetter'd  soul 

With  penetrative  glance  aspir'd  to  flow 

Through  nature's  veins,  and,  still  creating,  know 

The  life  of  gods, — how  am  I  punish'd  now ! 

One  thunder-word  hath  hurl'd  me  from  the  goal! 

Spirit !  I  dare  not  lift  me  to  thy  sphere. 

What  though  my  power  compell'd  thee  to  appear. 

My  art  was  powerless  to  detain  thee  here. 

In  that  great  moment,  rapture-fraught, 

I  felt  myself  so  small,  so  great; 

Fiercely  didst  thrust  me  from  the  realm  of  thought 

Back  on  humanity's  uncertain  fate  ! 

Who'll  teach  me  now  ?    What  ought  I  to  forego  ? 

Ought  I  that  impulse  to  obey  ? 

Alas !  our  every  deed,  as  well  as  every  woe, 

Impedes  the  tenor  of  life's  onward  way! 

E'en  to  the  noblest  by  the  soul  conceiv'd, 
Some  feelings  cling  of  baser  quality ; 
And  when  the  goods  of  this  world  are  achiev'd, 
Each  nobler  aim  is  termed  a  cheat,  a  lie. 
Our  aspirations,  our  soul's  genuine  life. 
Grow  torpid  in  the  din  of  earthly  strife. 


FAUST  3i 

Though  youthful  phantasy,  while  hope  inspires, 

Stretch  o'er  the  infinite  her  wing  sublime, 

A  narrow  compass  limits  her  desires, 

When  wreck'd  our  fortunes  in  the  gulf  of  time. 

In  the  deep  heart  of  man  care  builds  her  nest, 

O'er  secret  woes  she  broodeth  there, 

Sleepless  she  rocks  herself  and  scareth  joy  and  rest; 

Still  is  she  wont  some  new  disguise  to  wear. 

She  may  as  house  and  court,  as  wife  and  child  appear. 

As  dagger,  poison,  fire  and  flood ; 

Imagined  evils  chill  thy  blood. 

And  what  thou  ne'er  shall  lose,  o'er  that  dost  shed  the 

tear, 
I  am  not  like  the  gods !    Feel  it  I  must ; 
I'm  like  the  earth-worm,  writhing  in  the  dust. 
Which,  as  on  dust  it  feeds,  its  native  fare, 
Crushed  'neath  the  passer's  tread,  lies  buried  there. 

Is  it  not  dust,  wherewith  this  lofty  wall. 

With  hundred  shelves,  confines  me  round; 

Rubbish,  in  thousand  shapes,  may  I  not  call 

What  in  this  moth-world  doth  my  being  bound? 

Here,  what  doth  fail  me,  shall  I  find  ? 

Read  in  a  thousand  tomes  that,  everywhere. 

Self-torture  is  the  lot  of  human-kind, 

With  but  one  mortal  happy,  here  and  there? 

Thou  hollow  skull,  that  grin,  what  should  it  say, 

But  that  thy  brain,  like  mine,  of  old  perplexed. 

Still  yearning  for  the  truth,  hath  sought  the  light  of  day. 

And  in  the  twilight  wandered,  sorely  vexed  ? 

Ye  instruments,  forsooth,  ye  mock  at  me, — 

With  wheel,  and  cog,  and  ring,  and  cylinder; 

To  nature's  portals  ye  should  be  the  key ; 

Cunning  your  wards,  and  yet  the  bolts  ye  fail  to  stir. 

Inscrutable  in  broadest  light. 

To  be  unveil'd  by  force  she  doth  refuse, 

What  she  reveals  not  to  thy  mental  sight. 

Thou  wilt  not  wrest  me  from  her  with  levers  and  with  screws. 

Old  useless  furnitures,  yet  stand  ye  here. 

Because  my  sire  ye  served,  now  dead  and  gone. 


32  GOETHE 

Old  scroll,  the  smoke  of  years  dost  wear, 

So  long  as  o'er  this  desk  the  sorry  lamp  hath  shone. 

Better  my  little  means  hath  squandered  quite  away, 

Than  burden'd  by  that  little  here  to  sweat  and  groan ! 

Wouldst  thou  possess  thy  heritage,  essay, 

By  use  to  render  it  thine  own ! 

What  we  employ  not,  but  impedes  our  way, 

That  which  the  hour  creates,  that  can  it  use  alone ! 

But  wherefore  to  yon  spot  is  riveted  my  gaze  ? 
Is  yonder  flasket  there  a  magnet  to  my  sight  ? 
Whence  this  mild  radiance  that  around  me  plays, 
As  when,  'mid  forest  gloom,  reigneth  the  moon's  soft 
light  ? 

Hail  precious  phial !    Thee,  with  reverent  awe, 
Down  from  thine  old  receptacle  I  draw ! 
Science  in  thee  I  hail  and  human  art. 
Essence  of  deadliest  powers,  refin'd  and  sure. 
Of  soothing  anodynes  abstraction  pure, 
Now  in  thy  master's  need  thy  grace  impart! 
I  gaze  on  thee,  my  pain  is  lull'd  to  rest ; 
I  grasp  thee,  calm'd  the  tumult  in  my  breast; 
The  flood-tide  of  my  spirit  ebbs  away; 
Onward  I'm  summon'd  o'er  a  boundless  main. 
Calm  at  my  feet  expands  the  glassy  plain, 
To  shores  unknown  allures  a  brighter  day. 

Lo,  where  a  car  of  fire,  on  airy  pinion, 

Comes  floating  towards  me !    I'm  prepar'd  to  fly 

By  a  new  track  through  ether's  wide  dominion. 

To  distant  spheres  of  pure  activity. 

This  life  intense,  this  godlike  ecstasy — 

Worm  that  thou  art  such  rapture  canst  thou  earn  ? 

Only  resolve  with  courage  stern  and  high, 

Thy  visage  from  the  radiant  sun  to  turn ! 

Dare  with  determin'd  will  to  burst  the  portals 

Past  which  in  terror  others  fain  would  steal ! 

Now  is  the  time,  through  deeds,  to  show  that  mortals 

The  calm  sublimity  of  gods  can  feel; 


FAUST  33 

To  shudder  not  at  yonder  dark  abyss, 

Where  phantasy  creates  her  own  self-torturing  brood, 

Right  onward  to  the  yawning  gulf  to  press, 

Around  whose  narrow  jaws  roUeth  hell's  fiery  flood; 

With  glad  resolve  to  take  the  fatal  leap. 

Though  danger  threaten  thee,  to  sink  in  endless  sleep ! 

Pure  crystal  goblet !  forth  I  draw  thee  now, 
From  out  thine  antiquated  case,  where  thou 
Forgotten  hast  reposed  for  many  a  year ! 
Oft  at  my  father's  revels  thou  didst  shine, 
To  glad  the  earnest  guests  was  thine, 
As  each  to  other  passed  the  generous  cheer. 
The  gorgeous  brede  of  figures,  quaintly  wrought. 
Which  he  who  quaff'd  must  first  in  rhyme  expound, 
Then  drain  the  goblet  at  one  draught  profound, 
Hath  nights  of  boyhood  to  fond  memory  brought. 
I  to  my  neighbour  shall  not  reach  thee  now. 
Nor  on  thy  rich  device  shall  I  my  cunning  show. 
Here  is  a  juice,  makes  drunk  without  delay; 
Its  dark  brown  flood  thy  crystal  round  doth  fill; 
Let  this  last  draught,  the  product  of  my  skill, 
My  own  free  choice,  be  quaff'd  with  resolute  will, 
A  solemn  festive  greeting,  to  the  coming  day  ! 

{He  places  the  goblet  to  his  mouth.)' 
(The  ringing  of  bells,  and  choral  voices.) 


Chorus  of  Angels 

Christ  is  arisen ! 
Mortal,  all  hail  to  thee. 
Thou  whom  mortality, 
Earth's  sad  reality, 
Held  as  in  prison. 


Faust 

What  hum  melodious,  what  clear  silvery  chime. 
Thus  draws  the  goblet  from  my  lips  away? 

-VOL.  XIX  HC 


34  GOETHE 

Ye  deep-ton'd  bells,  do  ye  with  voice  sublime, 
Announce  the  solemn  dawn  of  Easter-day  ? 
Sweet  choir  !  are  ye  the  hymn  of  comfort  singing, 
Which  once  around  the  darkness  of  the  grave, 
From  seraph-voices,  in  glad  triumph  ringing. 
Of  a  new  covenant  assurance  gave  ? 


CHOiyjs  OF  Women 

We,  his  true-hearted. 
With  spices  and  myrrh. 
Embalmed  the  departed. 
And  swathed  him  with  care; 
Here  we  conveyed  Him, 
Our  Master,  so  dear*; 
Alas  !    Where  we  laid  Him, 
The  Christ  is  not  here. 

Chorus  of  Angels 
Christ  is  arisen ! 
Blessed  the  loving  one. 
Who  from  earth's  trial  throes. 
Healing  and  strengthening  woes. 
Soars  as  from  prison. 

Faust 
Wherefore,  ye  tones  celestial,  sweet  and  strong. 
Come  ye  a  dweller  in  the  dust  to  seek  ? 
Ring  out  your  chimes  believing  crowds  among. 
The  message  well  I  hear,  my  faith  alone  is  weak; 
From  faith  her  darling,  miracle,  hath  sprung. 
Aloft  to  yonder  spheres  I  dare  not  soar, 
Whence  sound  the  tidings  of  great  joy; 
And  yet,  with  this  sweet  strain  familiar  when  a  boy. 
Back  it  recalleth  me  to  life  once  more. 
Then  would  celestial  love,  with  holy  kiss. 
Come  o'er  me  in  the  Sabbath's  stilly  hour, 
While,   fraught  with  solemn  meaning  and  mysterious 
power. 


FAUST  35 

Chim'd  the  deep-sounding  bell,  and  prayer  was  bliss ; 

A  yearning  impulse,  undefin'd  yet  dear, 

Drove  me  to  wander  on  through  wood  and  field ; 

With  heaving  breast  and  many  a  burning  tear, 

I  felt  with  holy  joy  a  world  reveal'd. 

Gay  sports  and  festive  hours  proclaim'd  with  joyous 

pealing, 
This  Easter  hymn  in  days  of  old ; 
And  fond  remembrance  now  doth  me,  with  childlike 

feeling. 
Back  from  the  last,  the  solemn  step,  withhold. 
O  still  sound  on,  thou  sweet  celestial  strain ! 
The  tear-drop  flows, — Earth,  I  am  thine  again ! 

Chorus  of  Disciples 
He  whom  we  mourned  as  dead. 
Living  and  glorious. 
From  the  dark  grave  hath  fled, 
O'er  death  victorious ; 
Almost  creative  bliss 
Waits  on  his  growing  powers ; 
Ah  !    Him  on  earth  we  miss ; 
Sorrow  and  grief  are  ours. 
Yearning  he  left  his  own. 
Mid  sore  annoy; 
Ah  !  we  must  needs  bemoan. 
Master,  thy  joy! 

Chorus  of  Angels 
Christ  is  arisen, 
Redeem'd  from  decay. 
The  bonds  which  imprison 
Your  souls,  rend  away ! 
Praising  the  Lord  with  zeal, 
By  deeds  that  love  reveal, 
Like  brethren  true  and  leal 
Sharing  the  daily  meal. 
To  all  that  sorrow  feel 
Whisp'ring  of  heaven's  weal, 


I 


36  GOETHE 

Still  is  the  master  near, 
Still  is  he  here  ! 

BEFORE  THE  GATE 
Promenaders  of  all  sorts  pass  out. 

Artisans 
Why  choose  ye  that  direction,  pray  ? 

Others 
To  the  hunting-lodge  we're  on  our  way. 

The  First 
We  towards  the  mill  are  strolling  on. 

A  Mechanic 
A  walk  to  Wasserhof  were  best, 

A  Second 
The  road  is  not  a  pleasant  one. 

The  Others 
What  will  you  do? 

A  Third 
I'll  join  the  rest. 

A  Fourth 
Let's  up  to  Burghof,  there  you'll  find  good  cheer, 
The  prettiest  maidens  and  the  best  of  beer, 
And  brawls  of  a  prime  sort. 

A  Fifth 

You  scapegrace !    How; 
Your  skin  still  itching  for  a  row? 
Thither  I  will  not  go,  I  loathe  the  place. 

Servant  Girl 
No,  no !    I  to  the  town  my  steps  retrace. 


FAUST  37 


Another 
Near  yonder  poplars  he  is  sure  to  be. 

The  First 
And  if  he  is,  what  matters  it  to  me ! 
With  you  he'll  walk,  he'll  dance  with  none  but  you, 
And  with  your  pleasures  what  have  I  to  do? 

The  Second 
To-day  he  will  not  be  alone,  he  said 
His  friend  would  be  with  him,  the  curly-head. 

Student 
Why  how  those  buxom  girls  step  on  ! 
Come,  brother,  we  will  follow  them  anon. 
Strong  beer,  a  damsel  smartly  dress'd, 
Stinging  tobacco,— these  I  love  the  best. 

Burgher's  Daughter 
Look  at  those  handsome  fellows  there ! 
'Tis  really  shameful,  L  declare, 
The  very  best  society  they  shun, 
After  those  servant  girls  forsooth,  to  run. 

Second  Student  (to  the  first) 
Not  quite  so  fast !  for  in  our  rear, 
Two  girls,  well-dress'd,  are  drawing  near; 
Not  far  from  us  the  one  doth  dwell, 
And  sooth  to  say,  I  like  her  well. 
They  walk  demurely,  yet  you'll  see, 
That  they  will  let  us  join  them  presently. 

The  First 
Not  I!  restraints  of  all  kinds  I  detest. _ 
Quick !  let  us  catch  the  wild-game  ere  it  flies, 
The  hand  on  Saturday  the  mop  that  plies, 
Will  on  the  Sunday  fondle  you  the  best. 


38  GOETHE 

Burgher 
No,  this  new  Burgomaster,  I  like  him  not,  God  knows, 
Now,  he's  in  office,  daily  more  arrogant  he  grows; 
And  for  the  town,  what  doth  he  do  for  it? 
Are  not  things  worse  from  day  to  day? 
To  more  restraints  we  must  submit; 
And  taxes  more  than  ever  pay. 

Beggar  (sings). 
Kind  gentleman  and  ladies  fair. 
So  rosy-cheek'd  and  trimly  dress'd. 
Be  pleas'd  to  listen  to  my  prayer. 
Relieve  and  pity  the  distress'd. 
Let  me  not  vainly  sing  my  lay ! 
His  heart's  most  glad  whose  hand  is  free. 
Now  when  all  men  keep  holiday, 
'    Should  be  a  harvest-day  to  me. 

Another  Burgher 
On  holidays  and  Sundays  naught  know  I  more  inviting 
Than  chatting  about  war  and  war's  alarms, 
When  folk  in  Turkey,  up  in  arms, 
Far  off,  are  'gainst  each  other  fighting. 
We  at  the  window  stand,  our  glasses  drain, 
And  watch  adown  the  stream  the  painted  vessels  gliding. 
Then  joyful  we  at  eve  come  home  again,  . 
And  peaceful  times  we  bless,  peace  long-abiding. 

Third  Burgher 

Ay,  neighbour  !    So  let  matters  stand  for  me  ! 
There  they  may  scatter  one  another's  brains, 
And  wild  confusion  round  them  see — 
So  here  at  home  in  quiet  all  remains ! 

Old  Woman  (to  the  Burghers'  Daughters) 
Heyday  !    How  smart !    The  fresh  young  blood ! 
Who  would  not  fall  in  love  with  you  ? 


FAUST  39 

Not  quite  so  proud !    'Tis  well  and  good ! 
And  what  you  wish,  that  I  could  help  you  to. 

Burgher's  Daughter 
Come,  Agatha !     I  care  not  to  be  seen 
Walking  in  public  with  these  witches.    True, 
My  future  lover,  last  St.  Andrew's  E'en, 
In  flesh  and  blood  she  brought  before  my  view. 

Another 
And  mine  she  show'd  me  also  in  the  glass, 
A  soldier's  figure,  with  companions  bold; 
I  look  around,  I  seek  him  as  I  pass. 
In  vain,  his  form  I  nowhere  can  behold. 

Soldiers 
Fortress  with  turrets 
And  walls  high  in  air, 
Damsel  disdainful. 
Haughty  and  fair. 
These  be  my  prey  ! 
Bold  is  the  venture. 
Costly  the  pay  1 

Hark  how  the  trumpet 
Thither  doth  call  us, 
Where  either  pleasure 
Or  death  may  befall  us. 
Hail  to  the  tumult ! 
Life's  in  the  field! 
Damsel  and  fortress 
To  us  must  yield. 
Bold  is  the  venture. 
Costly  the  pay ! 
Gaily  the  soldier 
Marches  away. 


40  GOETHE 

Faust  and  Wagner 

Faust 
Loosed  from  their  fetters  are  streams  and  rills 
Through  the  gracious  spring-tide's  all-quickening  glow ; 
Hope's  budding  joy  in  the  vale  doth  blow; 
Old  Winter  back  to  the  savage  hills 
Withdraweth  his  force,  decrepid  now. 
Thence  only  impotent  icy  grains 
Scatters  he  as  he  wings  his  flight, 
Striping  with  sleet  the  verdant  plains; 
But  the  sun  endureth  no  trace  of  white ; 
Everywhere  growth  and  movement  are  rife, 
All  things  investing  with  hues  of  life : 
Though  flowers  are  lacking,  varied  of  dye, 
Their  colours  the  motly  throng  supply.  4 

Turn  thee  around,  and  fjom  this  height. 
Back  to  the  town  direct  thy  sight. 
Forth  from  the  hollow,  gloomy  gate. 
Stream  forth  the  masses,  in  bright  array. 
Gladly  seek  they  the  sun  to-day; 
The  Lord's  Resurrection  they  celebrate : 
For  they  themselves  have  risen,  wilth  joy, 
From  tenement  sordid,  from  cheerless  room, 
From  bonds  of  toil,  from  care  and  annoy. 
From  gable  and  roof's  o'er-hanging  gloom, 
From  crowded  alley  and  narrow  street, 
And  from  the  churches'  awe-breathing  night, 
All  now  have  come  forth  into  the  light. 
Look,  only  look,  on  nimble  feet, 
Through  garden  and  field  how  spread  the  throng. 
How  o'er  the  river's  ample  sheet, 
Many  a  gay  wherry  glides  along ; 
And  see,  deep  sinking  in  the  tide, 
Pushes  the  last  boat  now  away. 
E'en  from  yon  far  hill's  path-worn  side, 
Flash  the  bright  hues  of  garments  gay. 
Hark !  Sounds  of  village  mirth  arise ; 
This  is  the  people's  paradise. 


FAUST  41 

Both  great  and  small  send  up  a  cheer; 
Here  am  I  man,  I  feel  it  here. 

Wagner 
Sir  Doctor,  in  a  walk  with  you 
There's  honour  and  instruction  too ; 
Yet  here  alone  I  care  not  to  resort. 
Because  I  coarseness  hate  of  every  sort. 
This  fiddling,  shouting,  skittling,  I  detest; 
I  hate  the  tumult  of  the  vulgar  throng ; 
They  roar  as  by  the  evil  one  possess'd. 
And  call  it  pleasure,  call  it  song. 

Peasants  {under  the  linden-tree)  ' 
Dance   and   song 
The  shepherd  for  the  dance  was  dress'd, 
With  ribbon,  wreath,  and  coloured  vest, 
A  gallant  show  displaying. 
And  round  about  the  linden-tree, 
They  footed  it  right  merrily. 

Juchhe !  Juchhe ! 

Juchheisa  !    Heisa  !     He ! 
So  fiddle-bow  was  braying. 

Our  swain  amidst  the  circle  press'd. 
He  push'd  a  maiden  trimly  dress'd, 
And  jogg'd  her  with  his  elbow; 
The  buxom  damsel  turn'd  her  head, 
"  Now  that's  a  stupid  trick !  "  she  said, 

Juchhe !  Juchhe ! 

Juchhesia  !    Heisa !    He  ! 
Don't  be  so  rude,  good  fellow ! 

Swift  in  the  circle  they  advanced, 

They  danced  to  right,  to  left  they  danced. 

And  all  the  skirts  were  swinging. 

And  they  grew  red,  and  they  grew  warm, 

Panting,  they  rested  arm  in  arm, 

Juchhe !   Juchhe !  1 

Juchheisa  !     Heisa  !     He  ! 
To  hip  their  elbow  bringing. 


42  GOETHE 

Don't  make  so  free !     How  many  a  maid 

Has  been  betroth'd  and  then  betray'd ; 

And  has  repented  after  ! 

Yet  still  he  flatter'd  her  aside, 

And  from  the  linden,  far  and  wide, 

Juchhe !     Juchhe ! 

Juchheisa  !     Heisa !    He  ! 
Rang  fiddle-bow  and  laughter. 

Old  Peasant 
Doctor,  'tis  really  kind  of  you, 
To  condescend  to  come  this  way, 
A  highly  learned  man  like  you. 
To  join  our  mirthful  throng  to-day. 
Our  fairest  cup  I  offer  you. 
Which  we  with  sparkling  drink  have  crown'd. 
And  pledging  you,  I  pray  aloud. 
That  every  drop  within  its  round, 
While  it  your  present  thirst  allays, 
May  swell  the  number  of  your  days. 

Faust 
I  take  the  cup  you  kindly  reach. 
Thanks  and  prosperity  to  each ! 

(The  crowd  gather  round  in  a  circle.) 

Old  Peasant 
Ay,  truly !  'tis  well  done,  that  you 
Our  festive  meeting  thus  attend; 
You,  who  in  evil  days  of  yore. 
So  often  show'd  yourself  our  friend ! 
Full  many  a  one  stands  living  here. 
Who  from  the  fever's  deadly  blast. 
Your  father  rescu'd,  when  his  skill 
The  fatal  sickness  stay'd  at  last. 
A  young  man  then,  each  house  you  sought, 
^  Where  reign'd  the  mortal  pestilence. 

Corpse  after  corpse  was  carried  forth. 
But  still  unscath'd  you  issued  thence. 


FAUST  43 

Sore  then  your  trials  and  severe ; 

The  Helper  yonder  aids  the  helper  here. 

All 
Heaven  bless  the  trusty  friend,  and  long 
To  help  the  poor  his  life  prolong! 

Faust 
To  Him  above  in  homage  bend, 
Who  prompts  the  helper  and  Who  help  doth  send. 

(He  proceeds  -di'ith  Wagner.) 

Wagner 
What  feelings,  great  man,  must  thy  breast  inspire, 
At  homage  paid  thee  by  this  crowd !    Thrice  blest 
Who  from  the  gifts  by  him  possessed 
Such  benefit  can  draw !     The  sire 
Thee  to  his  boy  with  reverence  shows; 
They  press  around,  inquire,  advance, 
Hush'd  is  the  fiddle,  check'd  the  dance. 
Where  thou  dost  pass  they  stand  in  rows, 
And  each  aloft  his  bonnet  throws. 
But  little  fails  and  they  to  thee. 
As  though  the  Host  came  by,  would  bend  the  knee. 

Faust 
A  few  steps  further,  up  to  yonder  stone ! 
Here  rest  we  from  our  walk.    In  times  long  past, 
Absorb'd  in  thought,  here  oft  I  sat  alone. 
And  disciplin'd  myself  with  prayer  and  fast. 
Then  rich  in  hope,  with  faith  sincere. 
With  sighs,  and  hands  in  anguish  press'd. 
The  end  of  that  sore  plague,  with  many  a  tear. 
From  heaven's  dread  Lord,  I  sought  to  wrest. 
The  crowd's  applause  assumes  a  scornful  tone. 
Oh,  could'st  thou  in  my  inner  being  read. 
How  little  either  sire  or  son, 
Of  such  renown  deserves  the  meed ! 
My  sire,  of  good  repute,  and  sombre  mood. 
O'er  nature's  powers  and  every  mystic  zone. 


44  GOETHE 

With  honest  zeal,  but  methods  of  his  own. 

With  toil  fantastic  loved  to  brood; 

His  time  in  dark  alchemic  cell, 

With  brother  adepts  he  would  spend. 

And  there  antagonists  compel, 

Through  numberless  receipts  to  blend. 

A  ruddy  lion  there,  a  suitor  bold. 

In  tepid  bath  was  with  the  lily  wed. 

Thence  both,  while  open  flames  around  them  roll'd, 

Were  tortur'd  to  another  bridal  bed. 

Was  then  the  youthful  queen  descried 

With  varied  colours  in  the  flask ; — 

This  was  our  medicine ;  the  patients  died, 

"  Who  were  restored  ?  "  none  cared  to  ask. 

With  our  infernal  mixture  thus,  ere  long, 

These  hills  and  peaceful  vales  among, 

We  rag'd  more  fiercely  than  the  pest ; 

Myself  the  deadly  poison  did  to  thousands  give; 

They  pined  away,  I  yet  must  live, 

To  hear  the  reckless  murderers  blest. 

Wagner 
Why  let  this  thought  your  soul  o'ercast? 
Can  man  do  more  than  with  nice  skill. 
With  firm  and  conscientious  will. 
Practise  the  art  transmitted  from  the  past? 
If  thou  thy  sire  dost  honour  in  thy  youth, 
His  lore  thou  gladly  wilt  receive ; 
In  manhood,  dost  thou  spread  the  bounds  of  truth, 
Then  may  thy  son  a  higher  goal  achieve. 

Faust 
How  blest,  in  whom  the  fond  desire 
From  error's  sea  to  rise,  hope  still  renews ! 
What  a  man  knows  not,  that  he  doth  require. 
And  what  he  knoweth,  that  he  cannot  use. 
But  let  not  moody  thoughts  their  shadow  throw 
O'er  the  calm  beauty  of  this  hour  serene ! 
In  the  rich  sunset  see  how  brightly  glow 


FAUST  45 

Yon  cottage  homes,  girt  round  with  verdant  green ! 

Slow  sinks  the  orb,  the  day  is  now  no  more ; 

Yonder  he  hastens  to  diffuse  new  Hfe. 

Oh  for  a  pinion  from  the  earth  to  soar. 

And  after,  ever  after  him  to  strive ! 

Then  should  I  see  the  world  below, 

Bathed  in  the  deathless  evening-beams, 

The  vales  reposing,  every  height  a-glow, 

The  silver  brooklets  meeting  golden  streams. 

The  savage  mountain,  with  its  cavern'd  side, 

Bars  not  my  godlike  progress.     Lo,  the  ocean. 

Its  warm  bays  heaving  with  a  tranquil  motion. 

To  my  rapt  vision  opes  its  ample  tide ! 

But  now  at  length  the  god  appears  to  sink ; 

A  new-born  impulse  wings  my  flight, 

Onward  I  press,  his  quenchless  light  to  drink, 

The  day  before  me,  and  behind  the  night. 

The  pathless  waves  beneath,  and  over  me  the  skies. 

Fair  dream,  it  vanish'd  with  the  parting  day ! 

Alas  !  that  when  on  spirit-wing  we  rise, 

No  wing  material  lifts  our  mortal  clay. 

But  'tis  our  inborn  impulse,  deep  and  strong, 

Upwards  and  onwards  still  to  urge  our  flight, 

When  far  above  us  pours  its  thrilling  song 

The  sky-lark,  lost  in  azure  light, 

When  on  extended  wing  amain 

O'er  pine-crown'd  height  the  eagle  soars. 

And  over  moor  and  lake,  the  crane 

Still  striveth  towards  its  native  shores. 


Wagner 
To  strange  conceits  oft  I  myself  must  own, 
But  impulse  such  as  this  I  ne'er  have  known : 
Nor  woods,  nor  fields,  can  long  our  thoughts  engage, 
Their  wings  I  envy  not  the  feather'd  kind ; 
Far  otherwise  the  pleasures  of  the  mind, 
Bear  us  from  book  to  book,  from  page  to  page ! 
Then  winter  nights  grow  cheerful ;  keen  delight 
Warms  every  limb ;  and  ah  !  when  we  unroll 


46  GOETHE 

Some  old  and  precious  parchment,  at  the  sight 
All  heaven  itself  descends  upon  the  soul. 

Faust 
Thy  heart  by  one  sole  impulse  is  possess'd; 
Unconscious  of  the  other  still  remain ! 
Two  souls,  alas !  are  lodg'd  within  my  breast, 
Which  struggle  there  for  undivided  reign: 
One  to  the  world,  with  obstinate  desire, 
And  closely-cleaving  organs,  still  adheres; 
Above  the  mist,  the  other  doth  aspire. 
With  sacred  vehemence,  to  purer  spheres. 
Oh,  are  there  spirits  in  the  air. 

Who  float  'twixt  heaven  and  earth  dominion  wielding, 
Stoop  hither  from  your  golden  atmosphere. 
Lead  me  to  scenes,  new  life  and  fuller  yielding ! 
A  magic  mantle  did  I  but  possess, 
Abroad  to  waft  me  as  on  viewless  wings, 
I'd  prize  it  far  beyond  the  costliest  dress, 
Nor  would  I  change  it  for  the  robe  of  kings. 

Wagner 
Call  not  the  spirits  who  on  mischief  wait ! 
Their  troop  familiar,  streaming  through  the  air, 
From  every  quarter  threaten  man's  estate. 
And  danger  in  a  thousand  forms  prepare  ! 
They  drive  impetuous  from  the  frozen  north. 
With  fangs  sharp-piercing,  and  keen  arroviry  tongues ; 
From  the  ungenial  east  they  issue  forth. 
And  prey,  with  parching  breath,  upon  thy  lungs ; 
If,  waft'd  on  the  desert's  flaming  wing. 
They  from  the  south  heap  fire  upon  the  brain. 
Refreshment  from  the  west  at  first  they  bring, 
Anon  to  drown  thyself  and  field  and  plain.  ^ 

In  wait  for  mischief,  they  are  prompt  to  hear;  " 

With  guileful  purpose  our  behests  obey; 
Like  ministers  of  grace  they  oft  appear. 
And  lisp  like  angels,  to  betray. 
But  let  us  hence  !  Grey  eve  doth  all  things  blend. 


FAUST  47 

The  air  grows  chill,  the  mists  descend ! 

'Tis  in  the  evening  first  our  home  we  prize — 

Why  stand  you  thus,  and  gaze  with  wondering  eyes  ? 

What  in  the  gloom  thus  moves  you? 

Faust 

Yon  black  hound 
See'st    thou,    through    corn    and    stubble    scampering 
round? 

Wagner 
I've  mark'd  him  long,  naught  strange  in  him  I  see ! 

Faust 
Note  him  !    What  takest  thou  the  brute  to  be? 

Wagner 
But  for  a  poodle,  whom  his  instinct  serves 
His  master's  track  to  find  once  more. 

Faust 
Dost  mark  how  round  us,  with  wide  spiral  curves. 
He  wheels,  each  circle  closer  than  before? 
And,  if  I  err  not,  he  appears  to  me 
A  line  of  fire  upon  his  track  to  leave. 

Wagner 
Naught  but  a  poodle  black  of  hue  I  see; 
'Tis  some  illusion  doth  your  sight  deceive. 

Faust 
Methinks  a  magic  coil  our  feet  around. 
He  for  a  future  snare  doth  lightly  spread. 

Wagner 
Around  us  as  in  doubt  I  see  him  shyly  bound, 
Since  he  two  strangers  seeth  in  his  master's  stead. 


48  GOETHE 

Faust 
The  circle  narrows,  he's  already  near! 

Wagner 
A  dog  dost  see,  no  spectre  have  we  here ; 
He  growls,  doubts,  lays  him  on  his  belly,  too, 
And  wags  his  tail — as  dogs  are  wont  to  do, 

Faust 
Come  hither,  Sirrah!  join  our  company! 

Wagner 
A  very  poodle,  he  appears  to  be ! 
Thou  standest  still,  for  thee  he'll  wait ; 
Thou  speak'st  to  him,  he  fawns  upon  thee  straight; 
Aught  thou  mayst  lose,  again  he'll  bring. 
And  for  thy  stick  will  into  water  spring. 

Faust 
Thou'rt  right  indeed ;  no  traces  now  I  see 
Whatever  of  a  spirit's  agency. 
'Tis  training — nothing  more. 

Wagner 

A  dog  well  taught 
E'en  by  the  wisest  of  us  may  be  sought. 
Ay,  to  your  favour  he's  entitled  too. 
Apt  scholar  of  the  students,  'tis  his  due ! 

{They  enter  the  gate  of  the  town.) 

STUDY 
Faust  {entering  with  the  poodle) 
Now  field  and  meadow  I've  forsaken ; 
O'er  them  deep  night  her  veil  doth  draw; 
In  us  the  better  soul  doth  waken. 
With  feelings  of  foreboding  awe, 
All  lawless  promptings,  deeds  unholy. 


FAUST  49 

Now  slumber,  and  all  wild  desires; 
The  love  of  man  doth  sway  us  wholly, 
And  love  to  God  the  soul  inspires. 

Peace,  poodle,  peace  !    Scamper  not  thus;  obey  me! 

Why  at  the  threshold  snuffest  thou  so  ? 

Behind  the  stove  now  quietly  lay  thee, 

My  softest  cushion  to  thee  I'll  throw. 

As  thou,  without,  didst  please  and  amuse  m.e 

Running  and  frisking  about  on  the  hill, 

So  tendance  now  I  will  not  refuse  thee; 

A  welcome  guest,  if  thou'lt  be  still. 

Ah !  when  the  friendly  taper  gloweth, 
Once  more  within  our  narrow  cell. 
Then  in  the  heart  itself  that  knoweth, 
A  light  the  darkness  doth  dispel. 
Reason  her  voice  resumes ;  returneth 
Hope's  gracious  bloom,  with  promise  rife; 
For  streams  of  life  the  spirit  yearneth. 
Ah !  for  the  very  fount  of  life. 

Poodle,  snarl  not !  with  the  tone  that  arises, 
Hallow'd  and  peaceful,  my  soul  within. 
Accords  not  thy  growl,  thy  bestial  din. 
We  find  it  not  strange,  that  man  despises 
What  he  conceives  not ; 
That  he  the  good  and  fair  misprizes — 
Finding  them  often  beyond  his  ken ; 
Will  the  dog  snarl  at  them  like  men? 

But  ah !    Despite  my  will,  it  stands  confessed. 

Contentment  welleth  up  no  longer  in  my  breast. 

Yet  wherefore  must  the  stream,  alas,  so  soon  be  dry, 

That  we  once  more  athirst  should  lie  ? 

Full  oft  this  sad  experience  hath  been  mine ; 

Nathless  the  want  admits  of  compensation ; 

For  things  above  the  earth  we  learn  to  pine. 

Our  spirits  yearn  for  revelation, 

Which  nowhere  burns  with  purer  beauty  blent, 


so  GOETHE 

Than  here  in  the  New  Testament. 

To  ope  the  ancient  text  an  impulse  strong 

Impels  me,  and  its  sacred  lore, 

With  honest  purpose  to  explore, 

And  render  into  my  loved  German  tongue. 

{He  opens  a  volume,  and  applies  himself  to  it.) 
'Tis  writ,  "In  the  beginning  was  the  Word  !" 
I  pause,  perplex'd ! .  Who  now  will  help  afford  ? 
I  cannot  the  mere  Word  so  highly  prize ; 
I  must  translate  it  otherwise, 
If  by  the  spirit  guided  as  I  read. 
"In  the  beginning  was  the  Sense  !"    Take  heed, 
The  import  of  this  primal  sentence  weigh. 
Lest  thy  too  hasty  pen  be  led  astray ! 
Is  force  creative  then  of  Sense  th'e  dower  ? 
"In  the  beginning  was  the  Power  !" 
Thus  should  it  stand :  yet,  while  the  line  I  trace, 
A  something  warns  me,  once  more  to  efface. 
The  spirit  aids !  from  anxious  scruples  freed, 
I  write,  "In  the  beginning  was  the  Deed !" 

Am  I  with  thee  my  room  to  share. 

Poodle,  thy  barking  now  forbear. 

Forbear  thy  howling ! 

Comrade  so  noisy,  ever  growling, 

I  cannot  suffer  here  to  dwell. 

One  or  the  other,  mark  me  well, 

Forthwith  must  leave  the  cell. 

I'm  loath  the  guest-right  to  withhold  ; 

The  door's  ajar,  the  passage  clear; 

But  what  must  now  mine  eyes  behold ! 

Are  nature's  laws  suspended  here? 

Real  is  it,  or  a  phantom  show? 

In  length  and  breadth  how  doth  my  poodle  grow  ! 

He  lifts  himself  with  threat'ning  mien, 

In  likeness  of  a  dog  no  longer  seen  ! 

What  spectre  have  I  harbour'd  thus  1 

Huge  as  a  hippopo^tamus. 

With  fiery  eye,  terrific  tooth  ! 

Ah  1  now  I  know  thee^  sure  enough ! 


FAUST  51 

For  such  a  base,  half-hellish  brood. 
The  key  of  Solomon  is  good. 

Spirits  (-without) 

Captur'd  there  within  is  one ! 
Stay  without  and  follow  none ! 
Like  a  fox  in  iron  snare, 
Hell's  old  lynx  is  quaking  there. 

But  take  heed ! 
Hover  round,  above,  below, 

To  and  fro, 
Then  from  durance  is  he  freed ! 
Can  ye  aid  him,  spirits  all. 
Leave  him  not  in  mortal  thrall: 
Many  a  time  and  oft  hath  he 
Served  us,  when  at  liberty. 

Faust 
The  monster  to  confront,  at  first, 
The  spell  of  Four  must  be  rehears'd ; 

Salamander  shall  kindle, 
Writhe  nymph  of  the  wave, 
In  air  sylph  shall  dwindle, 
And  Kobold  shall  slave. 

Who  doth  ignore 
The  primal  Four, 
Nor  knows  aright 
Their  use  and  might. 
O'er  spirits  will  he 
Ne'er  master  be ! 

Vanish  in  the  fiery  glow, 

Salamander ! 

Rushingly  together  flow. 

Undine ! 

Shimmer  in  the  meteor's  gleam, 

Sylphide ! 

Hither  bring  thine  homely  aid. 


52  GOETHE 

Incubus !     Incubus ! 

Step  forth!    I  do  adjure  thee  thus! 
None  of  the  Four 
Lurks  in  the  beast : 

He  grins  at  me,  untroubled  as  before; 
I  have  not  hurt  him  in  the  least, 
A  spell  of  fear 
Thou  now  shalt  hear. 

Art  thou,  comrade  fell. 

Fugitive  from  Hell? 

See  then  this  sign, 

Before  which  incline 

The  murky  troops  of  Hell ! 
With  bristling  hair  now  doth  the  creature  swell. 

Canst  thou,  reprobate. 
Read  the  uncreate, 
Unspeakable,  diffused 
Throughout  the  heavenly  sphere. 
Shamefully  abused, 
Transpierced  with  nail  and  spear ! 

Behind  the  stove,  tam'd  by  my  spells. 
Like  an  elephant  he  swells ; 
Wholly  now  he  fills  the  room. 
He  into  mist  will  melt  away. 
Ascend  not  to  the  ceiling !     Come,    . 
Thyself  at  the  master's  feet  now  lay  ! 
Thou  seest  that  mine  is  no  idle  threat. 
With  holy  fire  I  will  scorch  thee  yet ! 
Wait  not  the  might 
That  lies  in  the  triple-glowing  light ! 
Wait  not  the  might 
Of  all  my  arts  in  fullest  measure ! 

Mephistopheles 

(As  the  mist  sinks,  comes  forward  from  behind  the 
stove,  in  the  dress  of  a  travelling  scJwlar) 
Why  all  this  uproar?    What's  the  master's  pleasure? 


J 


FAUST  S3 

Faust 
This  then  the  kernel  of  the  brute ! 
A  traveUing  scholar?    Why  I  needs  must  smile. 

Mephistopheles 
Your  learned  reverence  humbly  I  salute  ! 
You've  made  me  swelter  in  a  pretty  style. 

Faust 
Thy  name? 

Mephistopheles 
The  question  trifling  seems  from  one, 
Who  it  appears  the  Word  doth  rate  so  lov;^ ; 
Who,  undeluded  by  mere  outward  show, 
To  Being's  depths  would  penetrate  alone. 

Faust 
With  gentlemen  like  you  indeed 
The  inward  essence  from  the  name  we  read, 
As  all  too  plainly  it  doth  appear. 
When  Beelzebub,  Destroyer,  Liar,  meets  the  ear. 
Who  then  art  thou  ? 

Mephistopheles 

Part  of  that  power  which  still 
Produceth  good,  whilst  ever  scheming  ill. 

Faust 
What  hidden  mystery  in  this  riddle  lies? 

Mephistopheles 
The  spirit  I,  which  evermore  denies  ! 
And  justly;  for  whate'er  to  light  is  brought 
Deserves  again  to  be  reduced  to  naught; 
Then  better  'twere  that  naught  should  be. 
Thus  all  the  elements  whioh  ye 


54  GOETHE 

Destruction,  Sin,  or  briefly.  Evil,  name, 
As  my  peculiar  element  I  claim. 

Faust 
Thou  nam'st  thyself  a  part,  and  yet  a  whole  I  see. 

Mephistopheles 
The  modest  truth  I  speak  to  thee. 
Though  folly's  microcosm,  man,  it  seems, 
Himself  to  be  a  perfect  whole  esteems : 
Part  of  the  part  am  I,  which  at  the  first  was  all, 
A  part  of  darkness,  which  gave  birth  to  light, 
Proud  light,  who  now  his  mother  would  enthrall, 
Contesting  space  and  ancient  rank  with  night. 
Yet  he  succeedeth  not,  for  struggle  as  he  will, 
To  forms  material  he  adhereth  still ; 
From  them  he  streameth,  them  he  maketh  fair. 
And  still  the  progress  of  his  beams  they  check ; 
And  so,  I  trust,  when  comes  the  final  wreck. 
Light  will,  ere  long,  the  doom  of  matter  share. 

Faust 
Thy  worthy  avocation  now  I  guess ! 
Wholesale  annihilation  won't  prevail. 
So  thou'rt  beginning  on  a  smaller  scale. 

Mephistopheles  ■ 
And,  to  say  truth,  as  yet  with  small  success. 
Oppos'd  to  naught,  this  clumsy  world. 
The  something — it  subsisteth  still ; 
Not  yet  is  it  to  ruin  hurl'd. 
Despite  the  efforts  of  my  will. 
Tempests  and  earthquakes,  fire  and  flood,  Fve  tried; 
Yet  land  and  ocean  still  unchang'd  abide  ! 
And    then    of    humankind    and    beasts,    the    accursed 

brood, — 
Neither  o'er  them  can  I  extend  my  sway. 
What  countless  myriads  have  I  swept  away  ! 
Yet  ever  circulates  the  fresh  young  blood. 


FAUST  55 

It  is  enough  to  drive  me  to  despair ! 

As  in  the  earth,  in  water,  and  in  air, 

A  thousand  germs  burst  forth  spontaneously ; 

In  moisture,  drought,  heat,  cold,  they  still  appear ! 

Had  I  not  flame  selected  as  my  sphere 

Nothing  apart  had  been  reserved  for  me. 

Faust 
So  thou  vi^ith  thy  cold  devil's  fist 
Still  clench'd  in  malice  impotent 
Dost  the  creative  power  resist, 
The  active,  the  beneficent ! 
Henceforth  some  other  task  essay. 
Of  Chaos  thou  the  wondrous  son ! 

Mephistopheles 
We  will  consider  what  you  say. 
And  talk  about  it  more  anon ! 
For  this  time  have  I  leave  to  go? 

Faust 
Why  thou  shouldst  ask,  I  cannot  see. 
Since  thee  I  now  have  learned  to  know. 
At  thy  good  pleasure,  visit  me. 
Here  is  the  window,  here  the  door, 
The  chimney,  too,  may  serve  thy  need. 

Mephistopheles 
I  must  confess,  my  stepping  o'er 
Thy  threshold  a  slight  hindrance  doth  impede ; 
The  wizard-foot  doth  me  retain, 

Faust 
The  pentagram  thy  peace  doth  mar? 
To  me,  thou  son  of  hell,  explain, 
How  camest  thou  in,  if  this  thine  exit  bar? 
Could  such  a  spirit  aught  ensnare  ? 


56  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 
Observe  it  well,  it  is  not  drawn  with  care, 
One  of  the  angels,  that  which  points  without, 
Is,  as  thou  seest,  not  quite  closed. 

Faust 
Chance  hath  the  matter  happily  dispos'd  ! 
So  thou  my  captive  art  ?    No  doubt ! 
By  accident  thou  thus  art  caught ! 

Mephistopheles 
In  sprang  the  dog,  indeed,  observing  naught; 
Things  now  assume  another  shape. 
The  devil's  in  the  house  and  can't  escape. 

Faust 
Why  through  the  window  not  withdraw  ? 

Mephistopheles 
For  ghosts  and  for  the  devil  'tis  a  law. 
Where  they  stole  in,  there  they  must  forth.    We're  free 
The  first  to  choose;  as  to  the  second,  slaves  are  we. 

Faust 
E'en  hell  hath  its  peculiar  laws,  I  see ! 
I'm  glad  of  that !  a  pact  may  then  be  made, 
The  which  you  gentlemen  will  surely  keep  ? 

Mephistopheles 
What  e'er  therein  is  promised  thou  shalt  reap. 
No  tittle  shall  remain  unpaid. 
But  such  arrangements  time  require ; 
We'll  speak  of  them  when  next  we  meet; 
Most  earnestly  I  now  entreat. 
This  once  permission  to  retire. 


FAUST  57 


Faust 
Another  moment  prithee  here  remain, 
Me  with  some  happy  word  to  pleasure. 

Mephistopheles 
Now  let  me  go !  ere  long  I'll  come  again, 
Then  thou  may'st  question  at  thy  leisure. 

Faust 
'Twas  not  my  purpose  thee  to  lime; 
The  snare  hast  entered  of  thine  own  free  will : 
Let  him  who  holds  the  devil,  hold  him  still ! 
So  soon  he'll  catch  him  not  a  second  time. 

Mephistopheles 

If  it  so  please  thee,  I'm  at  thy  command; 
Only  on  this  condition,  understand ; 
That  worthily  thy  leisure  to  beguile, 
I  here  may  exercise  my  arts  awhile. 

Faust 
Thou'rt  free  to  do  so!     Gladly  I'll  attend; 
But  be  thine  art  a  pleasant  one ! 

Mephistopheles 

My  friend, 
This  hour  enjoyment  more  intense. 
Shall  captivate  each  ravish'd  sense. 
Than  thou  could'st  compass  in  the  bound 
Of  the  whole  year's  unvarying  round; 
And  what  the  dainty  spirits  sing, 
The  lovely  images  they  bring. 
Are  no  fantastic  sorcery. 
Rich  odours  shall  regale  your  smell, 
On  choicest  sweets  your  palate  dwell, 
Your  feelings  thrill  with  ecstasy. 


58  GOETHE 

No  preparation  do  we  need, 
Here  we  together  are.    Proceed. 

Spirits 
Hence  overshadowing  gloom, 
Vanish  from  sight ! 
O'er  us  thine  azure  dome. 
Bend,  beauteous  Hght ! 
.  Dark  clouds  that  o'er  us  spread, 

Melt  in  thin  air! 
Stars,  your  soft  radiance  shed. 
Tender  and  fair. 
Girt  with  celestial  might, 
Winging  their  airy  flight, 
Spirits  are  thronging. 
Follows  their  forms  of  light 
Infinite  longing! 
Flutter  their  vestures  bright 
O'er  field  and  grove  ! 
Where  in  their  leafy  bower 
Lovers  the  livelong  hour 
Vow  deathless  love. 
Soft  bloometh  bud  and  bower ! 
Bloometh  the  grove  I 
Grapes  from  the  spreading  vine 
Crown  the  full  measure ; 
Fountains  of  foaming  wine 
Gush  from  the  pressure. 
Still  where  the  currents  wind, 
Gems  brightly  gleam. 
Leaving  the  hills  behind 
On  rolls  the  stream; 
Now  into  ample  seas, 
Spreadeth   the  flood; 
Laving  the  sunny  leas. 
Mantled  with   wood. 
Rapture  the  feather'd  throng, 
Gaily  careering. 
Sip  as  they  float  along; 
Sunward  they're  steering; 


FAUST  59 

On  towards  the  isles  of  light 

Winging  their  way, 

That  on  the  waters  bright 

Dancingly  play. 

Hark  to  the  choral  strain. 

Joyfully  ringing ! 

While  on  the  grassy  plain 

Dancers  are  springing; 

Climbing  the  steep  hill's  side. 

Skimming  the  glassy  tide. 

Wander  they  there ; 

Others  on  pinions  wide 

Wing  the  blue  air ; 

All  lifeward  tending,  upward  still  wending, 

Towards  yonder  stars  thaf  gleam. 

Far,  far  above ; 

Stars  from  whose  tender  beam 

Rains  blissful  love. 

Mephistopheles 
Well  done,  my  dainty  spirits !  now  he  slumbers ! 
Ye  have  entranc'd  him  fairly  with  your  numbers ! 
This  minstrelsy  of  yours  I  must  repay, — 
Thou  art  not  yet  the  man  to  hold  the  devil  fast ! — 
With   fairest  shapes  your  spells  around  him  cast, 
And  plunge  him  in  a  sea  of  dreams ! 
But  that  this  charm  be  rent,  the  threshold  passed. 
Tooth  of  rat  the  way  must  clear. 
I  need  not  conjure  long  it  seems, 
One  rustles  hitherward,  and  soon  my  voice  will  hear. 
The  master  of  the  rats  and  mice. 
Of  flies  and  frogs,  of  bugs  and  lice, 
Commands  thy  presence ;  without  fear 
Come  forth  and  gnaw  the  threshold  here. 
Where  he  with  oil  has  smear'd  it. — Tbou 
Com'st  hopping  forth  already !     Now 
To  work !     The  point  that  holds  me  bound 
Is  in  the  outer  angle  found. 
Another  bite — so — now  'tis  done — 
Now,  Faustus,  till  we  meet  again,  dream  on. 


60  GOETHE 

Faust  (awaking) 
Am  I  once  more  deluded !  must  I  deem 
That  thus  the  throng  of  spirits  disappear? 
The  devil's  presence,  was  it  but  a  dream  ? 
Hath  but  a  poodle  scap'd  and  left  me  here  ? 

STUDY 

Faust.     Mephistopheles 

Faust 
A  knock?    Come  in !    Who  now  would  break  my  rest? 

Mephistopheles 
'Tis  I ! 

Faust 
Come    in ! 

Mephistopheles 

Thrice  be  the  words  expre&s'd. 

Faust 
Then  I  repeat,  Come  in ! 

Mephistopheles 

'Tis  well,   • 
I  hope  that  we  shall  soon  agree  ! 
For  now  your  fancies  to  expel, 
Here,  as  a  youth  of  high  degree, 
I  come  in  gold-lac'd  scarlet  vest, 
And  stiff-silk  mantle  richly  dress'd, 
A  cock's  gay  feather  for  a  plume, 
A  long  and  pointed  rapier,  too; 
And  briefly  I  would  counsel  you 
To  don  at  once  the  same  costume. 
And,  free  from  trammels,  speed  away, 
That  what  life  is  you  may  essay. 


FAUST  61 

Faust 
In  every  garb  I  needs  must  feel  oppress'd, 
My  heart  to  earth's  low  cares  a  prey. 
Too  old  the  trifler's  part  to  play, 
Too  young  to  live  by  no  desire  possess'd. 
What  can  the  world  to  me  afford  ? 
Renounce  !  renounce  !  is  still  the  word ; 
This  is  the  everlasting  song 
In  every  ear  that  ceaseless  rings, 
And  which,  alas,  our  whole  life  long. 
Hoarsely  each  passing  moment  sings. 
But  to  new  horror  I  awake  each  morn, 
And  I  could  weep  hot  tears,  to  see  the  sun 
Dawn  on  another  day,  whose  round  forlorn 
Accomplishes  no  wish  of  mine — not  one. 
Which  still,  with  froward  captiousness,  impains 
E'en  the  presentiment  of  every  joy. 
While  low  realities  and  paltry  cares 
The  spirit's  fond  imaginings  destroy. 
Then  must  I  too,  when  falls  the  veil  of  night, 
Stretch'd  on  my  pallet  languish  in  despair, 
Appalling  dreams  my  soul  affright ; 
No  rest  vouchsafed  me  even  there. 
The  god.  who  throned  within  my  breast  resides. 
Deep  in  my  soul  can  stir  the  springs ; 
With  sovereign  sway  my  energies  he  guides, 
He  cannot  move  external  things; 
And  so  existence  is  to  me  a  weight. 
Death  fondly  I  desire,  and  life  I  hate. 

Mephistopheles 
And  yet,  methinks,  by  most  'twill  be  confess'd 
That  Death  is  never  quite  a  welcome  guest. 

Faust 
Happy  the  man  around  whose  brow  he  binds 
The  bloodstain'd  wreath  in  conquest's  dazzHng  hour; 
Or  whom,  excited  by  the  dance,  he  finds 


62  GOETHE 

Dissolv'd  in  bliss,  in  love's  delicious  bower ! 
O  that  before  the  lofty  spirit's  might, 
Enraptured,  I  had  rendered  up  my  soul ! 

Mephistopheles 
Yet  did  a  certain  man  refrain  one  night, 
Of  its  brown  juice  to  drain  the  crystal  bowl. 

Faust 
To  play  the  spy  diverts  you  then? 

Mephistopheles 

I  own. 
Though  not  omniscient,  much  to  me  is  known. 

Faust 
If  o'er  my  soul  the  tone  familiar,  stealing. 
Drew  me  from  harrowing  thought's  bewild'ring  maze. 
Touching  the  ling'ring  chords  of  childlike  feeling. 
With  sweet  harmonies  of  happier  days: 
So  curse  I  all,  around  the  soul  that  windeth 
Its  magic  and  alluring  spell. 
And  with  delusive  flattery  bindeth 
Its  victim  to  this  dreary  cell ! 
Curs'd  before  all  things  be  the  high  opinion, 
Wherewith  the  spirit  girds  itself  around! 
Of  shows  delusive  curs'd  be  the  dominion, 
Within  whose  mocking  sphere  our  sense  is  bound ! 
Accurs'd  of  dreams  the  treacherous  wiles. 
The  cheat  of  glory,  deathless  fame ! 
Accurs'd  what  each  as  property  beguiles, 
Wife,  child,  slave,  plough,  whate'er  its  name ! 
Accurs'd  be  mammon,  when  with  treasure 
He  doth  to  daring  deeds  incite : 
Or  when  to  steep  the  soul  in  pleasure, 
He  spreads  the  couch  of  soft  delight ! 
Curs'd  be  the  grape's  balsamic  juice! 
Accurs'd  love's  dream,  of  joys  the  first! 


FAUST 


63 


Accurs'd  be  hope  !  accurs'd  be  faith  ! 
And  more  than  all,  be  patience  curs'd ! 

Chorus  of  Spirits  (invisible) 
Woe !  woe ! 
Thou  hast  destroyed 
The  beautiful  world 
With    violent   blow ; 
'Tis   shiver'd  !   'tis  shatter'd  ! 
The  fragments   abroad  by  a  demigod  scatter'd ! 
Now  we  sweep 
The  wrecks   into   nothingness ! 
Fondly  we  weep 
The   beauty  that's  gone ! 
Thou,  'mongst  the  sons  of  earth. 
Lofty  and  mighty  one, 
Build  it  once  more ! 

In  thine  own  bosom  the  lost  world  restore ! 
Now   with   unclouded   sense 
Enter  a  new  career; 
Songs   shall   salute  thine  ear, 
Ne'er  heard  before! 

Mephistopheles 
My  little  ones  these  spirits  be. 
Hark !    with  shrewd  intelligence. 
How  they  recommend  to  thee 
Action,  and  the  joys  of  sense! 
In  the  busy  world  to  dwell, 
Fain   they  would  aWure   thee   hence : 
For   within  this   lonely  cell, 
Stagnate  sap  of  life  and  sense. 

Forbear  to  trifle  longer  with  thy  grief, 

Which,  vulture-like,  consumes  thee  in  this  den. 

The  worst  society  is  some  relief, 

Making  thee  feel  thyself   a  man   with  men. 

Nathless,  it  is  not  meant,  I  trow. 

To  thrust  thee  'mid  the  vulgar  throng. 


64  GOETHE 

I  to  the  upper  ranks  do  not  belong; 

Yet  if,  by  me   companion'd,  thou 

Th}^  steps  through  life  forthwith  wilt  take, 

Upon  the  spot  myself  I'll  make 

Thy   comrade ; — 

Should  it  suit  thy  need, 

I  am  thy  servant,  am  thy  slave  indeed! 

Faust 
And  how  must  I  thy  services  repay? 

Mephistopheles 
Thereto  thou  lengthen'd  respite  hast ! 


Faust 


No!  No! 


The  devil  is  an  egoist  I  know : 

And,  for  Heaven's  sake,  'tis  not  his  way 

Kindness  to  any  one  to  show. 

Let   the   condition   plainly   be  exprest ! 

Such  a  domestic  is  a  dangerous  guest. 

Mephistopheles 
I'll  pledge  myself  to  be  thy  servant  here, 
Still  at  thy  back  alert  and  prompt  to  be; 
But  when  together  yonder  we  appear, 
Then  shalt  thou  do  the  same  for  me. 

Faust 

But  small   concern  I  feel  for  yonder  world; 

Hast  thou  this  system  into  ruin  hurl'd. 

Another  may  arise  the  void  to  fill. 

This  earth  the  fountain  whence  my  pleasures  flow, 

This  sun  doth  daily  shine  upon  my  woe, 

And  if  this  world  I  must  forego. 

Let  happen  then, — what  can  and  will. 

I  to  this  theme  will  close  mine  ears. 

If   men  hereafter  hate   and   love. 


. 


FAUST  65 

And  if  there  be  in  yonder  spheres 
A  depth  below  or  height  above. 

Mephistopheles 
In  this  mood  thou  mayst  venture  it.    But  make 
The  compact !     I  at  once  will  undertake 
To  charm  thee  with  mine  arts.     I'll  give  thee  more 
Than  mortal  eye  hath  e'er  beheld  before. 

Faust 
What,  sorry  Devil,  hast  thou  to  bestow? 
Was  ever  mortal  spirit,  in  its  high  endeavour, 
Fathom'd  by  Being  such  as  thou? 
Yet  food  thou  hast  which  satisfieth  never, 
Hast  ruddy  gold,  that  still  doth  flow 
Like  restless  quicksilver  away, 
A  game  thou  hast,  at  which  none  win  who  play, 
A  girl  who  would,  with  amorous  eyen. 
E'en  from  my  breast,   a  neighbour  snare, 
Lofty  ambition's  joy  divine, 
That,  meteor-like,  dissolves  in  air. 
Show  me  the  fruit  that,  ere  'tis  pluck'd,  doth  rot. 
And  trees,  whose  verdure  daily  buds  anew ! 

Mephistopheles 
Such  a  commission  scares  me  not, 
I  can  provide  such  treasures,  it  is  true ; 
But,  my  good  friend,  a  season  will  come  round, 
When  on  what's  good  we  may  regale  in  peace. 

Faust 
If  e'er  upon  my  couch,  stretched  at  my  ease,  I'm  found, 
Then  may  my  life  that  instant  cease  ! 
Me  canst  thou  cheat  with  glozing  wile 
Till  self-reproach  away  I  cast, — 
Me  with  joy's  lure  canst  thou  beguile; — 
Let  that  day  be  for  me  the  last ! 
Be  this  our  wager  1 

7. — ^VOL.  XIX  HC 


66  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 
Settled ! 

Faust 

Sure  and  fast ! 
When  to  the  moment  I  shall  say, 
"  Linger  awhile  !  so  fair  thou  art !  " 
Then  mayst  thou  fetter  me  straightway, 
Then  to  the  abyss  will  I  depart ! 
Then  may  the  solemn  death-bell  sound. 
Then  from  thy  service  thou  art  free. 
The  index  then  may  cease  its  round. 
And  time  be  never  more  for  me ! 

Mephistopheles 
I  shall  remember:  pause,  ere  'tis  too  late. 

Faust 
Thereto  a  perfect  right  hast  thou. 
My  strength  I  do  not  rashly  overrate. 
Slave  am  I  here,  at  any  rate, 
If  thine,  or  whose,  it  matters  not,  I  trow. 

Mephistopheles 
At  thine  inaugural  feast  I  will  this  day 
Attend,  my  duties  to  commence. — 
But  one  thing ! — Accidents  may  happen,  hence 
A  line  or  two  in  writing  grant,  I  pray. 

Faust 
A  writing,  Pedant!  dost  demand  from  me? 
Man,  and  man's  plighted  word,  are  these  unknown  to 

thee? 
Is't  not  enough,  that  by  the  word  I  gave, 
My  doom  for  evermore  is  cast  ? 
Doth  not  the  world  in  all  its  currents  rave,  | 

And  must  a  promise  hold  me  fast?  I 

Yet  fixed  is  this  delusion  in  our  heart;  | 

I 


FAUST  67 

Who,  of  his  own  free  will,  therefrom  would  part? 

How  blest  within  whose  breast  truth  reigneth  pure  ! 

No  sacrifice  will  he  repent  when  made ! 

A  formal  deed,  with  seal  and  signature, 

A  spectre  this  from  which  all  shrink  afraid. 

The  word  its  life  resigneth  in  the  pen, 

Leather  and  wax  usurp  the  mastery  then. 

Spirits  of  evil !  what  dost  thou  require  ? 

Brass,  marble,  parchment,  paper,  dost  desire? 

Shall  I  with  chisel,  pen,  or  graver  write? 

Thy  choice  is  free ;  to  me  'tis  all  the  same. 

Mephistopheles 
Wherefore  thy  passion  so  excite 
And  thus  thine  eloquence  inflame? 
A  scrap  is  for  our  compact  good. 
Thou  under-signest  merely  with  a  drop  of  blood'. 

Faust 

If  this  will  satisfy  thy  mind, 

Thy  whim  I'll  gratify,  howe'er  absurd. 

Mephistopheles 
Blood  is  a  juice  of  very  special  kind. 

Faust 
Be  not  afraid  that  I  shall  break  my  word ! 
The  scope  of  all  my  energy 
Is  in  exact  accordance  with  my  vow. 
Vainly  I  have  aspired  too  high; 
I'm  on  a  level  but  with  such  as  thou; 
Me  the  great  spirit  scorn'd,  defied; 
Nature  from  me  herself  doth  hide; 
Rent  is  the  web  of  thought ;  my  mind 
Doth  knowledge  loathe  of  every  kind. 
In  depths  of  sensual  pleasure  drown'd, 
Let  us  our  fiery  passions  still ! 
Enwrapp'd  in  magic's  veil  profound, 
Let  wondrous  charms  our  senses  thrill ! 


68  GOETHE 

Plunge  we  in  time's  tempestuous  flow, 
Stem  we  the  rolling  surge  of  chance ! 
There  may  alternate  weal  and  woe, 
Success  and  failure,  as  they  can, 
Mingle  and  shift  in  changeful  dance ! 
Excitement  is  the  sphere  for  man. 

Mephistopheles 
Nor  goal,  nor  measure  is  prescrib'd  to  you. 
If  you  desire  to  taste  of  every  thing, 
To  snatch  at  joy  while  on  the  wing, 
May  your  career  amuse  and  profit  too ! 
Only  fall  to  and  don't  be  over  coy ! 

Faust 
Hearken !    The  end  I  aim  at  is  not  joy; 
I  crave  excitement,  agonizing  bliss, 
Enamour'd  hatred,  quickening  vexation. 
Purg'd  from  the  love  of  knowledge,  my  vocation, 
The  scope  of  all  my  powers  henceforth  be  this, 
To  bare  my  breast  to  every  pang, — to  know 
In  my  heart's  core  all  human  weal  and  woe. 
To  grasp  in  thought  the  lofty  and  the  deep, 
Men's  various  fortunes  on  my  breast  to  heap. 
And  thus  to  theirs  dilate  my  individual  mind. 
And    share    at    length    with    them    the    shipwreck    of 
mankind. 

Mephistopheles 
Oh,  credit  me,  who  still  as  ages  roll, 
Have  chew'd  this  bitter  fare  from  year  to  year, 
No  mortal,  from  the  cradle  to  the  bier. 
Digests  the  ancient  leaven  !    Know,  this  Whole 
Doth  for  the  Deity  alone  subsist ! 
He  in  eternal  brightness  doth  exist. 
Us  unto  darkness  he  hath  brought,  and  here 
Where  day  and  night  alternate,  is  your  sphere. 


FAUST  69 

Faust 


But  'tis  my  will ! 


Mephistopheles 

Well  spoken,  I  admit! 
But  one  thing  puzzles  me,  my  friend; 
Time's  short,  art  long;  methinks  'twere  fit 
That  you  to  friendly  counsel  should  attend. 
A  poet  choose  as  your  ally ! 
Let  him  thought's  wide  dominion  sweep. 
Each  good  and  noble  quality. 
Upon  your  honoured  brow  to  heap ; 
The  lion's  magnanimity, 
The  fleetness  of  the  hind, 
The  fiery  blood  of  Italy, 
The  Northern's  stedfast  mind. 
Let  him  to  you  the  mystery  show 
To  blend  high  aims  and  cunning  low; 
And  while  youth's  passions  are  aflame 
To  fall  in  love  by  rule  and  plan ! 
I  fain  would  meet  with  such  a  man; 
Would  him  Sir  Microcosmus  name. 

Faust 
What  then  am  I,  if  I  aspire  in  vain 
The  crown  of  our  humanity  to  gain, 
Towards  which  my  every  sense  doth  strain  ? 

Mephistopheles 
Thou'rt  after  all — just  what  thou  art. 
Put  on  thy  head  a  wig  with  countless  locks. 
And  to  a  cubit's  height  upraise  thy  socks, 
Still  thou  remaincst  ever,  what  thou  art. 

Faust 
I  feel  it.  I  have  heap'd  upon  my  brain 
The  gather'd  treasure  of  man's  thought  in  vain; 
And  when  at  length  from  studious  toil  I  rest, 


70  GOETHE 

No  power,  new-born,  springs  up  within  my  breast; 
A  hair's  breadth  is  not  added  to  my  height, 
I  am  no  nearer  to  the  infinite. 

Mephistopheles 
Good  sir,  these  things  you  view  indeed, 
Just  as  by  other  men  they're  view'd; 
We  must  more  cleverly  proceed, 
Before  life's  joys  our  grasp  elude. 
The  devil !  thou  hast  hands  and  feet, 
And  head  and  heart  are  also  thine; 
What  I  enjoy  with  relish  sweet. 
Is  it  on  that  account  less  mine  ? 
If  for  six  stallions  I  can  pay, 
Do  I  not  own  their  strength  and  speed? 
A  proper  man  I  dash  away. 
As  their  two  dozen  legs  were  mine  indeed. 
Up  then,  from  idle  pondering  free, 
And  forth  into  the  world  with  me ! 
I  tell  you  what; — your  speculative  churl 
Is  like  a  beast  which  some  ill  spirit  leads, 
On  barren  wilderness,  in  ceaseless  whirl, 
While  all  around  lie  fair  and  verdant  meads. 

Faust 
But  how  shall  we  begin? 

Mephistopheles 

We  will  go  hence  with  speed, 
A  place  of  torment  this  indeed ! 
A  precious  life,  thyself  to  bore, 
And  some  few  youngsters  evermore ! 
Leave  that  to  neighbour  Paunch  ! — withdraw, 
Why  wilt  thou  plague  thyself  with  thrashing  straw? 
The  very  best  that  thou  dost  know 
Thou  dar'st  not  to  the  striplings  show. 
One  in  the  passage  now  doth  wait ! 

Faust 
I'm  in  no  mood  to  see  him  now. 


FAUST  7J 

Mephistopheles 
Poor  lad  !    He  must  be  tired,  I  trow; 
He  must  not  go  disconsolate. 
Hand  me  thy  cap  and  gown;  the  mask 
Is  for  my  purpose  quite  first  rate. 

(He  changes  his  dress.) 
Now  leave  it  to  my  wit !    I  ask 
But  quarter  of  an  hour;  meanwhile  equip, 
And  make  all  ready  for  our  pleasant  trip  ! 

(Exit  Faust.) 

Mephistopheles  (in  Faust's  lang  gown) 

Mortal !  the  loftiest  attributes  of  men, 

Reason  and  Knowledge,  only  thus  contemn. 

Still  let  the  Prince  of  lies,  without  control, 

With  shows,  and  mocking  charms  delude  thy  soul, 

I  have  thee  unconditionally  then ! 

Fate  hath  endow'd  him  with  an  ardent  mind. 

Which  unrestrain'd  still  presses  on  for  ever, 

And  whose  precipitate  endeavour 

Earth's  joys  o'erleaping,  leaveth  them  behind. 

Him  will  I  drag  through  life's  wild  waste. 

Through  scenes  of  vapid  dulness,  where  at  last 

Bewilder'd,  he  shall  falter,  and  stick  fast; 

And,  still  to  mock  his  greedy  haste, 

Viands  and  drink  shall  float  his  craving  lips  beyond—' 

Vainly  he'll  seek  refreshment,  anguish-tost, 

And  were  he  not  the  devil's  by  his  bond, 

Yet  must  his  soul  infallibly  be  lost ! 

A  Student  enters 

Student 

But  recently  I've  quitted  home, 
Full  of  devotion  am  I  come 
A  man  to  know  and  hear,  whose  name 
With  reverence  is  known  to  fame. 


72  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 
Your  courtesy  much  flatters  me! 
A  man  like  other  men  you  see ; 
Pray  have  you  yet  appHed  elsewhere? 

Student • 
I  would  entreat  your  friendly  care ! 
I've  youthful  blood  and  courage  high; 
Of  gold  I  bring  a  fair  supply; 
To  let  me  go  my  mother  was  not  fain; 
But  here  I  longed  true  knowledge  to  attain. 

Mephistopheles 
You've  hit  upon  the  very  place. 

Student 
And  yet  my  steps  I  would  retrace. 
These  walls,  this  melancholy  room, 
O'erpower  me  with  a  sense  of  gloom; 
The  space  is  narrow,  nothing  green, 
No  friendly  tree  is  to  be  seen : 
And  in  these  halls,  with  benches  filled,  distraught. 
Sight,  hearing  fail  me,  and  the  power  of  thought. 

Mephistopheles 
It  all  depends  on  habit.    Thus  at  first 
The  infant  takes  not  kindly  to  the  breast, 
But  before  long,  its  eager  thirst 
Is  fain  to  slake  with  hearty  zest: 
Thus  at  the  breasts  of  wisdom  day  by  day 
With  keener  relish  you'll  your  thirst  allay. 

Student 
Upon  her  neck  I  fain  would  hang  with  joy; 
To  reach  it,  say,  what  means  must  I  employ? 


FAUST  73 


Mephistopheles 
Explain,  ere  further  time  we  lose, 
What  special  faculty  you  choose? 

Student 
Profoundly  learned  I  would  grow, 
What  heaven  contains  would  comprehend, 
O'er  earth's  wide  realm  my  gaze  extend, 
Nature  and  science  I  desire  to  know. 

Mephistopheles 
You  are  upon  the  proper  track,  I  find ; 
Take  heed,  let  nothing  dissipate  your  mind. 

Student 
My  heart  and  soul  are  in  the  chase  ! 
Though  to  be  sure  I  fain  would  seize, 
On  pleasant  summer  holidays, 
A  little  liberty  and  careless  ease. 

Meph  istopheles 
Use  well  your  time,  so  rapidly  it  flie?" 
Method  will  teach  you  time  to  win ; 
Hence,  my  young  friend,  I  would  advise, 
With  college  logic  to  begin  ! 
Then  will  your  mind  be  so  well  braced, 
In  Spanish  boots  so  tightly  laced. 
That  on  'twill  circumspectly  creep. 
Thought's  beaten  track  securely  keep, 
Nor  will  it,  ignis-fatuus  like. 
Into  the  path  of  error  strike. 
Then  many  a  day  they'll  teach  you  how 
The  mind's  spontaneous  acts,  till  now 
As  eating  and  as  drinking  free. 
Require  a  process; — one!  two!  three! 
In  truth  the  subtle  web  of  thought 
Is  like  the  weaver's  fabric  wrought : 
One  treadle  moves  a  thousand  Unes, 


74  GOETHE 

Swift  dart  the  shuttles  to  and  fro, 
Unseen  the  threads  together  flow, 
A  thousand  knots  one  stroke  combines. 
Then  forward  steps  your  sage  to  show, 
And  prove  to  you,  it  must  be  so ; 
The  first  being  so,  and  so  the  second. 
The  third  and  fourth  deduc'd  we  see; 
And  if  there  were  no  first  and  second, 
Nor  third  nor  fourth  would  ever  be. 
This,  scholars  of  all  countries  prize, — 
Yet  'mong  themselves  no  weavers  rise. — 
He  who  would  know  and  treat  of  aught  alive. 
Seeks  first  the  living  spirit  thence  to  drive: 
Then  are  the  lifeless  fragments  in  his  hand, 
There  only  fails,  alas !  the  spirit-band. 
This  process,  chemists  name,  in  learned  thesis, 
Mocking  themselves.  Natures  encheiresis. 

Student 
Your  words  I  cannot  fully  comprehend. 

Mephistopheles 
In  a  short  time  you  will  improve,  my  friend. 
When  of  scholastic  forms  you  learn  the  use; 
And  how  by  method  all  things  to  reduce. 

Student 
So  doth  all  this  my  brain  confound. 
As  if  a  mill-wheel  there  were  turning  round. 

Mephistopheles 
And  next,  before  aught  else  you  learn, 
You  must  with  zeal  to  metaphysics  turn ! 
There  see  that  you  profoundly  comprehend. 
What  doth  the  limit  of  man's  brain  transcend; 
For  that  which  is  or  is  not  in  the  head 
A  sounding  phrase  will  serve  you  in  good  stead. 
But  before  all  strive  this  half  year 
From  one  fix'd  order  ne'er  to  swerve ! 


FAUST  75 

Five  lectures  daily  you  must  hear ; 
The  hour  still  punctually  observe ! 
Yourself  with  studious  zeal  prepare, 
And  closely  in  your  manual  look, 
Hereby  may  you  be  quite  aware 
That  all  he  utters  standeth  in  the  book; 
Yet  write  away  without  cessation. 
As  at  the  Holy  Ghost's  dictation! 

Student 
This,  Sir,  a  second  time  you  need  not  say ! 
Your  counsel  I  appreciate  quite; 
What  we  possess  in  black  and  white. 
We  can  in  peace  and  comfort  bear  away. 

MeP  H I  STOP  H  ELES 

A  faculty  I  pray  you  name. 

Student 
For  jurisprudence,  some  distaste  I  own. 

Mephistopheles 
To  me  this  branch  of  science  is  well  known, 
And  hence  I  cannot  your  repugnance  blame. 
Customs  and  laws  in  every  place, 
Like  a  disease,  an  heir-loom  dread. 
Still  trail  their  curse  from  race  to  race. 
And  furtively  abroad  they  spread. 
To  nonsense,  reason's  self  they  turn; 
Beneficence  becomes  a  pest; 
Woe  unto  thee,  that  thou'rt  a  grandson  born! 
As  for  the  law  born  with  us,  unexpressed; — 
That  law,  alas,  none  careth  to  discern. 

Student 
You  deepen  my  dislike.     The  youth 
Whom  you  instruct,  is  blest  in  sooth! 
To  try  theology  I  feel  inclined. 


76  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 
I  would  not  lead  you  willingly  astray, 
But  as  regards  this  science,  you  will  find 
So  hard  it  is  to  shun  the  erring  way. 
And  so  much  hidden  poison  lies  therein. 
Which  scarce  can  you  discern  from  medicine. 
Here  too  it  is  the  best,  to  listen  but  to  one. 
And  by  the  master's  words  to  swear  alone. 
To  sum  up  all — To  words  hold  fast ! 
Then  the  safe  gate  securely  pass'd. 
You'll  reach  the  fane  of  certainty  at  last. 

Student 
But  then  some  meaning  must  the  words  convey. 

Mephistopheles 
Right !     But   o'er-anxious   thought,  you'll   find   of  no 

avail, 
For  there  precisely  where  ideas  fail, 
A  word  comes  opportunely  into  play 
Most  admirable  weapons  words  are  found, 
On  words  a  system  we  securely  ground. 
In  words  we  can  conveniently  believe. 
Nor  of  a  single  jot  can  we  a  word  bereave. 

Student 
Your  pardon  for  my  importunity ; 
Yet  once  more  must  I  trouble  you: 
On  medicine,  I'll  thank  you  to  supply 
A  pregnant  utterance  or  two ! 
Three  years!  how  brief  the  appointed  tide! 
The  field,  heaven  knows,  is  all  too  wide ! 
If  but  a  friendly  hint  be  thrown, 
'Tis  easier  then  to  feel  one's  way. 

Mephistopheles    (aside) 
I'm  weary  of  the  dry  pedantic  tone, 
And  must  again  the  genuine  devil  play. 


FAUST  77 

(Aloud) 
Of  medicine  the  spirit's  caught  with  ease, 
The  great  and  Uttle  world  you  study  through, 
That  things  may  then  their  course  pursue, 
As  heaven  may  please. 
In   vain    abroad    you    range   through    science'    ample 

space, 
Each  man  learns  only  that  which  learn  he  can; 
Who  knows  the  moment  to  embrace. 
He  is  your  proper  man. 
In  person  you  are  tolerably  made, 
Nor  in  assurance  will  you  be  deficient: 
Self-confidence  acquire,  be  not  afraid. 
Others  will  then  esteem  you  a  proficient. 
Learn  chiefly  with  the  sex  to  deal! 
Their  thousands  ahs  and  ohs. 
These  the  sage  doctor  knows, 
He  only  from  one  point  can  heal. 
Assume  a  decent  tone  of  courteous  ease, 
You  have  them  then  to  humour  as  you  please. 
First  a  diploma  must  belief  infuse, 
That  you  in  your  profession  take  the  lead: 
You  then  at  once  those  easy  freedoms  use 
For  which  another  many  a  year  must  plead; 
Learn  how  to  feel  with  nice  address 
The  dainty  wrist; — and  how  to  press, 
With  ardent  furtive  glance,  the  slender  waist, 
To  feel  how  tightly  it  is  laced. 

Student 
There  is  some  sense  in  that !  one  sees  the  how  and  why. 

Mephistopheles 
Grey  is,  young  friend,  all  theory: 
And  green  of  life  the  golden  tree. 


78  GOETHE 

Student 
I  swear  it  seemeth  like  a  dream  to  me. 
May  I  some  future  time  repeat  my  visit, 
To  hear  on  what  your  wisdom  grounds  your  views? 

Mepkistopheles 
Command  my  humble  service  when  you  choose. 

Student 
Ere  I  retire,  one  boon  I  must  solicit: 
Here  is  my  album,  do  not.  Sir,  deny 
This  token  of  your  favour  I 

Mephistopheles 

Willingly! 
{He  writes  and  returns  the  hook.) 

Student  {reads) 
Eritis  sicut  Deus,  scientes  bonum  et  malum 
{He  reverently  closes  the  hook  and  retires.)^ 

Mephistopheles 
Let  but  this  ancient  proverb  be  your  rule, 
My  cousin  follow  still,  the  wily  snake,. 
And  with  your  likeness  to  the  gods,  poor  fool, 
Ere  long  be  sure  your  poor  sick  heart  will  quake  1 

\ Faust  {enters) 
Whither  away? 

Mephistopheles 
'Tis  thine  our  course  to  steer. 
The  little  world,  and  then  the  great  we'll  view. 
With  what  delight,  what  profit  too, 
Thou'lt  revel  through  thy  gay  career ! 


FAUST  70 

Faust 
Despite  my  length  of  beard  I  need 
The  easy  manners  that  insure  success ; 
Th'  attempt  I  fear  can  ne'er  succeed ; 
To  mingle  in  the  world  I  want  address ; 
I  still  have  an  embarrass'd  air,  and  then 
I  feel  myself  so  small  with  other  men. 

Mephistopheles 
Time,  my  good  friend,  will  all  that's  needful  give ; 
Be  only  self-possessed,  and  thou  hast  learn'd  to  live. 

Faust 
But  how  are  we  to  start,  I  pray? 
Steeds,  servants,  carriage,  where  are  they? 

Mephistopheles 
We've  but  to  spread  this  mantle  wide, 
'Twill  serve  whereon  through  air  to  ride. 
No  heavy  baggage  need  you  take, 
When  we  our  bold  excursion  make, 
A  little  gas,  which  I  will  soon  prepare, 
Lifts  us  from  earth ;  aloft  through  air. 
Light  laden,  we  shall  swiftly  steer  ;— 
I  wish  you  joy  of  your  new  Hfe-career. 


AUERBACH'S  CELLAR  IN  LEIPZIG 
'A  Drinking  Party 

Frosch 
No  drinking?    Naught  a  laugh  to  raise? 
None  of  your  gloomy  looks,  I  pray ! 
You,  who  so  bright  were  wont  to  blaze. 
Are  dull  as  wetted  straw  to-day. 


80  GOETHE 


Brander 
'Tis  all  your  fault ;  your  part  you  do  not  bear. 
No  beastliness,  no  folly. 

Frosch 
(pours  a  glass  of  wine  over  his  head) 

There, 
You  have  them  both  ! 

Brander 

You  double  beast ! 

Frosch 
'Tis  what  you  ask'd  me  for,  at  least ! 

SlEBEL 

Whoever  quarrels,  turn  him  out ! 
With  open  throat  drink,  roar,  and  shout. 
Hollo!    Hollo!    Ho! 

Altmayer 
Zounds,  fellow,  cease  your  deaf'ning  cheers  ! 
Bring  cotton-wool !    He  splits  my  ears. 

Siebel 
'Tis  when  the  roof  rings  back  the  tone, 
Then  first  the  full  power  of  the  bass  is  known. 

Frosch 
Right !  out  with  him  who  takes  offence  ! 
A !  tara  lara  da ! 

Altmayer 
A !  tara  lara  da  ! 

Frosch 
Our  throats  are  tuned.    Come  let's  commence  \ 


FAUST  81 

(Sings) 
The  holy  Roman  empire  now. 
How  holds  it  still  together? 

Brander 
An  ugly  song !  a  song  political ! 
A  song  offensive  !    Thank  God,  every  morn 
To  rule  the  Roman  empire,  that  you  were  not  born ! 
I  bless  my  stars  at  least  that  mine  is  not 
Either  a  kaiser's  or  a  chancellor's  lot. 
Yet  'mong  ourselves  should  one  still  lord  it  o'er  the  rest; 
That  we  elect  a  pope  I  now  suggest. 
Ye  know,  what  quality  ensures 
A  man's  success,  his  rise  secures. 

Frosch  (sings) 
Bear,  lady  nightingale  above, 
Ten  thousand  greetings  to  my  love. 

SlEBEL 

No  greetings  to  a  sweetheart!     No  love-songs  shall 
there  be ! 

Frosch 
Love-greetings  and  love-kisses  !    Thou  shalt  not  hinder 
me! 

(Sings) 
Undo  the  bolt !  in  silly  night, 
Undo  the  bolt !  the  lover  wakes. 
Shut  to  the  bolt !  when  morning  breaks. 

SlEBEL 

Ay,  sing,  sing  on,  praise  her  with  all  thy  might ! 
My  turn  to  laugh  will  come  some  day. 
Me  hath  she  jilted  once,  you  the  same  trick  she'll  play. 
Some  gnome  her  lover  be !  where  cross-roads  meet, 


GOETHE 

With  her  to  play  the  fool ;  or  old  he-goat, 

From  BlockslDcrg  coming  in  swift  gallop,  bleat 

A  good  night  to  her,  from  his  hairy  throat  I 

A  proper  lad  of  genuine  flesh  and  blood, 

Is  for  the  damsel  far  too  good; 

The  greeting  she  shall  have  from  me, 

To  smash  her  window-panes  will  be ! 

Brander  (striking  on  the  table) 
Silence  !    Attend  !  to  me  give  ear  ! 
Confess,  sirs,  I  know  how  to  live : 
Some  love-sick  folk  are  sitting  here ! 
Hence,  'tis  but  fit,  their  hearts  to  cheer. 
That  I  a  good-night  strain  to  them  should  give. 
Hark !  of  the  newest  fashion  is  my  song ! 
Strike  boldly  in  the  chorus,  clear  and  strong ! 

(He  sings) 
Once  in  a  cellar  lived  a  rat. 
He  feasted  there  on  butter, 
Until  his  paunch  became  as  fat 
As  that  of  Doctor  Luther. 
The  cook  laid  poison  for  the  guest, 
Then  was  his  heart  with  pangs  oppress'd, 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

Chorus  (shouting) 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

Brander 
He  ran  around,  he  ran  abroad. 
Of  every  puddle  drinking. 
The  house  with  rage  he  scratch'd  and  gnaw'd, 
In   vain, — he   fast   was   sinking; 
Full  many  an  anguish'd  bound  he  gave, 
Nothing  the  hapless  brute  could  save. 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 


FAUST  83 


Chorus 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

Brander 
By  torture  driven,  in  open  day, 
The  kitchen  he  invaded. 
Convulsed  upon  the  hearth  he  lay. 
With  anguish  sorely  jaded; 
The  poisoner  laugh'd.  Ha !  ha !  quoth  she. 
His  life  is  ebbing  fast,  I  see, 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

Chorus 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

SlEBEL 

How  the  dull  boors  exulting  shout ! 
Poison  for  the  poor  rats  to  strew 
A  fine  exploit  it  is  no  doubt. 

Brander 
They,  as  it  seems,  stand  well  with  you ! 

Altmayer 
Old  bald-pate !  with  the  paunch  profound ! 
The  rat's  mishap  hath  tamed  his  nature; 
For  he  his  counterpart  hath  found 
Depicted  in  the  swollen  creature. 

Faust  and  Mephistopheles 

Mephistopheles 

I  now  must  introduce  to  you 

Before  aught  else,  this  jovial  crew, 

To  show  how  lightly  life  may  glide  away; 

With  the  folk  here  each  day's  a  holiday. 

With  little  wit  and  much  content, 


84  GOETHE 

Each  on  his  own  small  round  intent, 
Like  sportive  kitten  with  its  tail ; 
While  no  sick-headache  they  bewail, 
And  while  their  host  will  credit  give, 
Joyous  and  free  from  care  they  live. 

Brander 
They're  off  a  journey,  that  is  clear, — 
From  their  strange  manners ;  they  have  scarce  been  here 
An  hour. 

Frosch 
You're  right !    Leipzig's  the  place  for  me ! 
'Tis  quite  a  little  Paris  ;  people  there 
Acquire  a  certain  easy  finish'd  air. 

SlEBEL 

What  take  you  now  these  travellers  to  be? 

Frosch 
Let  me  alone !    O'er  a  full  glass  you'll  see. 
As  easily  I'll  worm  their  secret  out, 
As  draw  an  infant's  tooth.    I've  not  a  doubt 
That  my  two  gentlemen  are  nobly  born. 
They  look  dissatisfied  and  full  of  scorn. 

*  Brander 

They  are  but  mountebanks,  I'll  lay  a  bet ! 

Altmayer 
Most  like. 

Frosch 

Mark  me,  I'll  screw  it  from  them  yet ! 

Mephistopheles  (to  Faust) 
These  fellows  would  not  scent  the  devil  out, 
E'en  though  he  had  them  by  the  very  throat ! 

Faust 
Good-morrow,  gentlemen ! 


FAUST  85 

SlEBEL 

Thanks  for  your  fair  salute. 
(Aside,  glancing  at  Mephistopheles.)^ 
How !  goes  the  fellow  on  a  halting  foot? 

Mephistopheles 
Ts  it  permitted  here  with  you  to  sit? 
Then  though  good  wine  is  not  forthcoming  here, 
Good  company  at  least  our  hearts  will  cheer. 

Altmayer 
A  dainty  gentleman,  no  doubt  of  it. 

Frosch 
You're  doubtless  recently  from  Rippach  ?    Pray, 
Did  you  with  Master  Hans  there  chance  to  sup? 

Mephistopheles 
To-day  we  pass'd  him,  but  we  did  not  stop ! 
When  last  we  met  him  he  had  much  to  say 
Touching  his  cousins,  and  to  each  he  sent 
Full  many  a  greeting  and  kind  compliment. 

(With  an  inclination  towards  Frosch.) 

Altmayer  (aside  to  Frosch) 
You  have  it  there ! 

SlEBEL 

Faith  !  he's  a  knowing  one ! 

Frosch 
Have  patience  !    I  will  show  him  up  anon  ! 

Mephistopheles 
We  heard  erewhile,  unless  I'm  wrong, 
Voices  well  trained  in  chorus  pealing? 


86  GOETHE 

Certes,  most  choicely  here  must  song 
Re-echo  from  this  vaulted  ceiling ! 

Frosch 
That  you're  an  amateur  one  plainly  sees ! 

Mephistopheles 
Oh  no,  though  strong  the  love,  I  cannot  boast  much  skill. 

Altmayer 
Give  us  a  song ! 

Mephistopheles 
As  many  as  you  will. 

SlEBEL 

But  be  it  a  brand  new  one,  if  you  please ! 

Mephistopheles 
But  recently  returned  from  Spain  are  we, 
The  pleasant  land  of  wine  and  minstrelsy. 

(Sings) 

A  king  there  was  once  reigning, 
Who  had  a  goodly  flea — 

Frosch 
Hark !  did  you  rightly  catch  the  words  ?  a  flea  ! 
An  odd  sort  of  a  guest  he  needs  must  be. 

Mephistopheles  (sings) 
A  king  there  was  once  reigning, 
Who  had  a  goodly  flea, 
Him  loved  he  without  feigning. 
As  his  own  son  were  he  ! 
His  tailor  then  he  summon'd, 
The  tailor  to  him  goes : 
Now  measure  me  the  youngster 
For  jerkin  and  for  hose  ! 


FAUST  gy 

Brander 
Take  proper  heed,  the  tailor  strictly  charge, 
The  nicest  measurement  to  take, 
And  as  he  loves  his  head,  to  make 
The  hose  quite  smooth  and  not  too  large ! 

Mephistopheles 
In  satin  and  in  velvet, 
Behold  the  yonker  dressed; 
Bedizen'd  o'er  with  ribbons, 
A  cross  upon  his  breast. 
Prime  minister  they  made  him. 
He  wore  a  star  of  state; 
And  all  his  poor  relations 
Were  courtiers,  rich  and  great. 

The  gentlemen  and  ladies 

At  court  were  sore  distressed; 

The  queen  and  all  her  maidens 

Were  bitten  by  the  pest, 

And  yet  they  dared  not  scratch  them, 

Or  chase  the  fleas  away. 

If  we  are  bit,  we  catch  them, 

And  crack  without  delay. 

Chorus  (shouting) 
If  we  are  bit,  &c. 

Frosch 
Bravo  !    That's  the  song  for  me ! 

SlEBEL 

Such  be  the  fate  of  every  flea ! 

Brander 
With  clever  finger  catch  and  kill ! 


88  GOETHE 

Altmayer 
Hurrah  for  wine  and  freedom  still ! 

Mephistopheles 
Were  but  your  wine  a  trifle  better,  friend, 
A  glass  to  freedom  I  would  gladly  drain. 

SlEBEL 

You'd  better  not  repeat  those  words  again ! 

Mephistopheles 
I  am  afraid  the  landlord  to  offend ; 
Else  freely  I  would  treat  each  worthy  guest 
From  our  own  cellar  to  the  very  best. 

Siebel 
Out  with  it  then !    Your  doings  I'll  defend. 

Frosch 

Give  a  good  glass,  and  straight  we'll  praise  you,  one  and 

all. 
Only  let  not  your  samples  be  too  small; 
For  if  my  judgment  you  desire, 
Certes,  an  ample  mouthful  I  require. 

Altmayer  (aside) 
I  guess  they're  from  the  Rhenish  land. 

Mephistopheles 
Fetch  me  a  gimlet  here ! 

Brander 

Say,  what  therewith  to  bore? 
You  cannot  have  the  wine-casks  at  the  door  ? 

Altmayer 
Our  landlord's  tool-basket  behind  doth  yonder  stand. 


FAUST  89 

Mephistopheles  (takes  the  gimlet) 

(To  Frosch) 
Now  only  say  !  what  liquor  will  you  take  ? 

Frosch 
How  mean  you  that?  have  you  of  every  sort? 

Mephistopheles 
Each  may  his  own  selection  make. 

Altmayer  (to  Frosch) 
Ha !    Ha !    You  lick  your  lips  already  at  the  thought. 

Frosch 
Good,  if  I  have  my  choice,  the  Rhenish  I  propose; 
For  still  the  fairest  gifts  the  fatherland  bestows. 

Mephistopheles 
(boring  a  hole  in  the  edge  of  the  table  opposite  to 
•where  Frosch  is  sitting) 

Give  me  a  little  wax — and  make  some  stoppers — quick ! 

Altmayer 
Why,  this  is  nothing  but  a  juggler's  trick  ! 

Mephistopheles  (to  Brander) 
And  you  ? 

Brander 
Champagne's  the  wine  for  me; 
Right  brisk,  and  sparkling  let  it  be ! 

(Mephistopheles  bores;  one  of  the  party  has 
in  the  meantime  prepared  the  wax-stop- 
pers and  stopped  the  holes.) 


90  GOETHE 

Brander 
What  foreign  is  one  always  can't  decline, 
What's  good  is  often  scatter'd  far  apart. 
The  French  your  genuine  German  hates  with  all  his 

heart, 
Yet  has  a  relish  for  their  wine. 

SlEBEL 

(as  Mephistopheles  approaches  him) 

I  like  not  acid  wine,  I  must  allow, 
Give  me  a  glass  of  genuine  sweet ! 

Mephistopheles  (bores) 

Tokay 
Shall,  if  you  wish  it,  flow  without  delay. 

Altmayer 
Come  !  look  me  in  the  face  !  no  fooling  now ! 
You  are  but  making  fun  of  us,  I  trow. 

Mephistopheles 
Ah !  ah !  that  would  indeed  be  making  free 
With  such  distinguished  guests.     Come,  no  delay; 
What  liquor  can  I  serve  you  with,  I  pray  ? 

Altmayer 

Only  be  quick,  it  matters  not  to  me. 

(After  the  holes  are  bored  and  stopped.) 

Mephistopheles  (with  strange  gesttires) 
Grapes  the  vine-stock  bears. 
Horns  the  buck-goat  wears  ! 
Wine  is  sap,  the  vine  is  wood. 
The  wooden  board  yields  wine  as  good. 
With  a  deeper  glance  and  true 
The  mysteries  of  nature  view ! 
Have  faith  and  here's  a  miracle  ! 
Your  stoppers  draw  and  drink  your  fill ! 


FAUST  91 

All 
(as  they  draw  the  stoppers  and  the  wine  chosen  by 

each  runs  into  his  glass) 
Oh  beauteous  spring,  which  flows  so  far ! 

Mephistopheles 
Spill  not  a  single  drop,  of  this  beware ! 

(They  drink  repeatedly.) 

All  (sing) 
Happy  as  cannibals  are  we, 
Or  as  five  hundred  swine. 

Mephistopheles 
They're  in  their  glory,  mark  their  elevation ! 

Faust 
Let's  hence,  nor  here  our  stay  prolong. 

Mephistopheles 
Attend,  of  brutishness  ere  long 
You'll  see  a  glorious  revelation. 

Siebel 
(drinks  carelessly;  the  wine  is  spilt  upon  the  ground, 

and  turns  to  flame) 
Help  !  fire  !  help  !  Hell  is  burning ! 

Mephistopheles 
(addressing  the  flames) 

Stop, 
Kind  element,  be  still,  I  say ! 

(To  the  Company.) 
Of  purgatorial  fire  as  yet  'tis  but  a  drop. 


92  GOETHE 

SlEBEL 

What  means  the  knave  !    For  this  you'll  dearly  pay  I 
Us,  it  appears,  you  do  not  know. 

Frosch 
Such  tricks  a  second  time  he'd  better  show ! 

Altmayer 
Methinks  'twere  well  we  pack'd  him  quietly  away. 

SlEBEL 

What,  sir !  with  us  your  hocus-pocus  play ! 

Mephistopheles 
Silence,  old  wine-cask ! 


Vile  broomstick ! 


SlEBEL 

How !  add  insult,  too  ! 

Brander 

Hold,  or  blows  shall  rain  on  you ! 


Altmayer 
{draws  a  stopper  out  of  the   table;  Hre  springs  out 

against  him) 
I  burn  !    I  burn  ! 

SlEBEL 

'Tis  sorcery,  I  vow  ! 
Strike  home  !    The  fellow  is  fair  game,  I  trow! 
(^They  draw  their  knives  and  attack  Mephistopheles.) 

Mephistopheles  (zvith  solemn  gestures) 
Visionary  scenes  appear ! 


FAUST  93 

Words  delusive  cheat  the  ear ! 
Be  ye  there,  and  be  ye  here  ! 
(They  stand  amazed  and  gaze  at  each  other.) 

Altmayer 
Where  am  I  ?    What  a  beauteous  land ! 

Frosch 
Vineyards !  unless  my  sight  deceives  ? 

SlEBEI. 

And  clust'ring  grapes  too,  close  at  hand ! 

Brander 
And  underneath  the  spreading  leaves, 
What  stems  there  be  !  What  grapes  I  see  ! 

{He  seizes  Siebel  by  the  nose.    The  others  recipro- 
cally do  the  same,  and  raise  their  knives.) 

Mephistopheles  {as  above) 
Delusion,  from  their  eyes  the  bandage  take  ! 
Note  how  the  devil  loves  a  jest  to  break ! 

{He  disappears  with  Faust  ;  the  fellozvs  drazv  back 

from  one  another.) 

Siebel 
What  was  it  ? 

Altmayer 
How? 

Frosch 
Was  that  your  nose  ? 

Brander  {to  Siebel) 
And  look,  my  hand  doth  thine  enclose ! 


94  GOETHE 

Altmayer 
I  felt  a  shock,  it  went  through  every  limb ! 
A  chair  !  I'm  fainting !  All  things  swim  ! 

Frosch 
Say  what  has  happened,  what's  it  all  about  ? 

SlEBEL 

Where  is  the  fellow?    Could  I  scent  him  out. 
His  body  from  his  soul  I'd  soon  divide  1 

Altmayer 
With  my  own  eyes,  upon  a  cask  astride. 
Forth  through  the  cellar-door  I  saw  him  ride — 
Heavy  as  lead  my  feet  are  growing. 

(Turning  to  the  table.) 
I  wonder  is  the  wine  still  flowing ! 

SlEBEL 

'Twas  all  delusion,  cheat  and  lie. 

Frosch 
'Twas  wine  I  drank,  most  certainly. 

Brander 
But  with  the  grapes  how  was  it,  pray  ? 

Altmayer 
That  none  may  miracles  believe,  who  now  will  say  ? 

WITCHES'  KITCHEN 

A  large  caldron  hangs  over  the  fire  on  a  low  hearth;  various 
figures  appear  in  the  vapour  rising  from  it,  A  Female 
Monkey  sits  beside  the  caldron  to  skim  it,  and  zvatch  that 
it  does  not  boil  over.    The  Male  Monkey  zvith  the  young 


FAUST 


95 


ones  is  seated  near,  warming  himself.  The  walls  and 
ceiling  are  adorned  with  the  strangest  articles  of  witch' 
furniture. 

Faust,,  Mephistopheles 

Faust 
This  senseless,  juggling  witchcraft  I  detest  1 
Dost  promise  that  in  this  foul  nest 
Of  madness,  I  shall  be  restored? 
Must  I  seek  counsel  from  an  ancient  dame  ? 
And  can  she,  by  these  rites  abhorred, 
Take  thirty  winters  from  my  frame  ? 
Woe's  me,  if  thou  naught  better  canst  suggest ! 
Hope  has  already  fled  my  breast. 
Has  neither  nature  nor  a  noble  mind 
A  balsam  yet  devis'd  of  any  kind  ? 

Mephistopheles 
My  friend,  you  now  speak  sensibly.    In  truth, 
Nature  a  method  giveth  to  renew  thy  youth : 
But  in  another  book  the  lesson's  writ; — 
It  forms  a  curious  chapter,  I  admit. 

Faust 
I  fain  would  know  it. 

Mephistoph  eles 

Good !    A  remedy 
Without  physician,  gold,  or  sorcery: 
Away  forthwith,  and  to  the  fields  repair, 
Begin  to  delve,  to  cultivate  the  ground. 
Thy  senses  and  thyself  confine 
Within  the  very  narrowest  round. 
Support  thyself  upon  the  simplest  fare. 
Live  like  a  very  brute  the  brutes  among, 
Neither  esteem  it  robbery 
The  acre  thou  dost  reap,  thyself  to  dung; 
This  is  the  best  method,  credit  me, 
Again  at  eighty  to  grow  hale  and  young. 


96  GOETHE 

Faust 
I  am  not  used  to  it,  nor  can  myself  degrade 
So  far,  as  in  my  hand  to  take  the  spade. 
This  narrow  life  would  suit  me  not  at  all. 

Mephistopheles 
Then  we  the  witch  must  summon  after  all. 

Faust 
Will  none  but  this  old  beldame  do? 
Canst  not  thyself  the  potion  brew? 

Mephistopheles 
A  pretty  play  our  leisure  to  beguile ! 
A  thousand  bridges  I  could  build  meanwhile. 
Not  science  only  and  consummate  art, 
Patience  must  also  bear  her  part. 
A  quiet  spirit  worketh  whole  years  long; 
Time  only  makes  the  subtle  ferment  strong. 
And  all  things  that  belong  thereto. 
Are  wondrous  and  exceeding  rare ! 
The  devil  taught  her,  it  is  true ; 
But  yet  the  draught  the  devil  can't  prepare. 

{Perceiving  the  beasts.) 
Look  yonder,  what  a  dainty  pair ! 
Here  is  the  maid  !  the  knave  is  there  ! 

(To  the  beasts) 
It  seems  your  dame  is  not  at  home? 

The  Monkeys 
Gone  to  carouse. 
Out  of  the  house, 
Thro'  the  chimney  and  away ! 

Mephistopheles 
How  long  is  it  her  wont  to  roam? 


I 


FAUST  97 

The  Monkeys 
While  ,we  can  warm  our  paws  she'll  stay. 

Mephistopheles    (to  Faust) 
What  think  you  of  the  charming  creatures? 

Faust 
I  loathe  alike  their  form  and  features ! 

Mephistopheles 
Nay,  such  discourse,  be  it  confessed. 
Is  just  the  thing  that  pleases  me  the  best. 

(To  the  Monkeys) 
Tell  me,  ye  whelps,  accursed  crew ! 
What  stir  ye  in  the  broth  about? 

Monkeys 
Coarse  beggar's  gruel  here  we  stew. 

Mephistopheles 
Of  customers  you'll  have  a  rout. 

The  He-Monkey 
(approaching  and  fawning  on  Mephistopheles) 
Quick  !  quick  !  throw  the  dice, 
Make  me  rich  in  a  trice, 
Oh  give  me  the  prize  ! 
Alas,  for  myself ! 
Had  I  plenty  of  pelf, 
I  then  should  be  wise. 

Mephistopheles 
How  blest  the  ape  would  think  himself,  if  he 
Could  only  put  into  the  lottery  ! 

4— VOL.  XIX  HC 


,98  GOETHE 

(In  the  meantime  the  young  Monkeys  have  been  playing 
with  a  large  globe,  which  they  roll  forwards) 

The  He-Monkey 
The  world  behold; 
Unceasingly  roll'd, 
It  riseth  and  falleth  ever; 
It  ringeth  like  glass  ! 
How  brittle,  alas ! 
'Tis  hollow,  and  resteth  never. 
How  bright  the  sphere. 
Still  brighter  here  1 
Now  living  am  1 1 
Dear  son,  beware ! 
Nor  venture  there ! 
Thou  too  must  die  I 
It  is  of  clay ; 
'Twill  crumble  away; 
There  fragments  lie. 

Mephistopheles 
Of  what  use  is  the  sieve? 

The  He-Monkey  {taking  it  down) 
The  sieve  would  show, 
If  thou  wert  a  thief  or  no?  , 
(He  runs  to  the  She-Monkey,  and  makes  her  look 

through  it.) 
Look  through  the  sieve  ! 
Dost  know  him  the  thief, 
And  dar'st  thou  not  call  him  so? 

Mephistopheles  (approaching  the  fire) 
And  then  this  pot? 

The  Monkeys 
The  half-witted  sot ! 
He  knows  not  the  pot ! 
He  knows  not  the  kettle ! 


i 


FAUST 


Mephistopheles 
Unmannerly  beast ! 
Be  civil  at  least! 


The  He-Monkey 
Take  the  whisk  and  sit  down  in  the  settle  I 

{He  makes  Mephistopheles  sit  down.} 

Faust 

{who  all  this  time  has  been  standing  before  a  looking-glass, 
now  approaching,  and  now  retiring  from  it) 

What  do  I  see  ?  what  form,  whose  charms  transcend 

The  loveliness  of  earth,  is  mirror'd  here  I 

O  Love,  to  waft  me  to  her  sphere, 

To  me  the  swiftest  of  thy  pinions  lend! 

Alas !    If  I  remain  not  rooted  to  this  place. 

If  to  approach  more  near  I'm  fondly  lur'd, 

Her  image  fades,  in  veiling  mist  obscur'd  !— 

Model  of  beauty  both  in  form  and  face ! 

Is't  possible  ?    Hath  woman  charms  so  rare  ? 

In  this  recumbent  form,  supremely  fair, 

The  essence  must  I  see  of  heavenly  grace? 

Can  aught  so  exquisite  on  earth  be  found? 


MePH  ISTOPH  eles 

The  six  days'  labour  of  a  god,  my  friend. 
Who  doth  himself  cry  bravo,  at  the  end. 
By  something  clever  doubtless  should  be  crown'd.    , 
For  this  time  gaze  your  fill,  and  when  you  please 
Just  such  a  prize  for  you  I  can  provide  • 
How  blest  is  he  to  whom  kind  fate  decrees, 
To  take  her  to  his  home,  a  lovely  bride ! 
(Faust  continues  to  gase  into  the  mirror.    Mephisto- 
pheles stretching  himself  on  the  settle  and  playing 
with  the  whisk,  continues  to  speak.) 


100  GOETHE 

Here  sit  I,  like  a  king  upon  his  throne; 
My  sceptre  this; — the  crown  I  want  alone. 

The  Monkeys 

(who  have  hitherto  been  making  all  sorts  of  strange  gestures, 

bring  Mephistopheles  a  crown,  with  loud  cries) 

Oh,  be  so  good, 
With  sweat  and  with  blood 
The  crown  to  lime ! 
{They  handle  the  crozvn  awkwardly  and  break  it  in  tzvo 
pieces,  with  which  they  skip  about.) 

'Twas  fate's  decree  !  * 

We  speak  and  see ! 
We  hear  and  rhyme. 

Faust  {before  the  mirror) 
Woe's  me  !  well-nigh  distraught  I  feel ! 

Mephistopheles 
(pointing  to  the  beasts) 
And  even  my  own  head  almost  begins  to  reel. 

The  Monkeys 
If  good  luck  attend, 
If  fitly  things  blend, 
Our  jargon  with  thought 
And  with  reason  is  fraught  1 

Faust  (as  above) 
A  flame  is  kindled  in  my  breast ! 
Let  us  begone  !  nor  linger  here  ! 

Mephistopheles 
(in  the  same  position) 
It  now  at  least  must  be  confessed, 
That  poets  sometimes  are  sincere. 

(The  caldron  which  the  She-Monkey  has  neglected 


FAUST  101 

begins  to  boil  over;  a  great  flame  arises,  zvhich 
streams  up  the  chimney.  The  Witch  comes  down 
the  chimney  with  horrible  cries.) 

The  Witch 
Ough  !  ough  !  ough  !  ough  ! 
Accursed  brute  !  accursed  sow  ! 
The  caldron  dost  neglect,  for  shame! 
Accursed  brute  to  scorch  the  dame ! 

(Perceiving  Faust  and  Mephistopheles) 

Whom  have  we  here? 
Who's  sneaking  here? 
Whence  are  ye  come? 
With  what  desire? 
The  plague  of  fire 
Your  bones  consume ! 
(She  dips  the  skimming-ladle  into  the  caldron  and 
throzvs  Homes  at  Faust,   Mephistopheles,   atid 
the  Monkeys.    The  Monkeys  whimper.) 

Mephistopheles 
(twirling  the  whisk  which  he  holds  in  his  hand,  and 
striking  among  the  glasses  and  pots) 
Dash !  Smash ! 
There  lies  the  glass  I 
There  lies  the  slime ! 
'Tis  but  a  jest; 
I  but  keep  time. 
Thou  hellish  pest. 
To  thine  own  chime ! 

(While  the  Witch  steps  back  in  rage  and  astonish- 
ment.) 

Dost  know  me !    Skeleton  !    Vile  scarecrow,  thou ! 
Thy  lord  and  master  dost  thou  know  ? 
What  holds  me,  that  I  deal  not  now 
Thee  and  thine  apes  a  stunning  blow  ? 
No  more  respect  to  my  red  vest  dost  pay? 


102  GOETHE 

Does  my  cock's  feather  no  allegiance  claim? 
Have  I  my  visage  masked  to-day? 
Must  I  be  forced  myself  to  name  ? 

The  Witch 
Master,  forgive  this  rude  salute  1 
But  I  perceive  no  cloven  foot. 
And  your  two  ravens,  where  are  they? 

Mephistopheles 
This  once  I  must  admit  your  plea ; — 
For  truly  I  must  own  that  we 
Each  other  have  not  seen  for  many  a  day. 
The  culture,  too,  that  shapes  the  world,  at  last 
Hath  e'en  the  devil  in  its  sphere  embraced ; 
The  northern  phantom  from  the  scene  hath  pass'd. 
Tail,  talons,  horns,  are  nowhere  to  be  traced  I 
As  for  the  foot,  with  which  I  can't  dispense, 
'Twould  injure  me  in  company,  and  hence. 
Like  many  a  youthful  cavalier, 
False  calves  I  now  have  worn  for  many  a  year. 

The  Witch  (dancing) 
I  am  beside  myself  with  joy. 
To  see  once  more  the  gallant  Satan  here ! 

Mephistopheles 
Woman,  no  more  that  name  employ ! 

The  Witch 
But  why  ?  what  mischief  hath  it  done  ? 

Mephistopheles 
To  fable-books  it  now  doth  appertain ; 
But  people  from  the  change  have  nothing  won. 
Rid  of  the  evil  one,  the  evil*  ones  remain. 
Lord  Baron  call  thou  me,  so  is  the  matter  good; 
Of  other  cavaliers  the  mien  I  wear. 


FAUST  103 

Dost  make  no  question  of  my  gentle  blood ; 
See  here,  this  is  the  scutcheon  that  I  bear ! 

{He  makes  an  unseemly  gesture.) 

The  Witch 
{laughing  immoderately) 
Ha  !    Ha  I    Just  Hke  yourself  !    You  are,  I  ween, 
The  same  mad  wag  that  you  have  ever  been ! 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust) 
My  friend,  learn  this  to  understand,  I  pray ! 
To  deal  with  witches  this  is  still  the  way. 

The  Witch 
Now  tell  me,  gentlemen,  what  you  desire? 

Mephistopheles 
Of  your  known  juice  a  goblet  we  require. 
But  for  the  very  oldest  let  me  ask ; 
Double  its  strength  with  years  doth  grow. 

The  Witch 
Most  willingly !    And  here  I  have  a  flask. 
From  which  I've  sipp'd  myself  ere  now; 
What's  more,  it  doth  no  longer  stink; 
To  you  a  glass  I  joyfully  will  give. 


If  unprepar'd,  however,  this  man  drink. 
He  hath  not,  as  you  know,  an  hour  to  live. 


{Aside.) 


Mephistopheles 

He's  my  good  friend,  with  whom  'twill  prosper  well ; 

I  grudge  him  not  the  choicest  of  thy  store. 

Now  draw  thy  circle,  speak  thy  spell, 

And  straight  a  bumper  for  him  pour ! 

{The  Witch,  with  extraordinary  gestures,  describes 
a  circle,  and  places  strange  things  within  it.  The 
glasses  meanwhile  begin  to  ring,  the  caldron  to 


104  GOETHE 

sound,  and  to  make  music.  Lastly,  she  brings  a 
great  book;  places  the  Monkeys  in  the  circle  to 
serve  her  as  a  desk,  and  to  hold  the  torches.  She 
beckons  Faust  to  approach.) 

Faust  {to  Mephistopheles) 
Tell  me,  to  what  doth  all  this  tend  ? 
Where  will  these  frantic  gestures  end? 
This  loathsome  cheat,  this  senseless  stuff 
I've  known  and  hated  long  enough. 

Mephistopheles 
Mere  mummery,  a  laugh  to  raise  ! 
Pray  don't  be  so  fastidious  !     She 
But  as  a  leech,  her  hocus-pocus  plays, 
That  well  with  you  her  potion  may  agree. 

{He  compels  Faust  to  enter  the  circle.') 

{The  Witch,  zvith  great  emphasis,  begins  to  de- 
claim the  book.) 
This  must  thou  ken: 
Of  one  make  ten. 
Pass  two,  and  then 
Make  square  the  three, 
So  rich  thou'lt  be. 
Drop  out  the  four  ! 
From  five  and  six, 
Thus  says  the  witch, 
Make  seven  and  eight. 
So  all  is  straight ! 
And  nine  is  one, 
And  ten  is  none, 
This  is  the  witch's  one-time-one ! 

Faust 
The  hag  doth  as  in  fever  rave. 

Mephistopheles 
To  these  will  follow  many  a  stave. 
I  know  it  well,  so  rings  the  book  throughout; 


FAUST  105 

Much  time  I've  lost  in  puzzling  o'er  its  pages. 
For  downright  paradox,  no  doubt, 
A  mystery  remains  ahke  to  fools  and  sages. 
Ancient  the  art  and  modern  too,  my  friend. 
'Tis  still  the  fashion  as  it  used  to  be. 
Error  instead  of  truth  abroad  to  send 
By  means  of  three  and  one,  and  one  and  three. 
'Tis  ever  taught  and  babbled  in  the  schools. 
Who'd  take  the  trouble  to  dispute  with  fools  ? 
When  words  men  hear,  in  sooth,  they  usually  believe, 
That    there    must    needs    therein    be    something    to 
conceive. 

The  Witch    (continues) 
The  lofty  power 
Of  wisdom's  dower. 
From  all  the  world  conceal'd  I 
Who  thinketh  not, 
To  him  I  wot, 
Unsought  it  is  reveal'd. 

Faust 
What  nonsense  doth  the  hag  propound? 
My  brain  it  doth  well-nigh  confound. 
A  hundred  thousand  fools  or  more, 
Methinks  I  hear  in  chorus  roar. 

Mephistopheles 

Incomparable  Sibyl  cease,  I  pray! 
Hand  us  thy  liquor  without  more  delay. 
And  to  the  very  brim  the  goblet  crown ! 
My  friend  he  is,  and  need  not  be  afraid; 
Besides,  he  is  a  man  of  many  a  grade, 
Who  hath  drunk  deep  already. 

(The  Witch,  with  many  ceremonies,  pours  the  liquor 

into  a  cup;  as  Faust  lifts  it  to  his  mouth,  a  light 

flame  arises.) 


106  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 

Gulp  it  down ! 
No  hesitation !    It  will  prove 
A  cordial,  and  your  heart  inspire  I 
What !  with  the  devil  hand  and  glove, 
And  yet  shrink  back  afraid  of  fire? 
(The  Witch  dissolves  the  circle.    Faust  steps  out.) 

MePH  ISTOPH  ELES 

Now  forth  at  once !  thou  dar'st  not  rest. 

Witch 
And  much,  sir,  may  the  liquor  profit  you ! 

Mephistopheles  (to  the  Witch) 
And  if  to  pleasure  thee  I  aught  can  do, 
Pray  on  Walpurgis  mention  thy  request. 

Witch 
Here  is  a  song,  sung  o'er,  sometimes  you'll  see. 
That  'twill  a  singular  effect  produce. 

Mephistopheles  (to  Faust) 
Come,  quick,  and  let  thyself  be  led  by  me ; 
Thou  must  perspire,  in  order  that  the  juice 
Thy  frame  may  penetrate  through  every  part. 
Then  noble  idleness  I  thee  will  teach  to  prize. 
And  soon  with  ecstasy  thou'lt  recognise 
How  Cupid  stirs  and  gambols  in  thy  heart. 

Faust 
Let  me  but  gaze  one  moment  in  the  glass  1 
Too  lovely  was  that  female  form ! 


I 


Mephistopheles 


Nay !  nay  I 


A  model  which  all  women  shall  surpass. 
In  flesh  and  blood  ere  long  thou  shalt  survey. 

(Aside.) 


FAUST  107 

As  works  the  draught,  thou  presently  shalt  greet 
A  Helen  in  each  woman  thou  dost  meet. 


A    STREET 
Faust  (Margaret  parsing  by) 

Faust 
Fair  lady,  may  I  thus  make  free 
To  offer  you  my  arm  and  company? 

Margaret 

I  am  no  lady,  am  not  fair, 

Can  without  escort  home  repair. 

(She  disengages  herself  and  exit.) 

Faust 
By  heaven  !    This  girl  is  fair  indeed ! 
No  form  like  hers  can  I  recall. 
Virtue  she  hath,  and  modest  heed, 
Is  piquant  too,  and  sharp  withal. 
Her  cheek's  soft  light,  her  rosy  lips, 
No  length  of  tjme  will  e'er  eclipse ! 
Her  downward  glance  in  passing  by. 
Deep  in  my  heart  is  stamp'd  for  aye; 
How  curt  and  sharp  her  answer  too, 
To  ecstasy  the  feeling  grew ! 

(Mephistopheles  enters.) 

Faust 
This  girl  must  win  for  me !    Dost  hear? 

Mephistopheles 

Which? 

Faust 

She  who  but  now  passed. 

Mephistopheles 

What !     She  ? 


108  GOETHE 

She  from  confession  cometh  here, 
From  every  sin  absoh^ed  and  free; 
I  crept  near  the  confessor's  chair. 
All  innocence  her  virgin  soul, 
For  next  to  nothing  went  she  there; 
O'er  such  as  she  I've  no  control ! 

Faust 
She's  past  fourteen. 

Mephistopheles 

You  really  talk 
Like  any  gay  Lothario, 
Who  every  floweret  from  its  stalk 
Would  pluck,  and  deems  nor  grace,  nor  truth. 
Secure  against  his  arts,  forsooth ! 
This  ne^'er  the  less  won't  always  do. 

Faust 
Sir  Moralizer,  prithee,  pause; 
Nor  plague  me  with  your  tiresome  laws  ! 
To  cut  the  matter  short,  my  friend. 
She  must  this  very  night  be  mine, — 
And  if  to  help  me  you  decline. 
Midnight  shall  see  our  compact  end. 

Mephistopheles 
What  may  occur  just  bear  in  mind ! 
A  fortnight's  space,  at  least,  I  need, 
A  lit  occasion  but  to  find. 

Faust 
With  but  seven  hours  I  could  succeed ; 
Nor  should  I  want  the  devil's  wile, 
So  young  a  creature  to  beguile. 

Mephistopheles 
Like  any  Frenchman  now  you  speak, 
But  do  not  tret,  I  pray ;  why  seek 


FAUST  109 

To  hurry  to  enjoyment  straight? 
The  pleasure  is  not  half  so  great, 
As  when  at  first  around,  above, 
With  all  the  fooleries  of  love, 
The  puppet  you  can  knead  and  mould 
As  in  Itahan  story  oft  is  told. 

Faust 
No  such  incentives  do  I  need. 

Mephistopheles 
But  now,  without  offence  or  jest! 
You  cannot  quickly,  I  protest. 
In  winning  this  sweet  child  succeed. 
By  storm  we  cannot  take  the  fort, 
To  stratagem  we  must  resort. 

Faust 
Conduct  me  to  her  place  of  rest ! 
Some  token  of  the  angel  bring ! 
A  kerchief  from  her  snowy  breast, 
A  garter  bring  me, — any  thing  I 

Mephistopheles 
That  I  my  anxious  zeal  may  prove. 
Your  pangs  to  sooth  and  aid  your  love, 
A  single  moment  will  we  not  delay. 
Will  lead  you  to  her  room  this  very  day. 

Faust 
And  shall  I  see  her? — Have  her? 

Mephistopheles 

No! 
She  to  a  neighbour's  house  will  go; 
But  in  her  atmosphere  alone, 
The  tedious  hours  meanwhile  you  may  employ, 
In  bhssful  dreams  of  future  joy. 


110  GOETHE 

Faust 
Can  we  go  now? 

Mephistopheles 
'Tis  yet  too  soon. 

Faust 
Some  present  for  my  love  procure !  (Exit.) 

Mephistopheles 
Presents  so  soon  !  'tis  well !  success  is  sure  1 
Full  many  a  goodly  place  I  know. 
And  treasures  buried  long  ago; 
I  must  a  bit  o'erlook  them  now.  (Exit.) 


EVENING.     A   SMALL  AND  NEAT  ROOM 

Margaret 
(braiding  and  binding  up  her  hair) 
I  would  give  something  now  to  know, 
Who  yonder  gentleman  could  be ! 
He  had  a  gallant  air,  I  trow. 
And  doubtless  was  of  high  degree : 
That  written  on  his  brow  was  seen — 
Nor  else  would  he  so  bold  have  been.  (Exit.) 

Mephistopheles 
Come  in  !  tread  softly  !  be  discreet ! 

Faust  (after  a  pause) 
Begone  and  leave  me,  I  entreat ! 

Mephistopheles  (looking  round) 
Not  every  maiden  is  so  neat.  (Exit.) 


FAUST  111 


Faust  {gazing  round) 
Welcome  sweet  twilight,  calm  and  blest, 
That  in  this  hallow'd  precinct  reigns ! 
Fond  yearning  love,  inspire  my  breast, 
Feeding  on  hope's  sweet  dew  thy  blissful  pains ! 
What  stillness  here  environs  me ! 
Content  and  order  brood  around. 
What  fulness  in  this  poverty ! 
In  this  small  cell  what  bliss  profound ! 

{He  throws  himself  on  the  leather  arm-chair  beside 

the  bed.) 
Receive  me  thou,  who  hast  in  thine  embrace, 
Welcom'd  in  joy  and  grief  the  ages  flown! 
How  oft  the  children  of  a  by-gone  race 
Have  cluster'd  round  this  patriarchal  throne! 
Haply  she,  also,  whom  I  hold  so  dear. 
For  Christmas  gift,  with  grateful  joy  possess'd, 
Hath  with  the  full  round  cheek  of  childhood,  here. 
Her  grandsire's  wither'd  hand  devoutly  press'd. 
Maiden !  I  f§el  thy  spirit  haunt  the  place. 
Breathing  of  order  and  abounding  grace. 
As  with  a  mother's  voice  it  prompteth  thee, 
The  pure  white  cover  o'er  the  board  to  spread. 
To  strew  the  crisping  sand  beneath  thy  tread. 
Dear  hand !  so  godlike  in  its  ministry ! 
The  hut  becomes  a  paradise  through  thee ! 
And  here —  {He  raises  the  bed-curtain.) 

How  thrills  my  pulse  with  strange  deHght! 
Here  could  I  linger  hours  untold; 
Thou,  Nature,  didst  in  vision  bright, 
The  embryo  angel  here  unfold. 
Here  lay  the  child,  her  bosom  warm 
With  life ;  while  steeped  in  slumber's  dew. 
To  perfect  grace,  her  godlike  form, 
With  pure  and  hallow'd  weavings  grew ! 

And  thou !  ah  here  what  seekest  thou  ? 
How  quails  mine  inmost  being  now ! 


112  GOETHE 

What   wouldst  thou   here?  what  makes  thy  heart  so 

sore? 
Unhappy  Faust !  I  know  thee  now  no  more. 

Do  I  a  magic  atmosphere  inhale? 
Erewhile,  my  passion  would  not  brook  delay ! 
Now  in  a  pure  love-dream  I  melt  away. 
Are  we  the  sport  of  every  passing  gale  ? 

Should  she  return  and  enter  now, 
How  wouldst  thou  rue  thy  guilty  flame ! 
Proud  vaunter — thou  wouldst  hide  thy  brow, — 
And  at  her  feet  sink  down  with  shame. 

Mephistopheles 
Quick !  quick !  below  I  see  her  there. 

Faust 
Away !  I  will  return  no  more ! 

Mephistopheles 
Here  is  a  casket,  with  a  store 
Of  jewels,  which  I  got  elsewhere. 
Just  lay  it  in  the  press ;  make  haste ! 
I  swear  to  you,  'twill  turn  her  brain; 
Therein  some  trifles  I  have  placed. 
Wherewith  another  to  obtain. 
But  child  is  child,  and  play  is  play. 

Faust 
I  know  not — shall  I  ? 

Mephistopheles 

Do  you  ask? 
Perchance  you  would  retain  the  treasure  ? 
If  such  your  wish,  why  then,  I  say, 
Henceforth  absolve  me  from  my  task, 


FAUST  113 

Nor  longer  waste  your  hours  of  leisure. 
I  trust  you're  not  by  avarice  led ! 
I  rub  my  hands,  I  scratch  my  head, — 

{He  places  the  casket  in  the  press  and  closes  the 

lock.) 
Now  quick  !    Away  ! 
That  soon  the  sweet  young  creature  may 
The  wish  and  purpose  of  your  heart  obey ; 
Yet  stand  you  there 

As  would  you  to  the  lecture-room  repair, 
As  if  before  you  stood, 
Arrayed  in  flesh  and  blood. 
Physics  and  metaphysics  weird  and  grey  ! — 
Away !  {Exeunt.) 


Margaret   {with  a  lamp) 

Here  'tis  so  close,  so  sultry  now, 

{She  opens  the  window.) 
Yet  out  of  doors  'tis  not  so  warm. 
I  feel  so  strange,  I  know  not  how — 
I  wish  my  mother  would  come  home. 
Through  me  there  runs  a  shuddering — 
I'm  but  a  foolish  timid  thing ! 

{While  undressing  herself  she  begins  to  sing.) 
There  was  a  king  in  Thule, 
True  even  to  the  grave; 
To  whom  his  dying  mistress 
A  golden  beaker  gave. 

At  every  feast  he  drained  it. 
Naught  was  to  him  so  dear, 
And  often  as  he  drained  it, 
Gush'd  from  his  eyes  the  tear. 

When  death  came,  unrepining 
His  cities  o'er  he  told ; 
All  to  his  heir  resigning. 
Except  his  cup  of  gold. 


114  GOETHE 

With  many  a  knightly  vassal 
At  a  royal  feast  sat  he, 
In  yon  proud  hall  ancestral. 
In  his  castle  o'er  the  sea. 

Up  stood  the  jovial  monarch. 
And  quaff'd  his  last  life's  glow, 
Then  hurled,  the  hallow'd  goblet 
Into  the  flood  below. 

He  saw  it  splashing,  drinking, 

And  plunging  in  the  sea; 

His  eyes  meanwhile  were  sinking. 

And  never  again  drank  he. 

{She  opens  the  press  to  put  away  her  clothes, 
and  perceives  the  casket.) 
How  comes  this  lovely  casket  here?    The  press 
I  locked,  of  that  I'm  confident, 
'Tis  very  wonderful !    What's  in  it  I  can't  guess ; 
Perhaps  'twas  brought  by  some  one  in  distress, 
And  left  in  pledge  for  loan  my  mother  lent. 
Here  by  a  ribbon  hangs  a  little  key ! 
I  have  a  mind  to  open  it  and  see  1 
Heavens !  only  look !  what  have  we  here  1 
In  all  my  days  ne'er  saw  I  such  a  sight! 
Jewels !  which  any  noble  dame  might  wear. 
For  some  high  pageant  richly  dight !. 
This  chain — how  would  it  look  on  me ! 
These  splendid  gems,  whose  may  they  be? 

{She  puts  them  on  and  steps  before  the  glass.) 
Were  but  the  ear-rings  only  mine  1 
Thus  one  has  quite  another  air. 
What  boots  it  to  be  young  and  fair? 
It  doubtless  may  be  very  fine ; 
But  then,  alas,  none  cares  for  you, 
And  praise  sounds  half  like  pity  too. 
Gold  all  doth  lure, 
Gold  doth  secure 
All  things.     Alas,  we  poor! 


FAUST  lis 

PROMENADE 

Faust  walking  thoughtfully  up  and  down.    To  him  Mephis- 
topheles 

Mephistopheles 
By  all  rejected  love!     By  hellish  fire  I  curse. 
Would  I  knew  aught  to  make  my  imprecation  worse! 

Faust 
What  aileth  thee?  what  chafes  thee  now  so  sore? 
A  face  like  that  I  never  saw  before  I 

Mephistopheles 
I'd  yield  me  to  the  devil  instantly, 
Did  it  not  happen  that  myself  am  he ! 

Faust 
There  must  be  some  disorder  in  thy  wit! 
To  rave  thus  like  a  madman,  is  it  fit? 

Mephistopheles 
Think !  only  think !    The  gems  for  Gretchen  brought. 
Them  hath  a  priest  now  made  his  own ! — 
A  glimpse  of  them  the  mother  caught, 
And  'gan  with  secret  fear  to  groan. 
The  woman's  scent  is  keen  enough; 
Doth  ever  in  the  prayer-book  snuff; 
Smells  every  article  to  ascertain 
Whether  the  thing  is  holy  or  profane. 
And  scented  in  the  jewels  rare, 
That  there  was  not  much  blessing  there. 
"  My  child,"  she  cries,  "  ill-gotten  good 
Ensnares  the  soul,  consumes  the  blood; 
With  them  we'll  deck  our  Lady's  shrine. 
She'll  cheer  our  souls  with  bread  divine  I  '* 
At  this  poor  Gretchen  'gan  to  pout; 
'Tis  a  gift-horse,  at  least,  she  thought. 


116  GOETHE 

And  sure,  he  godless  cannot  be, 

Who  brought  them  here  so  cleverly. 

Straight  for  a  priest  the  mother  sent, 

Who,  when  he  understood  the  jest, 

With  what  he  saw  was  well  content. 

"  This  shows  a  pious  mind !  "    Quoth  he: 

"  Self-conquest  is  true  victory. 

The  Church  hath  a  good  stomach,  she,  with  zest. 

Whole  countries  hath  swallow'd  down. 

And  never  yet  a  surfeit  known. 

The  Church  alone,  be  it  confessed, 

Daughters,  can  ill-got  wealth  digest." 

Faust 
It  is  a  general  custom,  too. 
Practised  alike  by  king  and  jew. 

Mephistopheles 
With  that,  clasp,  chain,  and  ring,  he  swept 
As  they  were  mushrooms ;  and  the  casket. 
Without  one  word  of  thanks,  he  kept, 
As  if  of  nuts  it  were  a  basket. 
Promised  reward  in  heaven,  then  forth  he  hied- 
And  greatly  they  were  edified. 

Faust 
And  Gretchen ! 

Mephistopheles 

In  unquiet  mood 
Knows  neither  what  she  would  or  should; 
The  trinkets  night  and  day  thinks  o'er, 
On  him  who  brought  them,  dwells  still  more. 

Faust 
The  darling's  sorrow  grieves  me,  bring 
Another  set  without  delay  ! 
The  first,  methinks,  was  no  great  thing. 


FAUST  117 


Mephistopheles 
All's  to  my  gentleman  child's  play ! 

Faust 
Plan  all  things  to  achieve  my  end ! 
Engage  the  attention  of  her  friend  I 
No  milk-and-water  devil  be, 
And  bring  fresh  jewels  instantly! 

Mephistopheles 
Ay,  sir !     Most  gladly  I'll  obey. 


(Faust  exit.) 


Mephistopheles 
Your  doting  love-sick  fool,  with  ease, 
Merely  his  lady-love  to  please. 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars  in  sport  would  pufif  away.  (Exit.) 


THE  NEIGHBOUR'S  HOUSE 

Martha  (alone) 
God  pardon  my  dear  husband,  he 
Doth  not  in  truth  act  well  by  me ! 
Forth  in  the  world  abroad  to  roam. 
And  leave  me  on  the  straw  at  home. 
And  yet  his  will  I  ne'er  did  thwart, 
God  knows,  I  lov'd  him  from  my  heart. 

(She  weeps.) 
Perchance  he's  dead ! — oh  wretched  state ! — 
Had  I  but  a  certificate  ! 

(Margaret  comes) 

Margaret 


Dame  Martha  1 


Martha 
Gretchen  ? 


118  GOETHE 

Margaret 

Only  think ! 
My  knees  beneath  me  well-nigh  sink ! 
Within  my  press  I've  found  to-day, 
Another  case,  of  ebony. 
And  things — magnificent  they  are. 
More  costly  than  the  first,  by  far. 

Martha 
You  must  not  name  it  to  your  mother ! 
It  would  to  shrift,  just  like  the  other. 

Margaret 
Nay  look  at  them  !  now  only  see  ! 

Martha  (dresses  her  up) 
Thou  happy  creature ! 

Margaret 

Woe  is  me ! 
Them  in  the  street  I  cannot  wear, 
Or  in  the  church,  or  any  where. 

Martha 
Come  often  over  here  to  me. 
The  gems  put  on  quite  privately; 
And  then  before  the  mirror  walk  an  hour  or  so, 
Thus  we  shall  have  our  pleasure  too. 
Then  suitable  occasions  we  must  seize, 
As  at  a  feast,  to  show  them  by  degrees  : 
A  chain  at  first,  pearl  ear-drops  then, — your  mother 
Won't  see  them,  or  we'll  coin  some  tale  or  other. 

Margaret 
But,  who,  I  wonder,  could  the  caskets  bring? 
I  fear  there's  something  wrong  about  the  thing! 

(a  knock.) 
Good  heavens  !  can  that  my  mother  be  ? 


FAUST  119 

Martha  (peering  through  the  blind) 
'Tis  a  strange  gentleman,  I  see. 
Come  in ! 

(Mephistopheles  enters) 

Mephistopheles 

I've  ventur'd  to  intrude  to-day. 
Ladies,  excuse  the  liberty,  I  pray. 

(He  steps  back  respectfully  before  Margaret.) 
After  dame  Martha  Schwerdtlein  I  inquire ! 

Martha 
'Tis  I.    Pray  what  have  you  to  say  to  me? 

Mephistopheles  (aside  to  her) 
I  know  you  now, — and  therefore  will  retire ; 
At  present  you've  distinguished  company. 
Pardon  the  freedom.  Madam,  with  your  leave, 
I  will  make  free  to  call  again  at  eve. 

Martha   (aloud) 
Why,  child,  of  all  strange  notions,  he 
For  some  grand  lady  taketh  thee ! 

Margaret 
I  am,  in  truth,  of  humble  blood — 
The  gentleman  is  far  too  good — 
Nor  gems  nor  trinkets  are  my  own, 

Mephistopheles 
Oh  'tis  not  the  mere  ornaments  alone; 
Her  glance  and  mien  far  more  betray. 
Rejoiced  I  am  that  I  may  stay. 

Martha 
Your  business,  Sir?    I  long  to  know — 


120  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 
Would  I  could  happier  tidings  show ! 
I  trust  mine  errand  you'll  not  let  me  rue; 
Your  husband's  dead,  and  greeteth  you. 

Martha 
Is  dead?    True  heart!     Oh  misery! 
My  husband  dead !    Oh,  I  shall  die !        | 

Margaret 
Alas  !  good  Martha  !  don't  despair ! 

Mephistopheles 
Now  listen  to  the  sad  affair  I 

Margaret 
I  for  this  cause  should  fear  to  love. 
The  loss  my  certain  death  would  prove. 

Mephistopheles 
Joy  still  must  sorrow,  sorrow  joy  attend. 

Martha 
Proceed,  and  tell  the  story  of  his  end ! 

Mephistopheles 
At  Padua,  in  St.  Anthony's, 
In  holy  ground  his  body  lies; 
Quiet  and  cool  his  place  of  rest, 
With  pious  ceremonials  blest. 

Martha 
And  bad  you  naught  bes-ides  to  bring? 


FAUST  121 

Mephistopheles 
Oh  yes!  one  grave  and  solemn  prayer; 
Let  them  for  him  three  hundred  masses  sing! 
But  in  my  pockets,  I  have  nothing  there. 

Martha 

No  trinket !  no  love-token  did  he  send ! 

What  every  journeyman  safe  in  his  pouch  will  hoard 

There  for  remembrance  fondly  stored, 

And  rather  hungers,  rather  begs  than  spend ! 

Mephistopheles 
Madam,  in  truth,  it  grieves  me  sore, 
But  he  his  gold  not  lavishly  hath  spent. 
His  failings  too  he  deeply  did  repent, 
Ay !  and  his  evil  plight  bewail'd  still  more. 

Margaret 
Alas  !    That  men  should  thus  be  doomed  to  woe ! 
I  for  his  soul  will  many  a  requiem  pray. 

Mephistopheles 
A  husband  you  deserve  this  very  day; 
A  child  so  worthy  to  be  loved. 

Margaret 

Ah  no, 
That  time  hath  not  yet  come  for  me. 

Mephistopheles 
If  not  a  spouse,  a  gallant  let  it  be. 
Among  heaven's  choicest  gifts,  I  place, 
So  sweet  a  darling  to  embrace. 

Margaret 
Our  land  doth  no  such  usage  know. 


122  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 
Usage  or  not,  it  happens  so. 

Martha 
Go  on,  I  pray  ! 

Mephistopheles 
I  stood  by  his  bedside. 
Something  less  foul  it  was  than  dung; 
'Twas  straw  half  rotten ;  yet,  he  as  a  Christian  died. 
And  sorely  hath  remorse  his  conscience  wrung. 
"  Wretch  that  I  was,"  quoth  he,  with  parting  breath, 
"  So  to  forsake  my  business  and  my  wife  ! 
Ah !  the  remembrance  is  my  death, 
Could  I  but  have  her  pardon  in  this  life  I  " — 

Martha  (zveeping) 
Dear  soul  I  I've  long  forgiven  him,  indeed ! 

Mephistopheles 
**  Though  sKe,  God  knows,  was  more  to  blame  than  I." 

Martha 
He  lied !    What,  on  the  brink  of  death  to  lie ! 

Meph  istopheles 
If  I  am  skill'd  the  countenance  to  read, 
He  doubtless  fabled  as  he  parted  hence. — 
"No  time  had  I  to  gape,  or  take  my  ease,"  he  said, 
"First  to  get  children,  and  then  get  them  bread; 
And  bread,  too,  in  the  very  widest  sense; 
Nor  could  I  eat  in  peace  even  my  proper  share." 

Martha 
What,  all  my  truth,  my  love  forgotten  quite? 
My  weary  drudgery  by  day  and  night ! 


FAUST  123 

Mephistopheles 
Not  sol     He  thought  of  you  with  tender  care. 
Quoth  he :  "  Heaven  knows  how  fervently  I  prayed. 
For  wife  and  children  when  from  Malta  bound ; — 
The  prayer  hath  heaven  with  favour  crowned; 
We  took  a  Turkish  vessel  which  conveyed 
Rich  store  of  treasure  for  the  Sultan's  court; 
It's  own  reward  our  gallant  action  brought ; 
The  captur'd  prize  was  shared  among  the  crew, 
And  of  the  treasure  I  received  my  due." 

Martha 
How?    Where?    The  treasure  hath  he  buried,  pray? 

Mephistopheles 
Where  the  four  winds  have  blown  it,  who  can  say  ? 
In  Naples  as  he  stroU'd,  a  stranger  there, — 
A  comely  maid  took  pity  on  my  friend; 
And  gave  such  tokens  of  her  love  and  care. 
That  he  retained  them  to  his  blessed  end. 

Martha 
Scoundrel !  to  rob  his  children  of  their  bread ! 
And  all  this  misery,  this  bitter  need. 
Could  not  his  course  of  4-ecklessness  impede ! 

Mephistopheles 
Well,  he  hath  paid  the  forfeit,  and  is  dead. 
Now  were  I  in  your  place,  my  counsel  hear; 
My  weeds  I'd  wear  for  one  chaste  year, 
And  for  another  lover  meanwhile  woull  look  out. 

Martha 
Alas,  I  might  search  far  and  near. 
Not  quickly  should  I  find  another  like  my  first  I 
There  could  not  be  a  fonder  fool  than  mine. 
Only  he  loved  too  well  abroad  to  roam; 


124  GOETHE 

Loved  foreign  women  too,  and  foreign  wine. 
And  loved  besides  the  dice  accurs'd. 


Mephistopheles 
All  had  gone  swimmingly,  no  doubt, 
Had  he  but  given  you  at  home. 
On  his  side,  just  as  wide  a  range. 
Upon  such  terms,  to  you  I  swear, 
Myself  with  you  would  gladly  rings  exchange! 

Martha 
The  gentleman  is  surely  pleas'd  to  jest ! 

Mephistopheles  (aside) 
Now  to  be  off  in  time,  were  best ! 
She'd  make  the  very  devil  marry  her. 

(To  Margaret.) 
How  fares  it  with  your  heart  ? 

Margaret 

How  mean  you.  Sir  ? 

Mephistopheles  (aside) 
The  sweet  young  innocent ! 

(aloud) 

Ladies,  farewell ! 

Margaret 
Farewell ! 

Martha 
But  ere  you  leave  us,  quickly  tell ! 
I  from  a  witness  fain  had  heard, 
Where,   how,   and   when   my   husband   died   and   was 

interr'd. 
To  forms  I've  always  been  attached  indeed, 
His  death  I  fain  would  in  the  journals  read. 


FAUST  125 

Mephistopheles 
Ay,  madam,  what  two  witnesses  declare 
Is  held  as  vaHd  everywhere; 
A  gallant  friend  I  have,  not  far  from  here, 
Who  will  for  you  before  the  judge  appear. 
I'll  bring  him  straight. 

Martha 

I  pray  you  do  ! 

Mephistopheles 
And  this  young  lady,  we  shall  find  her  too? 
A  noble  youth,  far  travelled,  he 
Shows  to  the  sex  all  courtesy. 

Margaret 
I  in  his  presence  needs  must  blush  for  shame. 

Mephistopheles 
Not  in  the  presence  of  a  crowned  king ! 

Martha 
The  garden,  then,  behind  my  house,  we'll  name. 
There  we'll  await  you  both  this  evening. 


A   STREET 

Faust.    Mephistopheles 

Faust 
How  is  it  now?    How  speeds  it?    Is't  in  ti;ain? 

Mephistopheles 

Bravo !    I  find  you  all  aflame  ! 

Gretchen  full  soon  your  own  you'll  name. 

This  eve,  at  neighbour  Martha's,  her  you'll  meet  again ; 


126  GOETHE 

The  woman  seems  expressly  made 
To  drive  the  pimp  and  gipsy's  trade. 

Faust 
Good  1 

Mephistopheles 
But  from  us  she  something  would  request. 

Faust 
A  favour  claims  return  as  this  world  goes. 

Mephistopheles 
We  have  on  oath  but  duly  to  attest, 
That  her  dead  husband's  limbs,  outstretch'd,  repose 
In  holy  ground  at  Padua. 

Faust 

Sage  indeed ! 
So  I  suppose  we  straight  must  journey  there! 

Mephistopheles 
Sancta  simplicitas!    For  that  no  need! 
Without  much  knowledge  we  have  but  to  swear. 

Faust 
If  you  have  nothing  better  to  suggest, 
Against  your  plan  I  must  at  once  protest. 

Mephistopheles 
Oh,  holy  man  I  methinks  I  have  you  there ! 
In  all  your  life  say,  have  you  ne'er 
False  witness  borne,  until  this  hour? 
Have  you  of  God,  the  world,  and  all  it  doth  contain, 
Of  man,  and  that  which  worketh  in  his  heart  and  brain, 
Not  definitions  given,  in  words  of  weight  and  power, 
With  front  unblushing,  and  a  dauntless  breast? 
Yet,  if  into  the  depth  of  things  you  go, 


FAUST  127 

Touching  these  matters,  it  must  be  confess'd, 

As  much  as  of  Herr  Schwerdtlein's  death  you  know ! 

Faust 
Thou  art  and  dost  remain  liar  and  sophist  too. 

Mephistopheles 
Ay,  if  one  did  not  take  a  somewhat  deeper  view ! 
To-morrow,  in  all  honour,  thou 
Poor  Gretchen  wilt  befool,  and  vow 
Thy  soul's  deep  love,  in  lover's  fashion. 

Faust 
And  from  my  heart. 

Mephistopheles 

All  good  and  fair! 
Then  deathless  constancy  thou'lt  swear; 
Speak  of  one  all  o'ermastering  passion,— 
Will  that  too  issue  from  the  heart  ? 

Faust 

Forbear ! 
When  passion  sways  me,  and  I  seek  to  frame 
Fit  utterance  for  feeling,  deep,  intense. 
And  for  my  frenzy  finding  no  fit  name. 
Sweep  round  the  ample  world  with  every  sense, 
Grasp  at  the  loftiest  words  to  speak  my  flame. 
And  call  the  glow,  wherewith  I  burn. 
Quenchless,  eternal,  yea,  eterne — 
Is  that  of  sophistry  a  devilish  play? 

Mephistopheles 
Yet  am  I  right ! 

Faust 
Mark  this,  my  friend, 
And  spare  my  lungs ;  who  would  the  right  maintain, 
And  hath  a  tongue  wherewith  his  point  to  gain. 


128  GOETHE 

Will  gain  it  in  the  end. 

But  come,  of  gossip  I  am  weary  quite; 

Because  I've  no  resource,  thou'rt  in  the  right. 

GARDEN 

Margaret  on  Faust's  a7-m.     Martha  with  Mephis- 
TOPHELES  walking  up  and  down 

Margaret 
I  feel  it,  you  but  spare  my  ignorance, 
The  gentleman  to  shame  me  stoops  thus  low. 
A  traveller  from  complaisance. 
Still  makes  the  best  of  things ;  I  know 
Too  well,  my  humble  prattle  never  can 
Have  power  to  entertain  so  wise  a  man. 

Faust 
One  glance,  one  word  from  thee  doth  charm  me  more, 
Than  the  world's  wisdom  or  the  sage's  lore. 

{He  kisses  her  hand.) 

Margaret 
Nay  !  trouble  not  yourself!    A  hand  so  coarse, 
So  rude  as  mine,  how  can  you  kiss ! 
What  constant  work  at  home  must  I  not  do  perforce ! 
My  mother  too  exacting  is. 

(They  pass  on.) 
Martha 
Thus,  sir,  unceasing  travel  is  your  lot? 

Mephistopheles 
Traffic  and  duty  urge  us  !    With  what  pain 
Are  we  compelled  to  leave  full  many  a  spot, 
Where  yet  we  dare  not  once  remain  ! 

Martha 
In  youth's  wild  years,  with  vigour  crown'd, 
'Tis  not  amiss  thus  through  the  world  to  sweep; 


FAUST  129 

But  ah,  the  evil  days  come  round ! 

And  to  a  lonely  grave  as  bachelor  to  creep, 

A  pleasant  thing  has  no  one  found. 

Mephistopheles 
The  prospect  fills  me  with  dismay, 

Martha 
Therefore  in  time,  dear  sir,  reflect,  I  pray. 

(They  pass  on.) 
Margaret 
Ay,  out  of  sight  is  out  of  mind ! 
Politeness  easy  is  to  you; 
Friends  everyw^here,  and  not  a  few, 
Wiser  than  I  am,  you  will  find. 

Faust 
O  dearest,  trust  me,  what  doth  pass  for  sense 
Full  oft  is  self-conceit  and  blindness ! 

Margaret 


How? 


Faust 


Simplicity  and  holy  innocence, — 

When  will  ye  learn  your  hallow'ed  worth  to  know  ! 

Ah,  when  will  meekness  and  humility, 

Kind  and  all-bounteous  nature's  loftiest  dower — 

Margaret 
Only  one  little  moment  think  of  me  ! 
To  think  of  you  I  shall  have  many  an  hour. 

Faust 
You  are  perhaps  much  alone? 

Margaret 
Yes,  small  our  household  is,  I  own. 
Yet  must  I  see  to  it.    No  maid  we  keep, 

^— VOL.  XIX  ^^ 


130  GOETHE 

And  I  must  cook,  sew,  knit,  and  sweep, 

Still  early  on  my  feet  and  late ; 

My  mother  is  in  all  things,  great  and  small. 

So  accurate ! 

Not  that  for  thrift  there  is  such  pressing  need ; 

Than  others  we  might  make  more  show  indeed ; 

My  father  left  behind  a  small  estate, 

A  house  and  garden  near  the  city-wall. 

But  fairly  quiet  now  my  days,  I  own ; 

As  soldier  is  my  brother  gone ; 

My  Httle  sister's  dead ;  the  babe  to  rear 

Occasion'd  me  some  care  and  fond  annoy ; 

But  I  would  go  through  all  again  with  joy. 

The  darling  was  to  me  so  dear. 

Faust 
An  angel,  sweet,  if  it  resembled  thee ! 

Margaret 

I  reared  it  up,  and  it  grew  fond  of  me. 
After  my  father's  death  it  saw  the  day ; 
We  gave  my  mother  up  for  lost,  she  lay 
In  such  a  wretched  plight,  and  then  at  length 
So  very  slowly  she  regain'd  her  strength. 
Weak  as  she  was,  'twas  vain  for  her  to  try 
Herself  to  suckle  the  poor  babe,  so  I 
Reared  it  on  milk  and  water  all  alone; 
And  thus  the  child  became  as  'twere  my  own ; 
Within  my  arms  it  stretched  itself  and  grew, 
And  smiling,  nestled  in  my  bosom  too. 

Faust 
Doubtless  the  purest  happiness  was  thine, 

Margaret 
But  many  weary  hours,  in  sooth,  were  also  mine. 
At  night  its  little  cradle  stood 
Close  to  my  bed ;  so  was  I  wide  awake 
If  it  but  stirred ; 


FAUST  131 

One  while  I  was  obliged  to  give  it  food, 

Or  to  my  arms  the  darling  take ; 

From  bed  full  oft  must  rise,  whene'er  its  cry  I  heard, 

And,  dancing  it,  must  pace  the  chamber  to  and  fro ; 

Stand  at  the  wash-tub  early ;  forthwith  go 

To  market,  and  then  mind  the  cooking  too — 

To-morrow  like  to-day,  the  whole  year  through. 

Ah,  sir,  thus  living,  it  must  be  confess'd 

One's  spirits  are  not  always  of  the  best ; 

Yet  it  a  relish  gives  to  food  and  rest.      (They  pass  on.) 

Martha 
Poor  women  !  we  are  badly  off,  I  own ; 
A  bachelor's  conversion's  hard,  indeed ! 

Mephistopheles 
Madam,  with  one  like  you  it  rests  alone, 
To  tutor  me  a  better  course  to  lead. 

Martha 
Speak  frankly,  sir,  none  is  there  you  have  met? 
Has  your  heart  ne'er  attach'd  itself  as  yet  ? 

Mephistopheles 
One's  own  fire-side  and  a  good  wife  are  gold 
And  pearls  of  price,  so  says  the  proverb  old. 

Martha 
I  mean,  has  passion  never  stirred  your  breast? 

Mephistopheles 
I've  everywhere  been  well  received,  I  own. 

Martha 
Yet  hath  your  heart  no  earnest  preference  known  ? 

Mephistopheles 
With  ladies  one  should  ne'er  presume  to  jest. 


132  GOETHE 

Martha 
Ah !  you  mistake ! 

Mephistopheles 

I'm  sorry  I'm  so  blind ! 
But  this  I  know — that  you  are  very  kind. 

(They  pass  on.) 

Faust 
Me,  little  angel,  didst  thou  recognise, 
When  in  the  garden  first  I  came  ? 

Margaret 
Did  you  not  see  it  ?    I  cast  down  my  eyes. 

Faust 
Thou  dost  forgive  my  boldness,  dost  not  blame 
The  liberty  I  took  that  day. 
When  thou  from  church  didst  lately  wend  thy  way? 

Margaret 
I  was  confused.    So  had  it  never  been ; 
No  one  of  me  could  any  evil  say. 
Alas,  thought  I,  he  doubtless  in  thy  mien, 
Something  unmaidenly  or  bold  hath  seen? 
It  seemed  as  if  it  struck  him  suddenly. 
Here's  just  a  girl  with  whom  one  may  make  free ! 
Yet  I  must  own  that  then  I  scarcely  knew 
What  in  your  favour  here  began  at  once  to  plead ; 
Yet  I  was  angry  with  myself  indeed. 
That  I  more  angry  could  not  feel  with  you. 

Faust 
Sweet  love ! 


FAUST  133 

Margaret 
Just  wait  awhile ! 
{She  gathers  a  star-flower  and  plucks  off  the  leaves ' 
one  after  another.) 

Faust 

A  nosegay  may  that  be  ? 

Margaret 
No  I    It  is  but  a  game. 

Faust 
How? 

Margaret 

Go,  you'll  laugh  at  me ! 
(She  plucks  off  the  leaves  and  murmurs  to  herself.). 

Faust 
What  murmurest  thou? 

Margaret  {half  aloud) 
He  loves  me — loves  me  not. 

Faust 
Sweet  angel,  with  thy  face  of  heavenly  bliss ! 

Margaret  {continues) 

He  loves  me — not — he  loves  me — not — 

{Plucking  off  the  last  leaf  with  fo^id  joy.) 

He  loves  me ! 

Faust 

Yes! 

And  this  flower-language,  darling,  let  it  be, 
A  heavenly  oracle  !    He  loveth  thee  ! 
Know'st  thou  the  meaning  of.  He  loveth  thee? 

{He  seises  both  her  hands.) 


134  GOETHE 

Margaret 
I  tremble  so ! 

Faust 
Nay !  Do  not  tremble,  love ! 
Let  this  hand-pressure,  let  this  glance  reveal 
Feelings,  all  power  of  speech  above ; 
To  give  oneself  up  wholly  and  to  feel 
A  joy  that  must  eternal  prove  ! 
Eternal ! — Yes,  its  end  would  be  despair. 
No  end ! — It  cannot  end ! 

(Margaret  presses  his  hmid,  extricates  herself, 
and  runs  away.  He  stands  a  moment  in 
thought,  and  then  follows  her.) 

Martha  (approaching) 
Night's  closing. 

Mephistopheles 

Yes,  we'll  presently  away. 

Martha 
I  would  entreat  you  longer  yet  to  stay ; 
■   But  'tis  a  wicked  place,  just  here  about; 
It  is  as  if  the  folk  had  nothing  else  to  do, 
Nothing  to  think  of  too. 

But  gaping  watch  their  neighbours,  who  goes  in  and  out; 
And  scandal's  busy  still,  do  whatsoe'er  one  may. 
And  our  young  couple? 

Mephistopheles 

They  have  flown  up  there. 


The  wanton  butterflies  I 


Martha 

He  seems  to  take  to  her. 


FAUST  135 


Mephistopheles 
And  she  to  him.    'Tis  of  the  world  the  way ! 


A   SUMMER-HOUSE 

(Margaret  runs  in,  hides  behind  the  door,  holds  the 
tip  of  her  finger  to  her  lip,  and  peeps  through  the 
crevice.) 

Margaret 
He  comes ! 

Faust 

Ah,  little  rogue,  so  thou 

Think'st  to  provoke  me !    I  have  caught  thee  now ! 

{He  kisses  her.) 

Margaret 
(embracing  him,  and  returning  the  kiss) 
Dearest  of  men !    I  love  thee  from  my  heart ! 

(Mephistopheles  knocks.)^ 

Faust  (stamping) 
Who's  there? 

Mephistopheles 
A  friend! 

Faust 
A  brute ! 


Mephistopheles 

'Tis  time  to  part. 


136  GOETHE 

Martha  (comes) 
Ay,  it  is  late,  good  sir. 

Faust 

Mayn't  I  attend  you,  then  ? 

Margaret 
Oh  no — my  mother  would — adieu,  adieu ! 

Faust 
And  must  I  really  then  take  leave  of  you? 
Farewell ! 

Martha 
Good-bye ! 

Margaret 

Ere  long  to  meet  again  ! 
(Exeunt  Faust  and  Mephistopheles.) 

Margaret 
Good  heavens !  how  all  things  far  and  near 
Must  fill  his  mind, — a  man  like  this  ! 
Abash'd  before  him  I  appear. 
And  say  to  all  things  only,  yes. 
Poor  simple  child,  I  cannot  see, 
What  'tis  that  he  can  fin^  in  me.  (Exit,) 


FOREST  AND  CAVERN 

Faust  (alone) 
Spirit  sublime  !    Thou  gav'st  me,  gav'st  me  all 
For  which  I  prayed !    Not  vainly  hast  thou  turn'd 
To  me  thy  countenance  in  flaming  fire : 
Gavest  me  glorious  nature  for  my  realm, 


FAUST  137 

And  also  power  to  feel  her  and  enjoy; 

Not  merely  with  a  cold  and  wondering  glance, 

Thou  dost  permit  me  in  her  depths  profound, 

As  in  the  bosom  of  a  friend  to  gaze. 

Before  me  thou  dost  lead  her  living  tribes, 

And  dost  in  silent  grove,  in  air  and  stream 

Teach  me  to  know  my  kindred.    And  when  roars 

The  howling  storm-blast  through  the  groaning  wood, 

Wrenching  the  giant  pine,  which  in  its  fall 

Crashing  sweeps  down  its  neighbour  trunks  and  boughs. 

While  hollow  thunder  from  the  hill  resounds ; 

Then  thou  dost  lead  me  to  some  shelter'd  cave, 

Dost  there  reveal  me  to  myself,  and  show 

Of  my  own  bosom  the  mysterious  depths. 

And  when  with  soothing  beam,  the  moon's  pale  orb 

Full  in  my  view  climbs  up  the  pathless  sky, 

From  crag  and  dewy  grove,  the  silvery  forms 

Of  by-gone  ages  hover,  and  assuage 

The  joy  austere  of  contemplative  thought. 

Oh,  that  naught  perfect  is  assign'd  to  man, 
I  feel,  alas !    With  this  exalted  joy. 
Which  lifts  me  near  and  nearer  to  the  gods. 
Thou  gav'st  me  this  companion,  unto  whom 
I  needs  must  cling,  though  cold  and  insolent, 
He  still  degrades  me  to  myself,  and  turns 
Thy  glorious  gifts  to  nothing,  with  a  breath. 
He  in  my  bosom  with  malicious  zeal 
For  that  fair  image  fans  a  raging  fire ; 
From  craving  to  enjoyment  thus  I  reel. 
And  in  enjoyment  languish  for  desire. 

(Mephistopheles  enters.)' 


Mephistopheles 
Of  this  lone  life  have  you  not  had  your  fill? 
How  for  so  long  can  it  have  charms  for  you? 
'Tis  well  enough  to  try  it  if  you  will ; 
But  then  away  again  to  something  new ! 


138  GOETHE 

Faust 
Would  you  could  better  occupy  your  leisure, 
Than  in  disturbing  thus  my  hours  of  joy. 

Mephistopheles 
Well !  Well !  I'll  leave  you  to  yourself  with  pleasure, 
A  serious  tone  you  hardly  dare  employ. 
To  part  from  one  so  crazy,  harsh,  and  cross. 
Were  not  in  truth  a  grievous  loss. 
The  live-long  day,  for  you  I  toil  and  fret ; 
Ne'er  from  his  worship's  face  a  hint  I  get, 
What  pleases  him,  or  what  to  let  alone. 

Faust 
Ay  truly  !  that  is  just  the  proper  tone  ! 
He  wearies  me,  and  would  with  thanks  be  paid ! 

Mephistopheles 
Poor  Son  of  Earth,  without  my  aid, 
How  would  thy  weary  days  have  flown  ? 
Thee  of  thy  foolish  whims  I've  cured. 
Thy  vain  imaginations  banished. 
And  but  for  me,  be  well  assured. 
Thou  from  this  sphere  must  soon  have  vanished. 
In  rocky  hollows  and  in  caverns  drear. 
Why  like  an  owl  sit  moping  here? 
Wherefore  from  dripping  stones  and  moss  with  ooze 

embued. 
Dost  suck,  like  any  toad,  thy  food  ? 
A  rare,  sweet  pastime.    Verily  ! 
The  doctor  cleaveth  still  to  thee. 

Faust 

Dost  comprehend  what  bliss  without  alloy 
From  this  wild  wand'ring  in  the  desert  springs? — 
Couldst  thou  but  guess  the  new  life-power  it  brings. 
Thou  wouldst  be  fiend  enough  to  envy  me  my  joy. 


FAUST  139 

Mephistopheles 
What  super-earthly  ecstasy !  at  night, 
To  lie  in  darkness  on  the  dewy  height, 
Embracing  heaven  and  earth  in  rapture  high. 
The  soul  dilating  to  a  deity; 

With  prescient  yearnings  pierce  the  core  of  earth, 
Feel  in  your  labouring  breast  the  six-days'  birth, 
Enjoy,  in  proud  delight  what  no  one  knows. 
While  your  love-rapture  o'er  creation  flows, — 
The  earthly  lost  in  beatific  vision. 
And  then  the  lofty  intuition — 

(With  a  gesture.) 
I  need  not  tell  you  how — to  close ! 

Faust 
Fie  on  you ! 

Mephistopheles 
This  displeases  you  ?    "For  shame !" 
You  are  forsooth  entitled  to  exclaim ; 
We  to  chaste  ears  it  seems  must  not  pronounce 
What,  nathless,  the  chaste  heart  cannot  renounce. 
Well,  to  be  brief,  the  joy  as  fit  occasions  rise, 
I  grudge  you  not,  of  specious  Hes. 
But  long  this  mood  thou'lt  not  retain. 
Already  thou'rt  again  outworn. 
And  should  this  last,  thou  wilt  be  torn 
By  frenzy  or  remorse  and  pain. 
Enough  of  this  !    Thy  true  love  dwells  apart. 
And  all  to  her  seems  flat  and  tame ; 
Alone  thine  image  fills  her  heart. 
She  loves  thee  with  an  all-devouring  flame. 
First  came  thy  passion  with  o'erpowering  rush. 
Like  mountain  torrent,  swollen  by  the  melted  snow; 
Full  in  her  heart  didst  pour  the  sudden  gush, 
Now  has  thy  brooklet  ceased  to  flow. 
Instead  of  sitting  throned  midst  forests  wild. 
It  would  become  so  great  a  lord 


140  GOETHE 

To  comfort  the  enamour'd  child, 

And  the  young  monkey  for  her  love  reward. 

To  her  the  hours  seem  miserably  long; 

She  from  the  window  sees  the  clouds  float  by 

As  o'er  the  lofty  city-walls  they  fly, 

"  If  I  a  birdie  were  !  "  so  runs  her  song. 

Half  through  the  night  and  all  day  long. 

Cheerful  sometimes,  more  oft  at  heart  full  sore; 

Fairly  outwept  seem  now  her  tears, 

Anon  she  tranquil  is,  or  so  appears, 

And  love-sick  evermore. 

Faust 
Snake  I    Serpent  vile  ! 

Mephistopheles  (aside) 
Good !    If  I  catch  thee  with  my  guile  ! 

Faust 

Vile  reprobate  !  go  get  thee  hence ; 
Forbear  the  lovely  girl  to  name ! 
Nor  in  my  half-distracted  sense. 
Kindle  anew  the  smouldering  flame ! 

Mephistopheles 
What  wouldest  thou!    She  thinks  you've  taken  flight; 
It  seems,  she's  partly  in  the  right. 

Faust 
I'm  near  her  still — and  should  I  distant  rove. 
Her  I  can  ne'er  forget,  ne'er  lose  her  love; 
And  all  things  touch'd  by  those  sweet  lips  of  hers. 
Even  the  very  Host,  ray  envy  stirs. 

Mephistopheles 
'Tis  well !    I  oft  have  envied  you  indeed, 
The  twin-pair  that  among  the  roses  feed. 


FAUST  141 

Faust 


Pander,  avaunt  I 


Mephistopheles 
Go  to !    I  laugh,  the  while  you  rail, 
The  power  which  fashion'd  youth  and  maid, 
Well  understood  the  noble  trade; 
So  neither  shall  occasion  fail. 
But  hence  ! — A  mighty  grief  I  trow  ! 
Unto  thy  lov'd  one's  chamber  thou 
And  not  to  death  shouldst  go.  ,; 

Faust 
What  is  to  me  heaven's  joy  within  her  arms? 
What  though  my  life  her  bosom  warms ! — 
Do  I  not  ever  feel  her  woe  ? 
The  outcast  am  I  not,  unhoused,  unblest. 
Inhuman  monster,  without  aim  or  rest, 
Who,  like  the  greedy  surge,  from  rock  to  rock, 
Sweeps  down  the  dread  abyss  with  desperate  shock? 
While  she,  within  her  lowly  cot,  which  graced 
The  Alpine  slope,  beside  the  waters  wild. 
Her  homely  cares  in  that  small  world  embraced, 
Secluded  lived,  a  simple,  artless  child. 
Was't  not  enough,  in  thy  delirious  wliirl 
To  blast  the  stedfast  rocks ; 
Her,  and  her  peace  as  well, 
Must  I,  God-hated  one,  to  ruin  hurl ! 
Dost  claim  this  holocaust,  remorseless  Hell  1 
Fiend,  help  me  to  cut  short  the  hours  of  dread ! 
Let  what  must  happen,  happen  speedily ! 
Her  direful  doom  fall  crushing  on  my  head, 
And  into  ruin  let  her  plunge  with  me  1 

Mephistopheles 
Why  how  again  it  seethes  and  glows ! 
Away,  thou  fool  I    Her  torment  ease  I 
When  such  a  head  no  issue  sees, 


142  GOETHE 

It  pictures  straight  the  final  close. 
Long  life  to  him  who  boldly  dares ! 
A  devil's  pluck  thou'rt  wont  to  show ; 
As  for  a  devil  who  despairs, 
Nothing  I  find  so  mawkish  here  below. 


MARGARET'S  ROOM 

Margaret  (alone  at  her  spinning  wheel) 
My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sore, 
I  find  it  never, 

And  nevermore ! 

Where  him  I  have  not, 

Is  the  grave ;  and  all 
The  world  to  me 

Is  turned  to  gall 

My  wilder'd  brain 

Is  overwrought; 
My  feeble  senses 

Are  distraught. 

My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sore, 
I  find  it  never, 

And  nevermore  1 

For  him  from  the  window 

I  gaze,  at  home ; 
For  him  and  him  only 

Abroad  I  roam. 

His  lofty  step. 

His  bearing  high. 
The  smile  of  his  lip, 

The  power  of  his  eye. 


FAUST  143 


His  witching  words, 

Their  tones  of  bliss, 
His  hand's  fond  pressure. 
And  ah — his  kiss  1 

My  peace  is  gone. 
My  heart  is  sore, 

I  find  it  never. 
And  nevermore. 

My  bosom  aches 
To  feel  him  near' 

Ah,  could  I  clasp 
And  fold  him  here! 

Kiss  him  and  kiss  him 

Again  would  I, 
And  on  his  kisses 

I  fain  would  die. 


MARTHA'S    GARDEN 

Margaret  and  Faust 

Margaret 
Promise  me,  Henry ! 

Faust 

What  I  can ! 

Margaret 
How  thy  religion  fares,  I  fain  would  heai. 
Thou  art  a  good  kind-hearted  man, 
Only  that  way  not  well-disposed,  I  fear. 

Faust 
Forbear,  my  child !    Thou  f eelest  thee  I  love ; 
My  heart,  my  blood  I'd  give,  my  love  to  prove. 
And  none  would  of  tlieir  faith  or  church  bereave. 


144  GOETHE 

Margaret 
That's  not  enough,  we  must  ourselves  believe  I 

Faust 
Must  we  ? 

Margaret 
Ah,  could  1  but  thy  soul  inspire  I 
Thou  honourest  not  the  sacraments,  alas  1 


Faust 


I  honour  them. 


Margaret 
But  yet  without  desire; 
'Tis  long  since  thou  hast  been  either  to  shrift  or  mass. 
Dost  thou  believe  in  God  ? 

Faust 

My  darling,  who  dares  say, 
Yes,  I  in  God  believe? 
Question  or  priest  or  sage,  and  they 
Seem,  in  the  answer  you  receive, 
To  mock  the  questioner. 

Margaret 

Then  thou  dost  not  believe? 

Faust 
Sweet  one  I  my  meaning  do  not  misconceive  I 
Him  who  dare  name? 
And  who  proclaim. 
Him  I  believe? 
Who  that  can  feel, 
His  heart  can  steel, 
To  say:  I  believe  him  not? 
The  All-embracer, 
All-sustainer, 


FAUST  145 

Holds  and  sustains  he  not 

Thee,  me,  himself? 

Lifts  not  the  Heaven  its  dome  above? 

Doth  not  the  firm-set  earth  beneath  us  lie? 

And  beaming  tenderly  with  looks  of  love, 

Climb  not  the  everlasting  stars  on  high? 

Do  we  not  gaze  into  each  other's  eyes? 

Nature's  impenetrable  agencies, 

Are  they  not  thronging  on  thy  heart  and  brain, 

Viewless,  or  visible  to  mortal  ken. 

Around  thee  weaving  their  mysterious  chain? 

Fill  thence  thy  heart,  how  large  soe'er  it  be; 

And  in  the  feeling  when  thou  utterly  art  blest. 

Then  call  it,  what  thou  wilt, — 

Call  it  Bliss  !  Heart !  Love  !  God  ! 

I  have  no  name  for  it ! 

'Tis  feeling  all ; 

Name  is  but  sound  and  smoke 

Shrouding  the  glow  of  heaven. 

Margaret 
All  this  is  doubtless  good  and  fair ; 
Almost  the  same  the  parson  says, 
Only  in  slightly  different  phrase. 

Faust 
Beneath  Heaven's  sunshine,  everywhere, 
This  is  the  utterance  of  the  human  heart; 
Each  in  his  language  doth  the  like  impart; 
Then  why  not  I  in  mine  ? 

Margaret 

What  thus  I  hear 
Sounds  plausible,  yet  Fm  not  reconciled; 
There's  something  wrong  about  it;  much  I  fear 
That  thou  art  not  a  Christian. 

Faust 

My  sweet  child ! 


146  GOETHE 

Margaret 
Alas  !  it  long  hath  sorely  troubled  me, 
To  see  thee  in  such  odious  company. 

Faust 
How  so? 

Margaret 
The  man  who  comes  with  thee,  I  hate. 
Yea,  in  my  spirit's  inmost  depths  abhor ; 
As  his  loath'd  visage,  in  my  life  before. 
Naught  to  my  heart  e'er  gave  a  pang  so  great. 

Faust 
Him  fear  not,  my  sweet  love ! 

Margaret 

His  presence  chills  my  blood. 
Towards  all  beside  I  have  a  kindly  mood ; 
Yet,  though  I  yearn  to  gaze  on  thee,  I  feel 
At  sight  of  him  strange  horror  o'er  me  steal ; 
That  he's  a  villain  my  conviction's  strong. 
May  Heaven  forgive  me,  if  I  do  him  wrong ! 

Faust 
Yet  such  strange  fellows  in  the  world  must  be ! 

Margaret 
I  would  not  live  with  such  an  one  as  he. 
H  for  a  moment  he  but  enter  here. 
He  looks  around  him  with  a  mocking  sneer. 
And  malice  ill-conceal'd; 

That  he  with  naught  on  earth  can  sympathize  is  clear ; 
Upon  his  brow  'tis  legibly  revealed. 
That  to  his  heart  no  living  soul  is  dear. 
So  blest  I  feel,  within  thine  arms. 
So  warm  and  happy, — free  from  all  alarms ; 
And  still  my  heart  doth  close  when  he  comes  near. 


FAUST  147 


Faust 
Foreboding  angel  I  check  thy  fear  ! 

Margaret 
It  so  o'ermasters  me,  that  when, 
Or  wheresoe'er,  his  step  I  hear, 
I  almost  think,  no  more  I  love  thee  then. 
Besides,  when  he  is  near,  I  ne'er  could  pray. 
This  eats  into  my  heart ;  with  thee 
The  same,  my  Henry,  it  must  be. 


This  is  antipathy ! 


Faust 

Margaret 
I  must  away. 


Faust 
For  one  brief  hour  then  may  I  never  rest, 
And  heart  to  heart,  and  soul  to  soul  be  pressed? 

Margaret 

Ah,  if  I  slept  alone  !    To-night 

The  bolt  I  fain  would  leave  undrawn  for  thee; 

But  then  my  mother's  sleep  is  light, 

Were  we  surprised  by  her,  ah  me ! 

Upon  the  spot  I  should  be  dead, 

Faust 
Dear  angel !  there's  no  cause  for  dread. 
Here  is  a  little  phial, — if  she  take 
Mixed  in  her  drink  three  drops,  'twill  ,-teep 
Her  nature  in  a  deep  and  soothing  sleep. 

Margaret 
What  do  I  not  for  thy  dear  sake ! 
To  her  it  will  not  harmful  prove? 


148  GOETHE 

Faust 
Should  I  advise  it  else,  sweet  love? 

Margaret 
I  know  not,  dearest,  when  thy  face  I  see, 
What  doth  my  spirit  to  thy  will  constrain ; 
Already  I  have  done  so  much  for  thee, 
That  scarcely  more  to  do  doth  now  remain. 

(Exit.) 

Mephistopheles  (enters) 

Mephistopheles 
The  monkey  I    Is  she  gone  ? 

Faust 

Again  hast  played  the  spy? 

Mephistopheles 
Of  all  that  pass'd  I'm  well  apprized, 
I  heard  the  doctor  catechised, 
And  trust  he'll  profit  much  thereby  I 
Fain  would  the  girls  inquire  indeed 
Touching  their  lover's  faith  and  creed. 
And  whether  pious  in  the  good  old  way ; 
They  think,  if  pliant  there,  us  too  he  will  obeyi 

Faust 
Thou  monster,  does  not  see  that  this 
Pure  soul,  possessed  by  ardent  love, 
Full  of  the  living  faith. 
To  her  of  bliss 

The  only  pledge,  must  holy  anguish  prove. 
Holding  the   man   she   loves,   fore-doomed  to   endless 
death  I 


FAUST  149 

Mephistopheles 
Most  sensual,  supersensualist?    The  while 
A  damsel  leads  thee  by  the  nose ! 

Faust 
Of  filth  and  fire  abortion  vile  ! 

Mephistopheles 
In  physiognomy  strange  skill  she  shows ; 
She  in  my  presence  feels  she  knows  not  how; 
My  mask  it  seems  a  hidden  sense  reveals; 
That  I'm  a  genius  she  must  needs  allow, 
That  I'm  the  very  devil  perhaps  she  feels. 
So  then  to-night — 

Faust 

What's  that  to  you  ? 

Mephistopheles 
I've  my  amusement  in  it  too  ! 


AT  THE  WELL 

Margaret  and  Bessy^  zmth  pitchers 

Bessy 
Of  Barbara  hast  nothing  heard? 

Margaret 
I  rarely  go  from  home, — no,  not  a  word. 

Bessy 
'Tis  true :  Sybilla  told  me  so  to-day ! 
That  comes  of  being  proud,  methinks; 
She  played  the  fool  at  last. 


150  GOETHE 


Margaret 

How  so  ? 

Bessy 

They  say 
That  two  she  feedeth  when  she  eats  and  drinks. 

Margaret 
Alas! 

Bessy 
She's  rightly  served,  in  sooth, 
How  long  she  hung  upon  the  youth  ! 
What  promenades,  what  jaunts  there  were, 
To  dancing  booth  and  village  fair  I 
The  first  she  everywhere  must  shine, 
He  always  treating  her  to  pastry  and  to  wine. 
Of  her  good  looks  she  was  so  vain, 
So  shameless  too,  that  to  retain 
His  presents,  she  did  not  disdain ; 
Sweet  words  and  kisses  came  anon — 
And  then  the  virgin  flower  was  gone. 

Margaret 
Poor  thing  I 

Bessy 
Forsooth  dost  pity  her  ? 
At  night,  when  at  our  wheels  we  sat. 
Abroad  our  mothers  ne'er  would  let  us  stir. 
Then  with  her  lover  she  must  chat. 
Or  on  the  bench  or  in  the  dusky  walk. 
Thinking  the  hours  too  brief  for  their  sweet  talk; 
Her  proud  head  she  will  have  to  bow, 
And  in  white  sheet  do  penance  now ! 

Margaret 
But  he  will  surely  marry  her  ? 


FAUST  151 

Bessy 

Not  he ! 
He  won't  be  such  a  fool !  a  gallant  lad 
Like  him,  can  roam  o'er  land  and  sea, 
Besides,  he's  off. 

Margaret 
That  is  not  fair ! 

Bessy 
If  she  should  get  him,  'twere  almost  as  bad  ! 
Her  myrtle  wreath  the  boys  would  tear; 
And  then  we  girls  would  plague  her  too. 
For  we  chopp'd  straw  before  her  door  would  strew  ! 

(Exit.) 

Margaret  (walking  towards  home) 
How  stoutly  once  I  could  inveigh, 
If  a  poor  maiden  went  astray ; 
Not  words  enough  my  tongue  could  find, 
'Gainst  others'  sin  to  speak  my  mind  ! 
Black  as  it  seemed,  I  blacken'd  it  still  more. 
And  strove  to  make  it  blacker  than  before. 
And  did  myself  securely  bless — 
Now  my  own  trespass  doth  appear  ! 
Yet  ah  ! — what  urg'd  me  to  transgress, 
God  knows,  it  was  so  sweet,  so  dear ! 


ZWINGER 

Enclosure  between  the  City-wall  and  the  Gate. 

(In  the  niche  of  the  wall  a  devotional  image  of  the  Mater 

dolorosa,  with  Hower-pots  before  it.) 

Margaret  (putting  fresh  flowers  in  the  pots) 
Ah,  rich  in  sorrow,  thou. 
Stoop  thy  maternal  brow. 
And  mark  with  pitying  eye  my  misery ! 


152  GOETHE 

The  sword  in  thy  pierced  heart, 

Thou  dost  with  bitter  smart, 

Gaze  upwards  on  thy  Son's  death  agony. 

To  the  dear  God  on  high, 

Ascends  thy  piteous  sigh, 

Pleading  for  his  and  thy  sore  misery. 

Ah,  who  can  know 

The  torturing  woe, 

The  pangs  that  rack  me  to  the  bone  ? 

How  my  poor  heart,  without  rehef, 

Trembles  and  throbs,  its  yearning  grief 

Thou  knowest,  thou  alone  I 

Ah,  wheresoe'er  I  go, 

With  woe,  with  woe,  with  woe, 

My  anguish'd  breast  is  aching  I 

When  all  alone  I  creep, 

I  weep,  I  weep,  I  weep, 

Alas  !  my  heart  is  breaking ! 

The  flower-pots  at  my  window 

Were  wet  with  tears  of  mine, 

The  while  I  pluck'd  these  blossoms. 

At  dawn  to  deck  thy  shrine  1 

When  early  in  my  chamber 

Shone  bright  the  rising  morn, 

I  sat  there  on  my  pallet, 

My  heart  with  anguish  torn. 

Help  !  from  disgrace  and  death- deliver  me  1 

Ah !  rich  in  sorrow,  thou, 

Stoop  thy  maternal  brow. 

And  mark  with  pitying  eye  my  misery  ! 


NIGHT.   STREET  BEFORE  MARGARET'S 
DOOR 

Valentine  (a  soldier,  Margaret's  brother) 
When  seated  'mong  the  jovial  crowd. 
Where  merry  comrades  boasting  loud 
Each  named  with  pride  his  favourite  lass, 


FAUST  153 

And  in  her  honour  drain'd  his  glass; 
Upon  my  elbows  I  would  lean; 
With  easy  quiet  view  the  scene, 
Nor  give  my  tongue  the  rein  until 
Each  swaggering  blade  had  talked  his  fill. 
Then  smiling  I  my  beard  would  stroke, 
The  while,  with  brimming  glass,  I  spoke; 
"  Each  to  his  taste ! — but  to  my  mind. 
Where  in  the  country  will  you  find, 
A  maid,  as  my  dear  Gretchen  fair. 
Who  with  my  sister  can  compare?" 
Cling!  Clang!  so  rang  the  jovial  sound! 
Shouts  of  assent  went  circling  round; 
Pride  of  her  sex  is  she! — cried  some; 
Then  were  the  noisy  boasters  dumb. 

And  now ! — I  could  tear  out  my  hair, 
Or  dash  my  brains  out  in  despair ! — 
Me  every  scurvy  knave  may  twit. 
With  stinging  jest  and  taunting  sneer! 
Like  skulking  debtor  I  must  sit. 
And  sweat  each  casual  word  to  hear ! 
And  though  I  smash'd  them  one  and  all, — 
Yet  them  I  could  not  liars  call. 

Who  comes  this  way?  who's  sneaking  here? 
If  I  mistake  not,  two  draw  near. 
If  he  be  one,  have  at  him ; — well  I  wot 
Alive  he  shall  not  leave  this  spot! 

Faust.    Mephistopheles 

Faust 
How  from  yon  sacristy,  athwart  the  night. 
Its  beams  the  ever-burning  taper  throws. 
While  ever  waning,  fades  the  glimmering  light, 
As  gathering  darkness  doth  around  it  close  ! 
So  night-like  gloom  doth  in  my  bosom  reign. 


154  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 
I'm  like  a  tom-cat  in  a  thievish  vein, 
That  up  fire-ladders  tall  and  steep, 
And  round  the  walls  doth  slyly  creep ; 
Virtuous  withal,  I  feel,  with,  I  confess, 
A  touch  of  thievish  joy  and  wantonness. 
Thus  through  my  limbs  already  burns 
The  glorious  Walpurgis  night ! 
After  to-morrow  it  returns. 
Then  why  one  wakes,  one  knows  aright ! 

Faust 
Meanwhile,  the  treasure  I  see  glimmering  there. 
Will  it  ascend  into  the  open  air  ? 

Mephistopheles 
Ere  long  thou  wilt  proceed  with  pleasure, 
To  raise  the  casket  with  its  treasure ; 
I  took  a  peep,  therein  are  stored, 
Of  lion-dollars  a  rich  hoard. 

Faust 
And  not  a  trinket?  not  a  ring? 
Wherewith  my  lovely  girl  to  deck  ?   ' 

Mephistopheles 
I  saw  among  them  some  such  thing, 
A  string  of  pearls  to  grace  her  neck. 

Faust 
'Tis  well !    I'm  always  loath  to  go. 
Without  some  gift  my  love  to  show. 

Mephistopheles 
Some  pleasures  gratis  to  enjoy, 
Should  surely  cause  you  no  annoy. 
While  bright  with  stars  the  heavens  appear, 
I'll  sing  a  masterpiece  of  art : 


FAUST  155 

A  moral  song  shall  charm  her  ear, 
More  surely  to  beguile  her  heart. 

{Sings  to  the  guitar.) 

Kathrina  say, 

Why  lingering  stay 

At  dawn  of  day 

Before  your  lover's  door? 

Maiden,  beware, 

Nor  enter  there. 

Lest  forth  you  fare, 

A  maiden  never  more. 

Maiden  take  heed ! 

Reck  well  my  rede ! 

Is't  done,  the  deed  ? 

Good  night,  you  poor,  poor  thing ! 

The  spoiler's  lies, 

His  arts  despise, 

Nor  yield  your  prize, 

Without  the  marriage  ring ! 

Valentine  {steps  forward) 
Whom  are  you  luring  here  ?    I'll  give  it  you  ! 
Accursed  rat-catchers,  your  strains  I'll  end ! 
First,  to  the  devil  the  guitar  I'll  send  ! 
Then  to  the  devil  with  the  singer  too  1 

Mephistopheles 
The  poor  guitar  !  'tis  done  for  now. 

Valentine 
Your  skull  shall  follow  next,  I  trow ! 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust) 
Doctor,  stand  fast  1  your  strength  collect ! 
Be  prompt,  and  do  as  I  direct. 
Out  with  your  whisk,  keep  close,  I  pray, 
I'll  parry  !  do  you  thrust  away  ! 


156  GOETHE 

Valentine 


Then  parry  that ! 


Mephistopheles 
Why  not  ? 

Valentine 

That  too! 

Mephistopheles 


With  ease ! 


Valentine 
The  devil  fights  for  you  ! 
Why  how  is  this?  my  hand's  already  lamed! 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust) 
Thrust  home ! 

Valentine  (falls) 
Alas! 

Mephistopheles 

There  !    Now  the  lubber's  tamed ! 
But  quick,  away!     We  must  at  once  take  wing; 
A  cry  of  murder  strikes  upon  the  ear; 
With  the  police  I  know  my  course  to  steer, 
But  with  the  blood-ban  'tis  another  thing. 

Martha  (at  the  zvindow) 
Without !  without ! 

Margaret  (at  the  zvindow) 
Quick,  bring  a  light ! 

Martha  (as  aboT'e) 
They  rail  and  scuffle,  scream  and  fight  I 


FAUST  157 

People 
One  lieth  here  already  dead ! 

Martha    (coming   out) 
Where  are  the  murderers?  are  they  fled? 

Margaret  (coming  out) 
Who  lieth  here  ? 

People 
Thy  mother's  son. 

Margaret 
Almighty  God !  I  am  undone ! 

Valentine 
Vm  dying — 'tis  a  soon-told  tale, 
And  sooner  done  the  deed. 
Why,  women,  do  ye  howl  and  wail  ? 
To  my  last  words  give  heed !     (All  gather  round  him.) 
My  Gretchen,  see  !  still  young  art  thou, 
Art  not  discreet  enough,  I  trow, 
Thou  dost  thy  matters  ill; 
Let  this  in  confidence  be  said : 
Since  thou  the  path  of  shame  dost  tread. 
Tread  it  with  right  good  will ! 

Margaret 
My  brother !    God !  what  can  this  mean? 


Valentine 

Nor  dare  God's  holy  name  profane ! 
What's  done,  alas,  is  done  and  past ! 
Matters  will  take  their  course  at  last; 
By  stealth  thou  dost  begin  with  one, 
Others  will  follow  him  anon ; 


Abstain, 


158  GOETHE 

And  when  a  dozen  thee  have  known, 

Thou'lt  common  be  to  all  the  town. 

When  infamy  is  newly  born. 

In  secret  she  is  brought  to  light. 

And  the  mysterious  veil  of  night 

O'er  head  and  ears  is  drawn; 

The  loathsome  birth  men  fain  would  slay; 

But  soon,  full  grown,  she  waxes  bold, 

And  though  not  fairer  to  behold, 

With  brazen  front  insults  the  day: 

The  more  abhorrent  to  the  sight, 

The  more  she  courts  the  day's  pure  light. 

The  time  already  I  discern. 

When  thee  all  honest  folk  will  spurn, 

And  shun  thy  hated  form  to  meet. 

As  when  a  corpse  infects  the  street. 

Thy  heart  will  sink  in  blank  despair. 

When  they  shall  look  thee  in  the  face ! 

A  golden  chain  no  more  thou'lt  wear  ! 

Nor  near  the  altar  take  in  church  thy  place ! 

In  fair  lace  collar  simply  dight 

Thou'lt  dance  no  more  with  spirits  light ! 

In  darksome  corners  thou  wilt  bide. 

Where  beggars  vile  and  cripples  hide, 

And  e'en  though  God  thy  crime  forgive, 

On  earth,  a  thing  accursed,  thou'lt  live ! 

Martha 
Your  parting  soul  to  God  commend ! 
Your  dying  breath  in  slander  will  you  spend  ? 

Valentine 
Could  I  but  reach  thy  wither'd  frame. 
Thou  wretched  beldame,  void  of  shame! 
Full  measure  I  might  hope  to  win 
Of  pardon  then  for  every  sin. 

Margaret 
Brother !  what  agonizing  pain ! 


FAUST  159 


Valentine 
I  tell  thee,  from  vain  tears  abstain ! 
'Twas  thy  dishonour  pierced  my  heart, 
Thy  fall  the  fatal  death-stab  gave. 
Through  the  death-sleep  I  nov^  depart 
To  God,  a  soldier  true  and  brave.  (dies.) 


CATHEDRAL 

Service,  Organ,  and  Anthem 
Margaret  amongst  a  number  of  people 

Evil-Spirit  behind  Margaret 

Evil-Spirit 
How  different,  Gretchen,  was  it  once  with  thee. 
When  thou,  still  full  of  innocence, 
Here  to  the  altar  earnest, 
And  from  the  small  and  well-conn'd  book 
Didst  lisp  thy  prayer. 
Half  childish  sport. 
Half  God  in  thy  young  heart ! 
Gretchen ! 

What  thoughts  are  thine? 
What  deed  of  shame 
Lurks  in  thy  sinful  heart? 
Is  thy  prayer  utter'd  for  thy  mother's  soul, 
Who  into  long,  long  torment  slept  through  thee  ? 
Whose  blood  is  on  thy  threshold? 
— And  stirs  there  not  already  'neath  thy  heart 
Another  quick'ning  pulse,  that  even  now 
Tortures  itself  and  thee 
With  its  foreboding  presence  ? 

Margaret 
Woe !  Woe ! 
Oh  could  I  free  me  from  the  thoughts 


160  GOETHE 

That  hither,  thither,  crowd  upon  my  brain, 
Against  my  will ! 

Chorus 
Dies  ircB,  dies  ilia, 
Solvet  saclum  in  favilla. 

{The  organ  sounds.) 

Evil-Spirit 
Grim  horror  seizes  thee ! 
The  trumpet  sounds ! 
The  graves  are  shaken ! 
And  thy  heart 
From  ashy  rest 
For  torturing  flames 
Anew  created. 
Trembles  into  life! 

Margaret 
Would  I  were  hence ! 
It  is  as  if  the  organ 
Choked  my  breath, 
As  if  the  choir 
Melted  my  inmost  heart ! 

Chorus 
Judex  ergo  cum  sedehit, 
Quidquid  latet  adparehit. 
Nil  inultmn  remanebit. 

Margaret 
I  feel  oppressed ! 
The  pillars  of  the  wall 
Imprison  me ! 
The  vaulted  roof 
Weighs  down  upon  me ! — air ! 

Evil-Spirit 
Wouldst  hide  thee  ?  sin  and  shame 
Remain  not  hidden ! 
Air !  light ! 
Woe's  thee ! 


FAUST  161 


Chorus 

Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturusf 
Quern  patroniim  rogaturus! 
Cum  vix  Justus  sit  securus. 

Evil-Spirit 
The  glorified  their  faces  turn 
Away  from  thee ! 
Shudder  the  pure  to  reach 
Their  hands  to  thee! 
Woe! 

Chorus 
Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus — > 

Margaret 
Neighbour !  your  smelling  bottle ! 

{She  swoons  away.) 

WALPURGIS-NIGHT 

THE   HARTZ   MOUNTAINS.     DISTRICT   OF   SCHIERKB 
AND  ELEND 

Faust  and  Mephistopheles 

Mephistopheles 
A  broomstick  dost  thou  not  at  least  desire? 
The  roughest  he-goat  fain  would  I  bestride, 
By  this  road  from  our  goal  we're  still  far  wide. 

Faust 
While  fresh  upon  my  legs,  so  long  I  naught  require, 
Except  this  knotty  staff.     Beside, 
What  boots  it  to  abridge  a  pleasant  way? 
Along  the  labyrinth  of  these  vales  to  creep, 
Then  scale  these  rocks,  whence,  in  eternal  spray, 

6— VOL.  XIX  HO 


162  GOETHE 

Adown  the  cliffs  the  silvery  fountains  leap: 

Such  is  the  joy  that  seasons  paths  like  these ! 

Spring  weaves  already  in  the  birchen  trees; 

E'en  the  late  pine-grove  feels  her  quickening  powers ; 

Should  she  not  work  within  these  limbs  of  ours  ? 


Mephistopheles 
Naught  of  this  genial  influence  do  I  know ! 
Within  me  all  is  wintry.    Frost  and  snow 
I  should  prefer  my  dismal  path  to  bound. 
How  sadly,  yonder,  with  belated  glow 
Rises  the  ruddy  moon's  imperfect  round, 
Shedding  so  faint  a  light,  at  every  tread 
One's  sure  to  stumble  'gainst  a  rock  or  tree ! 
An  Ignis  Fatuus  I  must  call  instead. 
Yonder  one  burning  merrily,  I  see. 
Holla !  my  friend !  may  I  request  your  light? 
Why  should  you  flare  away  so  uselessly? 
Be  kind  enough  to  show  us  up  the  height ! 

Ignis  Fatuus 
Through  reverence,  I  hope  I  may  subdue 
The  lightness  of  my  nature ;  true, 
Our  course  is  but  a  zigzag  one. 

Mephistopheles 

Ho !  ho ! 
So  men,  forsooth,  he  thinks  to  imitate  ! 
Now,  in  the  devil's  name,  for  once  go  straight ! 
Or  out  at  once  your  flickering  life  I'll  blow. 

Ignis  Fatuus 
That  you  are  master  here  is  obvious  quite ; 
To  do  your  will,  I'll  cordially  essay; 
Only  reflect!    The  hill  is  magic-mad  to-night; 
And  if  to  show  the  path  you  choose  a  meteor's  light. 
You  must  not  wonder  should  we  go  astray. 


FAUST  163 

Faust,  Mephistopheles,  Ignis  Fatuus 
(in   alternate  song) 
Through  the  dream  and  magic-sphere, 
As  it  seems,  we  now  are  speeding; 
Honour  win,  us  rightly  leading, 
That  betimes  we  may  appear 
In  yon  wide  and  desert  region ! 

Trees  on  trees,  a  sfahvart  legion, 
Swiftly  past  us  are  retreating. 
And  the  cliffs  with  lowly  greeting; 
Rocks  long-snouted,  row  on  row. 
How  they  snort,  and  how  they  blow ! 

Through  the  stones  and  heather  springing, 
Brook  and  brooklet  haste  below ; 
Hark  the  rustling  !     Hark  the  singing ! 
Hearken  to  love's  plaintive  lays; 
Voices  of  those  heavenly  days — 
What  we  hope,  and  what  we  love ! 
Like  a  tale  of  olden  time. 
Echo's  voice  prolongs  the  chime. 

To-whit !    To-whoo !    It  sounds  more  near ; 

Plover,  owl,  and  jay  appear, 

All  awake,  around,  above? 

Paunchy  salamanders  too 

Peer,  long-limbed,  the  JDUshes  through ! 

And,  like  snakes,  the  roots  of  trees 

Coil  themselves  from  rock  and  sand. 

Stretching  many  a  wondrous  band, 

Us  to  frighten,  us  to  seize ; 

From  rude  knots  with  life  embued, 

Polyp-fangs  abroad  they  spread. 

To  snare  the  wanderer !    'Neath  our  tread, 

Mice,  in  myriads,  thousand-hued. 

Through  the  heath  and  through  the  moss ! 

And  the  fire-flies'  glittering  throng, 

Wildering  escort,  whirls  along, 

Here  and  there,  our  path  across. 


164  GOETHE 


Tell  me,  stand  we  motionless, 

Or  still  forward  do  we  press? 

All  things  round  us  whirl  and  fly; 

Rocks  and  trees  make  strange   grimaces, 

Dazzling  meteors  change  their  places, 

How  they  puff  and  multiply ! 

Mephistopheles 
Now  grasp  my  doublet — we  at  last 
A  central  peak  have  reached,  which  shows, 
If  round  a  wondering  glance  we  cast. 
How  in  the  mountain  Mammon  glows. 

Faust 
How  through  the  chasms  strangely  gleams, 
A  lurid  light,  like  dawn's  red  glow. 
Pervading  with  its  quivering  beams. 
The  gorges  of  the  gulf  below  ! 
Here  vapours  rise,  there  clouds  float  by, 
Here  through  the  mist  the  light  doth  shine; 
Now,  like  a  fount,  it  bursts  on  high, 
Meanders  now,  a  slender  line; 
Far  reaching,  with  a  hundred  veins. 
Here  through  the  valley  see  it  glide ; 
Here,  where  its  force  the  gorge  restrains, 
At  once  it  scatters,  '^ar  and  wide ; 
Anear,  like  showers  of  golden  sand 
Strewn  broadcast,  sputter  sparks  of  light: 
And  mark  yon  rocky  walls  that  stand 
Ablaze,  in  all  their  towering  height ! 

Mephistopheles 
Doth  not  Sir  Mammon  for  this  fete 
Grandly  illume  his  palace  !    Thou 
Art  lucky  lo  have  seen  it ;  now, 
The  boisterous  guests,  I  feel,  are  coming  straight. 


FAUST  165 

Faust 
How  through  the  air  the  storm  doth  whirl! 
Upon  my  neck  it  strikes  with  sudden  shock. 

Mephistopheles 
Cling  to  these  ancient  ribs  of  granite  rock, 
Else  to  yon  depths  profound  it  you  will  hurl 
A  murky  vapour  thickens  night. 
Hark  !    Through  the  woods  the  tempests  roar ! 
The  owlets  flit  in  wild  affright. 
Hark !    Splinter'd  are  the  columns  that  upbore 
The  leafy  palace,  green  for  aye: 
The  shivered  branches  whirr  and  sigh, 
Yawn  the  huge  trunks  with  mighty  groan. 
The  roots  upriven,  creak  and  moan ! 
In  fearful  and  entangled  fall. 
One  crashing  ruin  whelms  them  all, 
While  through  the  desolate  abyss. 
Sweeping  the  wreck-strewn  precipice, 
The  raging  storm-blasts  howl  and  hiss ! 
Aloft  strange  voices  dost  thou  hear? 
Distant  now  and  now  more  near? 
Hark !  the  mountain  ridge  along, 
Streameth  a  raving  magic-song! 

Witches  (in  chorus) 
Now  to  the  Brocken  the  witches  hie. 
The  stubble  is  yellow,  the  corn  is  green; 
Thither  the  gathering  legions  fly, 
And  sitting  aloft  is  Sir  Urian  seen: 
O'er  stick  and  o'er  stone  they  go  whirling  along. 
Witches  and  he-goats,  a  motley  throi.g. 

Voices 
Alone  old  Baubo's  coming  now; 
She  rides  upon  a  farrow  sow. 


166  GOETHE 

Chorus 
Honour  to  her,  to  whom  honour  is  due* 
Forward,  Dame  Baubo  !    Honour  to  you  \ 
A  goodly  sow  and  mother  thereon, 
The  whole  witch  chorus  follows  anon. 

Voice 
Which  way  didst  come  ? 

Voice 

O'er  Ilsenstein! 
There  I  peep'd  in  an  owlet's  pest. 
With  her  broad  eye  she  gazed  in  minel 

Voice 
Drive  to  the  devil,  thou  hellish  pest  1 
Why  ride  so  hard? 

Voice 

She  has  graz'd  my  side. 
Look  at  the  wounds,  how  deep  and  how  wide! 

Witches  (in  chorus) 

The  way  is  broad,  the  way  is  long; 
What  mad  pursuit  I     What  tumult  wild  ! 
Scratches  the  besom  and  sticks  the  prong ; 
Crush'd  is  the  mother,  and  stifled  the  child. 

Wizards  (half  chorus) 
Like  house-encumber'd  snail  we  creep; 
While  far  ahead  the  women  keep. 
For  when  to  the  devil's  house  we  speed. 
By  a  thousand  steps  they  take  the  lead. 

The  Other  Half 
Not  so,  precisely  do  we  view  it ; — 
They  with  a  thousand  steps  may  do  it; 


FAUST  167 

But  let  them  hasten  as  they  can, 

With  one  long  bound  'tis  clear'd  by  man. 

Voices   (above) 
Come  with  us,  come  with  us  from  Felsensee. 

Voices  (from  belozv) 
Aloft  to  you  we  would  mount  with  glee ! 
We  wash,  and  free  from  all  stain  are  we, 
Yet  barren  evermore  must  be  ! 

Both  Choruses 
The  wind  is  hushed,  the  stars  grow  pale, 
The  pensive  moon  her  light  doth  veil ; 
And  whirling  on,  the  magic  choir 
Sputters  forth  sparks  of  drizzling  fire. 

Voice  (from  below) 
Stay !  stay ! 

Voice  (from  above) 

What  voice  of  woe 
Calls  from  the  cavern'd  depths  below  ? 

Voice  (from  belozv) 
Take  me  v/ith  you !     Oh  take  me  too ! 
Three  centuries  I  climb  in  vain, 
And  yet  can  ne'er  the  summit  gain ! 
To  be  with  my  kindred  I  am  fain. 

Both  Choruses 
Broom  and  pitch-fork,  goat  and  prong, 
Mounted  on  these  we  whirl  along; 
Who  vainly  strives  to  climb  to-night, 
Is  evermore  a  luckless  wight! 

Demi-Witch  (below) 
I  hobble  after,  many  a  day; 
Already  the  others  are  far  away  1 


168  GOETHE 

No  rest  at  home  can  I  obtain — 
Here  too  my  efforts  are  in  vain! 

Chorus  of  Witches 
Salve  gives  the  witches  strength  to  rise; 
A  rag  for  a  sail  does  well  enough; 
A  goodly  ship  is  every  trough; 
To-night  who  flies  not,  never  flies. 

Both  Choruses 
And  when  the  topmost  peak  we  round, 
Then  alight  ye  on  the  ground; 
The  heath's  wide  regions  cover  ye 
With  your  mad  swarms  of  witchery ! 

{They  let  themselves  down.) 

Mephistopheles 
They  crowd  and  jostle,  whirl  and  flutter ! 
They  whisper,  babble,  twirl,  and  splutter ! 
They  glimmer,  sparkle,  stink  and  flare — 
A  true  witch-element !    Beware  ! 
Stick  close !  else  we  shall  severed  be. 
Where  art  thou? 

Faust  (in  the  distance)- 
Here 

Mephistopheles 

Already,  whirl'd  so  far  away! 
The  master  then  indeed  I  needs  must  play. 
Give  ground !    Squire  Voland  comes  !    Sweet  folk,  give 

ground ! 
Here,  doctor,  grasp  me !  With  a  single  bound 
Let  us  escape  this  ceaseless  jar; 
Even  for  me  too  mad  these  people  are. 
Hard  by  there  shineth  something  with  peculiar  glare, 
Yon  brake  allureth  me;  it  is  not  far; 
Come,  come  along  with  me !  we'll  slip  in  there. 


FAUST  169 

Faust 
Spirit  of  contradiction !    Lead !  I'll  follow  straight  I 
'Twas  wisely  done,  however,  to  repair 
On  May-night  to  the  Brocken,  and  when  there 
By  our  own  choice  ourselves  to  isolate ! 

Mephistopheles 
Mark,  of  those  flames  the  motley  glare ! 
A  merry  club  assembles  there. 
In  a  small  circle  one  is  not  alone. 

Faust 
I'd  rather  be  above,  though,  I  must  own! 
Already  fire  and  eddying  smoke  I  view ; 
The  impetuous  millions  to  the  devil  ride; 
Full  many  a  riddle  will  be  there  untied. 

Mephistopheles 
Ay !  and  full  many  a  riddle  tied  anew. 
But  let  the  great  world  rave  and  riot ! 
Here  will  we  house  ourselves  in  quiet. 
A  custom  'tis  of  ancient  date. 

Our  lesser  worlds  within  the  great  world  to  create! 
Young  witches  there  I  see,  naked  and  bare. 
And  old  ones,  veil'd  more  prudently. 
For  my  sake  only  courteous  be ! 
The  trouble's  small,  the  sport  is  rare. 
Of  instruments  I  hear  the  cursed  din — 
One  must  get  used  to  it.    Come  in !  come  in ! 
There's  now  no  help  for  it.    I'll  step  before 
And  introducing  you  as  my  good  friend, 
Confer  on  you  one  obligation  more. 
How  say  you  now  ?    'Tis  no  such  paltry  room ; 
Why  only  look,  you  scarce  can  see  the  end. 
A  hundred  fires  in  rows  disperse  the  gloom ; 
They  dance,  they  talk,  they  cook,  make  love,  and  drink: 
Where  could  we  find  aught  better,  do  you  think  ? 


170  GOETHE 

Faust 
To  introduce  us,  do  you  purpose  here 
As  devil  or  as  wizard  to  appear? 

Mephistopheles 
Though  I  am  wont  indeed  to  strict  incognito, 
Yet  upon  gala-days  one  must  one's  orders  show. 
No  garter  have  I  to  distinguish  me, 
Nathless  the  cloven  foot  doth  here  give  dignity. 
Seest  thou  yonder  snail?    Crawling  this  way  she  hies: 
With  searching  feelers,  she,  no  doubt, 
Hath  me  already  scented  out; 
Here,  even  if  I  would,  for  me  there's  no  disguise. 
From  fire  to  fire,  we'll  saunter  at  our  leisure, 
The  gallant  you,  I'll  cater  for  your  pleasure. 

(To  a  party  seated  round  some  expiring  embers.) 
Old  gentleman,  apart,  why  sit  ye  moping  here  ? 
Ye  in  the  midst  should  be  of  all  this  jovial  cheer, 
Girt  round  with  noise  and  youthful  riot; 
At  home  one  surely  has  enough  of  quiet. 

General 
In  nations  put  his  trust,  who  may, 
Whate'er  for  them  one  may  have  done ; 
For  with  the  people,  as  with  womenj  they 
Honour  your  rising  stars  alone ! 

Minister 
Now  all  too  far  they  wander  from  the  right; 
I  praise  the  good  old  ways,  to  them  I  hold. 
Then  was  the  genuine  age  of  gold. 
When  we  ourselves  were  foremost  in  men's  sight. 

Parvenu 
Ne'er  were  we  'mong  your  dullards  found. 
And  what  we  ought  not,  that  to  do  were  fair; 


FAUST  171 

Yet  now  are  all  things  turning  round  and  round, 
When  on  firm  basis  we  would  them  maintain. 


Author 
Who,  as  a  rule,  a  treatise  now  would  care 
To  read,  of  even  moderate  sense? 
As  for  the  rising  generation,  ne'er 
Has  youth  displayed  such  arrogant  pretence. 

Mephistopheles 
(suddenly  appearing  very  old) 

Since  for  the  last  time  I  the  Brocken  scale, 
That  folk  are  ripe  for  doomsday,  now  one  sees; 
And  just  because  my  cask  begins  to  fail, 
So  the  whole  world  is  also  on  the  lees. 

Huckster-Witch 
Stop,  gentlemen,  nor  pass  me  by, 
Of  wares  I  have  a  choice  collection : 
Pray  honour  them  with  your  inspection. 
Lose  not  this  opportunity ! 
Yet  nothing  in  my  booth  you'll  find 
Without  its  counterpart  on  earth;  there's  naught, 
Which  to  the  world,  and  to  mankind, 
Hath  not  some  direful  mischief  wrought. 
No  dagger  here,  which  hath  not  f!ow'd  with  blood, 
No  chalice,  whence,  into  some  healthy  frame 
Hath  not  been  poured  hot  poison's  wasting  flood. 
No  trinket,  but  hath  wrought  some  woman's  shame, 
No  weapon  but  hath  cut  some  sacred  tie. 
Or  from  behind  hath  stabb'd  an  enemy. 

Mephistopheles 
Gossip !     For  wares  like  these  the  time's  gone  by. 
What's  done  is  past !  what's  past  is  done ! 
With  novelties  your  booth  supply; 
Us  novelties  attract  alone. 


172  GOETHE 

Faust 
May  this  wild  scene  my  senses  spare ! 
This,  may  in  truth  be  called  a  fair ! 

Mephistopheles 
Upward  the  eddying  concourse  throng; 
Thinking  to  push,  thyself  art  push'd  along. 

Faust 
Who's  that,  pray? 

Mephistopheles 

Mark  her  well !     That's  Lilith. 

Faust 

Who? 
Mephistopheles 
Adam's  first  wife.    Of  her  rich  locks  beware ! 
That  charm  in  which  she's  parallel'd  by  few; 
When  in  its  toils  a  youth  she  doth  ensnare. 
He  will  not  soon  escape,  I  promise  you. 

Faust 
There  sit  a  pair,  the  old  one  with  the  young ; 
Already  they  have  bravely  danced  and  sprung ! 

Mephistopheles 
Here  there  is  no  repose  to-day. 
Another  dance  begins;  we'll  join  it,  come  away! 

Faust 
(dancing  with  the  young  one) 
Once  a  fair  vision  came  to  me; 
Therein  I  saw  an  apple-tree. 
Two  beauteous  apples  charmed  mine  eyes; 
I  climb'd  forthwith  to  reach  the  prize. 


FAUST  173 

The  Fair  One. 
Apples  still  fondly  ye  desire, 
From  paradise  it  hath  been  so. 
Feelings  of  joy  my  breast  inspire 
That  such  too  in  my  garden  grow. 

Mephistopheles  (with  the  old  one) 
Once  a  weird  vision  came  to  me; 
Therein  I  saw  a  rifted  tree. 

It  had  a     ; 

But  as  it  was  it  pleased  me  too. 

The  Old  One 
I  beg  most  humbly  to  salute 
The  gallant  with  the  cloven  foot! 
Let  him  a  .  .  .  have  ready  here, 
If  he  a  .    .    .  does  not  fear. 

Proctophantasmist 

Accursed  mob  !    How  dare  ye  thus  to  meet? 
Have  I  not  shown  and  demonstrated  too, 
That  ghosts  stand  not  on  ordinary  feet  ? 
Yet  here  ye  dance,  as  other  mortals  do ! 

The  Fair  One  (dancing) 
Then  at  our  ball,  what  doth  he  here  ? 

Faust  (dancing) 
Oh !    He  must  everywhere  appear. 
He  must  adjudge,  when  others  dance; 
If  on  each  step  his  say's  not  said, 
So  is  that  step  as  good  as  never  made. 
He's  most  annoyed,  so  soon  as  we  advance ; 
If  ye  would  circle  in  one  narrow  round, 
As  he  in  his  old  mill,  then  doubtless  he 
Your  dancing  would  approve, — especially 
If  ye  forthwith  salute  him  with  respect  profound ! 


174  GOETHE 

Proctophantasmist 
Still  here  !  what  arrogance  !  unheard  of  quite  ! 
Vanish ;  we  now  have  fill'd  the  world  with  light ! 
Laws  are  unheeded  by  the  devil's  host ; 
Wise  as  we  are,  yet  Tegel  hath  its  ghost  I 
How  long  at  this  conceit  I've  swept  with  all  my  might. 
Lost  is  the  labour:  'tis  unheard  of  quite! 

The  Fair  One 
Cease  here  to  teaze  us  any  more,  I  pray. 

Proctophantasmist 
Spirits,  I  plainly  to  your  face  declare: 
No  spiritual  control  myself  v^ill  bear, 
Since  my  own  spirit  can  exert  no  sway. 

(The  dancing  continues.) 
To-night,  I  see,  I  shall  in  naught  succeed; 
But  I'm  prepar'd  my  travels  to  pursue. 
And  hope,  before  my  final  step  indeed. 
To  triumph  over  bards  and  devils  too. 

Mephistopheles 
Now  in  some  puddle  will  he  take  his  station, 
Such  is  his  mode  of  seeking  consolation ; 
Where  leeches,  feasting  on  his  rump,  will  drain 
Spirits  alike  and  spirit  from  his  brain. 

(To  Faust,  znho  has  left  the  dance.) 
But  why  the  charming  damsel  leave,  I  pray. 
Who  to  you  in  the  dance  so  sweetly  sang? 

Faust 
Ah,  in  the  very  middle  of  her  lay, 
Out  of  her  mouth  a  small  red  mouse  there  sprang. 

Mephistopheles 
Suppose  there  did  !    One  must  not  be  too  nice. 
'Twas  well  it  was  not  grey,  let  that  suffice. 
Who  'mid  his  pleasures  for  a  trifle  cares? 


Then  saw  I— ■ 


FAUST  175 

Faust 

Mephistoph  eles 
What? 


Faust 

Mephisto,  seest  thou  there 
Standing  far  off,  a  lone  child,  pale  and  fair? 
Slow  from  the  spot  her  drooping  form  she  tears, 
And  seems  with  shackled  feet  to  move  along; 
I  own,  within  me  the  delusion's  strong. 
That  she  the  likeness  of  my  Gretchen  wears. 

Mephistopheles 
Gaze  not  upon  her  I    'Tis  not  good !    Forbear ! 
'Tis  lifeless,  magical,  a  shape  of  air, 
An  idol.    Such  to  meet  with,  bodes  no  good ; 
That  rigid  look  of  hers  doth  freeze  man's  blood. 
And  well-nigh  petrifies  his  heart  to  stone: — 
The  story  of  Medusa  thou  hast  known. 

Faust 
Ay,  verily !  a  corpse's  eyes  are  those, 
Which  there  was  no  fond  loving  hand  to  close. 
That  is  the  bosom  I  so  fondly  press'd. 
That  my  sweet  Gretchen's  form,  so  oft  caress'd ! 

Mephistopheles 
Deluded  fool !    'Tis  magic,  I  declare ! 
To  each  she  doth  his  lov'd  one's  image  wear. 

Faust 
What  bliss  I  what  torture  1  vainly  I  essay 
To  turn  me  from  that  piteous  look  away. 
How  strangely  doth  a  single  crimson  line 
Around  that  lovely  neck  its  coil  entwine, 
It  shows  no  broader  than  a  knife's  blunt  edge ! 


176  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 
Quite  right.     I  see  it  also,  and  allege 
That  she  beneath  her  arm  her  head  can  bear. 
Since  Perseus  cut  it  off. — But  you  I  swear 
Are  craving  for  illusion  still ! 
Come  then,  ascend  yon  little  hill  I 
As  on  the  Prater  all  is  gay, 
And  if  my  senses  are  not  gone, 
I  see  a  theatre, — what's  going  on? 

Servibilis 
They  are  about  to  recommence ; — the  play 
Will  be  the  last  of  seven,  and  spick-span  new — 
'Tis  usual  here  that  number  to  present. 
A  dilettante  did  the  piece  invent, 
And  dilettanti  will  enact  it  too. 
Excuse  me,  gentlemen ;  to  me's  assign'd 
As  dilettante  to  uplift  the  curtain. 

Mephistopheles 
You  on  the  Blocksberg  I'm  rejoiced  to  find, 
That  'tis  your  most  appropriate  sphere  is  certain. 


WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S   DREAM 

OR 
OBERON  AND  TITANIA'S  GOLDEN  WEDDING-FEAST 

Intermezzo 


THEATRE 

Manager 

Vales,  where  mists  still  shift  and  play. 
To  ancient  hills  succeeding, — 

These  our  scenes  ; — so  we,  to-day. 
May  rest,  brave  sons  of  Mieding. 


FAUST  177 


Herald 
That  the  marriage  golden  be, 

Must  fifty  years  be  ended ; 
More  dear  this  feast  of  gold  to  me, 

Contention  now  suspended. 

Oberon 
Spirits,  if  present,  grace  the  scene, 

And  if  with  me  united, 
Then  gratulate  the  king  and  queen, 

Their  troth  thus  newly  plighted ! 

Puck 
Puck  draws  near  and  wheels  about. 

In  mazy  circles  dancing! 
Hundreds  swell  his  joyous  shout, 

Behind  him  still  advancing. 

Ariel 
Ariel  wakes  his  dainty  air, 

His  lyre  celestial  stringing. — 
Fools  he  lureth,  and  the  fair. 

With  his  celestial  singing. 

Oberon 
Wedded  ones,  would  ye  agree, 

We  court  your  imitation : 
Would  ye  fondly  love  as  we. 

We  counsel  separation. 

TlTANIA 

If  husband  scold  and  wife  retort. 
Then  bear  them  far  asunder; 

Her  to  the  burning  south  transport. 
And  him  the  North  Pole  under. 


178  GOETHE 

The  Whole  Orchestra  (fortissimo) 
Flies  and  midges  all  unite 

With  frog  and  chirping  cricket, 
Our  orchestra  throughout  the  night, 

Resounding  in  the  thicket! 

(Solo) 
Yonder  doth  the  bagpipe  come ! 

Its  sack  an  airy  bubble. 
Schnick,  schnick,  schnack,  with  nasal  hum, 

Its  notes  it  doth  redouble. 

Embryo  Spirit 
Spider's  foot  and  midge's  wing, 

A  toad  in  form  and  feature; 
Together  verses  it  can  string, 

Though  scarce  a  living  creature. 

A  Little  Pair 
Tiny  step  and  lofty  bound, 

Through  dew  and  exhalation; 
Ye  trip  it  deftly  on  the  ground, 

But  gain  no  elevation. 

Inquisitive  Traveller 
Can  I  indeed  believe  my  eyes? 

Is't  not  mere  masquerading? 
What !    Oberon  in  beauteous  guise, 

Among  the  groups  parading! 

Orthodox 
No  claws,  no  tail  to  whisk  about, 

To  fright  us  at  our  revel; — 
Yet  like  the  gods  of  Greece,  no  doubt. 

He  too's  a  genuine  devil. 


FAUST  179 

Northern  Artist 
These  that  I'm  hitting  off  to-day 

Are  sketches  unpretending; 
Towards  Italy  without  delay, 

My  steps  I  think  of  bending. 

Purist 
Alas !  ill-fortune  leads  me  here, 

Where  riot  still  grows  louder ; 
And  'mong  the  witches  gather'd  here, 

But  two  alone  wear  powder  1 

Young  Witch 
Your  powder  attd  yotit  petticoat. 

Suit  hags,  there's  no  gainsaying; 
Hence  I  sit  fearless  on  my  goat, 

My  ttaked  chartlis  displaying. 

Matron 
We're  too  well-bted  to  squabble  here, 

Or  insult  back  to  render ; 
But  may  you  wither  soon,  my  dear, 

Although  so  young  and  tender. 

Leader  of  the  Band 
Nose  of  fly  and  gnat's  proboscis, 

Throng  not  the  naked  beauty ! 
Frogs  and  crickets  in  the  mosses, 

Keep  time  and  do  your  duty ! 

Weathercock  (totvards  one  side) 
What  charming  company  I  view 

Together  here  collected ! 
Gay  bachelors,  a  hopeful  crew, 

And  brides  so  unaffected ! 


180  GOETHE 

Weathercock  (towards  the  other  side) 
Unless  indeed  the  yawning  ground 

Should  open  to  receive  them, 
From  this  vile  crew,  with  sudden  bound. 

To  Hell  I'd  jump  and  leave  them. 

Xenien 
With  small  sharp  shears,  in  insect  guise. 

Behold  us  at  your  revel ! 
That  we  may  tender,  filial-wise, 

Our  homage  to  the  devil. 

Hennings 
Look  now  at  yonder  eager  crew, 

How  naively  they're  jesting! 
That  they  have  tender  hearts  and  true. 

They  stoutly  keep  protesting! 

MUSAGET 

Oneself  amid  this  witchery 

How  pleasantly  one  loses; 
For  witches  easier  are  to  me 

To  govern  than  the  Muses ! 

Ci-devant  Genius  of  the  Age 
With  proper  folks  when  we  appear, 

No  one  can  then  surpass  us ! 
Keep  close,  wide  is  the  Blocksberg  here 

As  Germany's  Parnassus. 

Inquisitive  Traveller 
How  name  ye  that  stiff  formal  man. 

Who  strides  with  lofty  paces? 
He  tracks  the  game  where'er  he  can, 

"  He  scents  the  Jesuits'  traces." 


FAUST  181 

Crane 
Where  waters  troubled  are  or  clear, 

To  fish  I  am  delighted; 
Thus  pious  gentlemen  appear 

With  devils  here  united. 

Worldling 
By  pious  people,  it  is  true, 

No  medium  is  rejected; 
Conventicles,  and  not  a  few, 

On  Blocksberg  are  erected. 

Dancer 
Another  chorus  now  succeeds, 

Far  off  the  drums  are  beating. 
Be  still !    The  bitterns  'mong  the  reeds 

Their  one  note  are  repeating. 

Dancing  Master 
Each  twirls  about  and  never  stops. 

And  as  he  can  he  fareth. 
The  crooked  leaps,  the  clumsy  hops. 

Nor  for  appearance  careth. 

Fiddler 
To  take  each  otbsr's  life,  I  trow, 

Would  cordially  delight  them ! 
As  Orpheus'  lyre  the  beasts,  so  now 

The  bagpipe  doth  unite  them. 

Dogmatist 
My  views,  in  spite  of  doubt  and  sneer, 

I  hold  with  stout  persistence, 
Inferring  from  the  devils  here, 

The  evil  one's  existence. 


182  GOETHE 

Idealist 

My  every  sense  rules  Phantasy 
With  sway  quite  too  potential; 

Sure  I'm  demented  if  the  / 
Alone  is  the  essential. 

Realist 
This  entity's  a  dreadful  bore. 

And  cannot  choose  but  vex  me ; 
The  ground  beneath  me  ne'er  before 

Thus  totter'd  to  perplex  me. 

SUPERNATURALIST 

Well  pleased  assembled  here  I  view 
Of  spirits  this  profusion; 

From  devils,  touching  angels  too, 
I  gather  some  conclusion. 

Sceptic 
The  ignis  fatuus  they  track  out, 

And  think  they're  near  the  treasure. 
Devil  alliterates  with  doubt, 

Here  I  abide  with  pleasure. 

Leader  of  the  Band 
Frog  and  cricket  iucthe  mosses, — 

Confound  your  gasconading ! 
Nose  of  fly  and  gnat's  proboscis; — 

Most   tuneful  serenading! 

The  Knowing  Ones 
Sans-souci,  so  this  host  we  greet, 

Their  jovial  humour  showing; 
There's  now  no  walking  on  our  feet. 

So  on  our  heads  we're  going. 


FAUST  183 

The  Awkward  Ones 
In  seasons  past  we  snatch'd,  'tis  true, 

Some  tit-bits  by  our  cunning; 
Our  shoes,  alas,  are  now  danced  through. 

On  our  bare  soles  we're  running. 

WiLL-o'-THE- Wisps 
From  marshy  bogs  we  sprang  to  light. 

Yet  here  behold  us  dancing; 
The  gayest  gallants  of  the  night, 

In  glitt'ring  rows  advancing. 

Shooting  Star 

With  rapid  motion  from  on  high, 

I  shot  in  starry  splendour ; 
Now  prostrate  on  the  grass  I  lie; — 

Who  aid  will  kindly  render? 

The  Massive  Ones 
Room  !  wheel  round  1     They're  comhig  1  lo  ! 

Down  sink  the  bending  grasses. 
Though  spirits,  yet  their  limbs,  we  know, 

Are  huge  substantial  masses. 

Puck 
Don't  stamp  so  heavily,  I  pray; 

Like  elephants  you're  treading ! 
And  'mong  the  elves  be  Puck  to-day. 

The  stoutest  at  the  wedding! 

Ariel 
If  nature  boon,  or  subtle  sprite, 

Endow  your  soul  with  pinions; — 
Then  follow  to  yon  rosy  height. 

Through  ether's  calm  dominions  ! 


184  GOETHE 

Orchestra  (pianissimo) 
Drifting  cloud  and  misty  wreathes 

Are  fill'd  with  Hght  elysian ; 
O'er  reed  and  leaf  the  zephyr  breathes — 

So  fades  the  fairy  vision ! 

A  GLOOMY  DAY.    A  PLAIN 

Faust  and  Mephistopheles 

Faust 
In  misery !  despairing !  long  wandering  pitifully  on  the 
face  of  the  earth  and  now  imprisoned !  This  gentle  hapless 
creature,  immured  in  the  dungeon  as  a  malefactor  and  re- 
served for  horrid  tortures  !  That  it  should  come  to  this  !  To 
this ! — Perfidious,  worthless  spirit,  and  this  thou  hast  con- 
cealed from  me  1 — Stand !  ay,  stand !  roll  in  malicious  rage 
thy  fiendish  eyes !  Stand  and  brave  me  with  thine  insup- 
portable presence  I  Imprisoned  !  In  hopeless  misery  I  De- 
livered over  to  the  power  of  evil  spirits  and  the  judgment  of 
unpitying  humanity ! — And  me,  the  while,  thou  wert  lulling 
with  tasteless  dissipations,  concealing  from  me  her  growing 
anguish,  and  leaving  her  to  perish  without  help ! 

Mephistopheles 
She  is  not  the  first. 

Faust 
Hound!  Execrable  monster! — Back  with  him,  oh  thou 
infinite  spirit !  back  with  the  reptile  into  his  dog's  shape,  in 
which  it  was  his  wont  to  scamper  before  me  at  eventide,  to 
roll  before  the  feet  of  the  harmless  wanderer,  and  to  fasten 
on  his  shoulders  when  he  fell !  Change  him  again  into  his 
favourite  shape,  that  he  may  crouch  on  his  belly  before  me  in 
the  dust,  whilst  I  spurn  him  with  my  foot,  the  reprobate ! — ■ 
Not  the  first ! — Woe !  Woe !  By  no  human  soul  is  it  con- 
ceivable, that  more  than  one  human  creature  has  ever  sunk 
into  a  depth  of  wretchedness  like  this,  or  that  the  first  in  her 


FAUST  185 

writhing  death-agony  should  not  have  atoned  in  the  sight  of 
all-pardoning  Heaven  for  the  guilt  of  all  the  rest  I  The 
misery  of  this  one  pierces  me  to  the  very  marrow,  and  har- 
rows up  my  soul;  thou  art  grinning  calmly  over  the  doom  of 
thousands ! 

Mephistopheles 

Now  we  are  once  again  at  our  wit's  end,  just  where  the 
reason  of  you  mortals  snaps  !  Why  dost  thou  seek  our  fellow- 
ship, if  thou  canst  not  go  through  with  it?  Wilt  fly,  and  art 
not  proof  against  dizziness?  Did  we  force  ourselves  on  thee, 
or  thou  on  us  ? 

Faust 

Cease  thus  to  gnash  thy  ravenous  fangs  at  me !  I  loathe 
thee  ! — Great  and  glorious  spirit,  thou  who  didst  vouchsafe  to 
reveal  thyself  unto  me,  thou  who  dost  know  my  very  heart 
and  soul,  why  hast  thou  linked  me  with  this  base  associate, 
who  feeds  on  mischief  and  revels  in  destruction  ? 

Mephistopheles 
Hast  done  ?  * 

Faust 
Save  her ! — or  woe  to  thee !    The  direst  of  curses  on  thee 
for  thousands  of  years  ! 

Mephistopheles 
I  cannot  loose  the  bands  of  the  avenger,  nor  withdraw  his 
bolts. — Save  her  ! — Who  was  it  plunged  her  into  perdition  ? 
I  or  thou? 

(Faust  looks  wildly  around.) 

Mephistopheles 
Would'st  grasp  the  thunder?    Well  for  y-'U,  poor  mortals, 
that  'tis  not  yours  to  wield !     To  smite  to  atoms  the  being 
however  innocent,  who  obstructs  his  path,  such  is  the  tyrant's 
fashion  of  relieving  himself  in  difficulties ! 

Faust 
Convey  me  thither !    She  shall  be  free ! 


186  GOETHE 

Mephistopheles 
And  the  danger  to  which  thou  dost  expose  thyself?  Know, 
the  guilt  of  blood,  shed  by  thy  hand,  lies  yet  upon  the  town. 
Over  the  place  where  fell  the  murdered  one,  avenging  spirits 
hover  and  watch  for  the  returning  murderer. 

Faust 
This  too  from  thee?    The  death  and  downfall  of  a  world 
be  on  thee,  monster !     Conduct  me  thither,   I   say,  and  set 
her  free ! 

Mephistopheles 
I  will  conduct  thee.  And  what  I  can  do, — hear  I  Have  I 
all  power  in  heaven  and  upon  earth?  I'll  cloud  the  senses  of 
the  warder, — do  thou  possess  thyself  of  the  keys  and  lead  her 
forth  with  human  hand !  I  will  keep  watch  !  The  magic 
steeds  are  waiting,  I  bear  thee  off.  Thus  much  is  in  my 
power. 

Faust 
Up  and  away ! 


NIGHT.    OPEN  COUNTRY 

Faust.    Mephistopheles  • 

(Rushing  along  on  black  horses) 

Faust 
What  weave  they  yonder  round  the  Ravenstone  ? 

Mephistopheles 
I  know  not  what  they  shape  and  brew. 

Faust 
They're  soaring,  swooping,  bending,  stooping. 

Mephistopheles 
A  witches'  pack. 


FAUST  187 

Faust 
They  charm,  they  strew. 

Mephistopheles 

On!    On! 


DUNGEON 

Faust 
(with  a  bunch  of  keys  and  a  lamp  before  a  small  iron 

door) 
A  fear  unwonted  o'er  my  spirit  falls ; 
Man's  concentrated  woe  o'erwhelnis  me  here ! 
She  dwells  immur'd  within  these  dripping  walls ; 
Her  only  trespass  a  delusion  dear  ! 
Thou  lingerest  at  the  fatal  door, 
Thou  dread'st  to  see  her  face  once  more  ? 
On  !    While  thou  dalliest,  draws  her  death-hour  near. 
(He  seizes  the  lock.    Singing  zvithin.) 

My  mother,  the  harlot. 

She  took  me  and  slew  ! 

My  father,  the  scoundrel, 

Hath  eaten  me  too  ! 

My  sweet  little  sister 

Hath  all  my  bones  laid, 

Where  soft  breezes  whisper 

All  in  the  cool  shade  ! 
Then  became  I  a  wood-bird,  and  sang  on  the  spray, 
Fly  away  !  little  bird,  fly  away  I  fly  away  I 


Faust  (opening  the  lock) 
Ah  !  she  forebodes  not  that  her  lover's  near, 
The  clanking  chains,  the  rustling  straw,  to  hear. 

(He  enters.) 


188  GOETHE 

Margaret 
(hiding  her  face  in  the  bed  of  straw') 

Woe !  woe !  they  come !  oh  bitter  'tis  to  die ! 

Faust  (softly) 
Hush !  hush !  be  still !  I  come  to  set  thee  free ! 

Margaret 
(throzving  herself  at  his  feet) 

If  thou  art  human,  feel  my  misery ! 

Faust 
Thou  wilt  awake  the  jailor  with  thy  cry ! 

(He  grasps  the  chains  to  unlock  them.) 

Margaret  (on  her  knees) 
Who,  headsman,  unto  thee  this  power 
O'er  me  could  give? 
Thou  com'st  for  me  at  midnight-hour. 
Be  merciful,  and  let  me  live  ! 
Is  morrow's  dawn  not  time  enough  ? 

(She  stands  up,) 
I'm  still  so  young,  so  young — 
And  must  so  early  die  ! 
Fair  was  I  too,  and  that'was  my  undoing. 
My  love  is  now  afar,  he  then  was  nigh ; 
Torn  lies  the  garland,  the  fair  blossoms  strew'd. 
Nay,  seize  me  not  with  hand  so  rude  ! 
Spare  me  !    What  harm  have  I  e'er  done  to  thee? 
Oh  let  me  not  in  vain  implore  ! 
I  ne'er  have  seen  thee  in  my  life  before ! 

Faust 
Can  I  endure  this  bitter  agony  ? 


FAUST  189 

Margaret 
I  now  am  at  thy  mercy  quite. 
Let  me  my  babe  but  suckle  once  again ! 
I  fondled  it  the  live-long  night ; 
They  took  it  from  me  but  to  give  me  pain, 
And  now^  they  say  that  I  my  child  have  slain. 
Gladness  I  ne'er  again  shall  know. 
Then  they  sing  songs  about  me, — 'tis  wicked  of  the 

throng — 
An  ancient  ballad  endeth  so ; 
Who  bade  them  thus  apply  the  song? 

Faust 
(throwing  himself  on  the  ground) 
A  lover  at  thy  feet  bends  low. 
To  loose  the  bonds  of  wretchedness  and  woe. 

Margaret 
(throws  herself  beside  him) 

Oh,  let  us  kneel  and  move  the  saints  by  prayer ! 

Look  !  look  !  yon  stairs  below, 

Under  the  threshold  there. 

Hell's  flames  are  all  aglow ! 

Beneath  the  floor. 

With  hideous  noise, 

The  devils  roar ! 

Faust   (aloud) 
Gretchen !    Gretchen ! 

Margaret  (listening) 

That  was  my  lov'd  one's  voice ! 

(She  springs  up,  the  chains  fall  off.) 
Where  is  he?    I  heard  him  calling  me. 
Free  am  I !    There's  none  shall  hinder  me. 
To  his  neck  will  I  fly, 
On  his  bosom  will  lie  ! 


190  GOETHE 

Gretchen,  he  called! — On  yon  threshold  he  stood; 
Amidst  all  the  howling  of  hell's  fiery  flood, 
The  scoff  and  the  scorn  of  its  devilish  crew, 
The  tones  of  his  voice,  sweet  and  loving,  I  knew. 

Faust 
'Tis  II 

Margaret 
'Tis  thou !    O  say  so  once  again ! 

{embracing  him.) 
'Tis  he !    'Tis  he !  where's  now  the  torturing  pain? 
Where  are  the  fetters?  where  the  dungeon's  gloom? 
'Tis  thou  !    To  save  me  thou  art  come  ! 
And  I  am  sav'd  ! — 
Already  now  the  street  I  see 
Where  the  first  time  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  thee. 
There  too  the  pleasant  garden  shade. 
Where  I  and  Martha  for  thy  coming  stay'd. 

Faust 
(endeavouring  to  lead  her  away) 
Come !  come  away ! 

Margaret 
Oh  do  not  haste! 
I  love  to  linger  where  thou  stay  est.        {caressing  him.) 

Faust 
Ah  haste !    For  if  thou  still  delayest, 
Our  lingering  we  shall  both  deplore. 

Margaret 
How,  dearest?  canst  thou  kiss  no  more ! 
So  short  a  time  away  from  me,  and  yet, 
To  kiss  thou  couldst  so  soon  forget ! 
Why  on  thy  neck  so  anxious  do  I  feel — 
When  formerly  a  perfect  heaven  of  bliss 
From  thy  dear  looks  and  words  would  o'er  me  steal  ? 


FAUST  191 

As  thou  wouldst  stifle  me  thou  then  didst  kiss  ! — 

Kiss  me ! 

Or  I'll  kiss  thee  !  (She  embraces  him,) 

Woe  !  woe  !    Thy  lips  are  cold, — 

Are  dumb ! 

Thy  love  where  hast  thou  left  ? 

Who  hath  me  of  thy  love  bereft? 

(She  turns  away  from  him.) 

Faust 
Come  !    Follow  me,  my  dearest  love,  be  bold ! 
I'll  cherish  thee  with  ardour  thousand- fold; 
I  but  entreat  thee  now  to  follow  me  ! 

Margaret 
(turning  towards  him) 
And  art  thou  he  ?  and  art  thou  really  he  ? 

Faust 
'Tis  I !    O  come  ! 

Margaret 

Thou  wilt  strike  off  my  chain. 
And  thou  wilt  take  me  to  thine  arms  again. 
How  comes  it  that  thou  dost  not  shrink  from  me  ? — 
And  dost  thou  know,  love,  whom  thou  wouldst  set  free  ? 

Faust 
Come  !  come  !  already  night  begins  to  wane. 

Margaret 
I  sent  my  mother  to  her  grave, 
I  drown'd  my  child  beneath  the  wave. 
Was  it  not  given  to  thee  and  me — thee  too  ? 
'Tis  thou  thyself !    I  scarce  believe  it  yet. 
Give  me  thy  hand !    It  is  no  dream !    'Tis  true ! 
Thine  ov/n  dear  hand  ! — But  how  is  this ?    'Tis  wet? 
Quick,  wipe  it  off !    Meseems  that  yet 
There's  blood  thereon. 


192  GOETHE 

Ah  God !  what  hast  thou  done? 
Put  up  thy  sword, 
I  beg  of  thee ! 

Faust 

Oh,  dearest,  let  the  past  forgotten  be ! 
Death  is  in  every  word. 

Margaret 
No,  thou  must  linger  here  in  sorrow ! 
The  graves  I  will  describe  to  thee, 
And  thou  to -them  must  see 
To-morrow ; 

The  best  place  give  to  my  mother, 
Qose  at  her  side  my  brother, 
Me  at  some  distance  lay — 
But  not  too  far  away  I 

And  the  little  one  place  on  my  right  breast. 
Nobody  else  will  near  me  lie  ! 
To  nestle  beside  thee  so  lovingly, 
That  was  a  rapture,  gracious  and  sweet ! 
A  rapture  I  never  again  shall  prove ; 
Methinks  I  would  force  myself  on  thee,  love, 
And  thou  dost  spurn  me,  and  back  retreat — 
Yet  'tis  thyself,  thy  fond  kind  looks  I  see. 

Faust 
If  thou  dost  feel  'tis  I,  then  come  with  me ! 

Margaret 
What,  there?  without? 

Faust 

Yes,  forth  in  the  free  air. 

Margaret 
Ay,  if  the  grave's  without, — If  death  lurk  there ! 
Hence  to  the  everlasting  resting-place. 
And  not  one  step  beyond! — Thou'rt  leaving  me? 
Oh  Henry !  would  that  I  could  go  with  thee ! 


FAUST  193 

Faust 
Thou  canst !    But  will  it !    Open  stands  the  door. 

Margaret 
I  dare  not  go !    I've  naught  to  hope  for  more. 
What  boots  it  to  escape  ?    They  lurk  for  me ! 
'Tis  wretched  to  beg,  as  I  must  do, 
And  with  an  evil  conscience  thereto ! 
'Tis  wretched,  in  foreign  lands  to  stray; 
And  me  they  will  catch,  do  what  I  may ! 

Faust 
With  thee  will  I  abide. 

Margaret 
Quick !    Quick ! 
Save  thy  poor  child ! 
Keep  to  the  path 
The  brook  along. 
Over  the  bridge 
To  the  wood  beyond, 
To  the  left,  where  the  plank  is, 
In  the  pond. 
Seize  it  at  once  ! 
It  fain  would  rise, 
It  struggles  still ! 
Save  it.    Oh  save! 

Faust 
Dear  Gretchen,  more  collected  be! 
One  little  step,  and  thou  art  free ! 

Margaret 

Were  we  but  only  past  the  hill ! 
There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone — 
My  brain,  alas,  is  cold  with  dread ! — 
There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone. 
And  to  and  fro  she  shakes  her  head ; 

t — VOL.  XIX  ^^ 


194  GOETHE 

She  winks  not,  she  nods  not,  her  head  it  droops  sore ; 
She  slept  so  long,  she  waked  no  more ; 
She  slept,  that  we  might  taste  of  bliss: 
Ah !  those  were  happy  times,  I  wis ! 

Faust 

Since  here  avails  nor  argument  nor  prayer, 
Thee  hence  by  force  I  needs  must  bear. 

Margaret 
Loose  me  !    I  will  not  suffer  violence  ! 
With  murderous  hand  hold  not  so  fast ! 
I  have  done  all  to  please  thee  in  the  past ! 

Faust 
Day  dawns  !    My  love  !    My  love  ! 

Margaret 

Yes  !  day  draws  near, 
The  day  of  judgment  too  will  soon  appear ! 
It  should  have  been  my  bridal !    No  one  tell, 
That  thy  poor  Gretchen  thou  hast  known  too  well. 
Woe  to  my  garland  ! 
Its  bloom  is  o'er ! 
Though  not  at  the  dance — 
We  shall  meeet  once  more. 
The  crowd  doth  gather,  in  silence  it  rolls; 
The  squares,  the  streets, 
Scarce  hold  the  throng. 
The  staff  is  broken, — the  death-bell  tolls, — 
They  bind  and  seize  me  !    I'm  hurried  along, 
To  the  seat  of  blood  already  I'm  bound  ! 
Quivers  each  neck  as  the  naked  steel 
Quivers  on  mine  the  blow  to  deal — 
The  silence  of  the  grave  now  broods  around! 

Faust 
Would  I  had  ne'er  been  born ! 


FAUST  195 

Mephistopheles  (appears  zvithout) 
Up  1  or  you're  lost. 
Vain  hesitation  !  Babbling,  quaking ! 
My  steeds  are  shivering, 
Morn  is  breaking. 

Margaret 
What  from  the  floor  ascendeth  like  a  ghost  ? 
'Tis  he  !    'Tis  he  !    Him  from  my  presence  chase  ! 
What  would  he  in  this  holy  place  ? 
It  is  for  me  he  cometh ! 

Faust 

Thou  shalt  live ! 

Margaret 
Judgment  of  God  !    To  thee  my  soul  I  give ! 

Mephistopheles  (to  Faust) 
Come,  come  !  With  her  I'll  else  abandon  thee ! 

Margaret 
Father,  I'm  thine  !    Do  thou  deUver  me ! 
Ye  angels  !     Ye  angelic  hosts  !  descend. 
Encamp  around  to  guard  me  and  defend ! — 
Henry !    I  shudder  now  to  look  on  thee ! 

Mephistopheles 
She  now  is  judged ! 

Voices  (from  above) 
Is  saved ! 

Mephistopheles  (to  Faust) 

Come  thou  with  me ! 
(Vanishes  with  Faust.) 
Voice  (from  within,  dying  away) 
Henry !    Henry ! 


THE  TRAGICAL  HISTORY  OF 
DR.  FAUSTUS 

BY 
CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

CHRisTOPHrR  Marlowe,  the  author  of  the  earliest  dramatic 
Version  of  the  Faust  legend,  was  the  son  of  a  shoemaker  in 
Canterbury,  where  he  was  born  in  February,  1564,  some  two 
months  before  Shakespeare.  After  graduating  as  M.A.  from 
the  University  of  Cambridge  in  1587,  he  seems  to  have  settled 
in  London;  and  that  same  year  is  generally  accepted  as  the  latest 
date  for  the  production  of  his  tragedy  of  "Tamburlaine,"  the 
play  which  is  regarded  as  having  established  blank  verse  as  the 
standard  meter  of  the  English  Drama.  "Doctor  Faustus"  prob- 
ably came  next  in  158S,  followed  by  "The  Jew  of  Malta"  and 
"Edward  II."  Marlowe  had  a  share  in  the  production  of  several 
other  plays,  wrote  the  first  two  sestiads  of  "Hero  and  Leander," 
and  made  translations  from  Ovid  and  Lucan.  He  met  his  death 
in  a  tavern  brawl,  June  i,  1593. 

Of  Marlowe  personally  little  is  known.  The  common  accounts 
of  his  atheistical  beliefs  and  dissipated  life  are  probably  exag- 
gerated, recent  researches  having  given  ground  for  believing  that 
his  heterodoxy  may  have  amounted  to  little  more  than  a  form 
of  Unitarianism.  Some  of  the  attacks  'on  his  character  are 
based  on  the  evidence  of  zmtnesses  whose  reputation  will  not 
bear  investigation,  while  the  character  of  some  of  his  friends 
and  their  manner  of  speaking  of  him  are  of  weight  on  the  other 
side. 

The  most  striking  feature  of  Marlowe's  dramas  is  the  con- 
centration of  interest  on  an  impressive  central  figure  dominated 
by  a  single  passion,  the  thirst  for  the  unattainable.  In  "Tam- 
burlaine" this  takes  the  form  of  universal  power;  in  "The  Jew  of 
Malta,"  infinite  riches;  in  "Doctor  Faustus"  universal  knowledge. 
The  aspirations  of  these  dominant  personalities  are  uttered  in 
sonorous  blank  verse,  and  in  a  rhetoric  which  at  times  rises 
to  the  sublime,  at  times  descends  to  rant.  "Doctor  Faustus," 
though  disfigured  by  poor  comic  scenes  for  which  Marlowe  is 
probably  not  responsible,  and  though  lacking  unity  of  structure, 
yet  presents  the  career  and  fate  of  the  hero  with  great  power, 
and  contains  in  the  speech  to  Helen  of  Troy  and  in  the  dying 
utterance  of  Faustus  two  of  the  most  superb  passages  of  poetry 
in  the  English  language. 

M 


THE   TRAGICAL  HISTORY  OF 
DR.  FAUSTUS 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS 

[The  Pope.      Cardinal  of  Lorrain.       Emperor  of  Germany. 

Duke  of  Vanholt.        Faustus. 

Valdes  and  Cornelius,   Friends   to  Faustus. 

Wagner,   Servant  to  Faustus. 

Clown.        Robin.        Ralph. 

Vintner,  Horse-Courser,  Knight,  Old  Man, 

Scholars,  Friars,  and  Attendants. 

Duchess  of  Vanholt. 

Lucifer.      Belzebub.      Mephistophilis. 

Good  Angel,  Evil  Angel,  The  Seven  Deadly  Sins,  Devils, 

Spirits  in  the  shape  of  Alexander  the  Great, 

of  his  Paramour,  and  of  Helen  of  Troy. 

Chorus.] 

Enter  Chorus 

Chorus 

NOT  marching  now  in  fields  of  Thrasimene, 
Where  Mars  did  mate^  the  Carthaginians; 
Nor  sporting  in  the  dalliance  of  love, 
In  courts  of  kings  where  state  is  overturn'd; 
Nor  in  the  pomp  of  proud  audacious  deeds, 
Intends  our  Muse  to  vaunt  his  heavenly  verse: 
Only  this,  gentlemen, — we  must  perform 
The  form  of  Faustus'  fortunes,  good  or  bad. 
To  patient  judgments  we  appeal  our  plaud,' 
And  speak  for  Faustus  in  his  infancy. 
Now  is  he  born,  his  parents  base  of  stock, 

1  Confound.     But  Hannibal  was  victorious  at  Lake  Trasumennus,  B.  C.  217. 
'  For  applause. 

199 


200  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

In  Germany,  within  a  town  call'd  Rhodes;' 

Of  riper  years  to  Wittenberg  he  went, 

Whereas  his  kinsmen  chiefly  brought  him  up. 

So  soon  he  profits  in  divinity. 

The  fruitful  plot  of  scholarism  grac'd,* 

That  shortly  he  was  grac'd  with  doctor's  name, 

Excelling  all  those  sweet  delight  disputes 

In  heavenly  matters  of  theology; 

Till  swollen  with  cunniaig,^  of  a  self-conceit, 

His  waxen  wings*  did  mount  above  his  reach, 

And,  melting.  Heavens  conspir'd  his  overthrow; 

For,  falling  to  a  devilish  exercise. 

And  glutted  [now]  with  learning's  golden  gifts, 

He  surfeits  upon  cursed  necromancy. 

Nothing  so  sweet  as  magic  is  to  him, 

Which  he  prefers  before  his  chiefest  bliss. 

And  this  the  man  that  in  his  study  sits !  [Exit. 


[Scene  I.J 
Faustus  [discovered]  in  his  Study 
Faust.  Settle  my  studies,  Faustus,  and  begin 
To  sound  the  depth  of  that  thou  wilt  profess'; 
Having  commenc'd,  be  a  divine  in  show, 
Yet  level^  and  at  the  end  of  every  art. 
And  live  and  die  in  Aristotle's  works. 
Sweet  Analytics,"  'tis  thou  hast  ravish'd  me, 
Bene  diss er ere  est  finis  logices.^" 
Is  to  dispute  well  logic's  chiefest  end? 
Affords  this  art  no  greater  miracle? 
Then  read  no  more,  thou  hast  attain'd  the  end ; 
A  greater  subject  fitteth  Faustus'  wit. 
Bid  '^v  xal  fiij  o'y"  farewell;  Galen  come, 

•  Roda,  in  the  Duchy  of  Saxe-Altenburg,  near  Jena. 
*The  garden  of  scholarship  being  adorned  by  him. 

•  Knowledge. 

•  An  allusion  to  the  myth  of  Icarus,  who  flew  too  near  the  sun, 
^  Teach  publicly.  *  Aim.  *  Logic. 

^  "  To  argue  well   is  the  end  of  logic." 

"  This   is    Mr.  Bullen's    emendation    of  Qi  .,  Oncaymseon,  a   corruption   of 
the  Aristotelian  phrase  for  "  being  and  not  being." 


DR.    FAUSTUS  201 

Seeing  Ubi  desinit  Philosophus  ibi  incipit  Medicui;^ 

Be  a  physician,  Faustus,  heap  up  gold, 

And  be  eternis'd  for  some  wondrous  cure. 

Summiim  bonum  medicina;  sanitas,^^ 

"  The  end  of  physic  is  our  body's  health." 

Why,  Faustus,  hast  thou  not  attain'd  that  end ! 

Is  not  thy  common  talk  sound  Aphorisms  ?" 

Are  not  thy  bills^^  hung  up  as  monuments. 

Whereby  whole  cities  have  escap'd  the  plague, 

And  thousand  desperate  maladies  been  eas'd? 

Yet  art  thou  still  but  Faustus  and  a  man. 

Couldst  thou  make  men  to  live  eternally, 

Or,  being  dead,  raise  them  to  life  again. 

Then  this  profession  were  to  be  esteem'd. 

Physic,  farewell. — Where  is  Justinian?  [Reads."] 

Si  una  eademque  res  legatur  duobus,  alter  rem,  alter  valoret^ 

rei,  &c^' 
A  pretty  case  of  paltry  legacies  !  [Reads.^ 

Ex  hcereditare  filitim  non  potest  pater  nisi,  &Ci," 
Such  is  the  subject  of  the  Institute" 
And  universal  Body  of  the  Law." 
His^  study  fits  a  mercenary  drudge, 
Who  aims  at  nothing  but  external  trash; 
Too  servile  and  illiberal  for  me. 
When  all  is  done,  divinity  is  best; 

Jerome's  Bible,^  Faustus,  view  it  well.  [^Reads.] 

Stipendium  peccati  mors  est.    Ha !    Stipendium,  &c. 
"  The  reward  of  sin  is  death."    That's  hard.  [Reads,'] 

Si  peccasse  negamus  fallimur  et  nulla  est  in  nobis  Veritas. 
"  If  we  say  that  we  have  no  sin  we  deceive  ourselves,  and 
there's  no  truth  in  us."    Why  then,  belike  we  must  sin  and 
so  consequently  die.  • 

Ay,  we  must  die  an  everlasting  death. 
What  doctrine  call  you  this,  Che  sera  sera, 

12  "  Where   the   philosopher  leaves  off,   there   the  physician   begins." 
1^  This   and   the   previous   quotation   are   from    Aristotle. 
1*  Medical  maxims.  ^^  Announcements. 

" "  If   one   and  the   same   thing  is   bequeathed   to   two   persons,   one   get* 
the  thing  and  the  other  the  value  of  the  thing." 

" "  A   father   cannot   disinherit   the   son    except,"    etc. 

*®  Of  Justinian,  under  whom  the  Roman  law  was  codified.        "  Q  j  «  Church 

sojts.  21  The  Vulgate. 


202  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

"What  will  be  shall  be?"     Divinity,  adieu 

These  metaphysics  of  magicians 

And  necromantic  books  are  heavenly ; 

Lines,  circles,  scenes,  letters,  and  characters, 

Ay,  these  are  those  that  Faustus  most  desires. 

O  v^hat  a  w^orld  of  profit  and  delight, 

Of  power,  of  honour,  of  omnipotence  < 

Is  promised  to  the  studious  artisan  ! 

All  things  that  move  between  the  quiet  poles  \ 

Shall  be  at  my  command.    Emperors  and  kings  J 

Are  but  obeyed  in  their  several  provinces,  V 

Nor  can  they  raise  the  wind  or  rend  the  clouds ; 

But  his  dominion  that  exceeds^  in  this  I 

Stretcheth  as  far  as  doth  the  mind  of  man.  < 

A  sound  magician  is  a  mighty  god:  \ 

Here,  Faustus,  try  thy^  brains  to  gain  a  deity. 

Wagner ! 


) 


Enter  Wagner 

Commend  me  to  my  dearest  friends. 
The  German  Valdes  and  Cornelius; 
Request  them  earnestly  to  visit  me. 

Wag.  I  will,  sir.  Exit. 

Faust.  Their  conference  will  be  a  greater  help  to  me 
Than  all  my  labours,  plod  I  ne'er  so  fast. 


Enter  Good  Angel  and  Evil  Angel 

G.  Ang.  O  Faustus !  lay  that  damned  book  aside, 
And  gaze  not  upon  it  lest  it  tempt  thy  soul,  ^ 

And  heap  God's  heavy  wrath  upon  thy  head. 
Read,  read  the  Scriptures:  that  is  blasphemy. 

E.  Ang.  Go  forward,  Faustus,  in  that  famous  art,  / 

Wherein  all  Nature's  treasure  is  contain'd :  ^ 

Be  thou  on  earth  as  Jove  is  in  the  sky. 
Lord  and  commander  of  these  elements.      {Exeunt  Angels.J 

Faust.  How  am  I  glutted  with  conceit^  of  this !  * 

Shall  I  make  spirits  fetch  me  what  I  please. 
Resolve  me  of  all  ambiguities, 

22  Excels.        23  Q 3^^  tire  my.  ^Idza.  ^ 


DR.   FAUSTUS  203 

Perform  what  desperate  enterprise  I  will? 

I'll  have  them  fly  to  India  for  gold, 

Ransack  the  ocean  for  orient  pearl, 

And  search  all  corners  of  the  new-found  world 

For  pleasant  fruits  and  princely  delicates ; 

I'll  have  them  read  me  strange  philosophy 

And  tell  the  secrets  of  all  foreign  kings; 

I'll  have  them  wall  all  Germany  with  brass. 

And  make  swift  Rhine  circle  fair  Wittenberg; 

I'll  have  them  fill  the  public  schools  with  silk,^ 

Wherewith  the  students  shall  be  bravely  clad; 

I'll  levy  soldiers  with  the  coin  they  bring, 

And  chase  the  Prince  of  Parma  from  our  land,** 

And  reign  sole  king  of  all  the  provinces; 

Yea,  stranger  engines  for  the  brunt  of  war 

Than  was  the  fiery  kecP  at  Antwerp  s  bridge, 

I'll  make  my  servile  spirits  to  invent. 

Enter  Valdes  and  Cornelius"^ 
Come,  German  Valdes  and  Cornelius, 
And  make  me  blest  with  your  sage  conference. 
Valdes,  sweet  Valdes,  and  Cornelius, 
Know  that  your  words  have  won  me  at  the  last 
To  practise  magic  and  concealed  arts : 
Yet  not  your  words  only,  but  mine  own  fantasy 
That  will  receive  no  object,  for  my  head 
But  ruminates  on  necromantic  skill. 
Philosophy  is  odious  and  obscure. 
Both  law  and  physic  are  for  petty  wits; 
Divinity  is  basest  of  the  three. 
Unpleasant,  harsh,  contemptible,  and  vile: 
'Tis  magic,  magic,  that  hath  ravish'd  me. 
Then,  gentle  friends,  aid  me  in  this  attempt; 
And  I  that  have  with  concise  syllogisms 
Gravell'd  the  pastors  of  the  German  church. 
And  made  the  flowering  pride  of  Wittenberg 

«s  Qq  .,  skill. 

=«  The  Netherlands,  over  which  Parma  re-established  the  Spanish  dominions. 

27  A  ship  filled  with  explosives  used  to  blow  up  a  bridge  built  by  Parma 
in  1585  at  the  siege  of  Antwerp. 

28  The  famous  Cornelius  Agrippa.     German  Valdes  is  not  known. 


204  CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 

Swarm  to  my  problems,  as  the  infernal  spirits 
On  sweet  Musasus,^^  when  he  came  to  hell, 
Will  be  as  cunning  as  Agrippa  was, 
Whose  shadows  made  all  Europe  honour  him. 

Vald.  Faustus,  these  books,  thy  wit,  and  our  experience 
Shall  make  all  nations  to  canonise  us. 
As  Indian  Moors™  obey  their  Spanish  lords, 
So  shall  the  subjects*^  of  every  element 
Be  always  serviceable  to  us  three; 
Like  lions  shall  they  guard  us  when  we  please ; 
Like  Almain  rutters'^  with  their  horsemen's  staves 
Or  Lapland  giants,  trotting  by  our  sides ; 
Sometimes  like  women  or  unwedded  maids, 
Shadowing  more  beauty  in  their  airy  brows 
Than  have  the  white  breasts  of  the  queen  of  love: 
From  Venice  shall  they  drag  huge  argosies, 
And  from  America  the  golden  fleece 
That  yearly  stuffs  old  Philip's  treasury; 
If  learned  Faustus  will  be  resolute. 

Faust.  Valdes,  as  resolute  am  I  in  this 
As  thou  to  live;  therefore  object  it  not. 

Corn.  The  miracles  that  magic  will  perform 
Will  make  thee  vow  to  study  nothing  else. 
He  that  is  grounded  in  astrology, 
Enrich'd  with  tongues,  as  well  seen^  in  minerals, 
Hath  all  the  principles  magic  doth  require. 
Then  doubt  not,  Faustus,  but  to  be  renowm'd. 
And  more  frequented  for  this  mystery 
Than  heretofore  the  Delphian  Oracle. 
The  spirits  tell  me  they  can  dry  the  sea. 
And  fetch  the  treasure  of  all  foreign  wracks. 
Ay,  all  the  wealth  that  our  forefathers  hid 
Within  the  massy  entrails  of  the  earth ; 
Then  tell  me,  Faustus,  what  shall  we  three  want? 

Faust.  Nothing,  Cornelius !    O  this  cheers  my  soul  I 
Come  show  me  some  demonstrations  magical. 
That  I  may  conjure  in  some  lusty  grove. 
And  have  these  joys  in  full  possession. 

29  Cf.  Virgil,  Ain.  vi.  667;   Dryden's  trans,  vi.   905  ff. 

«"  American  Indians.  ^1  Q3.,  spirits.  ^  Troopers.     Germ.   Reiters. 

**  Versed. 


DR.    FAUSTUH  205 

Vald.  Then  haste  thee  to  some  solitary  grove, 
And  bear  wise  Bacon's^*  and  Albanus'"*  works, 
The  Hebrew  Psalter  and  New  Testament; 
And  whatsoever  else  is  requisite 
We  will  inform  thee  ere  our  conference  cease. 

Corn.  Valdes,  first  let  him  know  the  words  of  art; 
And  then,  all  other  ceremonies  learn'd, 
Faustus  may  try  his  cunning  by  himself. 

Vald.  First  I'll  instruct  thee  in  the  rudiments, 
And  then  wilt  thou  be  perfecter  than  I. 

Faust.    Then  come  and  dine  with  me,  and  after  meat. 
We'll  canvass  every  quiddity  thereof; 
For  ere  I  sleep  Til  try  what  I  can  do : 
This  night  Fll  conjure  though  I  die  therefore.  [Exeunt, 

[Scene   II. — Before  Faustus's  House'] 

Enter  two  Scholars 

1ST  ScHOL.  I  wonder  what's  become  of  Faustus  that  was 
wont  to  make  our  schools  ring  with  sic  probof^ 

2ND  ScHOL.  That  shall  we  know,  for  see  here  comeS  hid 
boy. 

Enter  Wagner 

1ST  ScHOL.  How  now,  sirrah  1     Where's  thy  master? 

Wag.  God  in  heaven  knows  ! 

2ND  ScHOL.  Why,  dost  not  thou  know? 

Wag.  Yes,  I  know.     But  that  follows  not. 

1ST  ScHOL.  Go  to,  sirrah !  Leave  your  jesting,  and  tell  us 
where  he  is. 

Wag.  That  follows  not  necessary  by  force  of  argument, 
that  you,  being  licentiate,  should  stand  upon't:  therefore, 
acknowledge  your  error  and  be  attentive. 

2ND  ScHOL.  Why,  didst  thou  not  say  thou  knew'st? 

Wag.  Have  you  any  witness  on't? 

1ST  ScHOL.  Yes,  sirrah,  I  heard  you. 

Wag.  Ask  my  fellow  if  I  be  a  thief. 

2ND  ScHOL.  Well,  you  will  not  tell  us? 

8*  Roger  Bacon. 

»5  Perhaps  Pietro  d'i^ano,  a  medieval  alchemist;  perhaps  a  misprint  for 
Albertus    CMagnus),  the  great  schoolman. 

1  "  Thus  I  prove" — a  common  formula  in  scholastic  discussions. 


206  CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 

Wag.  Yes,  sir,  I  will  tell  you;  yet  if  you  were  not  dunces, 
you  would  never  ask  me  such  a  question ;  for  is  not  he  corpus 
naturale?^  and  is  not  that  mobile?  Then  wherefore  should 
you  ask  me  such  a  question?  But  that  I  am  by  nature 
phlegmatic,  slow  to  wrath,  and  prone  to  lechery  (to  love,  I 
would  say),  it  were  not  for  you  to  come  within  forty  feet  of 
the  place  of  execution,  although  I  do  not  doubt  to  see  you 
both  hang'd  the  next  sessions.  Thus  having  triumph'd  over 
you,  I  will  set  my  countenance  like  a  precisian,'  and  begin 
to  speak  thus : — Truly,  my  dear  brethren,  my  master  is  within 
at  dinner,  with  Valdes  and  Cornelius,  as  this  wine,  if  it 
could  speak,  would  inform  your  worships;  and  so  the  Lord 
bless  you,  preserve  you,  and  keep  you,  my  dear  brethren,  my 
dear  brethren. 

1ST  ScHOL.  Naj'-,  then,  I  fear  he  has  fallen  into  that 
damned  Art,  for  which  they  two  are  infamous  through  the 
world. 

2ND  ScHOL.  Were  he  a  stranger,  and  not  allied  to  me, 
yet  should  I  grieve  for  him.  But  come,  let  us  go  and  in- 
form the  Rector,  and  see  if  he  by  his  grave  counsel  can 
reclaim  him. 

1ST  ScHOL.  O,  but  I  fear  me  nothing  can  reclaim  him. 

2ND  ScHOL.  Yet  let  us  try  what  we  can  do.  [Exeunt. 


[Scene  III. — A  Grove.'] 

Enter  Faustus  to  conjure 
Faust.  Now  that  the  gloomy  shadow  of  the  earth 
Longing  to  view  Orion's  drizzling  look. 
Leaps  from  the  antarctic  world  unto  the  sky, 
And  dims  the  welkin  with  her  pitchy  breath, 
Faustus,  begin  thine  incantations, 
And  try  if  devils  will  obey  thy  best. 
Seeing  thou  hast  pray'd  and  sacrific'd  to  them. 
Within  this  circle  is  Jehovah's  name, 
Forward  and  backward  anagrammatis'd, 
The  breviated  names  of  holy  saints. 
Figures  of  every  adjunct  to  the  Heavens, 

2  "  '  Corpus  naturale  seu  mobile  '  is  the  current  scholastic  expression  for 
the  subject-matter  of  Physics." — Ward.  *  Puritan. 


DR.   FAUSTUS  207 

And  characters  of  signs  and  erring^  stars, 
Ey  which  the  spirits  are  enforc'd  to  rise: 
Then  fear  not,  Faustus,  but  be  resolute. 
And  try  the  uttermost  magic  can  perform. 

Sint  mihi  Dei  Acherontis  propitii!  Valeat  numcn  triplex 
Jehovce!  Ignei,  aerii,  aqnatani  spiritus,  salvete!  Orientis 
princeps  Belsebuh,  inferni  ardentis  monarcha,  et  Dcmo- 
gorgon,  propitiantus  vos,  tit  apparcat  et  surgat  Mephisto- 
philis.  Quid  tit  moraris?  per  Jehovam,  Gehcnnam,  et  con- 
secratum  aqiiam  quam  nunc  spargo,  signumqne  crucis  quod 
nunc  facio,  et  per  vota  nostra,  ipse  nunc  surgat  nobis  dicatus 
Mephistophilisf 

Enter  [Mephistophilis]  a  Devil 
I  charge  thee  to  return  and  change  thy  shape; 
Thou  art  too  ugly  to  attend  on  me. 
Go,  and  return  an  old  Franciscan  friar; 
That  holy  shape  becomes  a  devil  best.  [Exit  Devil. 

I  see  there's  virtue  in  my  heavenly  words; 
Who  would  not  be  proficient  in  this  art? 
How  pliant  is  this  Mephistophilis, 
Full  of  obedience  and  humility  ! 
Such  is  the  force  of  magic  and  my  spells. 
[Now,]  Faustus,  thou  art  conjuror  laureat. 
Thou  canst  command  great  ]\Iephistophilis : 
Qiiin  regis  Mephistophilis  fratris  imagine.^ 

Re-enter  Mephistophilis   [like  a  Franciscan  Friar] 
Meph.  Now,  Faustus,  what  would'st  thou  have  me  to  do? 
Faust.  I  charge  thee  wait  upon  me  whilst  I  live, 
To  do  whatever  Faustus  shall  command, 
Be  it  to  make  the  moon  drop  from  her  sphere, 
Or  the  ocean  to  overwhelm  the  world. 

^  Wandering. 

»  "  lie  piopiiious  to  me,  gods  of  Acheron  I  May  the  triple  deity  of  Jehovah 
prevail!  Spirits  of  fire,  air,  water,  hail!  Be'zebub,  Prince  of  the  East, 
monarch  of  burning  hell,  and  Dcinogorgon,  we  propitiate  ye,  that  Mephisto- 
philis may  appear  and  rise.  Why  dost  thou  delay?  By  Jehovah,  Gehenna, 
and  the  holy  water  which  now  I  sprinkle,  and  the  sign  of  the  cross  which 
now  I   make,  and   by   our  prayer,   may    Mephistophilis    now    summoned    by 

*  "  For  indeed  thou  Last  power  in  the  image  of  thy  brother  Mephistophilis." 


208  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

Meph.  I  am  a  servant  to  great  Lucifer, 
And  may  not  follow  thee  without  his  leave 
No  more  than  he  commands  must  we  perform. 

Faust.  Did  not  he  charge  thee  to  appear  to  me? 

Meph.  No,  I  came  hither  of  mine  own  accord. 

Faust.  Did  not  my  conjuring  speeches  raise  thee?    Speak. 

Meph.  That  was  the  cause,  but  yet  per  accidens; 
For  when  we  hear  one  rack*  the  name  of  God, 
Abjure  the  Scriptures  and  his  Saviour  Christ, 
We  fly  in  hope  to  get  his  glorious  soul ; 
Nor  will  we  come,  unless  he  use  such  means 
Whereby  he  is  in  danger  to  be  damn'd : 
Therefore  the  shortest  cut  for  conjuring 
Is  stoutly  to  abjure  the  Trinity, 
And  pray  devoutly  to  the  Prince  of  Hell. 

Faust.  So  Faustus  hath 
Already  done;  and  holds  this  principle, 
There  is  no  chief  but  only  Belzebub, 
To  whom  Faustus  doth  dedicate  himself. 
This  word  "  damnation  "  terrifies  not  him, 
For  he  confounds  hell  in  Elysium ;" 
His  ghost  be  with  the  old  philosophers ! 
But,  leaving  these  vain  trifles  of  men's  souls. 
Tell  me  what  is  that  Lucifer  thy  lord  ? 

Meph.  Arch-regent  and  commander  of  all  spirits. 

Faust.  Was  not  that  Lucifer  an  angel  once? 

Meph.  Yes,  Faustus,  and  most  dearly  lov'd  of  God. 

Faust.  How  comes  it  then  that  he  is  Prince  of  devils? 

Meph.  O,  by  aspiring  pride  and  insolence; 
For  which  God  threw  him  from  the  face  of  Heaven. 

Faust.  And  what  are  you  that  you  live  with  Lucifer? 

Meph.  Unhappy  spirits  that  fell  with  Lucifer, 
Conspir'd  against  our  God  with  Lucifer, 
And  are  for  ever  damn'd  with  Lucifer. 

Faust.  Where  are  you  damn'd? 

Meph.  In  hell. 

Faust.  How  comes  it  then  that  thou  art  out  of  hell? 

Meph.  Why  this  is  hell,  nor  am  I  out  of  it. 
Think'st  thou  that  I  who  saw  the  face  of  God, 

*  Twist  in  anagrams.        ^  Heaven  and  hell  are  indifferent  to  him. 


DR.    FAUSTUS  209 

And  tasted  the  eternal  joys  of  Heaven, 
Am  not  tormented  with  ten  thousand  hells, 
In  being  depriv'd  of  everlasting  bliss? 
O  Faustus  !  leave  these  frivolous  demands, 
Which  strike  a  terror  to  my  fainting  soul. 

Faust.  What,  is  great  Mephistophilis  so  passionate 
For  being  depriv'd  of  the  joys  of  Heaven? 
Learn  thou  of  Faustus  manly  fortitude. 
And  scorn  those  joys  thou  never  shalt  possess. 
Go  bear  these  tidings  to  great  Lucifer: 
Seeing  Faustus  hath  incurr'd  eternal  death 
By  desperate  thoughts  against  Jove's  deity, 
Say  he  surrenders  up  to  him  his  soul. 
So  he  will  spare  him  four  and  twenty  years, 
Letting  him  live  in  all  voluptuousness; 
Having  thee  ever  to  attend  on  me; 
To  give  me  whatsoever  I  shall  ask, 
To  tell  me  whatsoever  I  demand. 
To  slay  mine  enemies,  and  aid  my  friends, 
And  always  be  obedient  to  my  will. 
Go  and  return  to  mighty  Lucifer, 
And  meet  me  in  my  study  at  midnight, 
And  then  resolve®  me  of  thy  master's  mind. 

Meph.  I  will,  Faustus.  Exit. 

Faust.  Had  I  as  many  souls  as  there  be  stars, 
I'd  give  them  all  for  Mephistophilis. 
By  him  I'll  be  great  Emperor  of  the  world. 
And  make  a  bridge  through  the  moving  air, 
To  pass  the  ocean  with  a  band  of  men : 
I'll  join  the  hills  that  bind  the  Afric  shore, 
And  make  that  [country]  continent  to  Spain, 
And  both  contributory  to  my  crown. 
The  Emperor  shall  not  live  but  by  my  leave, 
Nor  any  potentate  of  Germany. 
Now  that  I  have  obtain'd  what  I  desire, 
I'll  live  in  speculation'  of  this  art 
Till  Mephistophilis  return  again.  Exit. 

»  Inform.  ''  Study. 


210  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 


[Scene  IV. — A  Street"] 

Enter  Wagner  and  Clown 

Wag.  Sirrah,  boy,  come  hither. 

Clown.  How,  boy !  Swowns,^  boy  !  I  hope  you  have  seen 
many  boys  with  such  pickadevaunts^  as  I  have.  Boy, 
quotha ! 

Wag.  Tell  me,  sirrah,  hast  thou  any  comings  in  ? 

Clown.  Ay,  and  goings  out  too.    You  may  see  else. 

Wag.  Alas,  poor  slave!  See  how  poverty  jesteth  in  his 
nakedness !  The  villain  is  bare  and  out  of  service,  and  so 
hungry  that  I  know  he  would  give  his  soul  to  the  devil  for  a 
shoulder  of  mutton,  though  it  were  blood-raw. 

Clown.  How?  My  soul  to  the  Devil  for  a  shoulder  of 
mutton,  though  'twere  blood-raw !  Not  so,  good  friend. 
By'r  Lady,  I  had  need  have  it  well  roasted  and  good  sauce 
to  it,  if  I  pay  so  dear. 

Wag.  Well,  wilt  thou  serve  me,  and  I'll  make  thee  go  like 
Qui  mihi  discipuhisf^ 

Clown.  How,  in  verse? 

Wag.  No,  sirrah;  in  beaten  silk  and  stavesacre.* 

Clown.  How,  how,  Knave's  acre  !"  Ay,  I  thought  that  was 
all  the  land  his  father  left  him.  Do  you  hear?  I  would  be 
sorry  to  rob  you  of  your  living. 

Wag.  Sirrah,  I  say  in  stavesacre. 

Clown.  Oho !  Oho !  Stavesacre !  Why,  then,  belike  if  I 
were  your  man  I  should  be  full  of  vermin. 

Wag.  So  thou  shalt,  whether  thou  beest  with  me  or  no. 
But,  sirrah,  leave  your  jesting,  and  bind  yourself  presently 
unto  me  for  seven  years,  or  I'll  turn  all  the  lice  about  thee 
into  familiars,  and  they  shall  tear  thee  in  pieces. 

Clown.  Do  you  hear,  sir?  You  may  save  that  labour; 
they  are  too  familiar  with  me  already.  Swowns!  they  are 
as  bold  with  my  flesh  as  if  they  had  paid  for  [their]  meat 
and  drink. 

1  Zounds,  i.  e.,  God's  wounds. 
"  Beards  cut  to  a  sharp  point  (Fr.  pic-h-devant). 

8  Dyce    points    out    that    these    are    the    first    words    of    W.    Lily's    "Ad 
discipulos  carmen  de  moribus." 
*  A  kind  of  larkspur,  used  for  destroying  lice. 
*A  mean  street  in  London. 


DR.    FAUSTUS  211 

Wag.  Well,  do  you  hear,  sirrah?  Hold,  take  these 
guilders.  [Gives   money.'] 

Clown.  Gridirons !  what  be  they  ? 

Wag.  Why,  French  crowns. 

Clown.  Mass,  but  for  the  name  of  French  crowns,  a  man 
were  as  good  have  as  many  English  counters.  And  what 
should  I  do  with  these? 

Wag.  Why,  now,  sirrah,  thou  art  at  an  hour's  warning, 
whensoever  and  wheresoever  the  Devil  shall  fetch  thee. 

Clown.  No,  no.     Here,  take  your  gridirons  again. 

Wag.  Truly  I'll  none  of  them. 

Clown.  Truly  but  you  shall. 

Wag.  Bear  witness  I  gave  them  him. 

Clown.  Bear  witness  I  gave  them  you  again. 

Wag.  Well,  I  will  cause  two  devils  presently  to  fetch 
thee  away — Baliol  and  Belcher. 

Clown,  Let  your  Baliol  and  your  Belcher  come  here,  and 
ril  knock  them,  they  were  never  so  knock'd  since  they  were 
devils.  Say  I  should  kill  one  of  them,  what  would  folks  say? 
"  Do  you  see  yonder  tall  fellow  in  the  round  slop" — he  has 
kill'd  the  devil."  So  I  should  be  called  Kill-devil  all  the 
parish  over. 

Enter  two  Devils :  the  Clown  runs  up  and  down  crying 

Wag.  Baliol  and  Belcher  I    Spirits,  away !  Exeunt  Devils, 

Clown.  What,  are  they  gone?  A  vengeance  on  them, 
they  have  vile  long  nails !  There  was  a  he-devil,  and  a  she- 
devil  !  I'll  tell  you  how  you  shall  know  them :  all  he-devils 
has  horns,  and  all  she-devils  has  clifts  and  cloven  feet. 

Wag.  Well,  sirrah,  follow  me. 

Clown.  But,  do  you  hear — if  I  should  serve  you,  would  you 
teach  me  to  raise  up  Banios  and  Belcheos? 

Wag.  I  will  teach  thee  to  turn  thyself  to  anything;  to  a 
dog,  or  a  cat,  or  a  mouse,  or  a  rat,  or  anything. 

Clown.  How!  a  Christian  fellow  to  ^i  dog  or  a  cat,  a 
mouse  or  a  rat !  No,  no,  sir.  If  you  turn  me  into  anything, 
let  it  be  in  the  likeness  of  a  little  pretty  frisky  flea,  that  I  may 
be  here  and  there  and  everywhere.  Oh,  I'll  tickle  the  pretty 
wenches'  plackets ;  I'll  be  amongst  them,  i'  faith. 

*  Short  wide  breeches. 


212  CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 

Wag.  Well,  sirrah,  come. 

Clown.  But,  do  you  hear,  Wagner? 

Wag.  How  !  Baliol  and  Belcher  ! 

Clown.  O  Lord !  I  pray,  sir,  let  Banio  and  Belcher  go 
sleep. 

Wag.  Villain — call  me  Master  Wagner,  and  let  thy  left 
eye  be  diametarily'  fixed  upon  my  right  heel,  with  quasi  ves- 
tigias  nostras  insistere.^  Exit. 

Clown.  God  forgive  me,  he  speaks  Dutch  fustian.  Well, 
I'll  follow  him,  I'll  serve  him,  that's  flat.  Exit. 


[Scene  V.] 

Faustus  [discovered'}  in  his  Study 
Faust.  Now,  Faustus,  must 
Thou  needs  be  damn'd,  and  canst  thou  not  be  sav'd: 
What  boots  it  then  to  think  of  God  or  Heaven  ? 
Away  with  such  vain  fancies,  and  despair : 
Despair  in  God,  and  trust  in  Belzebub. 
Now  go  not  backward :  no,  Faustus,  be  resolute. 
Why  waverest  thou  ?    O,  something  soundeth  in  mine  ears 
"  Abjure  this  magic,  turn  to  God  again  I  " 
Ay,  and  Faustus  will  turn  to  God  again. 
To  God? — He  loves  thee  not — 
The  God  thou  serv'st  is  thine  own  appetite, 
Wherein  is  fix'd  the  love  of  Belzebub ; 
To  him  I'll  build  an  altar  and  a  church, 
And  offer  lukewarm  blood  of  new-born  babes. 


Enter  Good  Angel  and  Evil  Angel 
G.  Ang.  Sweet  Faustus,  leave  that  execrable  art. 
Faust.  Contrition,  prayer,  repentance!   What  of  them? 
G.  Ang.  O,  they  are  means  to  bring  thee  unto  Heaven. 
E.  Ang.  Rather,  illusions,  fruits  of  lunacy, 
That  makes  men  foolish  that  do  trust  them  most. 

G.  Ang.  Sweet  Faustus,  think  of  Heaven,  and  heavenly 
things. 

'  For  diametrically.         *  "  As  if  to  tread  in  my  tracks." 


DR.    FAUSTUS  213 

E.  Ang.  No,  Faustus,  think  of  honour  and  of  wealth. 

[Exeunt  Angels. 

Faust.  Of  wealth  1 
What  the  signiory  of  Embden*  shall  be  mine. 
When  Mephistophilis  shall  stand  by  me, 
What  God  can  hurt  thee,  Faustus?    Thou  art  safe; 
Cast  no  more  doubts.     Come,  Mephistophilis, 
And  bring  glad  tidings  from  great  Lucifer; — 
Is't  not  midnight?     Come,  Mephistophilis; 
Veni,  veni,  Mephistophile  I 

Enter  Mephistophilis 
Now  tell  me,  what  says  Lucifer  thy  lord? 

Meph.  That  I  shall  wait  on  Faustus  whilst  he  lives. 
So  he  will  buy  my  service  with  his  soul. 

Faust.  Already  Faustus  hath  hazarded  that  for  thee. 

Meph.  But,  Faustus,  thou  must  bequeath  it  solemnly, 
And  write  a  deed  of  gift  with  thine  own  blood, 
For  that  security  craves  great  Lucifer. 
If  thou  deny  it,  I  will  back  to  hell. 

Faust.  Stay,  Mephistophilis !  and  tell  me  what  good 
Will  my  soul  do  thy  lord. 

Meph.  Enlarge  his  kingdom. 

Faust.  Is  that  the  reason  why  he  tempts  us  thus? 

Meph.  Solamen  miseris  socios  habuisse  doloris/' 

Faust.  Why,  have  you  any  pain  that  torture  others? 

Meph.  As  great  as  have  the  human  souls  of  men. 
But  tell  me,  Faustus,  shall  I  have  thy  soul? 
And  I  will  be  thy  slave,  and  wait  on  thee. 
And  give  thee  more  than  thou  hast  wit  to  ask. 

Faust.  Ay,  Mephistophilis,  I  give  it  thee. 

Meph.  Then,  Faustus,  stab  thine  arm  courageously. 
And  bind  thy  soul  that  at  some  certain  day 
Great  Lucifer  may  claim  it  as  his  own; 
And  then  be  thou  as  great  as  Lucifer. 

Faust,  [stabbing  his  arm.]     Lo,  Mephistophilis,  for  love 
of  thee, 
I  cut  mine  arm,  and  with  my  proper  blood 

1  Emden,  near  the  mouth  of  the  river  Ems,  was  an  important  commercial 
town  in  Elizabethan  times.         =  "  Misery  loves  company.' 


214  CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 

Assure  my  soul  to  be  great  Lucifer's, 
Chief  lord  and  regent  of  perpetual  night !  • 

View  here  the  blood  that  trickles  from  mine  arm. 
And  let  it  be  propitious  for  my  wish. 

Meph.  But,  Faustus,  thou  must 
Write  it  in  manner  of  a  deed  of  gift. 

Faust.  Ay,  so  I  will.     [Writes.']     But,  Mephistophilis, 
My  blood  congeals,   and  I  can  write  no  more. 

Mepii.  ril  fetch  thee  fire  to  dissolve  it  straight.  Exit. 

Faust.  What  might  the  staying  of  my  blood  portend? 
Is  it  unwilling  I  should  write  this  bill? 
Why  streams  it  not  that  I  may  write  afresh? 
Faustus  gives  to  thee  his  soul.     Ah,  there  it  stay'd. 
Why  should'st  thou  not?     Is  not  thy  soul  thine  own? 
Then  write  again,  Faustus  gives  to  thee  his  soul. 


Re-enter  Mephistophilis  zvith  a  chafer  of  coals 
Meph.  Here's  fire.    Come,  Faustus,  set  it  on. 
Faust.  So  now  the  blood  begins  to  clear  again; 

Now  will  I  make  an  end  immediately.  [Writes.] 

Meph.  O  what  will  not  I  do  to  obtain  his  soul.     [Aside.] 
Faust.  Consmnmatum  est  :^  this  bill  is  ended, 

And  Faustus  hath  bequeath'd  his  soul  to  Lucifer — 

But  what  is  this  inscription  on  mine  arm? 

Homo,  fuge!*     Whither   should  I  fly? 

If  unto  God,  he'll  throw  me  down  to  hell. 

My  senses  are  deceiv'd ;  here's  nothing  writ : — 

I  see  it  plain ;  here  in  this  place  is  writ 

Homo,  fuge!     Yet   shall  not  Faustus  fly. 

Meph.  I'll  fetch  him  somewhat  to  delight  his  mind.    [Exit. 


i 


Re-enter    [Mephistophilis]    zvith    Devils,    giving    crowns  \ 

and  rich  apparel  to  Faustus,  dance,  and  depart 

Faust.  Speak,   Mephistophilis,    what   means   this  show? 

Meph.  Nothing,  Faustus,  but  to  delight  thy  mind  withal, 
And  to  show  thee  what  magic  can  perform.  ^ 

Faust.  But  may  I  raise  up  spirits  when  I  please? 

8 "  It  is  finished."  * "  Man,  fly !  "  A 


DR.   FAUSTUS  215 

Meph.  Ay,  Faustus,  and  do  greater  things  than  these. 

Faust.  Then   there's    enough    for    a   thousand   souls. 
Here,  MephistophiHs,  receive  this  scroll, 
A  deed  of  gift  of  body  and  of  soul: 
But  yet  conditionally  that  thou  perform 
All  articles  prescrib'd  between  us  both. 

Meph.  Faustus,  I  swear  by  hell  and  Lucifer 
To  effect  all  promises  between  us  made. 

Faust.  Then  hear  me  read  them:  On  these  conditions 
following.  First,  that  Faustus  may  be  a  spirit  in  form 
and  substance.  Secondly,  that  MephistophiHs  shall  be  his 
servant,  and  at  his  command.  Thirdly,  that  MephistophiHs 
shall  do  for  him  and  bring  him  whatsoever  [he  desires']. 
Fourthly,  that  he  shall  be  in  his  chamber  or  house  invisible. 
Lastly,  that  he  shall  appear  to  the  said  John  Faustus,  at  all 
times,  and  in  zvhat  form  or  shape  soez'er  he  pleases.  I,  John 
Faustus,  of  Wittenberg,  Doctor,  by  these  presents  do  give 
both  body  and  soul  to  Lucifer,  Prince  of  the  East,  and  his 
minister,  MephistophiHs;  and  furthermore  grant  unto  them, 
that  twenty-four  years  being  expired,  the  articles  above 
written  inviolate,  full  poiver  to  fetch  or  carry  the  said  John 
Faustus,  body  and  soul,  flesh,  blood,  or  goods,  into  their 
habitation   wheresoever.     By   me,  John   Faustus. 

Meph.  Speak,  Faustus,  do  you  deliver  this  as  your  deed? 

Faust.  Ay,  take  it,  and  the  Devil  give  thee  good  on't. 

Meph.  Now,  Faustus,  ask  what  thou  wilt. 

Faust.  First  will  I  question  with  thee  about  hell. 
Tell  me  where  is  the  place  that  men  call  hell? 

Meph.  Under  the  Heaven. 

Faust.  Ay,  but  whereabout? 

Meph.  Within  the  bowels  of  these  elements. 
Where  we  are  tortur'd  and  remain  for  ever; 
Hell  hath  no  limits,  nor  is  circumscrib'd 
In  one  self  place;  for  where  we  are  is  hell, 
And  where  hell  is  there  must  we  ever  be: 
And,  to  conclude,  when  all  the  world  dissolves. 
And  every  creature  shall  be   purified, 
All  places  shall  be  hell  that  is  not  Heaven. 

Faust.  Come,  I  think  hell's  a  fable. 

Meph.  Ay,  think  so  still,  till  experience  change  th>  mind. 


216  CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 

Faust.  Why,    think'st   thou   then   that   Fatistus   shall   be 
damn'd  ? 

Meph.  Ay,  of  necessity,  for  here's  the  scroll 
Wherein  thou  hast  given  thy  soul  to  Lucifer. 

Faust.  Ay,  and  body  too;  but  what  of  that? 
Think'st  thou  that  Faustus  is  so  fond^  to  imagine 
That,  after  this  life,  there  is  any  pain? 
Tush ;  these  are  trifles,  and  mere  old  wives'  tales. 

Meph.  But,  Faustus,  I  am  an  instance  to  prove  the  con- 
trary. 
For  I  am  damned,  and  am  now  in  hell. 

Faust.  How !  now  in  hell ! 
Nay,  an  this  be  hell,  Fll  willingly  be  damn'd  here; 
What  ?  walking,  disputing,  &c.  ? 
But,  leaving  off  this,  let  me  have  a  wife, 
The   fairest  maid  in  Germany; 
For  I  am  wanton  and  lascivious, 
And  cannot  live  without  a  wife. 

Meph.  How — a  wife? 
I  prithee,  Faustus,  talk  not  of  a  wife. 

Faust.  Nay,   sweet  Mephistophilis,   fetch  me  one,   for   I 
will  have  one. 

Meph.  Well — thou  wilt  have  one.     Sit  there  till  I  come: 
I'll  fetch  thee  a  wife  in  the  Devil's  name.  [Exit.'] 


Re-enter  Mephistophilis  with  a  Devil  dressed  like  a  woman, 
with  fireworks 

Meph.  Tell  me,  Faustus,  how  dost  thou  like  thy  wife? 

Faust.  A  plague  on  her  for  a  hot  whore  I 

Meph.  Tut,  Faustus, 
Marriage  is  but  a  ceremonial  toy; 
And  if  thou  lovest  me,  think  no  more  of  it. 
I'll  cull  thee  out  the  fairest  courtesans. 
And  bring  them  every  morning  to  thy  bed; 
She  whom  thine  eye  shall  like,  thy  heart  shall  have, 
Be  she  as  chaste  as  was  Penelope, 
As  wise  as  Saba,"  or  as  beautiful 
As  was  bright  Lucifer  before  his   fall. 

5  Foolish.        8  The  Queen  of  Sheba. 


DR.   FAUSTUS  217 

Here,  take  this  book,  peruse  it  thoroughly:    [Gives  a  hook.] 

The  iterating'  of  these  lines  brings  gold ; 

The  framing  of  this  circle  on  the  ground 

Brings  whirlwinds,  tempests,  thunder  and  tightning; 

Pronounce  this  thrice  devoutly  to  thyself, 

And  men  in  armour  shall  appear  to  thee, 

Ready  to   execute  what  thou   desir'st. 

Faust.  Thanks,  Mephistophilis;  yet  fain  would  I  have 
a  book  wherein  I  might  behold  all  spells  and  incantations, 
that  I  might  raise  up  spirits  when  I  please. 

Meph.  Here  they  are,  in  this  book.  Turns  to  them. 

Faust.  Now  would  I  have  a  book  where  I  might  see 
all  characters  and  planets  of  the  heavens,  that  I  might  know 
their  motions  and  dispositions. 

Meph.  Here  they  are  too.  Turns  to  them. 

Faust.  Nay,  let  me  have  one  book  more, — and  then  I 
have  done, — wherein  I  might  see  all  plants,  herbs,  and  trees 
that  grow  upon  the  earth. 

Meph.  Here  they  be. 

Faust.  O,  thou  art  deceived. 

Meph.  Tut,  I  warrant  thee.         Turns  to  thein.     Exeunt. 

[Scene  VI. — The  Same.1 
Enter  Faustus  and  Mephistophilis 
Faust.  When  I  behold  the  heavens,  then  I  repent. 
And  curse  thee,   wicked   Mephistophilis, 
Because  thou  hast  depriv'd  me  of  those  joys. 

Meph.  Why,  Faustus, 
Thinkest  thou  Heaven  is  such  a  glorious  thing? 
I  tell  thee  'tis  not  half  so  fair  as  thou, 
Or  any  man  that  breathes  on  earth. 
Faust.  How  provest  thou  that? 

Meph.  'Twas  made  for  man,  therefore  is  man  more  ex- 
cellent. 
Faust,  li  it  were  made  for  man,  'twas  made  for  me; 
I  will  renounce  this  magic  and  repent. 

Enter  Good  Angel  and  Evil  Angel 
G.  Ang.  Faustus,  repent;  yet  God  will  pity  thee. 

'  Repeating. 


218  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

E.  Ang.  Thou  art  a  spirit;  God  can  not  pity  thee. 

Faust.  Who  buzzeth  in  mine  ears  I  am  a  spirit? 
Be  I  a  devil,  yet  God  may  pity  me; 
Ay,  God  will  pity  me  if  I  repent. 

E.  Ang.  Ay,  but  Faustus  never  shall  repent. 

Exeunt  Angels. 

Faust.  My  heart's  so  hard'ned  I  cannot  repent. 
Scarce  can  I  name  salvation,  faith,  or  heaven. 
But   fearful  echoes  thunder  in  mine  ears 
"  Faustus,  thou  art  damn'd !  "     Then  swords  and  knives, 
Poison,  gun,  halters,  and  envenom'd  steel 
Are  laid  before  me  to  despatch  myself. 
And  long  ere  this  I  should  have  slain  myself, 
Had  not  sweet  pleasure  conquer'd  deep  despair. 
Have  I  not  made  blind  Homer  sing  to  me 
Of  Alexander's  love  and  GEnon's  death? 
And  hath  not  he  that  built  the  walls  of  Thebes 
With  ravishing  sound  of  his  melodious  harp. 
Made  music  with  my  Mephistophilis? 
Why  should  I  die  then,  or  basely  despair? 
I  am  resolv'd :  Faustus  shall  ne'er  repent. 
Come,  MephistophiHs,  let  us  dispute  again, 
And  argue  of  divine  astrology. 
Tell  me,  are  there  many  heavens  above  the  moon? 
Are  all  celestial  bodies  but  one  globe. 
As  is  the  substance  of  this  centric  earth? 

Meph.  As  are  the  elements,  such  are  the  spheres 
Mutually  folded  in  each  other's  orb. 
And,  Faustus, 

All  jointly  move  upon  one  axletree 
Whose  terminine  is  termed  the  world's  wide  pole; 
Nor  are  the  names  of  Saturn,  Mars,  or  Jupiter 
Feign'd,  but  are  erring  stars. 

Faust.  But  tell  me,  have  they  all  one  motion,  both  situ 
et  tempore f^ 

Meph.  All  jointly  move  from  east  to  west  in  twenty-four 
hours  upon  the  poles  of  the  world;  but  differ  in  their  motion 
upon  the  poles  of  the  zodiac. 

Faust.  Tush  ! 

1  "  In  direction  and  in  time?  " 


DR.   FAUSTUS  219 

These  slender  trifles  Wagner  can  decide ; 
Hath  Mephistophilis  no  greater  skill? 
Who  knows  not  the  double  motion  of  the  planets? 
The  first  is  finish'd  in  a  natural  day ; 

The  second  thus:  as  Saturn  in  thirty  years;  Jupiter  in 
twelve;  Mars  in  four;  the  Sun,  Venus,  and  Mercury  in  a 
year ;  the  moon  in  twenty-eight  days.  Tush,  these  are  fresh- 
men's suppositions.  But  tell  me,  hath  every  sphere  a  do- 
minion or  intelligentia? 

Meph.  Ay. 

Faust.  How  many  heavens,  or  spheres,  are  there? 

Meph.  Nine:  the  seven  planets,  the  firmament,  and  the 
empyreal  heaven. 

Faust.  Well,  resolve  me  in  this  question  :  Why  have  we  not 
conjunctions,  oppositions,  aspects,  eclipses,  all  at  one  time, 
but  in  some  years  we  have  more,  in  some  less? 

Meph.  Per  incequalem  motiini  rcspectu  totuis." 

Faust.  Well,   I   am   answered.     Tell  me  who  made  the 
world. 

Meph.  I  will  not. 

Faust.  Sweet  Mephistophilis,  tell  me. 

Meph.  Move  me  not,  for  I  will  not  tell  thee. 

Faust.  Villain,  have  I  not  bound  thee  to  tell  me  anything? 

Meph.  Ay,  that  is  not  against  our  kingdom ;  but  this  is. 
Think  thou  on  hell,  Faustus,  for  thou  art  damn'd. 

Faust.  Think,  Faustus,  upon  God  that  made  the  world. 

Meph.  Remember  this. 

Faust.  Ay,  go,  accursed  spirit,  to  ugly  hell. 
'Tis  thou  hast  damn'd  distressed  Faustus'  soul. 
Is't  not  too  late? 

Re-enter  Good  Angel  and  Evil  Angel. 

E.  Ang.  Too  late. 

G.  Ang.  Never  too  late,  if  Faustus  can  repent. 

E.  Ang.  If  thou  repent,  devils  shall  tear  thee  in  pieces. 

G.  Ang.  Repent,  and  they  shall  never  raze  thy  skin. 

[Exeunt  Angels.] 

Faust.  Ah,  Christ,  my  Saviour, 
Seek  to  save  distressed  Faustus'  soul. 

^  "On  account  of  their  unequal  motion  in  relation  to  the  whole." 


220  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

Enter  Lucifer,  Belzebub,  and  Mephistophilis. 

Luc.  Christ  cannot  save  thy  soul,  for  he  is  just; 
There's  none  but  I  have  interest  in  the  same. 

Faust.  O,  who  art  thou  that  look'st  so  terrible? 

Luc.  I  am  Lucifer, 
And  this  is  my  companion-prince  in  hell. 

Faust.  O  Faustus !  they  are  come  to  fetch  away  thy  soul ! 

Luc.  We  come  to  tell  thee  thou  dost  injure  us; 
Thou  talk'st  of  Christ  contrary  to  thy  promise; 
Thou  should'st  not  think  of  God:  think  of  the  Devil, 
And  of  his  dam,  too. 

Faust.  Nor  will  I  henceforth:  pardon  me  in  this, 
And  Faustus  vows  never  to  look  to  Heaven, 
Never  to  name  God,  or  to  pray  to  him. 
To  burn  his  Scriptures,  slay  his  ministers, 
And  make  my  spirits  pull  his  churches  down. 

Luc.  Do  so,  and  we  will  highly  gratify  thee.  Faustus, 
we  are  come  from  hell  to  show  thee  some  pastime.  Sit  down, 
and  thou  shalt  see  all  the  Seven  Deadly  Sins  appear  in  their 
proper  shapes. 

Faust.  That  sight  will  be  as  pleasing  unto  me. 
As  Paradise  was  to  Adam  the  first  day 
Of  his  creation. 

Luc.  Talk  not  of  Paradise  nor  creation,  but  mark  this 
show :  talk  of  the  Devil,  and  nothing  else. — Come  away  ! 

Enter  the  Seven  Deadly  Sins. 
Now,   Faustus,  examine  them  of  their   several  names  and 
.dispositions. 

Faust.  What  art  thou — the  first  ? 

Pride.  I  am  Pride.  I  disdain  to  have  any  parents.  I  am 
like  to  Ovid's  flea :  I  can  creep  into  every  corner  of  a  wench ; 
sometimes,  like  a  periwig,  I  sit  upon  her  brow ;  or  like  a  fan 
of  feathers,  I  kiss  her  lips;  indeed  I  do — what  do  I  not? 
But,  fie,  what  a  scent  is  here !  I'll  not  speak  another  word, 
except  the  ground  were  perfum'd,  and  covered  with  cloth 
of  arras. 

Faust.  What  art  thou — the  second? 

Covet.  I  am  Covetousness,  begotten  of   an   old  churl   in 


DR.   FAUSTUS  221 

an  old  leathern  bag;  and  might  I  have  my  wish  I  would 
desire  that  this  house  and  all  the  people  in  it  were  turn'd 
to  gold,  that  I  might  lock  you  up  in  my  good  chest.  O,  my 
sweet  gold ! 

Faust.  What  art  thou — the  third? 

Wrath.  I  am  Wrath.  I  had  neither  father  nor  mother: 
I  leapt  out  of  a  lion's  mouth  when  I  was  scarce  half  an  hour 
old ;  and  ever  since  I  have  run  up  and  down  the  world  with 
this  case^  of  rapiers,  wounding  myself  when  I  had  nobody 
to  fight  withal.  I  was  born  in  hell ;  and  look  to  it,  for  some 
of  you  shall  be  my  father. 

Faust.  What  art  thou — the  fourth? 

Envy.  I  am  Envy,  begotten  of  a  chimney  sweeper  and  an 
oyster-wife.  I  cannot  read,  and  therefore  wish  all  books 
were  burnt.  I  am  lean  with  seeing  others  eat.  O  that  there 
would  come  a  famine  through  all  the  world,  that  all  might 
die,  and  I  live  alone !  then  thou  should'st  see  how  fat  I  would 
be.  But  must  thou  sit  and  I  stand !  Come  down  with  a 
vengeance ! 

Faust.  Away,  envious  rascal!    What  art  thou — the  fifth? 

Glut.  Who,  I,  sir?  I  am  Gluttony.  My  parents  are  all 
dead,  and  the  devil  a  penny  they  have  left  me,  but  a  bare 
pension,  and  that  is  thirty  meals  a  day  and  ten  bevers'' — a 
small  trifle  to  suffice  nature.  O,  I  come  of  a  royal  parentage  ! 
My  grandfather  was  a  Gammon  of  Bacon,  my  grandmother 
a  Hogshead  of  Claret-wine ;  my  godfathers  were  these,  Peter 
Pickleherring,  and  Alartin  Martlemas-beef.®  O,  but  my  god- 
mother, she  was  a  jolly  gentlewoman,  and  well  beloved  in 
every  good  town  and  city;  her  name  was  Mistress  Margery 
March-beer.  Now,  Faustus,  thou  hast  heard  all  my  progeny, 
wilt  thou  bid  me  to  supper  ? 

Faust.  No,  Til  see  thee  hanged:  thou  wilt  eat  up  all  my 
victuals. 

Glut.  Then  the  Devil  choke  thee ! 

Faust.  Choke  thyself,  glutton  !    Who  art  tnou — the  sixth? 

Sloth.  I  am  Sloth.  I  was  begotten  on  a  sunny  bank, 
where  I  have  lain  ever  since;  and  you  have  done  me  great 
injury  to  bring  me  from  thence :  let  me  be  carried  thither 

8  Pair.  *  Refreshments  between  meals. 

5  Martlemas  or  Martinmas  was  "  the  customary  time  for  hanging  up  pro- 
visions to  dry  which  bad  been  salted  for  the  winter." — Nares. 


222  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

again  by  Gluttony  and  Lechery.    I'll  not  speak  another  word 
for  a  king's  ransom. 

Faust.  What  are  you,   Mistress   Minx,  the  seventh  and 
last? 

Lech.  Who,  I,  sir?  I  am  one  that  loves  an  inch  of  raw 
mutton  better  than  an  ell  of  fried  stockfish;  and  the  first 
letter  of  my  name  begins  with  Lechery. 

Luc.  Away  to  hell,  to  hell ! — Now,  Faustus,  how  dost  thou 
like  this?  [Exeunt  the  Sins. 

Faust.  O,  this  feeds  my  soul ! 

Luc.  Tut,  Faustus,  in  hell  is  all  manner  of  delight. 

Faust.  O  might  I  see  hell,  and  return  again, 
How  happy  were  I  then  ! 

Luc.  Thou  shalt ;  I  will  send  for  thee  at  midnight. 
In  meantime  take  this  book ;  peruse  it  throughly, 
And  thou  shalt  turn  thyself  into  what  shape  thou  wilt. 

Faust.  Great  thanks,  mighty  Lucifer ! 
This  will  I  keep  as  chary  as  my  life. 

Luc.  Farewell,  Faustus,  and  think  on  the  Devil. 

Faust.  Farewell,  great  Lucifer !    Come,  Mephistophilis. 

[Exeunt. 
Enter  Chorus 

Chorus.  Learned  Faustus, 
To  know  the  secrets  of  astronomy, 
Graven  in  the  book  of  Jove's  high  firmament, 
Did  mount  himself  to  scale  Olympus'  top. 
Being  seated  in  a  chariot  burning  bright. 
Drawn  by  the  strength  of  yoky  dragons'  necks. 
He  now  is  gone  to  prove  cosmography, 
And,  as  I  guess,  will  first  arrive  at  Rome, 
To  see  the  Pope  and  manner  of  his  court. 
And  take  some  part  of  holy  Peter's  feast. 
That  to  this  day  is  highly  solemnis'd.  [Exit. 

[Scene  VII. —  T/n^  Papers  Privy-chamber. \ 

Enter  Faustus  and  Mephistophilis 
Faust.  Having  now,  my  good  Mephistophilis, 
Passed  with  delight  the  stately  town  of  Trier,^ 

^  Treves. 


DR.   FAUSTUS  223 

Environed  round  with  airy  mountain-tops, 

With  walls  of  flint,  and  deep  entrenched  lakes, 

Not  to  be  won  by  any  conquering  prince ; 

From  Paris  next,  coasting  the  realm  of  France, 

We  saw  the  river  Maine  fall  into  Rhine, 

Whose  banks  are  set  with  groves  of  fruitful  vines ; 

Then  up  to  Naples,  rich  Campania, 

Whose  buildings  fair  and  gorgeous  to  the  eye, 

The  streets  straight  forth,  and  pav'd  with  finest  brick, 

Quarter  the  town  in  four  equivalents. 

There  saw  we  learned  Maro's^  golden  tomb, 

The  way  he  cut,  an  English  mile  in  length, 

Thorough  a  rock  of  stone  in  one  night's  space; 

From  thence  to  Venice,  Padua,  and  the  rest. 

In  one  of  which  a  sumptuous  temple  stands. 

That  threats  the  stars  with  her  aspiring  top. 

Thus  hitherto  has  Faustus  spent  his  time : 

But  tell  me,  now,  what  resting-place  is  this  ? 

Hast  thou,  as  erst  I  did  command. 

Conducted  me  within  the  walls  of  Rome? 

Meph.  Faustus,  I  have;  and  because  we  will  not  be  un- 
provided, I  have  taken  up  his  Holiness'  privy-chamber  for 
our  use. 

Faust.  I  hope  his  Holiness  will  bid  us  welcome. 

Meph.  Tut,  'tis  no  matter,  man,  we'll  be  bold  with  his 
good  cheer. 

And  now,  my  Faustus,  that  thou  may'st  perceive 
What  Rome  containeth  to  delight  thee  with, 
Know  that  this  city  stands  upon  seven  hills 
That  underprop  the  groundwork  of  the  same. 
[Just  through  the  midst  runs  flowing  Tiber's  stream. 
With  winding  banks  that  cut  it  in  two  parts :] 
Over  the  which  four  stately  bridges  lean, 
That  make  safe  passage  to  each  part  of  Rome : 
Upon  the  bridge  called  Ponto  Angelo 
Erected  is  a  castle  passing  strong, 
Within  whose  walls  such  store  of  ordnance  are. 
And  double  cannons  fram'd  of  carved  brass, 

2  Virgil,  who  was  reputed  a  magician  in  the  Middle  Ages,  was  buried 
at  Naples. 


224  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

As  match  the  days  within  one  complete  year  ; 
Besides  the  gates  and  high  pyramides, 
Which  JuHus  Caesar  brought  from  Africa. 

Faust.  Now  by  the  kingdoms  of  infernal  rule, 
Of  Styx,  of  Acheron,  and  the  fiery  lake     ^ 
Of  ever-burning  Phlegethon,  I  swear 
That  I  do  long  to  see  the  monuments 
And  situation  of  bright-splendent  Rome: 
Come  therefore,  let's  away. 

Meph.  Nay,  Faustus,  stay;  I  know  you'd  see  the  Pope, 
And  take  some  part  of  holy  Peter's  feast, 
Where  thou  shalt  see  a  troop  of  bald-pate  friars. 
Whose  summum  bonum  is  in  belly-cheer. 

Faust.  Well,  I'm  content  to  compass  then  some  sport, 
And  by  their  folly  make  us  merriment. 
Then  charm  me,  [Mephistophilis,]  that  I 
May  be  invisible,  to  do  what  I  please 
Unseen  of  any  whilst  I  stay  in  Rome. 

[Mephistophilis  charms  him.'\ 

Meph.  So,  Faustus,  now 
Do  what  thou  wilt,  thou  shalt  not  be  discern'd. 

Sound  a  sennet.^    Enter  the  Pope  and  the  Cardinal  of 
LoRRAiN  to  the  banquet,  with  Friars  attending., 

Pope.  My  Lord  of  Lorrain,  wilt  please  you  draw  near? 

Faust.  Fall  to,  and  the  devil  choke  you  an*  you  spare ! 

Pope.  How  now  !    Who's  that  which  spake  ? — Friars,  look 
about. 

First  Friar.  Here's  nobody,  if  it  like  your  Holiness. 

Pope.  My  lord,  here  is  a  dainty  dish  was  sent  me  from  the 
Bishop  of  Milan. 

Faust.  I  thank  you,  sir.  [Snatches  the  dish.} 

Pope.  How  now !  Who's  that  which  snatched  the  meat 
from  me?  Will  no  man  look?  My  Lord,  this  dish  was  sent 
me  from  the  Cardinal  of  Florence. 

Faust.  You  say  true;  I'll  ha't.  [Snatches  the  dish.} 

Pope.  What,  again !    My  lord,  I'll  drink  to  your  Grace. 

Faust.  I'll  pledge  your  Grace.  [Snatches  the  cup.'] 

*  A  particular   set   of   notes   on   tlie   trumpet   or   cornet,    different   from   a 
flourish." — Nares. 
*If. 


DR.   FAUSTUS  225 

C.  OF  Lor.  My  lord,  it  may  be  some  ghost  newly  crept 
out  of  purgatory,  come  to  beg  a  pardon  of  your  Holiness. 

Pope.  It  may  be  so.     Friars,  prepare  a  dirge  to  lay  the 
fury  of  this  ghost.    Once  again,  my  lord,  fall  to. 

The  Pope  crosses  himself, 
Faust.  What,  are  you  crossing  of  yourself? 
Well,  use  that  trick  no  more  I  would  advise  you. 

The  Pope  crosses  himself  again. 
Well,  there's  the  second  time.    Aware  the  third, 
I  give  you  fair  warning. 

The  Pope  crosses  himself  again,  and  Faustus 
hits  him  a  box  'f  the  ear;  and  they  all  run 
away. 
Come  on,  Mephistophilis,  what  shall  we  do? 

Meph.  Nay,  I  know  not.     We  shall  be  curs'd  with  bell, 

book,  and  candle. 
Faust.  How  !  bell,  book,  and  candle, — candle,  book,  and  bell, 
Forward  and  backward  to  curse  Faustus  to  hell ! 
Anon  you  shall  hear  a  hog  grunt,  a  calf  bleat,  and  an  ass  bray. 
Because  it  is  Saint  Peter's  holiday. 

Re-enter  all  the  Friars  to  sing  the  Dirge 
1ST.  Friar.  Come,  brethren,  let's  about  our  business  with 
good  devotion. 

They  sing: 
Cursed  be  he  that  stole  away  his  Holiness'  meat  from  the 

table!     Maledicat  Dominus!^ 
Cursed  be  he  that  struck  his  Holiness  a  blow  on  the  face! 

Maledicat  Dominus! 
Cursed  be  he  that  took  Friar  Sandelo  a  blow  on  the  patel 

Maledicat  Dominus! 
Cursed  be   he  that  disturbeth  our  holy   dirge !     Maledicat 

Dominus! 
Cursed  be  he  that  took  away  his  Holiness'  wine !    Maledicat 

Dominus!    Et  omnes  sancti!^    Amen! 

[Mephistophilis    and    Faustus    heat    the    Friars, 
and  fling  firezvorks  among  them:  and  so  exeunt, 

^  "  May  the  Lord  curse  liim."  *  And  all  the  saints." 

8 — VOL.  XIX  HC 


226  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

Enter  Chorus 
Chorus.  When  Faustus  had  with  pleasure  ta'en  the 
view 
Of  rarest  things,   and  royal  courts  of  kings, 
He  stay'd  his  course,  and  so  returned  home; 
Where  such  as  bear  his  absence  but  with  grief, 
I  mean  his  friends,  and  near'st  companions. 
Did  gratulate  his  safety  with  kind  words, 
And  in  their  conference  of  what  befell, 
Touching  his  journey  through  the  world  and  air. 
They  put   forth  questions   of  Astrology, 
Which  Faustus  answer'd  with  such  learned  skill. 
As  they  admir'd  and  wond'red  at  his  wit. 
Now  is  his  fame  spread  forth  in  every  land; 
Amongst  the  rest  the  Emperor  is  one, 
Carolus  the  Fifth,  at  whose  palace  now 
Faustus  is  feasted  'mongst  his  noblemen. 
What  there  he  did  in  trial  of  his  art, 
I  leave  untold — your  eyes  shall  see  perform'd,         lExit."] 


[Scene  VIII. — An  Inn-yard.'] 

Enter  Robin  the  Ostler  with  a  hook  in  his  hand 
Robin.  O,  this  is  admirable !  here  I  ha'  stolen  one  of  Dr. 
Faustus's  conjuring  books,  and  i'  faith  I  mean  to  search 
some  circles  for  my  own  use.  Now  will  I  make  all  the 
maidens  in  our  parish  dance  at  my  pleasure,  stark  naked 
before  me;  and  so  by  that  means  I  shall  see  more  than  e'er 
I  felt  or  saw  yet. 


Enter  Ralph  calling  Robin 

Ralph.  Robin,  prithee  come  away;  there's  a  gentleman 
tarries  to  have  his  horse,  and  he  would  have  his  things  rubb'd 
and  made  clean.  He  keeps  such  a  chafing  with  my  mistress 
about  it ;  and  she  has  sent  me  to  look  thee  out ;  prithee  come 
away. 

Robin.  Keep  out,  keep  out,  or  else  you  are  blown  up;  you 


DR.    FAUSTUS  227 

are  dismemb'red,  Ralph :  keep  out,  for  I  am  about  a  roaring 
piece  of  work. 

Ralph.  Come,  what  dost  thou  with  that  same  book? 
Thou  canst  not  read. 

Robin.  Yes,  my  master  and  mistress  shall  find  that  I  can 
read,  he  for  his  forehead,  she  for  her  private  study;  she's 
born  to  bear  with  me,  or  else  my  art  fails. 

Ralph.  Why,  Robin,  what  book  is  that? 

Robin.  What  book !  Why,  the  most  intolerable  book  for 
conjuring  that  e'er  was  invented  by  any  brimstone  devil, 

Ralph.  Canst  thou  conjure  with  it? 

Robin.  I  can  do  all  these  things  easily  with  it:  first,  I  can 
make  thee  drunk  with  ippocras^  at  any  tabern^  in  Europe  for 
nothing;  that's  one  of  my  conjuring  works. 

Ralph.  Our  Master  Parson  says  that's  nothing. 

Robin.  True,  Ralph;  and  more,  Ralph,  if  thou  hast  any 
mind  to  Nan  Spit,  our  kitchenmaid,  then  turn  her  and  wind 
her  to  thy  own  use  as  often  as  thou  wilt,  and  at  midnight. 

Ralph.  O  brave  Robin,  shall  I  have  Nan  Spit,  and  to 
mine  own  use?  On  that  condition  I'll  feed  thy  devil  with 
horsebread  as  long  as  he  lives,  of  free  cost. 

Robin.  No  more,  sweet  Ralph:  let's  go  and  make  clean 
our  boots,  which  lie  foul  upon  our  hands,  and  then  to  our 
conjuring  in  the  Devil's  name.  Exeunt. 


[Scene  IX. — An  Inn.} 

Enter  Robin  and  Ralph  with  a  silver  goblet. 
Robin.  Come,  Ralph,  did  not  I  tell  thee  we  were  for  ever 
made  by  tliis  Doctor  Faustus'  book?  Ecce  signum^  here's  a 
simple  purchase^  for  horsekeepers ;  our  horses  shall  eat  no 
hay  as  long  as  this  lasts. 


Enter  the  Vintner 
Ralph.  But,  Robin,  here  come  the  vintner. 
Robin.  Hush !  I'll  gull  him  supernaturally. 

*  Wine  mixed  with  sugar  and  spices.  ^  Tavern. 

1  "  Behold  a  sign.  =  Gain. 


228  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

Drawer,    I   hope   all    is    paid:    God   be   with   you.     Come, 
Ralph. 

Vint.  Soft,  sir;  a  word  with  you.  I  must  yet  have  a 
goblet  paid  from  you,  ere  you  go. 

I      Robin.  I,  a   goblet,  Ralph ;  I,  a  goblet !  I  scorn  you,  and 
you  are  but  a,'  &c.    I,  a  goblet !  search  me. 

Vint.  I  mean  so,  sir,  with  your  favour,       [Searches  him.'] 

Robin.  How  say  you  now? 

Vint.  I  must  say  somewhat  to  your  fellow.    You,  sir ! 

Ralph.  Me,  sir!  me,  sir!  search  your  fill.  [Vintner 
searches  him.']  Now,  sir,  you  may  be  ashamed  to  burden 
honest  men  with  a  matter  of  truth. 

Vint.  Well,  t'one  of  you  hath  this  goblet  about  you, 

Robin.  You  lie,  drawer,  'tis  afore  me.  [Aside.]  Sirrah 
you,  I'll  teach  ye  to  impeach  honest  men ; — stand  by ; — I'll 
scour  you  for  a  goblet ! — stand  aside  you  had  best,  I  charge 
you  in  the  name  of  Belzebub.    Look  to  the  goblet,  Ralph, 

[Aside  to  Ralph,] 

Vint.  What  mean  you,  sirrah  ? 

Robin.  I'll  tell  you  what  I  mean.  Reads  [from  a  book.] 
Sanctobulorum.  Periphrasticon — Nay,  I'll  tickle  you,  vint- 
ner.   Look  to  the  goblet,  Ralph.  [Aside  to  Ralph.] 

Polypragmos  Belseborams  framanto  pacostiphos  tostu, 
Mephistophilis,  &c.  [Reads. 

Enter  Mephistophilis,  sets  squibs  at  their  backs,  [and  then 
exit].     They  run  about 

Vint.  0  nomine  Domini!^  what  meanest  thou,  Robin? 
Thou  hast  no  goblet. 

Ralph.  Peccatum  peccatorum!^  Here's  thy  goblet,  good 
vintner.  [Gives  the  goblet  to  Vintner,  who  exit.] 

Robin.  Misericordia  pro  nobis T  What  shall  I  do?  Good 
Devil,  forgive  me  now,  and  I'll  never  rob  thy  library  more. 

Re-enter  Mephistophilis 
Meph.  Monarch  of  hell,  under  whose  black  survey 
Great  potentates  do  kneel  with  awful  fear, 

*  The  abuse  was  left  to  the  actor's  inventiveness. 

*  "  In  the  name  of  the  Lord."  ^  "  Sin  of  sins."  '  "  Mercy  on  us." 


DR.    FAUSTUS  229 

Upon  whose  altars  thousand  souls  do  lie, 
How  am  I  vexed  with  these  villains'  charms? 
From  Constantinople  am  I  hither  come 
Only  for  pleasure  of  these  damned  slaves, 

Robin.  How  from  Constantinople?  You  have  had  a  great 
journey.  Will  you  take  sixpence  in  your  purse  to  pay  for 
your  supper,  and  begone? 

Meph.  Well,  villains,  for  your  presumption,  I  transform 
thee  into  an  ape,  and  thee  into  a  dog ;  and  so  begone.      [Exit. 

Robin.  How,  into  an  ape?  That's  brave!  I'll  have  fine 
sport  with  the  boys.    I'll  get  nuts  and  apples  enow. 

Ralph.  And  I  must  be  a  dog. 

Robin.  I'faith  thy  head  will  never  be  out  of  the  pottage 
pot.  Exeunt. 

[Scene  X. —  Tke  Court  of  the  Emperor. ^ 

Enter  Emperor,  Faustus,  and  a  Knight  with  Attendants 

Emp.  Master  Doctor  Faustus,  I  have  heard  strange  report 
of  thy  knowledge  in  the  black  art,  how  that  none  in  my 
empire  nor  in  the  whole  world  can  compare  with  thee  for  the 
rare  effects  of  magic ;  they  say  thou  hast  a  familiar  spirit,  by 
whom  thou  canst  accomplish  what  thou  list.  This  therefore 
is  my  request,  that  thou  let  me  see  some  proof  of  thy  skill, 
that  mine  eyes  may  be  witnesses  to  confirm  what  mine  ears 
have  heard  reported ;  and  here  I  swear  to  thee  by  the  honour 
of  mine  imperial  crown,  that,  whatever  thou  doest,  thou  shalt 
be  no  ways  prejudiced  or  endamaged. 

Knight.  I'faith  he  looks  m.uch  like  a  conjuror.    Aside. 

Faust.  My  gracious  sovereign,  though  I  must  con- 
fess myself  far  inferior  to  the  report  men  have  published, 
and  nothing  answerable^  to  the  honour  of  your  imperial 
majesty,  yet  for  that  love  and  duty  binds  me  thereunto, 
I  am  content  to  do  whatsoever  your  maje-ty  shall  com- 
mand me. 

Emp.  Then,  Doctor  Faustus,  mark  what  I  shall  say. 
As  I  was  sometime  solitary  set 
Within  my  closet,  sundry  thoughts  arose 
About  the  honour  of  mine  ancestors, 

^  Proportionate. 


230  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

How  they  had  won  by  prowess  such  exploits, 
Got  such  riches,  subdued  so  many  kingdoms 
As  we  that  do  succeed,  or  they  that  shall 
Hereafter  possess  our  throne,  shall 
(I  fear  me)  ne'er  attain  to  that  degree 
Of  high  renown  and  great  authority ; 
Amongst  which  kings  is  Alexander  the  Great, 
Chief  spectacle  of  the  world's  pre-eminence, 
The  bright  shining  of  whose  glorious  acts 
Lightens  the  world  with  his^  reflecting  beams, 
As  when  I  heard  but  motion*  made  of  him 
It  grieves  my  soul  I  never  saw  the  man. 
If  therefore  thou  by  cunning  of  thine  art 
Canst  raise  this  man  from  hollow  vaults  below, 
Where  lies  entomb'd  this  famous  conqueror, 
And  bring  with  him  his  beauteous  paramour. 
Both  in  their  right  shapes,  gesture,  and  attire 
They  us'd  to  wear  during  their  time  of  life, 
Thou  shalt  both  satisfy  my  just  desire, 
And  give  me  cause  to  praise  thee  whilst  I  live. 

Faust.  My  gracious  lord,  I  am  ready  to  accomplish  your 
request  so  far  forth  as  by  art,  and  power  of  my  Spirit,  I  am 
able  to  perform. 

Knight.  I'faith  that's  just  nothing  at  all.  Aside. 

Faust.  But,  if  it  like  your  Grace,  it  is  not  in  my  ability 
to  present  before  your  eyes  the  true  substantial  bodies  of 
those  two  deceased  princes,  which  long  since  are  consumed 
to  dust. 

Knight.  Ay,  marry.  Master  Doctor,  now  there's  a  sign 
of  grace  in  you,  when  you'will  confess  the  truth.  Aside. 

Faust.  But  such  spirits  as  can  lively  resemble  Alexander 
and  his  paramour  shall  appear  before  your  Grace  in  that 
manner  that  they  [best]  lived  in,  in  their  most  flourishing 
estate;  which  I  doubt  not  shall  sufliciently  content  your 
imperial  majesty. 

Emp.  Go  to,  Master  Doctor,  let  rae  see  them  presently. 

Kj^ight.  Do  you  hear.  Master  Doctor?  You  bring  Alex- 
ander and  his  paramour  before  the  Emperor  I 

Faust.  How  then,  sir  ? 

2  Its.  »  Mention, 


DR.    FAUSTUS  231 

Knight.  I'falth  that's  as  true  as  Diana  turn'd  me  to  a 
stag ! 

Faust.  No,  sir,  but  when  Actseon  died,  he  left  the  horns 
for  you.     Mephistophilis,  begone.  Exit  Mephisto. 

Knight.  Nay,  an  you  go  to  conjuring,  I'll  begone.      Exit. 

Faust.  I'll  meet  with  you  anon  for  interrupting  me  so. 
Here  tliey  are,  my  gracious  lord. 

Re-enter  Mephistophilis  zvith  [Spirits  in  the  shape  of] 
Alexander  and  his  Paramour 

Emp.  Master  Doctor,  I  heard  this  lady  while  she  liv'd  had 
a  wart  or  mole  in  her  neck :  how  shall  I  know  whether  it  be 
so  or  no? 

Faust.  Your  Highness  may  boldly  go  and  see. 

Emp.  Sure  these  are  no  spirits,  but  the  true  substantial 
bodies  of  those  two  deceased  princes.  [Exeunt  Spirits.] 

Faust.  Will't  please  your  Highness  now  to  send  for  the 
knight  that  was  so  pleasant  with  me  here  of  late? 

Emp.  One  of  you  call  him  forth.  [Exit  Attendant.] 

Re-enter  the  Knight  with  a  pair  of  horns  on  his  head 

How  now,  sir  knight !  why  I  had  thought  thou  had'st  been 
a  bachelor,  but  now  I  see  thou  hast  a  wife,  that  not  only  gives 
thee  horns,  but  makes  thee  wear  them.    Feel  on  thy  head. 

Knight.  Thou  damned  wretch  and  execrable  dog. 
Bred  in  the  concave  of  some  monstrous  rock. 
How  darest  thou  thus  abuse  a  gentleman? 
Villain,  I  say,  undo  what  thou  hast  done ! 

Faust.  O,  not  so  fast,  sir ;  there's  no  haste ;  but,  good, 
are  you  rememb'red  how  you  crossed  me  in  my  conference 
with  the  Emperor?    I  think  I  have  met  with  you  for  it. 

Emp.  Good  Master  Doctor,  at  my  entreaty  release  him; 
he  hath  done  penance  sufficient. 

Faust.  My  gracious  lord,  not  so  much  for  the  injury  he 
ofT'red  me  here  in  your  presence,  as  to  delight  you  with  some 
mirth,  hath  Faustus  worthily  requited  this  injurious  knight; 
which,  being  all  I  desire,  I  am  content  to  release  him  of 
his  horns :  and,  sir  knight,  hereafter  speak  well  of  scholars. 
Mephistophilis,   transform   him  straight.      [Mephistophilis 


232  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

removes  the  horns.']     Now,  my  good  lord,  having  done  my 
duty  I  humbly  take  my  leave. 

Emp.  Farewell,  Master  Doctor ;  yet,  ere  you  go, 
Expect  from  me  a  bounteous  reward.  [Exeunt. 


[Scene  XI. — A  Green;  afie7-ivards  the  House  of  Faustus.l 

[Enter  Faustus  and  Mephistophilis] 
Faust.  Now,  Mephistophilis,  the  restless  course 

That  Time  doth  run  with  calm  and  silent  foot, 

Short'ning  my  days  and  thread  of  vital  life. 

Calls  for  the  payment  of  my  latest  years; 

Therefore,  sweet  Mephistophilis,  let  us 

Make  haste  to  Wittenberg. 

Meph.  What,  will  you  go  on  horseback  or  on  foot? 
Faust.  Nay,   till  I'm  past  this   fair  and  pleasant  green, 

I'll  walk  on  foot. 

Enter  a  Horse-Courser 

HoRSE-C.  I  have  been  all  this  day  seeking  one  Master 
Fustian :  mass,  see  where  he  is !  God  save  you,  Master 
Doctor ! 

Faust.  What,  horse-courser !     You  are  well  met, 

HoRSE-C.  Do  you  hear,  sir?  I  have  brought  you  forty 
dollars  for  your  horse. 

Faust.  I  cannot  sell  him  so:  if  thou  likest  him  for  fifty 
take  him. 

HoRSE-C.  Alas,  sir,  I  have  no  more. — I  pray  you  speak 
for  me. 

Meph.  I  pray  you  let  him  have  him :  he  is  an  honest 
fellow,  and  he  has  a  great  charge,  neither  wife  nor  child. 

Faust.  Well,  come,  give  me  your  money.  [Horse- 
Courser  gives  Faustus  the  money.]  My  boy  will  deliver 
him  to  you.  But,  I  must  tell  you  one  thing  before  you  have 
him ;  ride  him  not  into  the  water  at  any  hand. 

Horse-C.  Why,  sir,  will  he  not  drink  of  all  waters? 

Faust.  0  yes,  he  will  drink  of  all  waters,  but  ride  him 
not  into  the  water:  ride  him  over  hedge  or  ditch,  or  where 
thou  wilt,  but  not  into  the  water. 


DR.    FAUSTUS  233 

HoRSE-C.  Well,  sir. — Now  I  am  made  man  for  ever.  I'll 
not  leave  my  horse  for  forty.  If  he  had  but  the  quality  of 
hey-ding-ding,  hey-ding-ding,  I'd  made  a  brave  living  on 
him :  he  has  a  buttock  as  slick  as  an  eel.  [Aside.']  Well, 
God  b'  wi'  ye,  sir,  your  boy  will  deliver  him  me:  but  hark 
you,  sir ;  if  my  horse  be  sick  or  ill  at  ease,  if  I  bring  his 
water  to  you,  you'll  tell  me  what  it  is. 

Faust.  Away,  you  villain ;  what,  dost  think  I  am  a  horse- 
doctor?  Exit  HORSE-CoURSER. 

What  art  thou,  Faustus,  but  a  man  condemn'd  to  die? 
Thy  fatal  time  doth  draw  to  final  end; 
Despair  doth  drive  distrust  unto  my  thoughts: 
Confound  these  passions  with  a  quiet  sleep : 
Tush,  Christ  did  call  the  thief  upon  the  cross; 
Then  rest  thee,  Faustus,  quiet  in  conceit. 

Sleeps  in  his  chair. ^ 

Re-enter  Horse-Courser,  all  wet,  crying 

HoRSE-C.  Alas,  alas!  Doctor  Fustian  quotha?  Mass, 
Doctor  Lopus''  was  never  such  a  doctor.  Has  given  me  a 
purgation  has  purg'd  me  of  forty  dollars;  I  shall  never  see 
them  more.  But  yet,  like  an  ass  as  I  was,  I  would  not  be 
ruled  by  him,  for  he  bade  me  I  should  ride  him  into  no  water. 
Now  I,  thinking  my  horse  had  had  some  rare  quality  that  he 
would  not  have  had  me  known  of,  I,  like  a  venturous  youth, 
rid  him  into  the  deep  pond  at  the  town's  end.  I  was  no 
sooner  in  the  middle  of  the  pond,  but  my  horse  vanished 
away,  and  I  sat  upon  a  bottle  of  hay,  never  so  near  drowning 
in  my  life.  But  I'll  seek  out  my  Doctor,  and  have  my  forty 
dollars  again,  or  I'll  make  it  the  dearest  horse ! — O,  yonder 
is  his  snipper-snapper. — Do  you  hear?  You  hey-pass,* 
where's  your  master? 

Meph.  Why,  sir,  what  would  you?  You  cannot  speak 
with  him. 

HoRSE-C.  But  I  will  speak  with  him. 

Meph.  Why,  he's  fast  asleep.    Come  some  other  time. 

^  Dr.  Lopez,  physician  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  was  hanged  in  1594  on  the 
charge   of  conspiring  to  poison  the   Queen. 

*A  juggler's  term,  like  "presto,  fly!"  Hence  applied  to  the  juggler 
himsel  t . — B  ullen. 


234  CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 

HoRSE-C.  I'll  speak  with  him  now,  or  I'll  break  his  glass 
windows  about  his  ears. 

Meph.  I  tell  thee  he  has  not  slept  this  eight  nights. 

HoRSE-C.  An  he  have  not  slept  this  eight  weeks,  I'll  speak 
with  him. 

Meph.  See  where  he  is,  fast  asleep. 

HoRSE-C.  Ay,  this  is  he.  God  save  you,  Master  Doctor! 
Master  Doctor,  Master  Doctor  Fustian ! — Forty  dollars, 
forty  dollars  for  a  bottle  of  hay ! 

Meph,  Why,  thou  seest  he  hears  thee  not. 

HoRSE-C.  So  ho,  ho! — so  ho,  ho!  (Hollas  hi  hh  ear.) 
No,  will  you  not  wake?  I'll  make  you  wake  ere  I  go. 
(Pulls  Faustus  by  the  leg,  and  pulls  it  away.)  Alas,  I  am 
undone!    What  shall  I  do? 

Faust.  O  my  leg,  my  leg !  Help,  Mephistophilis  !  call  the 
officers.    My  leg,  my  leg ! 

Meph.  Come,  villain,  to  the  constable. 

HoRSE-C.  O  lord,  sir,  let  me  go,  and  I'll  give  you  forty 
dollars  more. 

Meph.  Where  be  they? 

HoRSE-C.  I  have  none  about  me.  Come  to  my  ostry*  and 
I'll  give  them  you. 

Meph.  Begone  quickly.  Horse-Courser  runs  away. 

Faust.  What,  is  he  gone  ?  Farewell  he !  Faustus  has  his 
leg  again,  and  the  horse-courser,  I  take  it,  a  bottle  of  hay 
for  his  labour.  Well,  this  trick  shall  cost  him  forty  dollars 
more. 

Enter  Wagner 
How  now,  Wagner,  what's  the  news  with  thee? 

Wag.  Sir,  the  Duke  of  Vanholt  doth  earnestly  entreat 
your  company. 

Faust.  The  Duke  of  Vanholt !  an  honourable  gentleman, 
to  whom  I  must  be  no  niggard  of  my  cunning.  Come, 
Mephistophilis,  let's  away  to  him.  Exeunt. 

*Inn. 


DR.    FAUSTUS  235 

[Scene  XII. — The  Court  of  the  Duke  of  Vanholt.} 

Enter  the  Duke   [of  Vanholt],   the  Duchess,    FaUstus, 
and  Mephistophilis 

Duke.  Believe  me,  Master  Doctor,  this  merriment  hath 
much  pleased  me. 

Faust.  My  gracious  lord,  I  am  glad  it  contents  you  so 
well. — But  it  may  be,  madam,  you  take  no  delight  in  this.  I 
have  heard  that  great-bellied  women  do  long  for  some  dain- 
ties or  other.  What  is  it,  madam?  Tell  me,  and  you  shall 
have  it. 

Duchess.  Thanks,  good  Master  Doctor;  and  for  I  see 
your  courteous  intent  to  pleasure  me,  I  will  not  hide  from 
you  the  thing  my  heart  desires;  and  were  it  now  summer, 
as  it  is  January  and  the  dead  time  of  the  winter,  I  would 
desire  no  better  meat  than  a  dish  of  ripe  grapes. 

Faust.  Alas,  madam,  that's  nothing  I  MephistophiUs, 
begone.  (Exit  Mephistophilis.)  Were  it  a  greater  thing 
than  this,  so  it  would  content  you,  you  should  have  it. 

Re-enter  Mephistophilis  with  the  grapes 
Here  they  be,  madam ;  wilt  please  you  taste  on  them  ? 

Duke.  Believe  me,  Master  Doctor,  this  makes  me  wonder 
above  the  rest,  that  being  in  the  dead  time  of  winter,  and  in 
the  month  of  January,  how  you  should  come  by  these  grapes. 

Faust.  If  it  like  your  Grace,  the  year  is  divided  into  two 
circles  over  the  whole  world,  that,  when  it  is  here  winter 
with  us,  in  the  contrary  circle  it  is  summer  with  them,  as  in 
India,  Saba,  and  farther  countries  in  the  East ;  and  by  means 
of  a  swift  spirit  that  I  have  I  had  them  brought  hither,  as 
ye  see. — How  do  you  like  them,  madam  ;  be  they  good  ? 

Duchess.  Believe  me.  Master  Doctor,  they  be  the  best 
grapes  that  I  e'er  tasted  in  my  life  before. 

Faust.  I  am  glad  they  content  you  so,  madam. 

Duke.  Come,  madam,  let  us  in,  where  you  must  well 
reward  this  learned  man  for  the  great  kindness  he  hath 
show'd  to  you. 

Duchess.  And  so  I  will,  my  lord;  and,  whilst  I  live,  rest 
beholding  for  this  courtesy. 


236  CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 

Faust.  I  humbly  thank  your  Grace. 

Duke.  Come,  Master  Doctor,  follow  us  and  receive  your 
reward.  [Exeunt. 

[Scene  XIII. — A   room  in   Faust  us' s   House.} 

Enter  Wagner 
Wag.  I  think  my  master  shortly  means  to  die. 
For  he  hath  given  to  me  all  his  goods ; 
And  yet,  methinks,  if  that  death  were  so  near, 
He  would  not  banquet  and  carouse  and  swill 
Amongst  the  students,  as  even  now  he  doth, 
Who  are  at  supper  with  such  belly-cheer 
As  Wagner  ne'er  beheld  in  all  his  life. 
See  where  they  come !     Belike  the  feast  is  ended. 


Enter  Faustus,  with  tzvo  or  three  Scholars  [and 
Mephistophilis] 

1ST  ScHOL.  Master  Doctor  Faustus,  since  our  conference 
about  fair  ladies,  which  was  the  beautifullest  in  all  the  world, 
we  have  determined  with  ourselves  that  Helen  of  Greece 
was  the  admirablest  lady  that  ever  lived:  therefore,  Master 
Doctor,  if  you  will  do  us  that  favour,  as  to  let  us  see  that 
peerless  dame  of  Greece,  whom  all  the  world  admires  for 
majesty,  we  should  think  ourselves  much  beholding  unto 
you. 

Faust.  Gentlemen, 
For  that  I  know  your  friendship  is  unfeigned, 
And  Faustus'  custom  is  not  to  deny 
The  just  requests  of  those  that  wish  him  well, 
You  shall  behold  that  peerless  dame  of  Greece, 
No  otherways  for  pomp  and  majesty 
Than  when  Sir  Paris  cross'd  the  seas  with  her, 
And  brought  the  spoils  to  rich  Dardania. 
Be  silent,  then,  for  danger  is  in  words. 

Music  sounds,  and  Helen  passeth  over  the  stage. 

2ND  ScHOL.  Too  simple  is  my  wit  to  tell  her  praise, 
Whom  all  the  world  admires  for  majesty. 

3RD  ScHOL.  No  ma/vel  though  the  angry  Greeks  pursued 


DR.    FAUSTUS  237 

With  ten  years'  war  the  rape  of  such  a  queen, 
Whose  heavenly  beauty  passeth  all  compare. 

1ST   ScHOL.  Since   we   have   seen   the   pride   of   Nature's 
works, 
And  only  paragon  of  excellence, 
Let  us  depart;  and  for  this  glorious  deed 
Happy  and  blest  be  Faustus  evermore. 
Faustus.  Gentlemen,  farewell — the  same  I  wish  to  you. 

Exeunt  Scholars  [and  Wagner]. 


Enter  an  Old  Man 

Old  Man.  Ah,  Doctor  Faustus,  that  I  might  prevail 
To  guide  thy  steps  unto  the  way  of  life, 
By  which  sweet  path  thou  may'st  attain  the  goal 
That  shall  conduct  thee  to  celestial  rest  I 
Break  heart,  drop  blood,  and  mingle  it  with  tears, 
Tears  falling  from  repentant  heaviness 
Of  thy  most  vile  and  loathsome  filthiness, 
The  stench  whereof  corrupts  the  inward  soul 
With  such  flagitious  crimes  of  heinous  sins 
As  no  commiseration  may  expel. 
But  mercy,  Faustus,  of  thy  Saviour  sweet. 
Whose  blood  alone  must  wash  away  thy  guilt. 

Faust.  Where    art   thou,   Faustus?      Wretch,    what   hast 
thou  done? 
Damn'd  art  thou,  Faustus,  damn'd ;  despair  and  die ! 
Hell  calls  for  right,  and  with  a  roaring  voice 
Says  "  Faustus  !  come  !  thine  hour  is  [almost]  come  !  " 
And  Faustus  [now]  will  come  to  do  the  right. 

Mephistophilis  gives  him  a  dagger. 

Old  Man.  Ah  stay,  good  Faustus,  stay  thy  desperate  steps  ! 
I  see  an  angel  hovers  o'er  thy  head, 
And,  with  a  vial  full  of  precious  grace. 
Offers  to  pour  the  same  into  thy  soul: 
Then  call  for  mercy,  and  avoid  despair. 

Faust.  Ah,  my  sweet  friend,  I  feel 
Thy  words  do  comfort  my  distressed  soul. 
Leave  me  a  while  to  ponder  on  my  sins. 


238  CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 

Old  Man.  I  go,  sweet  Fausttis,  but  with  heavy  cheer. 
Fearing  the  ruin  of  thy  hopeless  soul.  [Exit.'] 

Faust.  Accursed  Faustus,  where  is  mercy  now? 
I  do  repent;  and  yet  I  do  despair; 
Hell  strives  with  grace  for  conquest  in  my  breast : 
What  shall  I  do  to  shun  the  snares  of  death? 

Meph.  Thou  traitor,  Faustus,  I  arrest  thy  soul 
For  disobedience  to  my  sovereign  lord; 
Revolt,  or  FU  in  piecemeal  tear  thy  flesh. 

Faust.  Sweet  Mephistophilis,  entreat  thy  lord 
To  pardon  my  unjust  presumption. 
And  with  my  blood  again  I  will  confirm 
My  former  vow  I  made  to  Lucifer. 

Mepii.  Do  it  then  quickly,  with  unfeigned  heart, 
Lest  greater  danger  do  attend  thy  drift. 

[Faustus  stabs  his  arm  and  writes  on  a  paper  with  his 
blood.'] 

Faust.  Torment,  sweet  friend,  that  base  and  crooked  age,^ 
That  durst  dissuade  me  from  my  Lucifer, 
With  greatest  torments  that  our  hell  affords. 

Meph.  His  faith  is  great,  I  cannot  touch  his  soul; 
But  what  I  may  afflict  his  body  with 
I  will  attempt,  which  is  but  little  worth. 

Faust.  One  thing,  good  servant,  let  me  crave  of  thee, 
To  glut  the  longing  of  my  heart's  desire, — 
That  I  might  have  unto  my  paramour 
That  heavenly  Helen,  which  I  saw  of  late, 
Whose  sweet  embracings  may  extinguish  clean 
These  thoughts  that  do  dissuade  me  from  my  vow, 
And  keep  mine  oath  I  made  to  Lucifer. 

Meph.  Faustus,  this  or  what  else  thou  shalt  desire 
Shall  be  perform'd  in  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

Re-enter  Helen 
Faust.  Was  this  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships 
And  burnt  the  topless^  towers  of  Ilium? 
Sweet  Helen,  make  me  immortal  with  a  kiss.      [Kisses  her.] 
Her  lips  suck  forth  my  soul;  see  where  it  flies! — 

1  Old  man.  *  Unsurpassed  in  height. 


DR.   FAUSTUS  239 

Come,  Helen,  come,  give  me  my  soul  again. 

Here  will  I  dwell,  for  Heaven  is  in  these  lips, 

And  all  is  dross  that  is  not  Helena.  Enter  Old  MaM". 

I  will  be  Paris,  and  for  love  of  thee, 

Instead  of  Troy,  shall  Wittenberg  be  sack'd; 

And  I  will  combat  with  weak  Menelaus, 

And  wear  thy  colours  on  my  plumed  crest; 

Yea,  I  will  wound  Achilles  in  the  heel, 

And  then  return  to  Helen  for  a  kiss. 

Oh,  thou  art  fairer  than  the  evening  air 

Clad  in  the  beauty  of  a  thousand  stars; 

Brighter  art  thou  than  flaming  Jupiter 

When  he  appear'd  to  hapless  Semele: 

More  lovely  than  the  monarch  of  the  sky 

In  wanton  Arethusa's  azured  arms: 

And  none  but  thou  shalt  be  my  paramour.  Exeunt. 

Old  Man.  Accursed    Faustus,    miserable    man, 
That  from  thy  soul  exclud'st  the  grace  of  Heaven, 
And  fly'st  the  throne  of  his  tribunal  seat! 


Enter  Devils 
Satan  begins  to  sift  me  with  his  pride: 
As  in  this  furnace  God  shall  try  my  faith, 
My  faith,  vile  hell,  shall  triumph  over  thee. 
Ambitious  fiends !  see  how  the  heavens  smiles 
At  your  repulse,  and  laughs  your  state  to  scorn! 
Hence,  hell !  for  hence  I  fly  unto  my  God. 

Exeunt  [on  one  side  Devils,  on  the  other,  Old  Man.] 


[Scene  XIV.— 7/i^  Same.'i 

Enter  Faustus  zvith  Scholars 

Faust.  Ah,  gentlemen ! 

1ST  ScHOL,  What   ails    Faustus? 

Faust.  Ah,  my  sweet  chamber-fellow,  had  I  lived  with 
thee,  then  had  I  lived  still !  but  now  I  die  eternally.  Look, 
comes  he  not,  comes  he  not? 


240  CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

2ND  ScHOL.  What    means    Faustus? 

3RD  ScHOL.  Belike  he  is  grown  into  some  sickness  by 
being  over  solitary, 

1ST  ScHOL.  If  it  be  so,  we'll  have  physicians  to  cure  him. 
'Tis  but  a  surfeit.     Never  fear,  man. 

Faust.  A  surfeit  of  deadly  sin  that  hath  damn'd  both 
body  and  soul. 

2ND  ScHOL.  Yet,  Faustus,  look  up  to  Heaven;  remember 
God's  mercies  are  infinite. 

Faust.  But  Faustus'  ofifences  can  never  be  pardoned: 
the  serpent  that  tempted  Eve  may  be  sav'd,  but  not  Faustus. 
Ah,  gentlemen,  hear  me'  with  patience,  and  tremble  not  at 
my  speeches !  Though  my  heart  pants  and  quivers  to  re- 
member that  I  have  been  a  student  here  these  thirty  years, 
oh,  would  I  had  never  seen  Wittenberg,  never  read  book ! 
And  what  wonders  I  have  done,  all  Germany  can  witness, 
yea,  the  world;  for  which  Faustus  hath  lost  both  Germany 
and  the  world,  yea  Heaven  itself.  Heaven,  the  seat  of  God, 
the  throne  of  the  blessed,  the  kingdom  of  joy;  and  must 
remain  in  hell  for  ever,  hell,  ah,  hell,  for  ever  I  Sweet 
friends !  what  shall  become  of  Faustus  being  in  hell  for  ever? 

3RD  ScHOL.  Yet,  Faustus,  call  on  God. 

Faust.  On  God,  whom  Faustus  hath  abjur'd !  on  God, 
whom  Faustus  hath  blasphemed !  Ah,  my  God,  I  would 
weep,  but  the  Devil  draws  in  my  tears.  Gush  forth  blood 
instead  of  tears !  Yea,  life  and  soul !  Oh,  he  stays  my 
tongue !  I  would  lift  up  my  hands,  but  see,  they  hold  them, 
they  hold  them ! 

All.  Who,  Faustus? 

Faust.  Lucifer  and  Mephistophilis.  Ah,  gentlemen,  I 
gave  them  my  soul  for  my  cunning  I 

All.  God  forbid ! 

Faust.  God  forbade  it  indeed;  but  Faustus  hath  done 
it.  For  vain  pleasure  of  twenty-four  years  hath  Faustus 
lost  eternal  joy  and  felicity.  I  writ  them  a  bill  with  mine 
own  blood:  the  date  is  expired;  the  time  will  come,  and  he 
will  fetch  me. 

1ST  ScHOL.  Why  did  not  Faustus  tell  us  of  this  before, 
that  divines  might  have  pray'd  for  thee  ? 

Faust.  Oft   have   I   thought  to   have  done    so;   but   the 


DR.    FAUSTUS  241 

Devil  threat'ned  to  tear  me  in  pieces  if  I  nam'd  God;  to 
fetch  both  body  and  soul  if  I  once  gave  ear  to  divinity: 
and  now  'tis  too  late.  Gentlemen,  away !  lest  you  perish 
with  me. 

2ND  ScHOL.  Oh,  what  shall  we  do  to  save  Faustus? 

Faust.  Talk  not  of  me,  but  save  yourselves,  and  depart. 

3RD  ScHOL.  God   will   strengthen   me.     I   will   stay   with 
Faustus. 

1ST  ScHOL.  Tempt  not  God,  sweet  friend;  but  let  us  into 
the  next  room,  and  there  pray  for  him. 

Faust.  Ay,  pray  for  me,  pray  for  me !   and  what  noise 
soever  ye  hear,  come  not  unto  me,  for  nothing  can  rescue  me. 

2ND  ScHOL.  Pray  thou,  and  we  will  pray  that  God  may 
have  mercy  upon  thee. 

Faust.  Gentlemen,  farewell !     If  I   live  till  morning  I'll 
visit  you:  if  not — Faustus  is  gone  to  hell. 

All.  Faustus,   farewell ! 

Exeunt  Scholars.    The  clock  strikes  eleven. 

Faust.  Ah,  Faustus, 
Now  hast  thou  but  one  bare  hour  to  live. 
And  then  thou  must  be  damn'd  perpetually ! 
Stand  still,  you  ever-moving  spheres  of  Heaven, 
That  time  may  cease,  and  midnight  never  come; 
Fair  Nature's  eye,  rise,  rise  again  and  make 
Perpetual  day;  or  let  this  hour  be  but 
A  year,  a  month,  a  week,  a  natural  day. 
That  Faustus  may  repent  and  save  his  soul ! 
O  lente,  lente,  curite  noctis  equi!^ 
The  stars  move  still,*  time  runs,  the  clock  will  strike, 
The  Devil  will  come,  and  Faustus  must  be  damn'd. 
O,  I'll  leap  up  to  my  God!     Who  pulls  me  down? 
See,  see  where  Christ's  blood  streams  in   the  firmament! 
One  drop  would  save  my  soul— half  a  drop:  ah,  my  Christ! 
Ah,  rend  not  my  heart  for  naming  of  my  Christ ! 
Yet  will  I  call  on  him:  O  spare  me,  Lucifer  I— 
Where  is  it  now?    'Tis  gone;  and  see  where  God 
Stretcheth  out  his  arm,  and  bends  his  ireful  brows ! 
Mountain  and  hills  come,  come  and  fall  on  me, 

1  "  Run  softly,  softly,  horses  of  the  night."— -Ovid's  AmoreSj  i.  13. 
•  Withotit  ceasing. 


242  CHRISTOPHER    MARLOWE 

And  hide  me  from  the  heavy  wrath  of  God! 
No  !  no ! 

Then  will  I  headlong  run  into  the  earth; 
Earth  gape !     O  no,  it  will  not  harbour  me ! 
You  stars  that  reign'd  at  my  nativity, 
Whose  influence  hath  alloted  death  and  hell, 
Now  draw  up  Faustus  like  a  foggy  mist 
Into  the  entrails  of  yon  labouring  clouds, 
That  when  they  vomit  forth  into  the  air, 
My  limbs  may  issue  from  their  smoky  mouths, 
So  that  my  soul  may  but  ascend  to  Heaven. 

The  watch  strikes  [the  half  hour]. 
Ah,  half  the  hour  is  past  I     'Twill  all  be  past  anon  1 
O  God! 

If  thou  wilt  not  have  mercy  on  my  soul, 
Yet  for  Christ's  sake  whose  blood  hath  ransom'd  me, 
Impose   some  end  to  my  incessant  pain ; 
Let  Faustus  live  in  hell  a  thousand  years — 
A  hundred   thousand,   and — at   last — be   sav'd  ! 
O,  no  end  is  limited  to  damned  souls ! 
Why  wert  thou   not   a   creature  wanting   soul? 
Or  why  is  this  immortal  that  thou  hast? 
Ah,  Pythagoras'  metempsychosis !  were  that  true. 
This  soul  should  fly   from  me,  and  I  be  chang'd 
Unto  some  brutish  beast!     All  beasts  are  happy. 
For,  when  they  die. 

Their  souls  are  soon  dissolv'd  in  elements; 
But  mine  must  live,  still  to  be  plagu'd  in  hell. 
Curst  be  the  parents  that  engend'red  me! 
No,  Faustus:  curse  thyself:  curse  Lucifer 
That  hath  depriv'd  thee  of  the  joys  of  Heaven. 

The  clock  striketh  twelve. 
O,  it  strikes,  it  strikes !    Now,  body,  turn  to  air, 
Or  Lucifer  will  bear  thee  quick  to   hell. 

Thunder  and  lightning. 

O  soul,  be  chang'd  into  little  water-drops, 

And  fall  into  the  ocean— ne'er  be  found. 

My  God !  my  God !  look  not  so  fierce  on  me !    Enter  Devils. 

Adders  and  serpents,  let  me  breathe  awhile ! 


DR.   FAUSTUS  243 

Ugly  hell,  gape  not!  come  not,  Lucifer! 
I'll  burn  my  books  ! — Ah  Mephistophilis  ! 

Exeuht  Devils  with  Faustus. 

Enter  Chorus 
Cho.  Cut    is    the    branch   that   might   have    grown    full 
straight, 
And  burned  is  Apollo's  laurel  bough, 
That  sometime  grew  within  this  learned  man. 
Faustus  is  gone;  regard  his  hellish  fall, 
Whose  fiendful  fortune  may  exhort  the  wise 
Only  to  wonder  at  unlawful  things, 
Whose  deepness  doth  entice  such  forward  wits 
To  practise  more  than  heavenly  power  permits.  [Exit.'] 


EGMONT 

A  TRAGEDY  IN   FIVE  ACTS 


BY 
GOETHE 


TRANSLATED    BY 
ANNA  SWANWICK 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

In  1775,  when  Goethe  was  twenty-six,  and  before  he  went 
to  Weimar,  he  began  to  write  "Egmont."  After  working  on  it 
at  intervals  for  twelve  years,  he  finished  it  at  Rome  in  1787. 

The  scene  of  the  drama  is  laid  in  the  Lozu  Countries  at  the 
beginning  of  the  revolt  against  Spain.  In  the  fifteenth  century 
Philip  of  Burgundy  had  usurped  dominion  over  several  of  the 
provinces  of  the  Netherlands,  and  through  him  they  had  passed 
into  the  power  of  his  descendant,  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  This 
powerful  ruler  abolished  the  constitutional  rights  of  the  prov- 
inces, and  introduced  the  Inquisition  in  order  to  stamp  out  Prot- 
estantism. Prominent  among  his  officers  was  the  Fleming, 
Lamoral,  Count  Egmont,  upon  whom  he  lavished  honors  and 
opportunities  of  service — opportunities  so  well  improved  that, 
by  his  victories  over  the  French  at  Saint-Quentin  (i557)  and 
GraveVmes  (1558)  Egmont  made  a  reputation  as  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  generals  in  Europe,  and  became  the  idol  of  his  country- 
men. When  in  1559  a  new  Regent  of  the  Netherlands  was  to 
be  created,  the  people  hoped  that  Philip  II,  who  had  succeeded 
Charles,  would  choose  Egmont;  but  instead  he  appointed  his 
half-sister  Margaret,  Duchess  of  Parma.  Under  the  new  Regent 
the  persecution  of  the  Protestants  was  rigorously  pressed,  and 
in  1565  Egmont,  though  a  Catholic,  was  sent  to  Madrid  to  plead 
for  clemency.  He  was  received  by  the  King  with  every  appear- 
ance of  cordiality,  but  shortly  after  his  return  home  the  Duke 
of  Alva  was  sent  to  the  Netherlands  with  instructions  to  put 
down  zviih  an  iron  hand  all  resistance  to  his  master's  will. 
How  terribly  he  carried  out  his  orders  has  been  told  by  Pres- 
cott  and  Motley.  Egmont  was  an  early  victim,  but  his  mar- 
tyrdom, with  that  of  Count  Horn,  and  later  the  assassination  of 
William  of  Orange,  roused  the  Netherlands  to  a  resistance  that 
ended  only  with  the  complete  throwing  off  of  the  Spanish  yoke. 

Such  in  outline  is  the  background  chosen  by  Goethe  for  his 
tragedy.  With  many  changes  in  detail,  the  dramatist  has  still  pre- 
served a  picture  of  a  historical  situation  of  absorbing  interest,  and 
has  painted  a  group  of  admirable  portraits.  The  drama  has  long 
been  a  favorite  on  the  stage,  where  it  enjoys  the  advantage  of 
Beethoven's  musical  setting. 

246 


EGMONT 


DRAMATIS    PERSON.E 

Margaret  of  Parma,  Daughter  of  Charles    F., 
and  Regent  of  the  Netherlands 
Count  Egmont,  Prince  of  Gaure      The  Duke  of  Alva 
William  of  Orange  Ferdinand,  his  natural  Son 

Machiavel,  in  the  service  of  the      Richard,  Egmont's  Private  Secre- 
Regent  tary 

^'f-^^'    \   in  the  service  of  Alva      E^^^\^;  '^'  Beloved  of  Eono^r 
trOMEZ,  (  -/  Her  Mother 

Brackenburg,  a  Citizen^s  Son,  and  Vansen,  a  Clerk 

SoEST,  a  Shopkeeper^  i 

Tetter,  a  Tailor,  „...  .  „  , 

A  Carpenter,  ^''''"''  "f  ^'■"'''^' 

A  Soapboiler,  J 

BuYCK,  a  Hollander,  a  Soldier  un-      Ruysum,  a  Frieslander,  an  invalid 

der  Egmont  Soldier,  and  deaf 

People,  Attendants,  Guards,  &c. 

The  Scene  is  laid  in  Brussels. 


ACT  I 

Scene  1.— Soldiers  and  Citizens  {with  cross-bows) 

Jetter  {steps  forward,  and  bends  his  cross-bow). 
SoEST,  BuYCK,  Ruysum 
Soest. 

COME,  shoot  away,  and  have  done  with  it !    You  won't 
beat  me!     Three  black  rings,  you  never  made  such 
a   shot  in  all  your   life.     And   so    I'm   master   for 
this  year. 

Jetter.  Master  and  king  to  boot ;  who  envies  you  ?    You'll 
have  to  pay  double  reckoning;  'tis  only  fair  you  should  pay 
for  your  dexterity. 
BuYCK.  Jetter,   I'll  buy  your  shot,   share  the  prize,  and 
247 


248  GOETHE 

treat  the  company.  I  have  ah-eady  been  here  so  long,  and 
am  a  debtor  for  so  many  civilities.  If  I  miss,  then  it  shall 
be  as  if  you  had  shot. 

SoEST.  I  ought  to  have  a  voice,  for  in  fact  I  am  the  loser. 
No  matter !     Come,  Buyck,  shoot  away. 

BuYCK  (shoots).  Now,  corporal,  look  out! — One!  Two! 
Three !    Four ! 

SoEST.  Four  rings  !    So  be  it ! 

All.  Hurrah  !     Long  live  the  King !     Hurrah  !     Hurrah  ! 

Buyck.  Thanks,  sirs,  master  even  were  too  much  I  Thanks 
for  the  honour. 

Jetter.  You  have  no  one  to  thank  but  yourself. 

RuYsuM.  Let  me  tell  you — 

SoEST.  How  now,  grey-beard  ? 

RuYsuM.  Let  me  tell  you ! — He  shoots  like  his  master,  he 
shoots  like  Egmont. 

Buyck.  Compared  with  him  I  am  only  a  bungler.  He 
aims  with  the  rifle  as  no  one  else  does.  Not  only  when  he's 
lucky  or  in  the  vein ;  no  !  he  levels,  and  the  bull's-eye  is 
pierced.  I  have  learned  from  him.  He  were  indeed  a  block- 
head, who  could  serve  under  him  and  learn  nothing ! — But, 
sirs,  let  us  not  forget !  A  king  maintains  his  followers ;  and 
so,  wine  here,  at  the  king's  charge ! 

Jetter.  We  have  agreed  among  ourselves  that  each — • 

Buyck.  I  am  a  foreigner,  and  a  king,  and  care  not  a  jot 
for  your  laws  and  customs. 

Jetter.  Why,  you  are  worse  than  the  Spaniard,  who  has 
not  yet  ventured  to  meddle  with  them. 

RuYSUM.  What  does  he  say? 

SoEST  (loud  to  Ruysum).  He  wants  to  treat  us;  he  will 
not  hear  of  our  clubbing  together,  the  king  paying  only  a 
double  share. 

RuYsuM.  Let  him  !  under  protest,  however !  'Tis  his  mas- 
ter's fashion,  too,  to  be  munificent,  and  to  let  the  money  flow 
in  a  good  cause.  (Wine  is  brought.) 

All.  Here's  to  his  Majesty!    Hurrah! 

Jetter  (to  Buyck).  That  means  your  Majesty,  of  course. 

Buyck.  My  hearty  thanks,  if  it  be  so. 

Soest.  Assuredly !  A  Netherlander  does  not  find  it  easy 
to  drink  the  health  of  his  Spanish  majesty  from  his  heart. 


EGMONT  249 

RuYsUM,  Who? 

SoEST  {aloud).  Philip  the  Second,  King  of  Spain. 

RuYSUM.  Our  most  gracious  king  and  master  !  Long  life 
to  him. 

SoEST.  Did  you  not  like  his  father,  Charles  the  Fifth, 
better  ? 

RuYSUM.  God  bless  him !  He  was  a  king  indeed !  His 
hand  reached  over  the  whole  earth,  and  he  was  all  in  all. 
Yet,  when  he  met  you,  he'd  greet  you  just  as  one  neighbour 
greets  another, — and  if  you  were  frightened,  he  knew  so  well 
how  to  put  you  at  your  ease — ay,  you  understand  me — he 
walked  out,  rode  out,  just  as  it  came  into  his  head,  with 
very  few  followers.  We  all  wept  when  he  resigned  the  gov- 
ernment here  to  his  son.  You  understand  me — he  is  another 
sort  of  man,  he's  more  majestic. 

Jetter.  When  he  was  here,  he  never  appeared  in  public, 
except  in  pomp  and  royal  state.    He  speaks  little,  they  say. 

SoEST.  He  is  no  king  for  us  Netherlanders.  Our  princes 
must  be  joyous  and  free  like  ourselves,  must  live  and  let  live. 
We  will  neither  be  despised  nor  oppressed,  good-natured 
fools  though  we  be. 

Jetter.  The  king,  methinks,  were  a  gracious  sovereign 
enough,  if  he  had  only  better  counsellors. 

Soest.  No,  no  !  He  has  no  affection  for  us  Netherlanders ; 
he  has  no  heart  for  the  people;  he  loves  us  not;  how  then 
can  we  love  him?  Why  is  everybody  so  fond  of  Count 
Egmont?  Why  are  we  all  so  devoted  to  him?  Why,  be- 
cause one  can  read  in  his  face  that  he  loves  us;  because 
joyousness,  open-heartedness,  and  good-nature,  speak  in  his 
eyes;  because  he  possesses  nothing  that  he  does  not  share 
with  him  who  needs  it,  ay,  and  with  him  who  needs  it  not. 
Long  live  Count  Egmont !  Buyck,  it  is  for  you  to  give  the 
first  toast;  give  us  your  master's  health. 

Buyck.  With  all  my  heart;  here's  to  Count  Egmont! 
Hurrah  I 

RuYsuM.  Conqueror  of  St.  Quintin. 

Buyck.  The  hero  of  Gravelines. 

All.  Hurrah ! 

RuYsuM.  St.  Quintin  was  my  last  battle.  I  was  hardly 
able  to  crawl  along,  and  could  with  difficulty  carry  my  heavy 


250  GOETHE 

rifle.  I  managed,  notwithstanding,  to  singe  the  skin  of  the 
French  once  more,  and,  as  a  parting  gift,  received  a  grazing 
shot  in  my  right  leg. 

BuYCK.  Gravelines !  Ha,  my  friends,  we  had  sharp  work 
of  it  there  I  The  victory  was  all  our  own.  Did  not  those 
French  dogs  carry  fire  and  desolation  into  the  very  heart 
of  Flanders  ?  We  gave  it  them,  however !  The  old  hard- 
fisted  veterans  held  out  bravely  for  a  while,  but  we  pushed 
on,  fired  away,  and  laid  about  us,  till  they  made  wry  faces, 
and  their  lines  gave  way.  Then  Egmont's  horse  was  shot 
mider  him ;  and  for  a  long  time  we  fought  pell-mell,  man  to 
man,  horse  to  horse,  troop  to  troop,  on  the  broad,  flat,  sea- 
sand.  Suddenly,  as  if  from  heaven,  down  came  the  cannon 
shot  from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  bang,  bang,  right  into  the 
midst  of  the  French.  These  were  English,  who,  under 
Admiral  Malin,  happened  to  be  sailing  past  from  Dunkirk. 
They  did  not  help  us  much,  'tis  true ;  they  could  only  ap- 
proach with  their  smallest  vessels,  and  that  not  near  enough ; 
— besides,  their  shot  fell  sometimes  among  our  troops.  It  did 
some  good,  however !  It  broke  the  French  lines,  and  raised 
our  courage.  Away  it  went.  Helter-skelter !  topsy-turvy ! 
all  struck  dead,  or  forced  into  the  water ;  the  fellows  were 
drowned  the  moment  they  tasted  the  water,  while  we  Hol- 
landers dashed  in  after  them.  Being  amphibious,  we  were 
as  much  in  our  element  as  frogs,  and  hacked  away  at  the 
enemy,  and  shot  them  down  as  if  they  had  been  ducks.  The 
few  who  struggled  through,  were  struck  dead  in  their  flight 
by  the  peasant  women,  armed  with  hoes  and  pitchforks.  His 
Gallic  majesty  was  compelled  at  once  to  hold  out  his  paw 
and  make  peace.  And  that  peace  you  owe  to  us,  to  the 
great  Egmont. 

All.  Hurrah,  for  tlie  great  Egmont !     Hurrah  !     Hurrah  ! 

Jetter.  Had  they  but  appointed  him  Regent,  instead  of 
Margaret  of  Parma ! 

SoEST.  Not  so !  Truth  is  truth !  I'll  not  hear  Margaret 
abused.    Now  it  is  my  turn.    Long  live  our  gracious  lady ! 

All.  Long  life  to  her  ! 

SoEST.  Truly,  there  are  excellent  women  in  that  family. 
Long  live  the  Regent ! 

Jetter.  Prudent  is  she,  and  moderate  in  all  she  does;  if 


EGMONT  251 

she  would  only  not  hold  so  fast  and  stifHy  with  the  priests. 
It  is  partly  her  fault,  too,  that  we  have  the  fourteen  new 
mitres  in  the  land.  Of  what  use  are  they,  I  should  like  to 
know?  Why,  that  foreigners  may  be  shoved  into  the  good 
benefices,  where  formerly  abbots  were  chosen  out  of  the 
chapters !  And  we're  to  believe  it's  for  the  sake  of  religion. 
We  know  better.  Three  bishops  were  enough  for  us ;  things 
went  on  decently  and  reputably.  Now  each  must  busy  him- 
self as  if  he  were  needed;  and  this  gives  rise  every  moment 
to  dissensions  and  ill-will.  And  the  more  you  agitate  the 
matter,  so  much  the  worse  it  grows.  (They  drink.) 

SoEST.  But  it  was  the  will  of  the  king;  she  cannot  alter 
it,  one  way  or  another. 

Jetter.  Then  we  may  not  even  sing  the  new  psalms;  but 
ribald  songs,  as  many  as  we  please.  And  why?  There  is 
heresy  in  them,  they  say,  and  heaven  knows  what.  I  have 
sung  some  of  them,  however;  they  are  new,  to  be  sure,  but 
I  see  no  harm  in  them. 

BuYCK.  Ask  their  leave,  forsooth !  In  our  province,  we 
sing  just  what  we  please.  That's  because  Count  Egmont  is 
our  stadtholder,  who  does  not  trouble  himself  about  such 
matters.  In  Ghent,  Ypres,  and  throughout  the  whole  of 
Flanders,  anybody  sings  them  that  chooses.  (Aloud  to 
RuYsUM.)  Tkere  is  nothing  more  harmless  than  a  spiritual 
song — Is  there,  father? 

RuYSUM.  What,  indeed !  It  is  a  godly  work,  and  truly 
edifying. 

Jetter.  They  say,  however,  that  they  are  not  of  the  right 
sort,  not  of  their  sort,  and,  since  it  is  dangerous,  we  had 
better  leave  them  alone.  The  officers  of  the  Inquisition  are 
always  lurking  and  spying  about ;  many  an  honest  fellow  has 
already  fallen  into  their  clutches.  They  had  not  gone  so  far 
as  to  meddle  with  conscience!  If  they  will  not  allow  me  to 
do  what  I  like,  they  might  at  least  let  me  think  and  sing  as 
I  please. 

Soest.  The  Inquisition  won't  do  here.  We  are  not  made 
like  the  Spaniards,  to  let  our  consciences  be  tyrannized  over. 
The  nobles  must  look  to  it,  and  clip  its  wings  betimes. 

Jetter.  It  is  a  great  bore.  Whenever  it  comes  into  their 
worships'  heads  to  break  into  my  house,  and  I  am  sitting 


252  GOETHE 

there  at  my  work,  humming  a  French  psalm,  thinking  noth- 
ing about  it,  neither  good  nor  bad — singing  it  just  because  it 
is  in  my  throat; — forthwith  I'm  a  heretic,  and  am  clapped 
into  prison.  Or  if  I  am  passing  through  the  country,  and 
stand  near  a  crowd  listening  to  a  new  preacher,  one  of 
those  who  have  come  from  Germany;  instantly  I'm  called 
a  rebel,  and  am  in  danger  of  losing  my  head !  Have  you 
ever  heard  one  of  these  preachers? 

SoEST.  Brave  fellows  !  Not  long  ago,  I  heard  one  of  them 
preach  in  a  field,  before  thousands  and  thousands  of  people. 
A  different  sort  of  dish  he  gave  us  from  that  of  our  hum- 
drum preachers,  who,  from  the  pulpit,  choke  their  hearers 
with  scraps  of  Latin.  He  spoke  from  his  heart ;  told  us  how 
we  had  till  now  been  led  by  the  nose,  how  we  had  been  kept 
in  darkness,  and  how  we  might  procure  more  light; — ay, 
and  he  proved  it  all  out  of  the  Bible. 

Jetter.  There  may  be  something  in  it.  I  always  said  as 
much,  and  have  often  pondered  over  the  matter.  It  has  long 
been  running  in  my  head. 

BuYCK.  All  the  people  run  after  them. 

SoEST.  No  wonder,  since  they  hear  both  what  is  good  and 
what  is  new. 

Jetter.  And  what  is  it  all  about?  Surely  they  might  let 
every  one  preach  after  his  own  fashion. 

BuYCK.  Come,  sirs !  While  you  are  talking,  you  forget 
the  wine  and  the  Prince  of  Orange. 

Jetter.  We  must  not  forget  him.  He's  a  very  wall  of  de- 
fence. In  thinking  of  him,  one  fancies,  that  if  one  could 
only  hide  behind  him,  the  devil  himself  could  not  get  at  one. 
Here's  to  William  of  Orange  !     Hurrah  ! 

All.  Hurrah  !  Hurrah  ! 

Soest.  Now,  grey-beard,  let's  have  your  toast. 

RuYSUM.  Here's  to  old  soldiers !  To  all  soldiers !  War 
for  ever ! 

BuYCK.  Bravo,  old  fellow.  Here's  to  all  soldiers.  War 
for  ever ! 

Jetter.  War !  War !  Do  ye  know  what  ye  are  shouting 
about  ?  That  it  should  slip  glibly  from  your  tongue  is  natural 
enough;  but  what  wretched  work  it  is  for  us,  I  have  not 
words  to  tell  you.     To  be  stunned  the  whole  year  round  by; 


EGMONT  253 

the  beating  of  the  drum ;  to  hear  of  nothing  except  how  one 
troop  marched  here,  and  another  there ;  how  they  came  over 
this  height,  and  halted  near  that  mill;  how  many  were  left 
dead  on  this  field,  and  how  many  on  that ;  how  they  press  for- 
ward, and  how  one  wins,  and  another  loses,  without  being 
able  to  comprehend  what  they  are  fighting  about ;  how  a  town 
is  taken,  how  the  citizens  are  put  to  the  sword,  and  how  it 
fares  with  the  poor  women  and  innocent  children.  This  is 
a  grief  and  a  trouble,  and  then  one  thinks  every  moment, 
"  Here  they  come !    It  will  be  our  turn  next." 

SoEST.  Therefore  every  citizen  must  be  practised  in  the 
use  of  arms. 

Jetter,  Fine  talking,  indeed,  for  him  who  has  a  wife  and 
children.  And  yet  I  would  rather  hear  of  soldiers  than  see 
them. 

BuYCK.  I  might  take  offence  at  that. 

Jetter.  It  was  not  intended  for  you,  countryman.  When 
we  got  rid  of  the  Spanish  garrison,  we  breathed  freely  again. 

Soest.  Faith !     They  pressed  en  you  heavily  enough. 

Jetter.  Mind  your  own  business. 

Soest.  They  came  to  sharp  quarters  with  you. 

Jetter.  Hold  your  tongue. 

Soest.  They  drove  him  out  of  kitchen,  cellar,  chamber 
— and  bed.  {They  laugh.) 

Jetter.  You  are  a  blockhead. 

BuYCK.  Peace,  sirs!  Must  the  soldier  cry  peace?  Since 
you  will  not  hear  anything  about  us,  let  us  have  a  toast  of 
your  own — a  citizen's  toast. 

Jetter.  We're  all  ready  for  that !     Safety  and  peace ! 

Soest.  Order  and  freedom  ! 

BuYCK.  Bravo  !    That  will  content  us  all. 

{They  ring  their  glasses  together,  and  joyously  repeat 
the  words,  hut  in  such  a  manner  that  each  utters  a 
different  sound,  and  it  becomes  a  kind  of  chant. 
The  old  man  listens,  and  at  length  joins  in.) 

All.  Safety  and  peace!     Order  and  freedom! 


254  GOETHE 


BcENE  II. — Palace  of  the  Regent 

Margaret  of  Parma  {In  a  hunting  dress).    Courtiers, 
Pages,  Servants 

Regent.  Put  off  the  hunt,  I  shall  not  ride  to-day.     Bid 
Machiavel  attend  me,  [Exeunt  all  but  the  Regent. 

The  thought  of  these  terrible  events  leaves  rne  no  repose  I 
Nothing  can  amuse,  nothing  divert  my  mind.  These  images, 
these  cares  are  always  before  me.  The  king  will  now  say 
that  these  are  the  natural  fruits  of  my  kindness,  of  my 
clemency;  yet  my  conscience  assures  me  that  I  have  adopted 
>;he  wisest,  the  most  prudent  course.  Ought  I  sooner  to  have 
kindled,  and  spread  abroad  these  flames  with  the  breath  of 
wrath  ?  My  hope  was  to  keep  them  in,  to  let  them  smoulder 
in  their  own  ashes.  Yes,  my  inward  conviction,  and  my 
knowledge  of  the  circumstances,  justify  my  conduct  in  my 
own  eyes;  but  in  what  light  will  it  appear  to  my  brother! 
For,  can  it  be  denied  that  the  insolence  of  these  foreign 
teachers  waxes  daily  more  audacious?  They  have  dese- 
crated our  sanctuaries,  unsettled  the  dull  minds  of  the  people, 
and  conjured  up  amongst  them  a  spirit  of  delusion.  Impure 
spirits  have  mingled  among  the  insurgents,  horrible  deeds 
have  been  perpetrated,  which  to  think  of  makes  one  shudder, 
and  of  these  a  circumstantial  account  must  be  transmitted 
instantly  to  court.  Prompt  and  minute  must  be  my  com- 
munication, lest  rumour  outrun  my  messenger,  and  the  king 
suspect  that  some  particulars  have  been  purposely  withheld. 
I  can  see  no  means,  severe  or  mild,  by  which  to  stem  the 
evil.  Oh,  what  are  we  great  ones  on  the  waves  of  himianity  ? 
We  think  to  control  them,  and  are  ourselves  driven  to  and 
fro,  hither  and  thither. 

Enter  Machiavel 

Regent.  Are  the  despatches  to  the  king  prepared? 

Machiavel.  In  an  hour  they  will  be  ready  for  your 
signature. 

Regent.  Have  you  made  the  report  sufficiently  circum- 
stantial ? 

Machiavel.  Full  and  circumstantial,  as  the  king  loves  to 


EGMONT  255 

have  it.  I  relate  how  the  rage  of  the  iconoclasts  first  broke 
out  at  St.  Omer.  How  a  furious  multitude,  with  staves, 
hatchets,  hammers,  ladders,  and  cords,  accompanied  by  a  few 
armed  men,  first  assailed  the  chapels,  churches,  and  con- 
vents, drove  out  the  worshippers,  forced  the  barred  gates, 
threw  everything  into  confusion,  tore  down  the  altars,  de- 
stroyed the  statues  of  the  saints,  defaced  the  pictures,  and 
dashed  to  atoms,  and  trampled  under  foot,  whatever  came  in 
their  way  that  was  consecrated  and  holy.  How  the  crowd 
increased  as  it  advanced,  and  how  the  inhabitants  of  Ypres 
opened  their  gates  at  its  approach.  How,  with  incredible 
rapidity,  they  demolished  the  cathedral,  and  burned  the 
library  of  the  bishop.  How  a  vast  multitude,  possessed  by 
the  Hke  frenzy,  dispersed  themselves  through  Menin, 
Comines,  Verviers,  Lille,  nowhere  encountered  opposition; 
and  how,  through  almost  the  whole  of  Flanders,  in  a  single 
moment,  the  monstrous  conspiracy  declared  itself,  and  was 
accomplished. 

Regent.  Alas !  Your  recital  rends  my  heart  anew ;  and 
the  fear  that  the  evil  will  wax  greater  and  greater,  adds 
to  my  grief.    Tell  me  your  thoughts,  Machiavel ! 

Machiavel.  Pardon  me,  your  Highness,  my  thoughts 
will  appear  to  you  but  as  idle  fancies;  and  though  you 
always  seem  well  satisfied  with  my  services,  you  have  sel- 
dom felt  inclined  to  follow  my  advice.  How  often  have  you 
said  in  jest:  "You  see  too  far,  Machiavel!  You  should  be 
an  historian ;  he  who  acts,  must  provide  for  the  exigence 
of  the  hour."  And  yet  have  I  not  predicted  this  terrible 
history  ?     Have  I  not  foreseen  it  all  ? 

Regent.  I  too  foresee  many  things,  without  being  able  to 
avert  them. 

Machiavel.  In  one  word,  then: — you  will  not  be  able  to 
suppress  the  new  faith.  Let  it  be  recognized,  separate  its 
votaries  from  the  true  believers,  give  them  ch arches  of  their 
own,  include  them  within  the  pale  of  social  order,  subject 
them  to  the  restraints  of  law, — do  this,  and  you  will  at  once 
tranquillize  the  insurgents.  All  other  measures  will  prove 
abortive,  and  you  will  depopulate  the  country. 

Regent.  Have  you  forgotten  with  what  aversion  the  mere 
suggestion  of  toleration  was  rejected  by  my  brother?  Know 


256  GOETHE 

you  not,  how  in  every  letter  he  urgently  recommends  to  me 
the  maintenance  of  the  true  faith?  That  he  will  not  hear 
of  tranquillity  and  order  being  restored  at  the  expense  of 
religion  ?  Even  in  the  provinces,  does  he  not  maintain  spies, 
unknown  to  us,  in  order  to  ascertain  who  inclines  to  the  new 
doctrines?  Has  he  not,  to  our  astonishment,  named  to  us 
this  or  that  individual  residing  in  our  very  neighbourhood, 
who,  without  its  being  known,  was  obnoxious  to  the  charge 
of  heresy?  Does  he  not  enjoin  harshness  and  severity?  and 
am  I  to  be  lenient?  Am  I  to  recommend  for  his  adoption 
measures  of  indulgence  and  toleration?  Should  I  not  thus 
lose  all  credit  with  him,  and  at  once  forfeit  his  confidence? 

Machiavel.  I  know  it.  The  king  commands  and  puts  you 
in  full  possession  of  his  intentions.  You  are  to  restore 
tranquillity  and  peace  by  measures  which  cannot  fail  still 
more  to  embitter  men's  minds,  and  which  must  inevitably 
kindle  the  flames  of  war  from  one  extremity  of  the  country 
to  the  other.  Consider  well  what  you  are  doing.  The  prin- 
cipal merchants  are  infected — nobles,  citizens,  soldiers.  What 
avails  persisting  in  our  opinion,  when  everything  is  changing 
around  us?  Oh,  that  some  good  genius  would  suggest  to 
Philip  that  it  better  becomes  a  monarch  to  govern  burghers 
of  two  different  creeds,  than  to  excite  them  to  mutual  de- 
struction. 

Regent.  Never  let  me  hear  such  words  again.  Full  well 
I  know  that  the  policy  of  statesmen  rarely  maintains  truth 
and  fidelity ;  that  it  excludes  from  the  heart  candour,  charity, 
toleration.  In  secular  affairs,  this  is,  alas!  only  too  true; 
but  shall  we  trifle  with  God  as  we  do  with  each  other? 
Shall  we  be  indifferent  to  our  established  faith,  for  the  sake 
of  which  so  many  have  sacrificed  their  lives?  Shall  w© 
abandon  it  to  these  far-fetched,  uncertain,  and  self-contra- 
dicting heresies? 

Machiavel.  Think  not  the  worse  of  me  for  what  I  have 
uttered. 

Regent.  I  know  you  and  your  fidelity.  I  know  too  that  a 
man  may  be  both  honest  and  sagacious,  and  yet  miss  the 
best  and  nearest  way  to  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  There 
are  others,  Machiavel,  men  whom  I  esteem,  yet  whom  I 
needs  must  blame. 


EGMONT  257 

Machiavel.  To  whom  do  you  refer? 

Regent.  I  must  confess  that  Egmont  caused  me  to-day- 
deep  and  heart-felt  annoyance. 

Machiavel.  How  so? 

Regent.  By  his  accustomed  demeanour,  his  usual  indif- 
ference and  levity.  I  received  the  fatal  tidings  as  I  was 
leaving  church,  attended  by  him  and  several  others.  I  did 
not  restrain  my  anguish,  I  broke  forth  into  lamentations, 
loud  and  deep,  and  turning  to  him,  exclaimed,  '"'  See  what  is 
going  on  in  your  province !  Do  you  suffer  it,  Count,  you,  in 
whom  the  king  confided  so  implicitly?" 

Machiavel.  And  what  was  his  reply? 

Regent.  As  if  it  were  a  mere  trifle,  an  affair  of  no 
moment,  he  answered :  "  Were  the  Netherlanders  but  satis- 
fied as  to  their  constitution  !    The  rest  would  soon  follow." 

Machiavel.  There  was,  perhaps,  more  truth  than  discre- 
tion or  piety  in  his  words.  How  can  we  hope  to  acquire 
and  to  maintain  the  confidence  of  the  Netherlander,  when 
he  sees  that  we  are  more  interested  in  appropriating  his  pos- 
sessions, than  in  promoting  his  welfare,  temporal  or  spir- 
itual? Does  the  number  of  souls  saved  by  the  new  bishops 
exceed  that  of  the  fat  benefices  they  have  swallowed?  And 
are  they  not  for  the  most  part  foreigners?  As  yet,  the  office 
of  stadtholder  has  been  held  by  Netherlanders;  but  do  not 
the  Spaniards  betray  their  great  and  irresistible  desire  to 
possess  themselves  of  these  places?  Will  not  people  prefer 
being  governed  by  their  own  countrymen,  and  according 
to  their  ancient  customs,  rather  than  by  foreigners,  who, 
from  their  first  entrance  into  the  land,  endeavour  to  enrich 
themselves  at  the  general  expense,  who  measure  everything 
by  a  foreign  standard,  and  who  exercise  their  authority 
without  cordiality  or  sympathy  ? 

Regent.  You  take  part  with  our  opponents? 

Machiavel.  Assuredly  not  in  my  heart.  Would  that 
with  my  understanding  I  could  be  wholly  on  our  side ! 

Regent.  If  such  your  disposition,  it  were  better  I  should 
resign  the  regency  to  them;  for  both  Egmont  and  Orange 
entertained  great  hopes  of  occupying  this  position.  Then 
they  were  adversaries,  now  they  are  leagued  against  me,  and 
have  become  friends — inseparable  friends. 


258  GOETHE 

»     Machiavel.  a  dangerous  pair. 

Regent.  To  speak  candidly,  I  fear  Orange. — I  fear  for 
Egmont. — Orange  meditates  some  dangerous  scheme,  his 
thoughts  are  far-reaching,  he  is  reserved,  appears  to  accede 
to  everything,  never  contradicts,  and  while  maintaining  the 
show  of  reverence,  with  clear  foresight  accomplishes  his 
own  designs. 

Machiavel.  Egmont,  on  the  contrary,  advances  with  a 
bold  step,  as  if  the  world  were  all  his  own. 

Regent.  He  bears  his  head  as  proudly  as  if  the  hand 
of  majesty  "-ere  not  suspended  over  him. 

Machiavel.  The  eyes  of  all  the  people  are  fixed  upon 
him,  and  he  is  the  idol  of  their  hearts. 

Regent.  He  has  never  assumed  the  least  disguise,  and 
carries  himself  as  if  no  one  had  a  right  to  call  him  to  ac- 
count. He  still  bears  the  name  of  Egmont.  Count  Eg- 
mont is  the  title  by  which  he  loves  to  hear  himself  addressed, 
as  though  he  would  fain  be  reminded  that  his  ancestors 
were  masters  of  Guelderland.  Why  does  he  not  assume 
his  proper  title, — Prince  of  Gaure?  What  object  has  he 
in  view?    Would  he  again  revive  extinguished  claims? 

Machiavel.  I  hold  him  for  a  faithful  servant  of  the  king. 

Regent.  Were  he  so  inclined,  what  important  service 
could  he  not  render  to  the  government?  Whereas,  now, 
without  benefiting  himself,  he  has  caused  us  unspeakable 
vexation.  His  banquets  and  entertainment  have  done  more 
to  unite  the  nobles  and  to  knit  them  together  than  the  most 
dangerous  secret  associations.  With  his  toasts,  his  guests 
have  drunk  in  a  permanent  intoxication,  a  giddy  frenzy, 
that  never  subsides.  How  often  have  his  facetious  jests 
stirred  up  the  minds  of  the  populace?  and  what  an  excite- 
ment was  produced  among  the  mob  by  the  new  liveries,  and 
the  extravagant  devices  of  his  followers ! 

Machiavel.  I  am  convinced  he  had  no  design. 

Regent.  Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  bad  enough.  As  I  said 
before,  he  injures  us  without  benefiting  himself.  He  treats 
as  a  jest  matters  of  serious  import;  and,  not  to  appear  neg- 
ligent and  remiss,  we  are  forced  to  treat  seriously  what  he 
intended  as  a  ject.  Thus  one  urges  on  the  other;  and 
what  we  are  endeavouring  to  avert  is  actually  brought  to 


EGMONT  259 

pass.  He  is  more  dangerous  than  the  acknowledged  head 
of  a  conspiracy;  and  I  am  much  mistaken  if  it  is  not  all 
remembered  against  him  at  court.  I  cannot  deny  that 
scarcely  a  day  passes  in  which  he  does  not  wound  me — 
deeply   wound  me. 

Machiavel.  He  appears  to  me  to  act  on  all  occasions, 
according  to  the  dictates  of  his  conscience. 

Regent.  His  conscience  has  a  convenient  mirror.  His 
demeanour  is  often  offensive.  He  carries  himself  as  if  he 
felt  he  were  the  master  here,  and  were  withheld  by  courtesy 
alone  from  making  us  feel  his  supremacy;  as  if  he  would 
not  exactly  drive  us  out  of  the  country;  there'll  be  no  need 
for  that. 

Machiavel.  I  entreat  you,  put  not  too  harsh  a  construc- 
tion upon  his  frank  and  joyous  temper,  which  treats  lightly 
matters  of  serious  moment.  You  but  injure  yourself  and 
him. 

Regent.  I  interpret  nothing.  I  speak  only  of  inevitable 
consequences,  and  I  know  him.  His  patent  of  nobility  and 
the  Golden  Fleece  upon  his  breast  strengthen  his  confidence, 
his  audacity.  Both  can  protect  him  against  any  sudden  out- 
break of  royal  displeasure.  Consider  the  matter  closely,  and 
he  is  alone  responsible  for  the  whole  mischief  that  has 
broken  out  in  Flanders.  From  the  first,  he  connived  at 
the  proceedings  of  the  foreign  teachers,  avoided  stringent 
measures,  and  perhaps  rejoiced  in  secret  that  they  gave  us 
so  much  to  do.  Let  me  alone ;  on  this  occasion,  I  will 
give  utterance  to  that  which  weighs  upon  my  heart;  I  will 
not  shoot  my  arrow  in  vain.  I  know  where  he  is  vulnerable. 
For  he  is  vulnerable. 

Machiavel.  Have  you  summoned  the  council?  Will 
Orange  attend? 

Regent.  I  have  sent  for  him  to  Antwerp.  I  will  lay  upon 
their  shoulders  the  burden  of  responsibility;  th-^y  shall  either 
strenuously  co-operate  with  me  in  quelling  the  evil,  or  at 
once  declare  themselves  rebels.  Let  the  letters  be  completed 
without  delay,  and  bring  them  for  my  signature.  Then 
hasten  to  despatch  the  trusty  Vasca  to  Madrid,  he  is  faith- 
ful and  indefatigable;  let  him  use  all  diligence,  that  he 
may  not  be  anticipated  by  common  report,  that  my  brother 


260  GOETHE 

may  receive  the  intelligence  first  through  him.    I  will  myself 
speak  with  him  ere  he  departs. 

Machiavel.  Your  orders  shall  be  promptly  and  punc- 
tually obeyed. 

Scene   lll.—Ciiizen^s  House 

Clara,  her  Mother,  Brackenburg 

Clara.  Will  you  not  hold  the  yarn  for  me,  Brackenburg? 

Brackenburg.  I  entreat  you,  excuse  me,  Clara. 

Clara,  What  ails  you?  Why  refuse  me  this  trifling 
service? 

Brackenburg.  When  I  hold  the  yarn,  I  stand  as  it  were 
gpell-bound  before  you,  and  cannot  escape  your  eyes. 

Clara.  Nonsense  !     Come  and  hold  ! 

Mother  {knitting  in  her  arm-chair).  Give  us  a  song! 
Brackenburg  sings  so  good  a  second.  You  used  to  be 
merry  once,  and  I  had  always  something  to  laugh  at. 

Brackenburg.  Once ! 

Clara.  Well,  let  us  sing. 

Brackenburg.  As  you  please. 

Clara.  Merrily,  then,  and  sing  away !  'Tis  a  soldier's 
song,   my   favourite. 

{She  winds  yarn,  and  sings  with  Brackenburg.) 

The  drum  is  resounding. 
And  shrill  the  fife  plays; 
My  love,  for  the  battle. 
His  brave  troop  arrays ; 
He  lifts  his  lance  high. 
And  the  people  he  sways. 
My  blood  it  is  boiling ! 
My  heart  throbs  pit-pat ! 
Oh,  had  I  a  jacket, 
With  hose  and  with  hat ! 

How  boldly  I'd  follow. 
And  march  through  the  gate ; 
Through  all  the  wide  province 
I'd  follow  him  straight. 


EGMONT  261- 

The  foe  yield,  we  capture 
Or  shoot  them  !    Ah,  me ! 
What  heart-thrilling  rapture 
A  soldier  to  be  ! 

(During  the  song,  Brackenburg  has  frequently  looked  at 
Clara;  at  length  his  voice  falters,  his  eyes  fill  with 
tears,  he  lets  the  skein  fall,  and  goes  to  the  window. 
Clara  finishes  the  song  alone,  her  mother  motions  to 
her,  half  displeased,  she  rises,  advances  a  few  steps 
towards  him,  turns  back,  as  if  irresolute,  and  again 
sits  down.) 

Mother.  What  is  going  on  in  the  street,  Brackenburg? 
I  hear  soldiers  marching. 

Brackenburg.  It  is  the  Regent's  body-guard. 

Clara.  At  this  hour?  What  can  it  mean?  (She  rises 
and  joins  Brackenburg  at  the  zvindozu.)  That  is  not  the 
daily  guard ;  it  is  more  numerous !  almost  all  the  troops  1 
Oh,  Brackenburg,  go !  Learn  what  it  means.  It  must  be 
something  unusual.  Go,  good  Brackenburg,  do  me  this 
favour. 

Brackenburg.  I   am   going !     I   will  return  immediately. 

(He  oifers  his  hand  to  Clara,  and  she  gives  him  hers.) 

[Exit  Brackenburg, 

Mother.  Thou  sendest  him  away  so  soon ! 

Clara.  I  am  curious;  and,  besides — do  not  be  angry, 
mother — his  presence  pains  me.  I  never  know  how  I 
ought  to  behave  towards  him.  I  have  done  him  a  wrong, 
and  it  goes  to  my  very  heart  to  see  how  deeply  he  feels  it. 
Well,  it  can't  be  helped  now ! 

Mother.  He  is  such  a  true-hearted  fellow  I 

Clara.  I  cannot  help  it,  I  must  treat  him  kindly.  Often 
without  a  thought,  I  return  the  gentle,  loving  pressure 
of  his  hand.  I  reproach  myself  that  I  am  deceiving  him, 
that  I  am  nourishing  in  his  heart  a  vain  hope.  I  am 
in  a  sad  plight !  God  knows,  I  do  not  willingly  deceive 
him.  I  do  not  wish  him  to  hope,  yet  I  cannot  let  him 
despair ! 

Mother.  That  is  not  as  it  should  be. 

Clara.  I  liked  him  once,  and  in  my  soul  I  like  him  still. 


262  GOETHE 

I  could  have  married  him;  yet  I  believe  I  was  never  really 
in  love  with  him. 

Mother.  Thou  wouldst  alwa3^s  have  been  happy  with 
him. 

Clara.  I  should  have  been  provided  for,  and  have  led 
a  quiet  life. 

Mother.  And  through  thy  fault  it  has  all  been  trifled 
away. 

Clara.  I  am  in  a  strange  position.  When  I  think  how 
it  has  come  to  pass,  I  know  it,  indeed,  and  I  know  it  not. 
But  I  have  only  to  look  upon  Egmont,  and  I  understand 
it  all ;  ay,  and  stranger  things  would  seem  natural  then.  Oh, 
what  a  man  he  is !  All  the  provinces  worship  him.  And 
in  his  arms,  should  I  not  be  the  happiest  creature  in  the 
world? 

Mother.  And  how  will  it  be  in  the  future? 

Clara.  I  only  ask,  does  he  love  me? — does  he  love  me? — 
as  if  there  were  any  doubt  about  it. 

Mother.  One  has  nothing  but  anxiety  of  heart  with  one's 
children.  Always  care  and  sorrow,  whatever  may  be  the 
end  of  it !  It  cannot  come  to  good !  Thou  hast  made  thy- 
self wretched !     Thou  hast  made  thy  mother  wretched  too. 

Clara  (quietly).  Yet  thou  didst  allow  it  in  the  begin- 
ning. 

Mother.  Alas !  I  was  too  indulgent ;  I  am  always  too 
indulgent. 

Clara.  When  Egmont  rode  by,  and  I  ran  to  the  win- 
dow, did  you  chide  me  then?  Did  you  not  come  to  the 
window  yourself?  When  he  looked  up,  smiled,  nodded,  and 
greeted  me,  was  it  displeasing  to  you?  Did  you  not  feel 
yourself  honoured  in  your  daughter? 

Mother.  Go  on  with  your  reproaches. 

Clara  {zvith  emotion).  Then,  when  he  passed  more  fre- 
quently, and  we  felt  sure  that  it  was  on  my  account  that  he 
came  this  way,  did  you  not  remark  it  yourself  with  secret 
joy?  Did  you  call  me  away  when  I  stood  behind  the  win- 
dow-pane  and   awaited   him? 

Mother.  Could  I  imagine  that  it  would  go  so  far? 

Clara  {with  faltering  voice,  and  repressed  tears).  And 
then,  one  evening,  when,  enveloped  in  his  mantle,  he  sur- 


EGMONT  2(53 

prised  us  as  we  sat  at  our  lamp,  who  busied  herself  in 
receiving  him,  while  I  remained,  lost  in  astonishment,  as  if 
fastened  to  my  chair? 

Mother.  Could  I  imagine  that  the  prudent  Clara  would 
so  soon  be  carried  away  by  this  unhappy  love?  I  must  now 
endure  that  my  daughter — 

Clara  (bursting  into  tears).  Mother!  How  can  you? 
You  take  pleasure  in  tormenting  m^ ! 

Mother  {weeping).  Ay,  weep  away!  Make  me  yet  more 
wretched  by  thy  grief.  Is  it  not  misery  enough  that  my 
only  daughter  is  a  castaway? 

Clara  {rising,  and  speaking  coldly).  A  castaway!  The 
beloved  of  Egmont  a  castaway ! — What  princess  would  not 
envy  the  poor  Clara  a  place  in  his  heart?  Oh,  mother, — 
my  own  mother,  you  were  not  wont  to  speak  thus !  Dear 
mother,  be  kind! — Let  the  people  think,  let  the  neighbours 
whisper  what  they  like — this  chamber,  this  lowly  house  is 
a  paradise,  since  Egmont's  love  dwelt  here. 

Mother.  One  cannot  help  liking  him,  that  is  true.  He 
is  always  so  kind,  frank,  and  open-hearted. 

Clara.  There  is  not  a  drop  of  false  blood  in  his  veins. 
And  then,  mother,  he  is  indeed  the  great  Egmont ;  yet,  when 
he  comes  to  me^  how  tender  he  is,  how  kind !  How  he  tries 
to  conceal  from  me  his  rank,  his  bravery  I  How  anxious 
he  is  about  me !  so  entirely  the  man,  the  friend,  the  lover. 

Mother.  Do  you  expect  him  to-day? 

Clara.  Have  you  not  seen  how  often  I  go  to  the  win- 
dow? Have  you  not  noticed  how  I  listen  to  every  noise  at 
the  door? — Though  I  know  that  he  will  not  come  before 
night,  yet,  from  the  time  when  I  rise  in  the  morning,  I 
keep  expecting  him  every  moment.  Were  I  but  a  boy,  to 
follow  him  always,  to  the  court  and  everywhere !  Could 
I  but  carry  his  colours  in  the  field ! — 

Mother.  You  were  always  such  a  lively,  restless  crea- 
ture; even  as  a  little  child,  now  wild,  now  thoughtful.  Will 
you  not  dress  yourself  a  little  better? 

Clara.  Perhaps,  mother,  if  I  want  something  to  do. — 
Yesterday,  some  of  his  people  went  by,  singing  songs  in 
honour.  At  least  his  name  was  in  the  songs !  The  rest 
I    could    not    understand.      My    heart    leaped    up    into    my 


264  GOETHE 

Jhroat, — I  would  fain  have  called  them  back  if  I  had  not 
felt  ashamed. 

Mother.  Take  care!  Thy  impetuous  nature  will  ruin 
all.  Thou  wilt  betray  thyself  before  the  people;  as,  not 
long  ago,  at  thy  cousin's,  when  thou  foundest  out  the  wood- 
cut with  the  description,  and  didst  exclaim,  with  a  cry: 
"  Count  Egmont  1  " — I  grew  as  red  as  fire. 

Clara.  Could  I  help  crying  out?  It  was  the  battle  of 
Gravelines,  and  I  found  in  the  picture  the  letter  C.  and 
then  looked  for  it  in  the  description  below.  There  it  stood, 
"  Count  Egmont,  with  his  horse  shot  under  him."  I  shud- 
dered, and  afterwards  I  could  not  help  laughing  at  the 
woodcut  figure  of  Egmont,  as  tall  as  the  neighbouring  tower 
of  Gravelines,  and  the  English  ships  at  the  side. — When 
I  remember  how  I  used  to  conceive  of  a  battle,  and  what 
an  idea  I  had,  as  a  girl,  of  Count  Egmont;  when  I  listened 
to  descriptions  of  him,  and  of  all  the  other  earls  and  princes ; 
— and  think  how  it  is  with  me  now ! 


Enter  Brackenburg 

Cla£a.  Well,  what  is  going  on? 

Brackenburg.  Nothing  certain  is  known.  It  is  rumoured 
that  an  insurrection  has  lately  broken  out  in  Flanders;  the 
Regent  is  afraid  of  its  spreading  here.  The  castle  is 
strongly  garrisoned,  the  burghers  are  crowding  to  the  gates, 
and  the  streets  are  thronged  with  people.  I  will  hasten  at 
once  to  my  old  father,     (As  if  about  to  go.) 

Clara,  Shall  we  see  you  to-morrow?  I  must  change 
my  dress  a  little.  I  am  expecting  my  cousin,  and  I  look  too 
untidy.  Come,  mother,  help  me  a  moment.  Take  the  book, 
Brackenburg,  and  bring  me  such  another  story. 

Mother,  Farewell. 

Brackenburg  {extending  his  hand).    Your  hand. 

Clara  {refusing  hers).    When  you  come  next. 

{Exeunt  Mother  and  Daughter. 

Brackenburg  {alone).  I  had  resolved  to  go  away  again 
at  once ;  and  yet,  when  she  takes  me  at  my  word,  and  lets 
me  leave  her,  I  feel  as  if  I  could  go  mad. — Wretched  man ! 
Does  the  fate  of  thy  fatherland,  does  the  growing  disturb- 


EGMONT  265 

ance  fail  to  move  thee? — Are  countryman  and  Spaniard  the 
same  to  thee?  and  carest  thou  not  who  rules,  and  who  is  in 
the  right  ? — I  was  a  different  sort  of  fellow  as  a  schoolboy  ! 
— Then,  when  an  exercise  in  oratory  was  given ;  "  Brutus' 
Speech  for  Liberty,"  for  instance,  Fritz  was  ever  the  first, 
and  the  rector  would  say :  "  If  it  were  only  spoken  more 
deliberately,  the  words  not  all  huddled  together." — Then  my 
blood  boiled,  and  longed  for  action. — Now  I  drag  along, 
bound  by  the  eyes  of  a  maiden.  I  cannot  leave  her !  yet 
she,  alas,  cannot  love  me  I — ah — no — she — she  cannot  have  en- 
tirely rejected  me — not  entirely — yet  half  love  is  no  love! — 
I  will  endure  it  no  longer  ! — Can  it  be  true  what  a  friend 
lately  whispered  in  my  ear,  that  she  secretly  admits  a  man 
into  the  house  by  night,  when  she  always  sends  me  away 
modestly  before  evening  ?  No,  it  cannot  be  true !  It  is  a 
lie !  A  base,  slanderous  lie !  Clara  is  as  innocent  as  I  ant 
wretched. — She  has  rejected  me,  has  thrust  me  from  her 
heart — and  shall  I  live  on  thus?  I  cannot,  I  will  not  endure 
it.  Already  my  native  land  is  convulsed  by  internal  strife, 
and  do  I  perish  abjectly  amid  the  tumult?  I  will  not  endure 
it !  When  the  trumpet  sounds,  when  a  shot  falls,  it  thrills 
through  my  bone  and  marrow !  But,  alas,  it  does  not  rouse 
me  !  It  does  not  summon  me  to  join  the  onslaught,  to  rescue, 
to  dare. — Wretched,  degrading  position  !  Better  end  it  at 
once !  Not  long  ago,  I  threw  myself  into  the  water ;  I  sank 
— but  nature  in  her  agony  was  too  strong  for  me ;  I  felt  that 
I  could  swim,  and  saved  myself  against  my  will.  Could  I 
but  forget  the  time  when  she  loved  me,  seemed  to  love  me ! — 
Why  has  this  happiness  penetrated  my  very  bone  and  mar- 
row? Why  have  these  hopes,  while  disclosing  to  me  a  dis- 
tant paradise,  consumed  all  the  enjoyment  of  life? — And 
that  first,  that  only  kiss ! — Here  (laying  his  hand  upon  the 
table),  here  we  were  alone, — she  had  always  been  kind  and 
friendly  towards  me, — then  she  seemed  to  soften, — she  looked 
at  me, — my  brain  reeled, — I  felt  her  lips  en  mine, — and 
— and  now? — Die,  wretch!  Why  dost  thou  hesitate?  (He 
draws  a  phial  from  his  pocket.)  Thou  healing  poison,  it 
shall  not  have  been  in  vain  that  I  stole  thee  from  my 
brother's  medicine  chest !  From  this  anxious  fear,  this 
dizziness,  this  death-agony,  thou  shalt  deliver  me  at  once. 


266  GOETHE 

ACT  II 

Scene  I. — Square  in  Brussels 

Jetter  and  a  Master  Carpenter   {meeting) 

Carpenter.  Did  I  not  tell  you  beforehand?  Eight  days 
ago,  at  the  guild,  I  said  there  would  be  serious  disturb- 
ances ? 

Jetter.  Is  it,  then,  true  that  they  have  plundered  the 
churches  in  Flanders? 

Carpenter.  They  have  utterly  destroyed  both  churches 
and  chapels.  They  have  left  nothing  standing  but  the  four 
bare  walls.  The  lowest  rabble !  And  this  it  is  that  damages 
our  good  cause.  We  ought  rather  to  have  laid  our  claims 
before  the  Regent,  formally  and  decidedly,  and  then  have 
stood  by  them.  If  we  speak  now,  if  we  assemble  now,  it  will 
be  said  that  we  are  joining  the  insurgents. 

Jetter.  Ay,  so  every  one  thinks  at  first.  Why  should 
you  thrust  your  nose  into  the  mess?  The  neck  is  closely 
connected  with  it. 

Carpenter.  I  am  always  uneasy  when  tumults  arise 
among  the  mob — among  people  who  have  nothing  to  lose. 
They  use  as  a  pretext  that  to  which  we  also  must  appeal, 
and  plunge  the  country  in  misery. 


Enter  Soest 

SoEST.  Good  day,  sirs !  What  news  ?  Is  it  true  that  the 
image-breakers  are  coming  straight  in  this  direction? 

Carpenter.  Here  they  shall  touch  nothing,  at  any  rate. 

SoEST.  A  soldier  came  into  my  shop  just  now  to  buy 
tobacco;  I  questioned  him  about  the  matter.  The  Regent, 
though  so  brave  and  prudent  a  lady,  has  for  once  lost  her 
presence  of  mind.  Things  must  be  bad  indeed  when  she  thus 
takes  refuge  behind  her  guards.  The  castle  is  strongly  gar- 
risoned. It  is  even  rumoured  that  she  means  to  fly  from 
the   town. 

Carpenter.  Forth  she  shall  not  go !  Her  presence  pro- 
tects us,  and  we  will  ensure  her  safety  better  than  her  mus- 


EGMONT  267 

tachioed    gentry.      If    she   only    maintains    our    rights    and 
privileges,  we  will  stand  faithfully  by  her. 

Enter  a  Soapboiler 
Soapboiler.  An    ugly    business    this !    a    bad    business ! 
Troubles  are  beginning;  all  things  are  going  wrong!     Mind 
you  keep  quiet,  or  they'll  take  you  also  for  rioters. 
SoEST.  Here  come  the  seven  wise  men  of  Greece. 
Soapboiler.  I  know  there  are  many  who  in  secret  hold 
with   the   Calvinists,   abuse   the   bishops,   and  care  not   for 
the  king.  But  a  loyal  subject,  a  sincere  Catholic! — 

(By  degrees  others  join  the  speakers,  and  listen.) 

Enter  Vansen 

Vansen.  God  save  you,  sirs!    What  news? 

Carpenter.  Have  nothing  to  do  with  him,  he's  a  dan- 
gerous fellow. 

Jetter.  Is  he  not  secretary  to  Dr.  Wiets? 

Carpenter.  He  has  already  had  several  masters.  First 
he  was  a  clerk,  and  as  one  patron  after  another  turned  him 
off,  on  account  of  his  roguish  tricks,  he  now  dabbles  in  the 
business  of  notary  and  advocate,  and  is  a  brandy-drinker 
to  boot.         (More  people  gather  round  and  stand  in  groups.) 

Vansen.  So  here  you  are,  putting  your  heads  together. 
Well,  it  is  worth  talking  about. 

SoEST.  I  think  so  too. 

Vansen.  Now  if  only  one  of  you  had  heart  and  another 
head  enough  for  the  work,  we  might  break  the  Spanish 
fetters  at  once. 

SoEST.  Sirs !  you  must  not  talk  thus.  We  have  taken 
our  oath  to  the  king. 

Vansen.  And  the  king  to  us.    Mark  that ! 

Jetter.  There's  sense  in  that?     Tell  us  your  opinion. 

Others.  Hearken  to  him;  he's  a  clever  fellow.  He's 
sharp  enough. 

Vansen.  I  had  an  old  master  once,  who  possessed  a 
collection  of  parchments,  among  which  were  charters  of 
ancient  constitutions,  contracts,  and  privileges.  He  set 
great  store,  too,  by  the  rarest  books.     One  of  these  con- 


268  GOETHE 

tained  our  whole  constitution;  how,  at  first,  we  Nether- 
landers  had  princes  of  our  own,  who  governed  according 
to  hereditary  laws,  rights,  and  usages;  how  our  ancestors 
paid  due  honour  to  their  sovereign  so  long  as  he  governed 
them  equitably ;  and  how  they  were  immediately  on  their 
guard  the  moment  he  was  for  overstepping  his  bounds.  The 
states  were  down  upon  him  at  once ;  for  every  province,  how- 
ever small,  had  its  own  chamber  and  representatives. 

Carpenter.  Hold  your  tongue !  We  knew  that  long  ago ! 
Every  honest  citizen  learns  as  much  about  the  constitution 
as  he  needs. 

Jetter.  Let  him  speak;  one  may  always  learn  something. 

SoEST.  He  is  quite  right. 

Several  Citizens.  Go  on !  Go  on  !  One  does  not  hear 
this  every  day. 

Vansen.  You  citizens,  forsooth !  You  live  only  in  the 
present;  and  as  you  tamely  follow  the  trade  inherited  from 
your  fathers,  so  you  let  the  government  do  with  you  just 
as  it  pleases.  You  make  no  inquiry  into  the  origin,  the 
history,  or  the  rights  of  a  Regent;  and  in  consequence  of 
this  negligence,  the  Spaniard  has  drawn  the  net  over  your 
ears. 

Soest.  Who  cares  for  that,  if  one  has  only  daily  bread? 

Jetter.  The  devil !  Why  did  not  some  one  come  forward 
and  tell  us  this  in  time? 

Vansen.  I  tell  it  you  now.  The  King  of  Spain,  whose 
good  fortune  it  is  to  bear  sway  over  these  provinces,  has 
no  right  to  govern  them  otherwise  than'  the  petty  princes 
who  formerly  possessed  them  separately.  Do  you  under- 
stand that? 

Jetter.  Explain  it  to  us. 

Vansen.  Why,  it  is  as  clear  as  the  sun.  Must  you  not 
be  governed  according  to  your  provincial  laws  ?  How  comes 
that? 

A  Citizen.  Certainly ! 

Vansen.  Has  not  the  burgher  of  Brussels  a  different 
law  from  the  burgher  of  Antwerp?  The  burgher  of  Ant- 
^verp  from  the  burgher  of  Ghent?    How  comes  that? 

Another  Citizen.  By  heavens ! 

Vansen.'  But  if  you  let  matters  run  on  thus,  they  will 


EGMONT  269 

soon  tell  you  a  different  story.  Fie  on  you  I  Philip,  through 
a  woman,  now  ventures  to  do  what  neither  Charles  the 
Bold,  Frederick  the  Warrior,  nor  Charles  the  Fifth  could 
accomplish. 

SoEST.  Yes,  yes  I    The  old  princes  tried  it  also. 

Vansen.  Ay !  But  our  ancestors  kept  a  sharp  look-out. 
If  they  thought  themselves  aggrieved  by  their  sovereign, 
they  would  perhaps  get  his  son  and  heir  into  their  hands, 
detain  him  as  a  hostage,  and  surrender  him  only  on  ths 
most  favourable  conditions.  Our  fathers  were  men !  They 
knew  their  own  interests !  They  knew  how  to  lay  hold  on 
what  they  wanted,  and  to  get  it  established !  They  were 
men  of  the  right  sort!  and  hence  i.  is  that  our  privileges 
are  so  clearly  defined,  our  liberties  so  well  secured. 

SoEST.  What  are  you  saying  about  our  liberties? 

All.  Our  liberties  I  our  privileges  I  Tell  us  about  our 
privileges. 

Vansen.  All  the  provinces  have  their  peculiar  advantages, 
but  we  of  Brabant  are  the  most  splendidly  provided  for. 
I  have  read  it  all. 

SoEST.  Say  on. 

Jetter.  Let  us  hear, 

A  Citizen.  Pray  do. 

Vansen.  First,  it  stands  written: — The  Duke  of  Brabant 
shall  be  to  us  a  good  and  faithful  sovereign. 

Soest.  Good  !     Stands  it  so  ? 

Jetter.  Faithful?    Is  that  true? 

Vansen.  As  I  tell  you.  He  is  bound  to  us  as  we  are  to 
him.  Secondly :  In  the  exercise  of  his  authority  he  shall 
neither  exert  arbitrary  power,  nor  exhibit  caprice,  himself, 
nor  shall  he,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  sanction  them  it 
others. 

Jetter.  Bravo  !  Bravo  !    Not  exert  arbitrary  power^ 

SoEST.  Nor  exhibit  caprice. 

Another.  And  not  sanction  them  in  oth  ^rs !  That  is 
the  main  point.  Not  sanction  them,  either  directly  or  in- 
directly. 

Vansen.  In  express  words. 

Jetter.  Get  us  the    book. 

A  Citizen.  Yes,  we  must  see  it. 


270  GOETHE 

Others.  The  book!    The  book  ! 

Another.  We  will  to  the  Regent  with  the  book. 

Another.  Sir  doctor,  you  shall  be  spokesman. 

Soapboiler,  Oh,  the  dolts  ! 

Others.  Something  more  out  of  the  book ! 

Soapboiler,  I'll  knock  his  teeth  down  his  throat  if  he 
says  another  word. 

People.  We'll  see  who  dares  to  lay  hands  upon  him.  Tell 
us  about  our  privileges!     Have  we  any  more  privileges? 

Vansen.  Many,  very  good  and  very  wholesome  ones  too. 
Thus  it  stands:  The  sovereign  shall  neither  benefit  the 
clergy,  nor  increase  their  number,  without  the  consent  of 
the  nobles  and  of  the  states,  Mark  that !  Nor  shall  he  alter 
the  constitution  of  the  country, 

SoEST,  Stands  it  so? 

Vansen.  I'll  show  it  you,  as  it  was  written  down  two 
or  three  centuries  ago, 

A  Citizen.  And  we  tolerate  the  new  bishops?  The  nobles 
must  protect  us,  we  will  make  a  row  else ! 

Others,  And  we  suffer  ourselves  to  be  intimidated  by 
the  Inquisition? 

Vansen.  It  is  your  own  fault. 

People.  We  have  Egmont  I  We  have  Orange !  They 
will  protect  our  interests. 

Vansen.  Your  brothers  in  Flanders  are  beginning  the 
good  work. 

Soapboiler,  Dog!  (Strikes  him.) 

Others  oppose  the  Soapboiler,  and  exclaim.  Are  you  also 
a  Spaniard? 

Another,  What !    This  honourable  man? 

Another,  This  learned  man? 

(They  attack  the  Soapboiler.) 

Carpenter,  For  heaven's  sake,  peace ! 

(Others  mingle  in  the  fray.) 

Carpenter.  Citizens,  what  means  this  ? 

(Boys  whistle,  throw  stones,  set  on  dogs;  citizens  stand 
and  gape,  people  come  running  up,  others  walk 
quietly  to  and  fro,  others  play  all  sorts  of  pranks, 
shout  and  hnzza.) 

Others,  Freedom  and  prii^ilege!    Privilege  and  freedom! 


EGMONT  27il 

Enter  Egmont,  with  followers 

Egmont.  Peace !  Peace !  good  people.  What  is  the 
matter?    Peace,  I  say!    Separate  them. 

Carpenter.  My  good  lord,  you  come  like  an  angel  from 
heaven.  Hush!  See  you  nothing?  Count  Egmont !  Honour 
to  Count  Egmont ! 

Egmont.  Here,  too!  What  are  you  about?  Burgher 
against  burgher !  Does  not  even  the  neighbourhood  of  our 
royal  mistress  oppose  a  barrier  to  this  frenzy?  Disperse 
yourselves,  and  go  about  your  business,  'Tis  a  bad  sign 
when  you  thus  keep  holiday  on  working  days.  How  did  the 
disturbance  begin? 

(The  tumult  gradually  subsides^  and  the  people  gather 
around  Egmont.) 

Carpenter.  They  are  fighting  about  their  privileges. 

Egmont.  Which  they  will  forfeit  through  their  own  folly; 
. — and  who  are  you?    You  seem  honest  people. 

Carpenter.  'Tis  our  wish  to  be  so. 

Egmont.  Your  calling? 

Carpenter.  A  carpenter,  and  master  of  the  guild. 

Egmont.  And  you? 

SoEST.  A  shopkeeper. 

Egmont.  And  you? 

Jetter.  a  tailor. 

Egmont.  I  remember,  you  were  employed  upon  the  liveries 
of  my  people.    Your  name  is  Jetter, 

Jetter.  To  think  of  your  grace  remembering  it ! 

Egmont.  I  do  not  easily  forget  any  one  whom  I  have 
seen  or  conversed  with.  Do  what  you  can,  good  people, 
to  keep  the  peace;  you  stand  in  bad  repute  enough  already. 
Provoke  not  the  king  still  farther.  The  power,  after  all, 
is  in  his  hands.  An  honest  burgher,  who  maintains  him- 
self industriously,  has  everywhere  as  much  freedom  as  he 
wants. 

Carpenter.  That  now  is  just  our  misfortune!  With  all 
due  deference,  your  grace,  'tis  the  idle  portion  of  the  com- 
munity, your  drunkards  and  vagabonds,  who  quarrel  for 
want  of  something  to  do,  and  clamour  about  privilege  be- 
cause they  are  hungry;  they  impose  upon  the  curious  and 


272  GOETHE 

the  credulous,  and,  in  order  to  obtain  a  pot  of  beer,  excite 
disturbances  that  will  bring  misery  upon  thousands.  That 
is  just  what  they  want.  We  keep  our  houses  and  chests  too 
well  guarded;  they  would  fain  drive  us  away  from  them 
with  fire-brands. 

Egmont.  You  shall  have  all  needful  assistance;  measures 
have  been  taken  to  stem  the  evil  by  force.  Make  a  firm 
stand  against  the  new  doctrines,  and  do  not  imagine  that 
privileges  are  secured  by  sedition.  Remain  at  home;  suffer 
no  crowds  to  assemble  in  the  streets.  Sensible  people  can 
accomplish  much. 

(In  the  meantime  the  crozvd  has  for  the  most  part  dis- 
persed.) 

Carpenter.  Thanks,  your  excellency — thanks  for  your 
good  opinion !  We  will  do  what  in  us  lies.  {Exit  Egmont.) 
A  gracious  lord !  A  true  Netherlander  I  Nothing  of  the 
Spaniard  about  him. 

Jetter.  If  we  had  only  him  for  a  regent?  'Tis  a  pleasure 
to  follow  him. 

Soest.  The  king  won't  hear  of  that.  He  takes  care  to 
appoint  his  own  people  to  the  place. 

Jetter.  Did  you  notice  his  dress?  It  was  of  the  newest 
fashion — after  the  Spanish  cut. 

Carpenter.  A  handsome  gentleman. 

Jetter.  His  head  now  were  a  dainty  morsel  for  a  heads- 
man. 

SoEST.  Are  you  mad?     What  are  you  thinking  about? 

Jetter.  It  is  stupid  enough  that  such  an  idea  should  come 
into  one's  head !  But  so  it  is.  Whenever  I  see  a  fine  long 
neck,  I  cannot  help  thinking  how  well  it  would  suit  the 
block.  These  cursed  executions !  One  cannot  get  them  out 
of  one's  head.  When  the  lads  are  swimming,  and  I  chance 
to  see  a  naked  back,  I  think  forthwith  of  the  dozens  I  have 
seen  beaten  with  rods.  If  I  meet  a  portly  gentleman,  I  fancy 
I  already  see  him  roasting  at  the  stake.  At  night,  in  my 
dreams,  I  am  tortured  in  every  limb;  one  cannot  have  a 
single  hour's  enjoyment;  all  merriment  and  fun  have  long 
been  forgotten.  These  terrible  images  seem  burnt  in  upon 
my  brain. 


EGMONT  273 


Scene  II. — Egmont's  residence 

"His  Secretary  (at  a  desk  zvith  papers.  He  rises  impatiently) 
Secretary.  Still  he  comes  not !  And  I  have  been  waiting 
already  full  two  hours,  pen  in  hand,  the  paper  before  me ;  and 
just  to-day  I  was  anxious  to  be  out  so  early.  The  floor 
burns  under  my  feet.  I  can  with  difficulty  restrain  my  im- 
patience. "  Be  punctual  to  the  hour,"  Such  was  his  parting 
injunction;  now  he  comes  not.  There  is  so  much  business 
to  get  through,  I  shall  not  have  finished  before  midnight. 
He  overlooks  one's  faults,  it  is  true ;  methinks  it  would  be 
better  though,  were  he  more  strict,  so  he  dismissed  one  at 
the  appointed  time.  One  could  then  arrange  one's  plans. 
It  is  now  full  two  hours  since  he  left  the  Regent;  who  knows 
whom  he  may  have  chanced  to  meet  by  the  way? 


Enter  Egmont 

Egmont.  Well,  how  do  matters  look? 

Secretary.  I  am  ready,  and  three  couriers  are  waiting. 

Egmont.  I  have  detained  you  too  long ;  you  look  somewhat 
out  of  humour. 

Secretary,  In  obedience  to  your  command  I  have  already 
been  in  attendance  for  some  time.     Here  are  the  papers ! 

Egmont.  Donna  Elvira  will  be  angry  with  me,  when  she 
learns  that  I  have  detained  you. 

Secretary.  You  are  pleased  to  jest. 

Egmont.  No,  no.  Be  not  ashamed.  I  admire  your  taste. 
She  is  pretty,  and  I  have  no  objection  that  you  should  have 
a  friend  at  the  castle.    What  say  the  letters? 

Secretary.  Much,  my  lord,  but  withal  little  that  is  satis- 
factory. 

Egmont.  'Tis  well  that  we  have  pleasures  at  home,  we 
have  the  less  occasion  to  seek  them  from  abioad.  Is  there 
much  that  requires  attention? 

Secretary.  Enough,  my  lord;  three  couriers  are  in  at- 
tendance, 

Egmont,  Proceed  I    The  most  important. 

Secretary.  All  is  important. 


274  GOETHE 

Egmont.  One  after  the  other ;  only  be  prompt. 

Secretary.  Captain  Breda  sends  an  account  of  the  occur- 
rences that  have  further  taken  place  in  Ghent  and  the 
surrounding  districts.  The  tumult  is  for  the  most  part 
allayed. 

Egmont.  He  doubtless  reports  individual  acts  of  folly 
and  temerity? 

Secretary.  He  does,  my  lord. 

Egmont.  Spare  me  the  recital. 

Secretary.  Six  of  the  mob  vi^ho  tore  down  the  image  of 
the  Virgin  at  Verviers  have  been  arrested.  He  inquires 
whether  they  are  to  be  hanged  like  the  others. 

Egmont.  I  am  weary  of  hanging;  let  them  be  flogged  and 
discharged. 

Secretary.  There  are  two  women  among  them;  are  they 
to  "be  flogged  also  ? 

Egmont.  He  may  admonish  them  and  let  them  go. 

Secretary.  Brink,  of  Breda's  company,  wants  to  marry; 
the  captain  hopes  you  will  not  allow  it.  There  are  so  many 
women  among  the  troops,  he  writes,  that  when  on  the  march, 
they  resemble  a  gang  of  gypsies  rather  than  regular  soldiers. 

Egmont.  We  must  overlook  it  in  his  case.  He  is  a  fine 
young  fellow,  and  moreover  entreated  me  so  earnestly  be- 
fore I  came  away.  This  must  be  the  last  time,  however; 
though  it  grieves  me  to  refuse  the  poor  fellows  their  best 
pastime;  they  have  enough  without  that  to  torment  them. 

Secretary.  Two  of  your  people,  Seter  and  Hart,  have 
ill-treated  a  damsel,  the  daughter  of  an  inn-keeper.  They 
got  her  alone  and  she  could  not  escape  from  them. 

Egmont.  H  she  be  an  honest  maiden  and  they  used  vio- 
lence, let  them  be  flogged  three  days  in  succession;  and  if 
they  have  any  property,  let  him  retain  as  much  of  it  as  will 
portion  the  girl. 

Secretary.  One  of  the  foreign  preachers  has  been  dis- 
covered passing  secretly  through  Comines.  He  swore  that 
he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  for  France.  According  to 
orders,  he  ought  to  be  beheaded. 

Egmont.  Let  him  be  conducted  quietly  to  the  frontier, 
and  there  admonished  that^  the  next  time,  he  will  not  escape 
so  easily. 


EGMONT  27S 

Secretary,  A  letter  from  your  steward.  He  writes  that 
money  comes  in  slowly,  he  can  with  difficulty  send  you  the 
required  sum  within  the  week;  the  late  disturbances  have 
thrown  everything  into  the  greatest  confusion. 

Egmont.  Money  must  be  had !  It  is  for  him  to  look  to  the 
means. 

Secretary.  He  says  he  will  do  his  utmost,  and  at  length 
proposes  to  sue  and  imprison  Raymond,  who  has  been  so 
long  in  your  debt. 

Egmont.  But  he  has  promised  to  pay ! 

Secretary.  The   last  time   he   fixed  a   fortnight  himself. 

Egmont.  Well,  grant  him  another  fortnight;  after  that 
he  may  proceed  against  him. 

Secretary.  You  do  well.  His  non-payment  of  the  money 
proceeds  not  from  inability,  but  from  want  of  inclination. 
He  will  trifle  no  longer  when  he  sees  that  you  are  in 
earnest.  The  steward  further  proposes  to  withhold,  for 
half  a  month,  the  pensions  which  you  allow  to  the  old 
soldiers,  widows,  and  others.  In  the  meantime  some  ex- 
pedient may  be  devised;  they  must  make  their  arrange- 
ments accordingly. 

Egmont.  But  what  arrangements  can  be  made  here? 
These  poor  people  want  the  money  more  than  I  do.  He  must 
not  think  of  it. 

Secretary.  How  then,  my  lord,  is  he  to  raise  the  required 
sum? 

Egmont.  It  is  his  business  to  think  of  that.  He  was  told 
So  in  a  former  letter. 

Secretary.  And  therefore  he  makes  these  proposals. 

Egmont.  They  will  never  do; — he  must  think  of  some- 
thing else.  Let  him  suggest  expedients  that  are  admissible, 
and,  before  all,  let  him  procure  the  money. 

Secretary.  I  have  again  before  me  the  letter  from  Count 
Oliva.  Pardon  my  recalling  it  to  your  remembrance.  Before 
all  others,  the  aged  count  deserves  a  detailed  reply.  You  pro- 
posed writing  to  him  with  your  own  hand.  Doubtless,  he 
loves  you  as  a  father. 

Egmont.  I  cannot  command  the  time ; — and  of  all  detesta- 
ble things,  writing  is  to  me  the  most  detestable.  You  imitate 
my  hand  so  admirably,  do  you  write  in  my  name.     I  am 


276  GOETHE 

expecting  Orange.  I  cannot  do  it; — I  wish,  however,  that 
something  soothing  should  be  written,  to  allay  his  fears. 

Secretary.  Just  give  me  a  notion  of  what  you  wish  to 
communicate;  I  will  at  once  draw  up  the  answer,  and  lay 
it  before  you.  It  shall  be  so  written  that  it  might  pass  for 
your  hand  in  a  court  of  justice. 

Egmont.  Give  me  the  letter.  (After  glancing  over  it.) 
Dear,  excellent,  old  man !  Wert  thou  then  so  cautious  in 
thy  youth?  Didst  thou  never  mount  a  breach?  Didst  thou 
remain  in  the  rear  of  battle  at  the  suggestion  of  prudence? — 
What  affectionate  solicitude !  He  has  indeed  my  safety  and 
happiness  at  heart,  but  considers  not,  that  he  who  lives  but 
to  save  his  life,  is  already  dead. — Charge  him  not  to  be 
anxious  on  my  account;  I  act  as  circumstances  require,  and 
shall  be  upon  my  guard.  Let  him  use  his  influence  at  court 
in  my  favour,  and  be  assured  of  my  warmest  thanks. 

Secretary.  Is  that  all?    He  expects  still  more. 

Egmont.  What  can  I  say?  If  you  choose  to  write  more 
fully,  do  so.  The  matter  turns  upon  a  single  point ;  he  would 
have  me  live  as  I  cannot  live.  That  I  am  joyous,  live  fast, 
take  matters  easily,  is  my  good  fortune;  nor  would  I  ex- 
change it  for  the  safety  of  a  sepulchre.  My  blood  rebels 
against  the  Spanish  mode  of  life,  nor  have  I  the  least  in- 
clination to  regulate  my  movements  by  the  new  and  cautious 
measures  of  the  court.  Do  I  live  only  to  think  of  life? 
Am  I  to  forego  the  enjoyment  of  the  present  moment  in 
order  to  secure  the  next?  And  must  that  in  its  turn  be  con- 
sumed in  anxieties  and  idle  fears? 

Secretary.  I  entreat  you;  my  lord,  be  not  so  harsh 
towards  the  venerable  man.  You  are  wont  to  be  friendly 
towards  every  one.  Say  a  kindly  word  to  allay  the  anxiety 
of  your  noble  friend.  See  how  considerate  he  is,  with  what 
delicacy  he  warns  you, 

Egmont.  Yet  he  harps  continually  on  the  same  string. 
He  knows  of  old  how  I  detest  these  admonitions.  They 
serve  only  to  perplex  and  are  of  no  avail.  What  if  I  were 
a  somnambulist,  and  trod  the  giddy  summit  of  a  lofty  house, 
■ — were  it  the  part  of  friendship  to  call  me  by  my  name,  to 
warn  me  of  my  danger,  to  waken,  to  kill  me?  Let  each 
choose  his  own  path,  and  provide  for  his  own  safety. 


EGMONT  277 

Secretary.  It  may  become  you  to  be  without  a  fear,  but 
those  who  know  and  love  you— 

Egmont  (looking  over  the  letter).  Then  he  recalls  the  old 
story  of  our  sayings  and  doings,  one  evening,  in  the  wanton- 
ness of  conviviality  and  wine;  and  what  conclusions  and 
inferences  were  thence  drawn  and  circulated  throughout 
the  whole  kingdom!  Well,  we  had  a  cap  and  bells  em- 
broidered on  the  sleeves  of  our  servants'  liveries,  and  after- 
wards exchanged  this  senseless  device  for  a  bundle  of 
arrows; — a  still  more  dangerous  symbol  for  those  who  are 
bent  upon  discovering  a  meaning  where  nothing  is  meant. 
These  and  similar  follies  were  conceived  and  brought  forth 
in  a  moment  of  merriment.  It  was  at  our  suggestion  that 
a  noble  troop,  with  beggars'  wallets,  and  a  self-chosen  nick- 
name, with  mock  humility  recalled  the  King's  duty  to  his 
remembrance.  It  was  at  our  suggestion  too — well,  what  does 
it  signify?  Is  a  carnival  jest  to  be  construed  into  high 
treason?  Are  we  to  be  grudged  the  scanty,  variegated  rags, 
wherewith  a  youthful  spirit  and  heated  imagination  would 
adorn  the  poor  nakedness  of  life?  Take  life  too  seriously, 
and  what  is  it  worth?  If  the  morning  wake  us  to  no  new 
joys,  if  in  the  evening  we  have  no  pleasures  to  hope  for,  is 
it  worth  the  trouble  of  dressing  and  undressing?  Does  the 
sun  shine  on  me  to-day,  that  I  may  reflect  on  what  happened 
yesterday?  That  I  may  endeavour  to  foresee  and  control, 
what  can  neither  be  foreseen  nor  controlled, — the  destiny 
of  the  morrow?  Spare  me  these  reflections,  we  will  leave 
them  to  scholars  and  courtiers.  Let  them  ponder  and  con- 
trive, creep  hither  and  thither,  and  surreptitiously  achieve 
their  ends. — If  you  can  make  use  of  these  suggestions,  with- 
out swelling  your  letter  into  a  volume,  it  is  well.  Everything 
appears  of  exaggerated  importance  to  the  good  old  man.  'Tis 
thus  the  friend,  who  has  long  held  our  hand,  grasps  it  more 
warmly  ere  he  quits  his  hold. 

Secretary.  Pardon  me,  the  pedestrian  gro-\'-s  dizzy  when 
he  beholds  the  charioteer  drive  past  with  whirling  speed. 

Egmont.  Child !  Child !  Forbear  1  As  if  goaded  by  in- 
visible spirits,  the  sun-steeds  of  time  bear  onward  the  light 
car  of  our  destiny;  and  nothing  remains  for  us  but,  with 
calm  self-possession,  firmly  to  grasp  the  reins,  and  now  right, 


278  GOETHE 

now  left,  to  steer  the  wheels  here  from  the  precipice  and 
there  from  the  rock.  Whither  he  is  hasting,  who  knows? 
Does  any  one  consider  whence  he  came? 

Secretary.  My  lord !  my  lord  I 

Egmont.  I  stand  high,  but  I  can  and  must  rise  yet  higher. 
Courage,  strength,  and  hope  possess  my  soul.  Not  yet  have 
I  attained  the  height  of  my  ambition ;  that  once  achieved, 
I  will  stand  firmly  and  without  fear.  Should  I  fall,  should 
a  thunder-clap,  a  storm-blast,  ay,  a  false  step  of  my  own, 
precipitate  me  into  the  abyss,  so  be  it !  I  shall  lie  there  with 
thousands  of  others.  I  have  never  disdained,  even  for  a  tri- 
fling stake,  to  throw  the  bloody  die  with  my  gallant  com- 
rades ;  and  shall  I  hesitate  now,  when  all  that  is  most  precious 
in  life  is  set  upon  the  cast? 

Secretary.  Oh,  my  lord  1  you  know  not  what  you  say ! 
May  Heaven  protect  you  1 

Egmont.  Collect  your  papers.  Orange  is  coming.  Dis- 
patch what  is  most  urgent,  that  the  couriers  may  set  forth 
before  the  gates  are  closed.  The  rest  may  wait.  Leave 
the  Count's  letter  till  to-morrow.  Fail  not  to  visit  Elvira, 
and  greet  her  from  me.  Inform  yourself  concerning  the 
Regent's  health.  She  cannot  be  well,  though  she  would 
fain  conceal  it.  [Exit  Secretary. 

Enter  Orange 

Egmont.  Welcome,  Orange;  you  appear  somewhat  dis- 
turbed. 

Orange.  What  say  you  to  our  conference  with  the  Regent? 

Egmont.  I  found  nothing  extraordinary  in  her  manner 
of  receiving  us.  I  have  often  seen  her  thus  before.  She 
appeared  to  me  to  be  somewhat  indisposed. 

Orange.  Marked  you  not  that  she  was  more  reserved 
than  usual?  She  began  by  cautiously  approving  our  con- 
duct during  the  late  insurrection;  glanced  at  the  false  light 
in  which,  nevertheless,  it  might  be  viewed :  and  finally  turned 
the  discourse  to  her  favourite  topic — that  her  gracious 
demeanour,  her  friendship  for  us  Netherlanders,  had 
never  been  sufficiently  recognized,  never  appreciated  as  it 
deserved ;  that  nothing  came  to  a  prosperous  issue ;  that 
for  her  part  she  was  beginning  to  grow  weary  of  it;  that 


EGMONT  279 

the  king  must  at  last  resolve  upon  other  measures.  Did 
you  hear  that? 

Egmont.  Not  all ;  I  was  thinking  at  the  time  of  something 
else.  She  is  a  woman,  good  Orange,  and  all  women  expect 
that  every  one  shall  submit  passively  to  their  gentle  yoke; 
that  every  Hercules  shall  lay  aside  his  lion's  skin,  assume 
the  distaff,  and  swell  their  train ;  and,  because  they  are  them- 
selves peaceably  inclined,  imagine  forsooth,  that  the  ferment 
which  seizes  a  nation,  the  storm  which  powerful  rivals  excite 
against  one  another,  may  be  allayed  by  one  soothing  word, 
and  the  most  discordant  elements  be  brought  to  unite  in 
tranquil  harmony  at  their  feet.  'Tis  thus  with  her;  and 
since  she  cannot  accomplish  her  object,  why  she  has  no 
resource  left  but  to  lose  her  temper,  to  menace  us  with 
direful  prospects  for  the  future,  and  to  threaten  to  take 
her  departure. 

Orange.  Think  you  not  that  this  time  she  will  fulfil  her 
threat  ? 

Egmont.  Never  I  How  often  have  I  seen  her  actually 
prepared  for  the  journey?  Whither  should  she  go?  Being 
here  a  stadtholder,  a  queen,  think  you  that  she  could  endure 
to  spend  her  days  in  insignificance  at  her  brother's  court,  or 
to  repair  to  Italy,  and  there  drag  on  her  existence  among  her 
old  family  connections  ? 

Orange.  She  is  held  incapable  of  this  determination,  be- 
cause you  have  already  seen  her  hesitate  and  draw  back; 
nevertheless,  it  lies  in  her  to  take  this  step;  new  circum- 
stances may  impel  her  to  the  long-delayed  resolve.  What 
if  she  were  to  depart,  and  the  king  to  send  another? 

Egmont.  Why,  he  would  come,  and  he  also  would  have 
business  enough  upon  his  hands.  He  would  arrive  with  vast 
projects  and  schemes  to  reduce  all  things  to  order,  to  sub- 
jugate and  combine;  and  to-day  he  would  be  occupied  with 
this  trifle,  to-morrow  with  that,  and  the  day  following  have 
to  deal  with  some  unexpected  hindrance.  He  would  spend 
one  month  in  forming  plans,  another  in  mortification  at  their 
failure,  and  half  a  year  would  be  consumed  in  cares  for  a 
single  province.  With  him  also  time  would  pass,  his  head 
grow  dizzy,  and  things  hold  on  their  ordinary  course,  till 
instead  of  sailing  into  the  open  sea,  according  to  the  plan 


280  GOETHE 

which  he  had  previously  marked  out,  he  might  thank  God, 
if,  amid  the  tempest,  he  were  able  to  keep  his  vessel  off  the 
rocks. 

Orakge.  What  if  the  king  were  advised  to  try  an  ex- 
periment? 

Egmont.  Which  should  be — ? 

Orange.  To  try  how  the  body  would  get  on  without  the 
head. 

Egmont.  How? 

Orange.  Egmont,  our  interests  have  for  years  weighed 
upon  my  heart ;  I  ever  stand  as  over  a  chess-board,  and  re- 
gard no  move  of  my  adversary  as  insignificant ;  and  as  men 
of  science  carefully  investigate  the  secrets  of  nature,  so  I 
hold  it  to  be  the  duty,  ay,  the  very  vocation  of  a  prince,  to 
acquaint  himself  with  the  dispositions  and  intentions  of  all 
parties.  I  have  reason  to  fear  an  outbreak.  The  king  has 
long  acted  according  to  certain  principles ;  he  finds  that  they 
do  not  lead  to  a  prosperous  issue;  what  more  probable  than 
that  he  should  seek  it  some  other  way? 

Egmont.  I  do  not  believe  it.  When  a  man  grows  old,  has 
attempted  much,  and  finds  that  the  world  cannot  be  made  to 
move  according  to  his  will,  he  must  needs  grow  weary  of  it 
at  last. 

Orange.  One  thing  has  yet  to  be  attempted. 

Egmont.  What? 

Orange.  To  spare  the  people,  and  to  put  an  end  to  the 
princes. 

Egmont.  How  many  have  long  been  ■  haunted  by  this 
dread?    There  is  no  cause  for  such  anxiety. 

Orange.  Once  I  felt  anxious ;  gradually  I  became  sus- 
picious ;  suspicion  has  at  length  grown  into  certainty. 

Egmont.  Has  the  king  more  faithful  servants  than 
ourselves  ? 

Orange.  We  serve  him  after  our  own  fashion ;  and,  be- 
tween ourselves,  it  must  be  confessed  that  we  understand 
pretty  well  how  to  make  the  interests  of  the  king  square  with 
our  own. 

Egmont.  And  who  does  not?  He  has  our  duty  and  sub' 
mission,  in  so  far  as  they  are  his  due. 

Orange.  But  what  if  he  should  arrogate  still  more,  and 


EGMONT  281 

regard  as  disloyalty  what  we  esteem  the  maintenance  of  our 
just  rights? 

Egmont.  We  shall  know  in  that  case  how  to  defend  our- 
selves. Let  him  assemble  the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Fleece; 
we  will  submit  ourselves  to  their  decision. 

Orange.  What  if  the  sentence  were  to  precede  the  trial? 
punishment,  the  sentence? 

Egmont.  It  were  an  injustice  of  which  Philip  is  incapable ; 
a  folly  which  I  cannot  impute  either  to  him  or  to  his 
counsellors. 

Orange.  And  how  if  they  were  both  unjust  and  foolish? 

Egmont.  No,  Orange,  it  is  impossible.  Who  would  ven- 
ture to  lay  hands  on  us  ?  The  attempt  to  capture  us  were  a 
vain  and  fruitless  enterprize.  No,  they  dare  not  raise  the 
standard  of  tyranny  so  high.  The  breeze  that  should  waft 
these  tidings  over  the  land  would  kindle  a  mighty  conflagra- 
tion. And  what  object  would  they  have  in  view?  The  king 
alone  has  no  power  either  to  judge  or  to  condemn  us  and 
would  they  attempt  our  lives  by  assassination?  They  cannot 
intend  it.  A  terrible  league  would  unite  the  entire  people. 
Direful  hate  and  eternal  separation  from  the  crown  of  Spain 
would,  on  the  instant,  be  forcibly  declared. 

Orange.  The  flames  would  then  rage  over  our  grave,  and 
the  blood  of  our  enemies  flow,  a  vain  oblation.  Let  us  con- 
sider, Egmont. 

Egmont.  But  how  could  they  effect  this  purpose  ? 

Orange.  Alva  is  on  the  way. 

Egmont.  I  do  not  believe  it. 

Orange.  I  know  it. 

Egmont.  The  Regent  appeared  to  know  nothing  of  it. 

Orange.  And,  therefore,  the  stronger  is  my  conviction. 
The  Regent  will  give  place  to  him.  I  know  his  blood-thirsty 
disposition,  and  he  brings  an  army  with  him. 

Egmont.  To  harass  the  provinces  anew?  The  people  will 
be  exasperated  to  the  last  degree. 

Orange.  Their  leaders  will  be  secured. 

Egmont.  No  !   No  ! 

Orange.  Let  us  retire,  each  to  his  province.  There  we  can 
strengthen  ourselves;  the  duke  will  not  begin  with  open 
violence. 


2$2  GOETHE 

Egmont.  Must  we  not  greet  him  when  he  comes? 

Orange.  We  will  delay. 

Egmont.  What  if,  on  his  arrival,  he  should  summon  us  in 
the  king's  name? 

Orange.  We  will  answer  evasively. 

Egmont.  And  if  he  is  urgent? 

Orange.  We  will   excuse  ourselves. 

Egmont.  And  if  he  insist? 

Orange.  We  shall  be  the  less  disposed  to  come. 

Egmont,  Then  war  is  declared;  and  we  are  rebels.  Do 
not  suffer  prudence  to  mislead  you,  Orange.  I  know  it  is 
not  fear  that  makes  you  yield.     Consider  this  step. 

Orange.  I  have  considered  it. 

Egmont.  Consider  for  what  you  are  answerable  if  you  are 
wrong.  For  the  most  fatal  war  that  ever  yet  desolated  a 
country.  Your  refusal  is  the  signal  that  at  once  summons 
the  provinces  to  arms,  that  justifies  every  cruelty  for  which 
Spain  has  hitherto  so  anxiously  sought  a  pretext.  With  a 
single  nod  you  will  excite  to  the  direst  confusion  what,  with 
patient  effort,  we  have  so  long  kept  in  abeyance.  Think 
of  the  towns,  the  nobles,  the  people;  think  of  commerce, 
agriculture,  trade!  Realize  the  murder,  the  desolation! 
Calmly  the  soldier  beholds  his  comrade  fall  beside  him  in 
the  battlefield.  But  towards  you,  carried  downwards  by 
the  stream,  shall  float  the  corpses  of  citizens,  of  children, 
of  maidens,  till,  aghast  with  horror,  you  shall  no  longer 
know  whose  cause  you  are  defending,  since  you  shall  see 
those,  for  whose  liberty  you  drew  the  sword,  perishing 
around  you.  And  what  will  be  your  emotions  when 
conscience  whispers,  "  It  was  for  my  own  safety  that  I 
drew  it  "  ?  i 

Orange.  We  are  not  ordinary  men,  Egmont.  If  it  be- 
comes us  to  sacrifice  ourselves  for  thousands,  it  becomes  us 
no  less  to  spare  ourselves  for  thousands. 

Egmont.  He  who  spares  himself  becomes  an  object  of 
suspicion  ever  to  himself. 

Orange.  He  who  is  sure  of  his  own  motives  can,  with 
confidence,  advance  or  retreat. 

Egmont.  Your  own  act  will  render  certain  the  evil  that 
you  dread. 


EGMONT  283 

Orange.  Wisdom  and  courage  alike  prompt  us  to  meet  an 
inevitable  evii. 

Egmont.  When  the  danger  is  imminent  the  faintest  hope 
should  be  taken  into  account. 

Orange.  We  have  not  the  smallest  footing  left;  we  are 
on  the  very  brink  of  the  precipice. 

Egmont.  Is  the  king's  favour  on  ground  so  narrow? 

Orange.  Not  narrow,  perhaps,  but  slippery. 

Egmont.  By  heavens !  he  is  belied.  I  cannot  endure  that 
he  should  be  so  meanly  thought  of  1  He  is  Charles's  son,  and 
incapable  of  meanness. 

Orange.  Kings  of  course  do  nothing  mean. 

Egmont.  He  should  be  better  known. 

Orange.  Our  knowledge  counsels  us  not  to  await  the 
result  of  a  dangerous  experiment. 

Egmont.  No  experiment  is  dangerous,  the  result  of  which 
we  have  the  courage  to  meet. 

Orange.  You  are  irritated,  Egmont. 

Egmont.  I  must  see  with  my  own  eyes. 

Orange.  Oh  that  for  once  you  saw  with  mine !  My 
friend,  because  your  eyes  are  open,  you  imagine  that  you  see. 
I  go !  Await  Alva's  arrival,  and  God  be  with  you !  My 
refusal  to  do  so  may  perhaps  save  you.  The  dragon  may 
deem  the  prey  not  worth  seizing,  if  he  cannot  swallow  us 
both.  Perhaps  he  may  delay,  in  order  more  surely  to  execute 
his  purpose;  in  the  meantime  you  may  see  matters  in  their 
true  light.  But  then,  be  prompt !  Lose  not  a  moment ! 
Save, — oh,  save  yourself  !  Farewell ! — Let  nothing  escape 
your  vigilance: — how  many  troops  he  brings  with  him; 
how  he  garrisons  the  town ;  what  force  the  Regent  retains ; 
how  your  friends  are  prepared.    Send  me  tidings — Egmont — ■ 

Egmont.  What  would  you? 

Orange  {grasping  his  hand).  Be  persuaded  I  Go  with 
me! 

Egmont.  How !     Tears,  Orange ! 

Orange  To  weep  for  a  lost  friend  is  not  unmanly. 

Egmont.  You  deem  me  lost? 

Orange.  You  are  lost !  Consider !  Only  a  brief  respite 
is  left  you.     Farewell.  [Exit. 

Egmont  {alone).  Strange  that  the  thoughts  of  other  men 


284  GOETHE 

should  exert  such  an  influence  over  us.  These  fears  would 
never  have  entered  my  mind;  and  this  man  infects  me  vi^ith 
his  solicitude.  Away !  'Tis  a  foreign  drop  in  my  blood ! 
Kind  nature,  cast  it  forth  !  And  to  erase  the  furrowed  lines 
from  my  brow  there  yet  remains  indeed  a  friendly  means. 


ACT    III 
Scene  I. — Palace  of  the  Regent 

Margaret  of  Parma 
Regent.  I  might  have  expected  it.  Ha !  when  we  live 
immersed  in  anxiety  and  toil,  we  imagine  that  we  achieve 
the  utmost  that  is  possible;  while  he,  who,  from  a  distance, 
looks  on  and  commands,  believes  that  he  requires  only  the 
possible.  O  ye  kings !  I  had  not  thought  it  could  have  galled 
me  thus.  It  is  so  sweet  to  reign ! — and  to  abdicate?  I  know 
not  how  my  father  could  do  so ;  but  I  will  also. 

Machiavel  appears  in  the  back-ground 

Regent.  Approach,  Machiavel.  I  am  thinking  over  this 
letter  from  my  brother. 

Machiavel.  May  I  know  what  it  contains? 

Regent.  As  much  tender  consideration  for  me  as  anxiety 
for  his  states.  He  extols  the  firmness,  the  industry,  the 
fidelity,  with  which  I  have  hitherto  watched  over  the  inter- 
ests of  his  Majesty  in  these  provinces.  He  condoles  with 
me  that  the  unbridled  people  occasion  me  so  much  trouble, 
Hs  is  so  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  depth  of  my  views,  so 
extraordinarily  satisfied  with  the  prudence  of  my  conduct, 
that  I  must  almost  say  the  letter  is  too  politely  written  for  a 
king — certainly  for  a  brother. 

Machiavel.  It  is  not  the  first  time  that  he  has  testified 
to  you  his  just  satisfaction. 

Regent.  But  the  first  time  that  it  is  a  mere  rhetorical  figure. 

Machiavel.  I  do  not  understand  you. 

Regent.  You  soon  will. — For  after  this  preamble  he  is  of 
opinion  that  without  soldiers,  without  a  small  army  indeed, — - 
I  shall  always  cut  a  sorry  figure  here !    We  did  wrong,  he 


EGMONT  285 

says,  to  withdraw  our  troops  from  the  provinces  at  the 
remonstrance  of  the  inhabitants;  a  garrison,  he  thinks,  which 
shall  press  upon  the  neck  of  the  burgher,  will  prevent  him, 
by  its  weight,  from  making  any  lofty  spring. 

Machiavel.  It  would  irritate  the  public  mind  to  the  last 
degree. 

Regent.  The  king  thinks,  however,  do  you  hear? — he 
thinks  that  a  clever  general,  one  who  never  listens  to  reason, 
will  be  able  to  deal  promptly  with  all  parties; — people  and 
nobles,  citizens  and  peasants ;  he  therefore  sends,  with  a 
powerful  army,  the  Duke  of  Alva. 

Machiavel.  Alva? 

Regent.  You  are  surprised. 

Machiavel.  You  say,  he  sends,  he  asks  doubtless  whether 
he  should  send. 

Regent.  The  king  asks  not,  he  sends. 

Machiavel.  You  will  then  have  an  experienced  warrior 
in  your  service. 

Regent.  In  my  service  ?    Speak  out,  Machiavel 

Machiavel.  I  would  not  anticipate  you. 

Regent.  And  I  would  I  could  dissimulate.  It  wounds  me 
— wounds  me  to  the  quick.  I  had  rather  my  brother  would 
speak  his  mind  than  attach  his  signature  to  formal  epistles 
drawn  up  by  a  secretary  of  state. 

Machiavel,  Can  they  not  comprehend? — 

Regent.  I  know  them  both  within  and  without.  They 
would  fain  make  a  clean  sweep;  and  since  they  cannot  set 
about  it  themselves,  they  give  their  confidence  to  any  one 
who  comes  with  a  besom  in  his  hand.  Oh,  it  seems  to  me  as 
if  I  saw  the  king  and  his  council  worked  upon  this  tapestry. 

Machia\t:l.  So  distinctly ! 

Regent.  No  feature  is  wanting.  There  are  good  men 
among  them.  The  honest  Roderigo,  so  experienced  and  so 
moderate,  who  does  not  aim  too  high,  yet  lets  nothing  sink 
too  low ;  the  upright  Alonzo,  the  diligent  Freneda,  the  stead- 
fast Las  Vargas,  and  others  who  join  them  when  the  good 
party  are  in  power.  But  there  sits  the  hollow-eyed  Toledan, 
with  brazen  front  and  deep  fire-glance,  muttering  between 
his  teeth  about  womanish  softness,  ill-timed  concession,  and 
that  women  can  ride  trained  steeds,  well  enough,  but  are 


286  GOETHE 

themselves  bad  masters  of  the  horse,  and  the  like  pleas- 
antries, which,  in  former  times,  I  have  been  compelled  to 
hear  from  political  gentlemen. 

Machiavel.  You  have  chosen  good  colours  for  your 
picture. 

Regent.  Confess,  Machiavel,  among  the  tints  from  v^hich 
I  might  select,  there  is  no.  hue  so  livid,  so  jaundice-like,  as 
Alva's  complexion,  and  the  colour  he  is  wont  to  paint  with. 
He  regards  every  one  as  a  blasphemer  or  traitor,  for  under 
this  head  they  can  all  be  racked,  impaled,  quartered,  and 
burnt  at  pleasure.  The  good  I  have  accomplished  here  ap- 
pears as  nothing  seen  from  a  distance,  just  because  it 
is  good.  Then  he  dwells  on  every  outbreak  that  is  past, 
recalls  every  disturbance  that  is  quieted,  and  brings  before 
the  king  such  a  picture  of  mutiny,  sedition,  and  audacity, 
that  we  appear  to  him  to  be  actually  devouring  one  an- 
other, when  with  us  the  transient  explosion  of  a  rude 
people  has  long  been  forgotten.  Thus  he  conceives  a  cordial 
hatred  for  the  poor  people ;  he  views  them  with  horror, 
as  beasts  and  monsters ;  looks  around  for  fire  and  sword, 
and  imagines  that  by  such  means  human  beings  are 
subdued. 

Machiavel.  You  appear  to  me  too  vehement;  you  take  the 
matter  too  seriously.     Do  you  not  remain  Regent? 

Regent.  I  am  aware  of  that.  He  will  bring  his  instruc- 
tions. I  am  old  enough  in  state  affairs  to  understand  how 
people  can  be  supplanted,  without  being  actually  deprived 
of  office.  First,  he  will  produce  a  commission,  couched  in 
terms  somewhat  obscure  and  equivocal ;  he  will  stretch  his 
authority,  for  the  power  is  in  his  hands ;  if  I  complain,  he 
will  hint  at  secret  instructions ;  if  I  desire  to  see  them,  he 
will  answer  evasively ;  if  I  insist,  he  will  produce  a  paper  of 
totally  different  import;  and  if  this  fail  to  satisfy  me,  he 
will  go  on  precisely  as  if  I  had  never  interfered.  Meanwhile 
he  will  have  accomplished  what  I  dread,  and  have  frustrated 
my  most  cherished  schemes. 

Machiavel.  I  wish  I  could  contradict  you. 

Regent.  His  harshness  and  cruelty  will  again  arouse  the 
turbulent  spirit,  which,  with  unspeakable  patience,  I  have 
succeeded  in  quelling;  I  shall  see  my  work  destroyed  before 


EGMONT  287 

my  eyes,  and  have  besides  to  bear  the  blame  of  his  wrong- 
doing. 

Machiavel.  Await  it,  your  Highness, 

Regent.  I  have  sufficient  self-command  to  remain  quiet 
Let  him  come;  I  will  make  way  for  him  with  the  best  grace 
ere  he  pushes  me  aside. 

Machiavel.  So  important  a  step  thus  suddenly? 

Regent.  'Tis  harder  than  you  imagine.  He  who  is  ac- 
customed to  rule,  to  hold  daily  in  his  hand  the  destiny  of 
thousands,  descends  from  the  throne  as  into  the  grave. 
Better  thus,  however,  than  linger  a  spectre  among  the  living, 
and  with  hollow  aspect  endeavour  to  maintain  a  place  which 
another  has  inherited,  and  already  possesses  and  enjoys. 


Scene  II. — Clara's  dwelling 

Clara  and  her  Mother 
Mother.  Such  a  love  as  Brackenburg's  I  have  never  seen; 
I  thought  it  was  to  be  found  only  in  romance  books. 

Clara  (walking  up  and  down  the  room,  humming  a  song). 

With  love's  thrilling   rapture 
What  joy  can   compare ! 

Mother.  He  suspects  thy  attachment  to  Egmont ;  and  yet, 
if  thou  wouldst  but  treat  him  a  little  kindly,  I  do  believe  he 
would  marry  thee  still,  if  thou  wouldst  have  him. 


Clara  (sings). 


Blissful 

And  tearful, 

With  thought-teeming  brain; 

Hoping 

And  fearing 

In  passionate  pain ; 

Now  shouting  in  triumph. 

Now  sunk  in  despair ; — 

With  love's  thrilling  rapture 

What  joy  can  compare ! 


288  GOETHE 

Mother.  Have  done  with  such  baby-nonsense ! 

Clara.  Nay,  do  not  abuse  it;  'tis  a  song  of  marvellous 
virtue.  Many  a  time  have  I  lulled  a  grown  child  to  sleep 
with  it. 

Mother.  Ay !  Thou  canst  think  of  nothing  but  thy  love. 
If  it  only  did  not  put  everything  else  out  of  thy  head.  Thou 
shouldst  have  more  regard  for  Brackenburg,  I  tell  thee.  He 
may  make  thee  happy  yet  some  day. 

Clara.  He? 

Mother.  Oh,  yes  !  A  time  will  come !  You  children  live 
only  in  the  present,  and  give  no  ear  to  our  experience.  Youth 
and  happy  love,  all  has  an  end ;  and  there  comes  a  time  when 
one  thanks  God  if  one  has  any  corner  to  creep  into. 

Clara  (shudders,  and  after  a  pause  stands  up).  Mother, 
let  that  time  come — like  death.  To  think  of  it  beforehand 
is  horrible!  And  if  it  come!  If  we  must — then — we  will 
bear  ourselves  as  we  may.  Live  without  thee,  Egmont ! 
(Weeping.)     No!     It  is  impossible. 

Enter  Egmont  (enveloped  in  a  horseman's  cloak,  his  hat 
drawn  over  his  face) 

Egmont.  Clara ! 

Clara  (utters  a  cry  and  starts  back).  Egmont!  (She 
hastens  tozuards  him.)  Egmont!  (She  embraces  and  leans 
upon  him.)  O  thou  good,  kind,  sweet  Egmont!  Art  thou 
come?    Art  thou  here  indeed! 

Egmont.  Good  evening,  mother? 

Mother.  God  save  you,  noble  sir  !  My  daughter  has  well- 
nigh  pined  to  death,  because  you  have  stayed  away  so  long; 
she  talks  and  sings  about  you  the  live-long  day. 

Egmont.  You  will  give  me  some  supper? 

Mother.  You  do  us  too  much  honour.  If  we  only  had 
anything — 

Clara.  Certainly !  Be  quiet,  mother ;  I  have  provided 
everything;  there  is  something  prepared.  Do  not  betray  me, 
mother. 

Mother.  There's  little  enough. 

Clara.  Never  mind !  And  then  I  think  when  he  is  with 
me  I  am  never  hungry ;  so  he  cannot,  I  should  think,  have 
any  great  appetite  when  I  am  with  him. 


EGMONT  289 

Egmont.  Do  you  think  so?  (Clara  stamps  with  her  foot 
and  turns  pettishly  away.)     What  ails  you? 

Clara.  How  cold  you  are  to-day !  You  have  not  yet 
offered  me  a  kiss.  Why  do  you  keep  your  arms  enveloped 
in  your  mantle,  like  a  new-born  babe?  It  becomes  neither  a 
soldier  nor  a  lover  to  keep  his  arms  muffled  up. 

Egmont.  Sometimes,  dearest,  sometimes.  When  the  sol- 
dier stands  in  ambush  and  would  delude  the  foe,  he  collects 
his  thoughts,  gathers  his  mantle  around  him,  and  matures 
his  plan  and  a  lover — 

Mother.  Will  you  not  take  a  seat,  and  make  yourself 
comfortable?  I  must  to  the  kitchen,  Clara  thinks  of  nothing 
when  you  are  here.    You  must  put  up  with  what  we  have. 

Egmont.  Your  good-will  is  the  best  seasoning. 

[Exit  Mother. 

Clara.  And  what  then  is  my  love? 

Egmont.  Just  what  thou  wilt. 

Clara.  Liken  it  to  anything,  if  you  have  the  heart. 

Egmont.  But  first.  (He  flings  aside  his  mantle,  and 
appears  arrayed  in  a  magnificent  dress.) 

Clara.  Oh  heavens ! 

Egmont.  Now  my  arms  are  free  !  (Embraces  her.) 

Clara.  Don't !  You  will  spoil  your  dress.  (She  steps 
back.)     How  magnificent!     I  dare  not  touch  you. 

Egmont.  Art  thou  satisfied?  I  promised  to  come  once 
arrayed  in  Spanish  fashion. 

Clara.  I  had  ceased  to  remind  you  of  it ;  I  thought  you 
did  not  like  it — ah,  and  the  Golden  Fleece ! 

Egmont.  Thou  seest  it  now. 

Clara.  And  did  the  emperor  really  hang  it  round  thy 
neck ! 

Egmont.  He  did,  my  child !  And  this  chain  and  Order 
invest  the  wearer  with  the  noblest  privileges.  On  earth  I 
acknowledge  no  judge  over  my  actions,  except  the  grand 
master  of  the  Order,  with  the  assembled  chapter  of  knights. 

Clara.  Oh,  thou  mightest  let  the  whole  world  sit  in  judg- 
ment over  thee.  The  velvet  is  too  splendid !  and  the  braid- 
ing !  and  the  embroidery !    One  knows  not  where  to  begin. 

Egmont.  There,  look  thy  fill. 

Clara.  And  the  Golden  Fleece !    You  told  me  its  history, 

lO— VOL.  XIX  BC 


290  GOETHE 

and  said  it  is  the  symbol  of  everything  great  and  precious, 
of  everything  that  can  be  merited  and  won  by  dihgence  and 
toil.  It  is  very  precious — I  may  liken  it  to  thy  love; — even 
so  I  wear  it  next  my  heart; — and  then — 

Egmont.  What  wilt  thou  say? 

Clara.  And  then  again  it  is  not  like. 

Egmont.  How  so? 

Clara.  I  have  not  won  it  by  diligence  and  toil,  I  have  not 
deserved  it. 

Egmont.  It  is  otherwise  in  love.  Thou  dost  deserve  it 
because  thou  hast  not  sought  it — and,  for  the  most  part,  those 
only  obtain  love  who  seek  it  not. 

Clara.  Is  it  from  thine  own  experience  that  thou  hast 
learned  this?  Didst  thou  make  that  proud  remark  in  refer- 
ence to  thyself?    Thou,  whom  all  the  people  love? 

Egmont.  Would  that  I  had  done  something  for  them ! 
That  I  could  do  anything  for  them !  It  is  their  own  good 
pleasure  to  love  me. 

Clara.  Thou  hast  doubtless  been  with  the  Regent  to-day? 

Egmont.  I  have. 

Clara.  Art  thou  upon  good  terms  with  her? 

Egmont.  So  it  would  appear.  We  are  kind  and  service- 
able to  each  other. 

Clara.  And  in  thy  heart? 

Egmont.  I  like  her.  True,  we  have  each  our  own  views; 
but  that  is  nothing  to  the  purpose.  She  is  an  excellent 
woman,  knows  with  whom  she  has  to-  deal,  and  would  be 
penetrating  enough  were  she  not  quite  so  suspicious.  I  give 
her  plenty  of  employment,  because  she  is  always  suspect- 
ing some  secret  motive  in  my  conduct  when,  in  fact,  I  have 
none. 

Clara.  Really  none? 

Egmont.  Well,  with  one  little  exception,  perhaps.  All 
wine  deposits  lees  in  the  cask  in  the  course  of  time.  Orange 
furnishes  her  still  better  entertainment,  and  is  a  perpetual 
riddle.  He  has  got  the  credit  of  harbouring  some  secret  de- 
sign ;  and  she  studies  his  brow  to  discover  his  thoughts,  and 
his  steps,  to  learn  in  what  direction  they  are  bent. 

Clara.  Does  she  dissemble  ? 

Egmont.  She  is  Regent — and  do  you  ask? 


EGMONT  291 

Clara.  Pardon  me;  I  meant  to  say,  is  she  false? 

Egmont.  Neither  more  nor  less  than  everyone  who  has 
his  own  objects  to  attain. 

Clara.  I  should  never  feel  at  home  in  the  world.  But  she 
has  a  masculine  spirit,  and  is  another  sort  of  woman  from 
us  housewives  and  sempstresses.  She  is  great,  steadfast, 
resolute. 

Egmont.  Yes,  when  matters  are  not  too  much  involved. 
For  once,  however,  she  is  a  little  disconcerted. 

Clara.  How  so? 

Egmont,  She  has  a  moustache,  too,  on  her  upper  lip,  and 
occasionally  an  attack  of  the  gout.    A  regular  Amazon. 

Clara.  A  majestic  woman!  I  should  dread  to  appear 
before  her. 

Egmont.  Yet  thou  art  not  wont  to  be  timid !  It  would 
not  be  fear,  only  maidenly  bashfulness, 

(Clara  casts  dozen  her  eyes,  takes  his  hand,  and 
leans  upon  him.) 

Egmont.  I  understand  thee,  dearest !  Thou  mayst  raise 
thine  eyes.  (He  kisses  her  eyes.) 

Clara.  Let  me  be  silent !  Let  me  embrace  thee !  Let 
me  look  into  thine  eyes,  and  find  there  everything — ^hope 
and  comfort,  joy  and  sorrow !  (She  embraces  and  gases  on 
him.)  Tell  me!  Oh,  tell  me!  It  seems  so  strange — art 
thou  indeed  Egmont !  Count  Egmont !  The  great  Egmont, 
who  makes  so  much  noise  in  the  world,  who  figures  in  the 
newspapers,  who  is  the  support  and  stay  of  the  provinces? 

Egmont.  No,  Clara,  I  am  not  he. 

Clara.  How? 

Egmont.  Seest  thou,  Clara?  Let  me  sit  down!  (He  seats 
himself,  she  kneels  on  a  footstool  before  him.  rests  her  arms 
on  his  knees  and  looks  up  in  his  face.)  That  Egmont  is  a 
morose,  cold,  unbending  Egmont,  obliged  to  be  upon  his 
guard,  to  assume  now  this  appearance  and  now  that; 
harassed,  misapprehended  and  perplexed,  when  the  crowd 
esteem  him  light-hearted  and  gay;  beloved  by  a  people  who 
do  not  know  their  own  minds ;  honoured  and  extolled  by  the 
intractable  multitude;  surrounded  by  friends  in  whom  he 
dares  not  confide ;  observed  by  men  who  are  on  the  watch 
to  supplant  him;  toiling  and  striving,  often  without  an  object. 


292  GOETHE 

generally  without  a  reward.  O  let  me  conceal  how  it  fares 
with  him,  let  me  not  speak  of  his  feelings !  But  this  Egmont, 
Clara,  is  calm,  unreserved,  happy,  beloved  and  known  by  the 
best  of  hearts,  which  is  also  thoroughly  known  to  him,  and 
which  he  presses  to  his  own  with  unbounded  confidence  an'd 
love.     {He  embraces  her.)     This  is  thy  Egmont. 

Clara.  So  let  me  die !     The  world  has  no  joy  after  this ! 


ACT  IV 

Scene  I. — A  Street 

Jetter^  Carpenter 

Tetter.  Hist !  neighbour, — a  word ! 

Carpenter.  Go  your  way  and  be  quiet. 

Jetter.  Only  one  word.    Is  there  nothing  new? 

Carpenter,  Nothing,  except  that  we  are  anew  forbidden 
to  speak. 

Jetter.  How? 

Carpenter.  Step  here,  close  to  this  house.  Take  heed ! 
Immediately  on  his  arrival,  the  Duke  of  Alva  published  a 
decree,  by  which  two  or  three,  found  conversing  together 
in  the  streets,  are  without  trial,  declared  guilty  of  high 
treason. 

Jetter    Alas ! 

Carpenter.  To  speak  of  state  affairs  is  prohibited  on  pain 
of  perpetual  imprisonment. 

Jetter.  Alas  for  our  liberty ! 

Carpenter.  And  no  one,  on  pain  of  death,  shall  censure 
the  measures  of  government. 

Jetter.  Alas,  for  our  heads  ! 

Carpenter.  And  fathers,  mothers,  children,  kindred, 
friends,  and  servants,  are  invited,  by  the  promise  of  large 
rewards,  to  disclose  what  passes  in  the  privacy  of  our  homes, 
before  an  expressly  appointed  tribunal. 

Jetter.  Let  us  go  home. 

Carpenter.  And  the  obedient  are  promised  that  they  shall 
suffer  no  injury,  either  in  person  or  estate. 

Jetter.  How  gracious ! — I  felt  ill  at  ease  the  moment  the 


EGMONT  293 

duke  entered  the  town.  Since  then,  it  has  seemed  to  me, 
as  though  the  heavens  were  covered  with  black  crape,  which 
hangs  so  low,  that  one  must  stoop  down  to  avoid  knocking 
one's  head  against  it. 

Carpenter.  And  how  do  you  like  his  soldiers?  They 
are  a  different  sort  of  crabs  from  those  we  have  been 
used  to. 

Jetter.  Faugh !  It  gives  one  the  cramp  at  one's  heart 
to  see  such  a  troop  march  down  the  street.  As  straight  as 
tapers,  with  fixed  look,  only  one  step,  however  many  there 
may  be;  and  when  they  stand  sentinel,  and  you  pass  one 
of  them,  it  seems  as  though  he  would  look  you  through  and 
through;  and  he  looks  so  stiff  and  morose,  that  you  fancy 
you  see  a  task-master  at  every  corner.  They  offend  my 
sight.  Our  militia  were  merry  fellows;  they  took  liberties, 
stood  their  legs  astride,  their  hats  over  their  ears,  they  lived 
and  let  live;  these  fellows  are  like  machines  with  a  devil 
inside  them. 

Carpenter.  Were  such  an  one  to  cry,  "  Halt !  "  and  to 
level  his  musket,  think  you  one  would  stand? 

Jetter,  I  should  fall  dead  upon  the  spot. 

Carpenter.    Let  us  go  home  ! 

Jetter.  No  good  can  come  of  it.    Farewell. 


Enter  Soest 

Soest.  Friends  !    Neighbours  ! 

Carpenter.  Hush  !     Let  us  go. 

Soest.  Have  you  heard? 

Jetter.  Only  too  much  ! 

Soest.  The  Regent  is  gone, 

Jetter.  Then  Heaven  help  us. 

Carpenter.  She  was  some  stay  to  us. 

Soest.  Her  departure  was  sudden  and  secret.  She  could 
not  agree  with  the  duke;  she  has  sent  word  ^o  the  nobles 
that  she  intends  to  return.    No  one  believes  it,    however. 

Carpenter,  God  pardon  the  nobles  for  letting  this  new 
yoke  be  laid  upon  our  necks.  They  might  have  prevented 
it.    Our  privileges  are  gone. 

Jetter.  For  Heaven's  sake  not  a  word  about  privileges. 


294  GOETHE 

I  already  scent  an  execution;  the  sun  will  not  come  forth; 
the  fogs  are  rank. 

SoEST.  Orange,  too,  is  gone. 

Carpenter.  Then  are  we  quite  deserted  ! 

SoEST.  Count  Egmont  is  still  here. 

Jetter.  God  be  thanked !  Strengthen  him,  all  ye  saints, 
to  do  his  utmost;  he  is  the  only  one  who  can  help  us. 


Enter  Vansen 

Vansen.  Have  I  at  length  found  a  few  brave  citizens  who 
have  not  crept  out  of  sight  ? 

Jetter.  Do  us  the  favour  to  pass  on. 

Vansen.  You  are  not  civil. 

Jetter.  This  is  no  time  for  compliments.  Does  your  back 
itch  again?  are  your  wounds  already  healed? 

Vansen.  Ask  a  soldier  about  his  wounds?  Had  I  cared 
for  blows,  nothing  good  would  have  come  of  me. 

Jetter.  Matters  may  grow  more  serious. 

Vansen.  You  feel  from  the  gathering  storm  a  pitiful 
weakness  in  your  limbs,  it  seems. 

Carpenter.  Your  limbs  will  soon  be  in  motion  elsewhere, 
if  you  do  not  keep  quiet. 

Vansen.  Poor  mice !  The  master  of  the  house  procures 
a  new  cat,  and  ye  are  straight  in  despair !  The  difference 
is  very  trifling;  we  shall  get  on  as  we  did  before,  only  be 
quiet. 

Carpenter.  You  are  an  insolent  knave. 

Vansen.  Gossip !  Let  the  duke  alone.  The  old  cat  looks 
as  though  he  had  swallowed  devils,  instead  of  mice,  and 
could  not  now  digest  them.  Let  him  alone,  I  say;  he  must 
eat,  drink,  and  sleep,  like  other  men.  I  am  not  afraid  if  we 
only  watch  our  opportunity.  At  first  he  makes  quick  work 
of  it ;  by-and-by,  however,  he  too  will  find  that  it  is  pleasanter 
to  live  in  the  larder,  among  flitches  of  bacon,  and  to  rest  by 
night,  than  to  entrap  a  few  solitary  mice  in  the  granary. 
Go  to !     I  know  the  stadtholders. 

Carpenter.  What  such  a  fellow  can  say  with  impunity ! 
Had  I  said  such  a  thing,  I  should  not  hold  myself  safe  a 
moment. 


EGMONT  295 

Vansen.  Do  not  make  yourselves  uneasy !  God  in  heaven 
does  not  trouble  himself  about  you,  poor  worms,  much  less 
the  Regent. 

Jetter,  Slanderer ! 

Vansen.  I  know^  some  for  whom  it  would  be  better  if, 
instead  of  their  own  high  spirits,  they  had  a  little  tailor's 
blood  in  their  veins. 

Carpenter.  What  mean  you  by  that? 

Vansen.  Hum  !    I  mean  the  count. 

Jetter.  Egmont !     What  has  he  to  fear  ? 

Vansen.  I'm  a  poor  devil,  and  could  live  a  whole  year 
round  on  what  he  loses  in  a  single  night;  yet  he  would  do 
well  to  give  me  his  revenue  for  a  twelvemonth,  to  have  my 
head  upon  his  shoulders  for  one  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Jetter.  You  think  yourself  very  clever;  yet  there  is  more 
sense  in  the  hairs  of  Egmont's  head,  than  in  your  brains. 

Vansen.  Perhaps  so !  Not  more  shrewdness,  however. 
These  gentry  are  the  most  apt  to  deceive  themselves.  He 
should  be  more  chary  of  his  confidence. 

Jetter.  How  his  tongue  wags  !     Such  a  gentleman  ! 

Vansen.  Just  because  he  is  not  a  tailor. 

Jetter.  You  audacious  scoundrel ! 

Vansen.  I  only  wish  he  had  your  courage  in  his  limbs 
for  an  hour  to  make  him  uneasy,  and  plague  and  torment 
him,  till  he  were  compelled  to  leave  the  town. 

Jetter.  What  nonsense  you  talk;  why  he's  as  safe  as  a 
star  in  heaven. 

Vansen.  Have  you  ever  seen  one  snuff  itself  out?  Off 
it  went ! 

Carpenter.  Who  would  dare  to  meddle  with  him? 

Vansen.  Will  you  interfere  to  prevent  it?  Will  you  stir 
up  an  insurrection  if  he  is  arrested? 

Jetter.  Ah ! 

Vansen.  Will  you  risk  your  ribs  for  his  sake? 

SoEST.  Eh ! 

Vansen  (mimicking  them).  Eh!  Oh!  Ah!  Run  through 
the  alphabet  in  your  wonderment.  So  it  is,  and  so  it  will 
remain.     Heaven  help  him  ! 

Jetter.  Confound  your  impudence.  Can  such  a  noble, 
upright  man  have  anything  to  fear? 


296  GOETHE 

Vansen.  In  this  world  the  rogue  has  everywhere  the 
advantage.  At  the  bar,  he  makes  a  fool  of  the  judge;  on 
the  bench,  he  takes  pleasure  in  convicting  the  accused.  I 
have  had  to  copy  out  a  protocol,  where  the  commissary  was 
handsomely  rewarded  by  the  court,  both  with  praise  and 
money,  because  through  his  cross-examination,  an  honest 
devil,  against  whom  they  had  a  grudge,  was  made  out  to  be  a 
rogue. 

Carpenter.  Why,  that  again  is  a  downright  lie.  What 
can  they  want  to  get  out  of  a  man  if  he  is  innocent? 

Vansen.  Oh,  you  blockhead !  When  nothing  can  be 
worked  out  of  a  man  by  cross-examination,  they  work  it 
into  him.  Honesty  is  rash  and  withal  somewhat  presump- 
tuous ;  at  first  they  question  quietly  enough,  and  the  prisoner, 
proud  of  his  innocence,  as  they  call  it,  comes  out  with  much 
that  a  sensible  man  would  keep  back !  then,  from  these  an- 
swers the  inquisitor  proceeds  to  put  new  .questions,  and  is 
on  the  watch  for  the  slightest  contradiction ;  there  he  fastens 
his  line;  and,  let  the  poor  devil  lose  his  self-possession,  say 
too  much  here,  or  too  little  there,  or,  Heaven  knows  from 
what  whim  or  other,  let  him  withhold  some  trifling  circum- 
stance, or  at  any  moment  give  way  to  fear — then  we're  on 
the  right  track,  and,  I  assure  you,  no  beggar-woman  seeks  for 
rags  among  the  rubbish  with  more  care  than  such  a  fabricator 
of  rogues,  from  trifling,  crooked,  disjointed,  misplaced,  mis- 
printed, and  concealed  facts  and  information,  acknowledged 
or  denied,  endeavours  at  length  to  patch  up  a  scarecrow,  by 
means  of  which  he  may  at  least  hang  his  victim  in  eflagy; 
and  the  poor  devil  may  thank  Heaven  if  he  is  in  a  condition 
to  see  himself  hanged. 

Jetter,  He  has  a  ready  tongue  of  his  own. 

Carpenter,  This  may  serve  well  enough  with  flies.  Wasps 
laugh  at  your  cunning  web. 

Vansen.  According  to  the  kind  of  spider.  The  tall  duke, 
now,  has  just  the  look  of  your  garden  spider;  not  the  large- 
bellied  kind,  they  are  less  dangerous ;  but  your  long- footed, 
meagre-bodied  gentleman,  that  does  not  fatten  on  his  diet, 
and  whose  threads  are  slender  indeed,  but  not  the  less 
tenacious. 

Jetter.  Egmont  is  knight  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  who  dare 


EGMONT  297. 

lay  hands  on  him?  He  can  be  tried  only  by  his  peers,  by 
the  assembled  knights  of  his  order.  Your  own  foul  tongue 
and  evil  conscience  betray  you  into  this  nonsense. 

Vansen.  Think  you  that  I  wish  him  ill?  I  would  you 
were  in  the  right.  He  is  an  excellent  gentleman.  He  once 
let  off,  with  a  sound  drubbing,  some  good  friends  of  mine, 
who  would  else  have  been  hanged.  Now  take  yourselves 
off !  begone,  I  advise  you !  Yonder  I  see  the  patrol  again 
commencing  their  round.  They  do  not  look  as  if  they  would 
be  willing  to  fraternize  with  us  over  a  glass.  We  must  wait, 
and  bide  our  time.  I  have  a  couple  of  nieces  and  a  gossip 
of  a  tapster;  if  after  enjoying  themselves  in  their  company, 
they  are  not  tamed,  they  are  regular  wolves. 


Scene  II. —  The  Palace  of  Eulenberg,  Residence  of  the  Duke  of  Alva 

SiLVA  and  Gomez  (meeting) 

SiLVA.  Have  you  executed  the  duke's  commands? 

Gomez.  Punctually.  All  the  day-patrols  have  received 
orders  to  assemble  at  the  appointed  time,  at  the  various 
points  that  I  have  indicated.  Meanwhile,  they  march  as 
usual  through  the  town  to  maintain  order.  Each  is  ignorant 
respecting  the  movements  of  the  rest,  and  imagines  the 
command  to  have  reference  to  himself  alone ;  thus  in  a 
moment  the  cordon  can  be  formed,  and  all  the  avenues  to 
the  palace  occupied.    Know  you  the  reason  of  this  command? 

SiLVA.  I  am  accustomed  blindly  to  obey;  and  to  whom  can 
one  more  easily  render  obedience  than  to  the  duke,  since 
the  event  always  proves  the  wisdom  of  his  commands? 

Gomez.  Well !  Well !  I  am  not  surprised  that  you  are 
become  as  reserved  and  monosyllabic  as  the  duke,  since 
you  are  obliged  to  be  always  about  his  person;  to  me,  how- 
ever, who  am  accustomed  to  the  lighter  service  of  Italy,  it 
seems  strange  enough.  In  loyalty  and  obedience,  I  am  the 
same  old  soldier  as  ever ;  but  I  am  wont  to  indulge  in  gossip 
and  discussion ;  here,  you  are  all  silent,  and  seem  as  though 
you  knew  not  how  to  enjoy  yourselves.  The  duke,  methinks, 
is  like  a  brazen  tower  without  gates,  the  garrison  of  which 
must  be  furnished  with  wings.     Not  long  ago  I  heard  him 


298  GOETHE 

say  at  the  table  of  a  gay,  jovial  fello\r  that  he  was  like  a  bad 
spirit-shop,  with  a  brandy  sign  displayed,  to  allure  idlers, 
vagabonds,  and  thieves. 

SiLVA.  And  has  he  not  brought  us  hither  in  silence? 

Gomez.  Nothing  can  be  said  against  that.  Of  a  truth, 
we,  who  witnessed  the  address  with  which  he  led  the  troops 
hither  out  of  Italy,  have  seen  something.  How  he  advanced 
warily  through  friends  and  foes;  through  the  French,  both 
royalists  and  heretics ;  through  the  Swiss  and  their  con- 
federates ;  maintained  the  strictest  discipline,  and  accom- 
plished with  ease,  and  without  the  slightest  hindrance,  a 
march  that  was  esteemed  so  perilous ! — We  have  seen  and 
learned  something. 

SiLVA.  Here  too !  Is  not  everything  as  still  and  quiet 
as  though  there  had  been  no  disturbance  ? 

Gomez.  Why,  as  for  that,  it  was  tolerably  quiet  when  we 
arrived. 

SiLVA.  The  provinces  have  become  much  more  tranquil; 
if  there  is  any  movement  now,  it  is  only  among  those  who 
wish  to  escape ;  and  to  them,  methinlcs,  the  duke  will  speedily 
close  every  outlet. 

Gomez.  This  service  cannot  fail  to  win  for  him  the  favour 
of  the  king. 

SiLVA.  And  nothing  is  more  expedient  for  us  than  to 
retain  his.  Should  the  king  come  hither,  the  duke  doubt- 
less and  all  whom  he  recommends  will  not  go  without  their 
reward. 

Gomez.  Do  you  really  believe  then  that  the  king  will  come  ? 

SiLVA.  So  many  preparations  are  being  made,  that  the 
report  appears  highly  probable. 

Gomez.  I  am  not  convinced,  however. 

SiLVA.  Keep  your  thoughts  to  yourself  then.  For  if  it 
should  not  be  the  king's  intention  to  come,  it  is  at  least 
certain  that  he  wishes  the  rumour  to  be  believed. 


Enter  Ferdinand 
Ferdinand.  Is  my  father  not  yet  abroad? 
SiLVA.  We  are  waiting  to  receive  his  commands. 
Ferdinand.  The  princes  will  soon  be  here. 


SGMONT  299 

Gomez.  Are  they  expected  to-day? 

Ferdinand.  Orange  and  Egmont. 

Gomez  (aside  to  Silva),  A  light  breaks  in  upon  me. 

SiLVA.  Well,  then,  say  nothing  about  it. 


Enter  the  Duke  of  Alva  (as  he  advances  the  rest  draw  back) 

Alva.  Gomez, 

Gomez  (steps  forward).  My  lord. 

Alva.  You  have  distributed  the  guards  and  given  them 
their  instructions? 

Gomez.  Most  accurately.    The  day-patrols — 

Alva.  Enough.  Attend  in  the  gallery.  Silva  will  an- 
nounce to  you  the  moment  when  you  are  to  draw  them 
together,  and  to  occupy  the  avenues  leading  to  the  palace. 
The  rest  you  know. 

Gomez.  I  do,  my  lord.  [Exit. 

Alva.  Silva. 

Silva.  Here  my  lord. 

Alva.  I  shall  require  you  to  manifest  to-day  all  the 
qualities  which  I  have  hitherto  prized  in  you:  courage, 
resolve,  unswerving  execution. 

Silva.  I  thank  you  for  affording  me  an  opportunity  of 
showing  that  your  old  servant  is  unchanged. 

Alva.  The  moment  the  princes  enter  my  cabinet,  hasten 
to  arrest  Egmont's  private  secretary.  You  have  made  all 
needful  preparations  for  securing  the  others  who  are  speci- 
fied? 

Silva.  Rely  upon  us.  Their  doom,  like  a  well-calculated 
eclipse,  will  overtake  them  with  terrible  certainty. 

Alva.  Have  you  had  them  all  narrowly  watched? 

Silva.  All.  Egmont  especially.  He  is  the  only  one  whose 
demeanour,  since  your  arrival,  remains  unchanged.  The 
live-long  day  he  is  now  on  one  horse  and  now  on  another ; 
he  invites  guests  as  usual,  is  merry  and  entertaining  at  table, 
plays  at  dice,  shoots,  and  at  night  steals  to  his  mistress.  The 
others,  on  the  contrary,  have  made  a  manifest  pause  in  their 
mode  of  life;  they  remain  at  home,  and,  from  the  outward 
aspect  of  their  houses,  you  would  imagine  that  there  was  a 
sick  man  within. 


300  GOETHE 

Alva.  To  work  then,  ere  they  recover  in  spite  of  us. 

SiLVA.  I  shall  bring  them  without  fail.  In  obedience 
to  your  commands  we  load  them  with  officious  honours ; 
they  are  alarmed;  cautiously,  yet  anxiously,  they  tender 
us  their  thanks,  feel  that  flight  would  be  the  most  prudent 
course,  yet  none  venture  to  adopt  it ;  they  hesitate,  are 
unable  to  work  together,  while  the  bond  which  unites  them 
prevents  their  acting  boldly  as  individuals.  They  are  anxious 
to  withdraw  themselves  from  suspicion,  and  thus  only  render 
themselves  more  obnoxious  to  it.  I  already  contemplate  with 
joy  the  successful  realization  of  your  scheme. 

Ai.VA.  I  rejoice  only  over  what  is  accomplished,  and  not 
lightly  over  that;  for  there  ever  remains  ground  for  serious 
and  anxious  thought.  Fortune  is  capricious;  the  common, 
the  worthless,  she  oft-times  ennobles,  while  she  dishonours 
with  a  contemptible  issue  the  most  maturely  considered 
schemes.  Await  the  arrival  of  the  princes,  then  order 
Gomez  to  occupy  the  streets,  and  hasten  yourself  to  arrest 
Egmont's  secretary,  and  the  others  who  are  specified.  This 
done,  return,  and  announce  to  my  son  that  he  may  bring  me 
the  tidings  in  the  council. 

SiLVA.  I  trust  this  evening  I  shall  dare  to  appear  in  your 
presence.  (Alva  approaches  his  son  -who  has  hitherto  been 
standing  in  the  gallery.)  I  dare  not  whisper  it  even  to 
myself;  but  my  mind  misgives  me.  The  event  will,  I  fear,  be 
different  from  what  he  anticipates.  I  see  before  me  spirits, 
who,  still  and  thoughtful,  weigh  in  ebon  scales  the  doom  of 
princes  and  of  many  thousands.  Slowly  the  beam  moves 
up  and  down;  deeply  the  judges  appear  to  ponder;  at  length 
one  scale  sinks,  the  other  rises,  breathed  on  by  the  caprice 
of  destiny,  and  all  is  decided.  [Exit. 

Alva  (advancing  zvith  his  son).  How  did  you  find  the 
town  ? 

Ferdinand.  All  is  again  quiet.  I  rode  as  for  pastime, 
from  street  to  street.  Your  well-distributed  patrols  hold 
Fear  so  tightly  yoked,  that  she  does  not  venture  even  to 
whisper.  The  town  resembles  a  plain  when  the  lightning's 
glare  announces  the  impending  storm :  no  bird,  no  beast  is 
to  be  seen,  that  is  not  stealing  to  a  place  of  shelter. 

Alva.  Has  nothing  further  occurred? 


EGMONT  301 

Ferdinand.  Egmont,  with  a  few  companions,  rode  into 
the  market-place;  we  exchanged  greetings;  he  was  mounted 
on  an  unbroken  charger,  which  excited  my  admiration,  "  Let 
us  hasten  to  break  in  our  steeds,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  we  shall 
need  them  ere  long !  "  He  said  that  he  should  see  me  again 
to-day;  he  is  coming  here,  at  your  desire,  to  deliberate  with 
you. 

Alva.  He  will  see  you  again. 

Ferdinand.  Among  all  the  knights  whom  I  know  here, 
he  pleases  me  the  best.     I  think  we  shall  be  friends. 

Alva.  You  are  always  rash  and  inconsiderate.  I  rec- 
ognize in  you  the  levity  of  your  mother,  which  threw 
her  unconditionally  into  my  arms.  Appearances  have 
already  allured  you  precipitately  into  many  dangerous 
connections. 

Ferdinand.  You  will  find  me  ever  submissive. 

Alva.  I  pardon  this  inconsiderate  kindness,  this  heedless 
gaiety,  in  consideration  of  your  youthful  blood.  Only  for- 
get not  on  what  mission  I  am  sent,  and  what  part  in  it  I 
would  assign  to  you. 

Ferdinand.  Admonish  me,  and  spare  me  not,  when  you 
deem  it  needful. 

Alva  {after  a  pause).  My  son  ! 

Ferdinand.  My   father ! 

Alva.  The  princes  will  be  here  anon ;  Orange  and  Eg- 
mont. It  is  not  mistrust  that  has  withheld  me  till  now  from 
disclosing  to  you  what  is  about  to  take  place.  They  will  not 
depart  hence. 

Ferdinand.  What   do   you   purpose? 

Alva.  It  has  been  resolved  to  arrest  them. — You  are  as- 
tonished !  Learn  what  you  have  to  do ;  the  reasons  you  shall 
know  when  all  is  accomplished.  Time  fails  now  to  unfold 
them.  With  you  alone  I  wish  to  deliberate  on  the  weigh- 
tiest, the  most  secret  matters ;  a  powerful  bond  holds  us 
linked  together ;  you  are  dear  and  precious  t'~>  me ;  on  you 
I  would  bestow  everything.  Not  the  habit  of  obedience 
alone  would  I  impress  upon  you ;  I  desire  also  to  implant 
within  your  mind  the  power  to  realize,  to  command,  to 
execute;  to  you  I  would  bequeath  a  vast  inheritance,  to  the 
king  a  most  useful  servant;  I  would  endow  you  with  the 


302  GOETHE 

noblest  of  my  possessions,  that  you  may  not  be  ashamed  to 
appear  among  your  brethren. 

Ferdinand.  How  deeply  am  I  indebted  to  you  for  this 
love,  which  you  manifest  for  me  alone,  while  a  whole  king- 
dom trembles  before  you ! 

Alva,  Now  hear  what  is  to  be  done.  As  soon  as  the 
princes  have  entered,  every  avenue  to  the  palace  will  be 
guarded.  This  duty  is  confided  to  Gomez.  Silva  will  hasten 
to  arrest  Egmont's  secretary,  together  with  those  whom  we 
hold  most  in  suspicion.  You,  meanwhile,  will  take  the  com- 
mand of  the  guards  stationed  at  the  gates  and  in  the  courts. 
Before  all,  take  care  to  occupy  the  adjoining  apartment  with 
the  trustiest  soldiers.  Wait  in  the  gallery  till  Silva  returns, 
then  bring  me  any  unimportant  paper,  as  a  signal  that  his 
commission  is  executed.  Remain  in  the  ante-chamber  till 
Orange  retires,  follow  him ;  I  will  detain  Egmont  here  as 
though  I  had  some  further  communication  to  make  to  him. 
At  the  end  of  the  gallery  demand  Orange's  sword,  summon 
the  guards,  secure  promptly  the  most  dangerous  man ;  I 
meanwhile  will  seize  Egmont  here. 

Ferdinand.  I  obey,  my  father — for  the  first  time  with 
a  k'eavy  and  an  anxious  heart. 

Alva.  I  pardon  you;  this  is  the  first  great  day  of  your 
life. 

Enter  Silva 

Silva.  A  courier  from  Antwerp.  Here  is  Orange's  let- 
ter.   He  does  not  come. 

Alva.  Says  the  messenger  so? 

Silva.  No,  my  own  heart  tells  me. 

Alva.  In  thee  speaks  my  evil  genius.  (After  reading 
the  letter,  he  makes  a  sign  to  the  two,  and  they  retire  to  the 
gallery.  Alva  remains  alone  in  front  of  the  stage.)  He 
comes  not !  Till  the  last  moment  he  delays  declaring  him- 
self. He  ventures  not  to  come !  So  then,  the  cautious  man, 
contrary  to  all  expectations,  is  for  once  cautious  enough-  to 
lay  aside  his  wonted  caution.  The  hour  moves  on !  Let 
the  finger  travel  but  a  short  space  over  the  dial,  and  a 
great  work  is  done  or  lost — irrevocably  lost;  for  the  oppor- 
tunity can  never  be  retrieved,  nor  can  our  intention   re- 


EGMONT  303 

main  concealed.  Long  had  I  maturely  weighed  everything, 
foreseen  even  this  contingency,  and  firmly  resolved  in  my 
own  mind  what,  in  that  case,  was  to  be  done;  and  now, 
when  I  am  called  upon  to  act,  I  can  with  difficulty  guard 
ray  mind  from  being  again  distracted  by  conflicting  doubts. 
Is  it  expedient  to  seize  the  others  if  he  escape  me?  Shall 
I  delay,  and  suffer  Egniont  to  elude  my  grasp,  together  with 
his  friends,  and  so  many  others  who  now,  and  perhaps  for 
to-day  only,  are  in  my  hands  ?  How  !  Does  destiny  control 
even  thee — the  uncontrollable  ?  How  long  matured  !  How 
well  prepared !  How  great,  how  admirable  the  plan  !  How 
nearly  had  hope  attained  the  goal !  And  now,  at  the  de- 
cisive moment,  thou  art  placed  between  two  evils;  as  in  a 
lottery,  thou  dost  grasp  in  the  dark  future;  what  thou  hast 
drawn  remains  still  unrolled,  to  thee  unknown  whether  it  is 
a  prize  or  a  blank!  {He  becomes  attentive,  like  one  who 
hears  a  noise,  and  steps  to  the  windozu.)  'Tis  he  !  Egmont ! 
Did  thy  steed  bear  thee  hither  so  lightly,  and  started  not  at 
the  scent  of  blood,  at  the  spirit  with  the  naked  sword  who 
received  thee  at  the  gate  ?  Dismount !  Lo,  now  thou  hast 
one  foot  in  the  grave !  And  now  both !  Ay,  caress  him, 
and  for  the  last  time  stroke  his  neck  for  the  gallant  service 
he  has  rendered  thee.  And  for  me  no  choice  is  left.  The 
delusion,  in  which  Egmont  ventures  here  to-day,  cannot  a 
second  time  deliver  him  into  my  hands!  Hark!  (Ferdi- 
nand and  SiLVA  enter  hastily.)  Obey  my  orders !  I  swerve 
not  from  my  purpose.  I  shall  detain  Egmont  here  as  best 
I  may,  till  you  bring  me  tidings  from  Silva.  Then  remain  at 
hand.  Thee,  too,  fate  has'  robbed  of  the  proud  honour  of 
arresting  with  thine  own  hand  the  king's  greatest  enemy. 
(To  Silva.)  Be  prompt!  (To  Ferdinand.)  Advance  ta 
meet  him. 

(Alva  remains  some  moments  alone,  pacing  the  cham- 
ber in  silence.) 

Enter  Egmont 

Egmont.  I  come  to  learn  the  king's  commands;  to  hear 
what  service  he  demands  from  our  loyalty,  which  remains 
eternally  devoted  to  him. 

Alva.  He  desires,  before  all,  to  hear  your  counsel. 


304  GOETHE 

Egmont.  Upon  what  subject?  Does  Orange  come  also? 
I  thought  to  find  him  here. 

Alva.  I  regret  that  he  fails  us  at  this  important  crisis. 
The  king  desires  your  counsel,  your  opinion  as  to  the  best 
means  of  tranquillizing  these  states.  He  trusts  indeed  that 
you  will  zealously  co-operate  with  him  in  quelling  these 
disturbances,  and  in  securing  to  these  provinces  the  benefit 
of  complete  and  permanent  order. 

Egmont.  You,  my  lord,  should  know  better  than  I,  that 
tranquillity  is  already  sufficiently  restored,  and  was  still 
more  so,  till  the  appearance  of  fresh  troops  again  agi- 
tated the  public  mind,  and  filled  it  anew  with  anxiety 
and  alarm. 

Alva.  You  seem  to  intimate  that  it  would  have  been  more 
advisable  if  the  king  had  not  placed  me  in  a  position  to  in- 
terrogate you. 

Egmont.  Pardon  me !  It  is  not  for  me  to  determine 
whether  the  king  acted  advisedly  in  sending  the  army  hither, 
whether  the  might  of  his  royal  presence  alone  would  not  have 
operated  more  powerfully.  The  army  is  here,  the  king  is 
not.  But  we  should  be  most  ungrateful  were  we  to  forget 
what  we  owe  to  the  Regent.  Let  it  be  acknowledged !  By 
her  prudence  and  valour,  by  her  judicious  use  of  authority 
and  force,  of  persuasion  and  finesse,  she  pacified  the  insur- 
gents, and,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  world,  succeeded,  in 
the  course  of  a  few  months,  in  bringing  a  rebellious  people 
back  to  their  duty. 

Alva.  I  deny  it  not.  The  insurrection  is  quelled;  and 
the  people  appear  to  be  already  forced  back  within  the 
bounds  of  obedience.  But  does  it  not  depend  upon  their 
caprice  alone  to  overstep  these  bounds?  Who  shall  pre- 
vent them  from  again  breaking  loose?  Where  is  the  power 
capable  of  restraining  them?  Who  will  be  answerable  to 
us  for  their  future  loyalty  and  submission  ?  Their  own  good- 
will is  the  sole  pledge  we  have. 

Egmont.  And  is  not  the  good-will  of  a  people  the  surest, 
the  noblest  pledge?  By  heaven!  when  can  a  monarch 
hold  himself  more  secure,  ay,  both  against  foreign  and 
domestic  foes,  than  when  all  can  stand  for  one,  and  one 
for  all? 


EGMONT  305 

Alva.  You  would  not  have  us  believe,  however,  that  such 
is  the  case  here  at  present? 

Egmont.  Let  the  king  proclaim  a  general  pardon ;  he  will 
thus  tranquillize  the  public  mind ;  and  it  will  be  seen  how 
speedily  loyalty  and  affection  will  return,  when  confidence  is 
restored. 

Alva.  How  !  And  suffer  those  who  have  insulted  the 
majesty  of  the  king,  who  have  violated  the  sanctuaries  of 
our  religion,  to  go  abroad  unchallenged !  living  witnesses 
that  enormous  crimes  may  be  perpetrated  with  impunit}' ! 

Egmont.  And  ought  not  a  crime  of  frenzy,  of  intoxication, 
to  be  excused,  rather  than  horribly  chastised?  Especially 
when  there  is  the  sure  hope,  nay,  more,  where  there  is  posi- 
tive certainty  that  the  evil  will  never  again  recur?  Would 
not  sovereigns  thus  be  more  secure?  Are  not  those  monarchs 
most  extolled  by  the  world  and  by  posterity,  who  can  pardon, 
pity,  despise  an  offence  against  their  dignity?  Are  they  not 
on  that  account  likened  to  God  himself,  who  is  far  too 
exalted  to  be  assailed  by  every  idle  blasphemy? 

Alva.  And  therefore,  should  the  king  contend  for  the 
honour  of  God  and  of  religion,  we  for  the  authority  of  the 
king.  What  the  supreme  power  disdains  to  avert,  it  is  our 
duty  to  avenge.  Were  I  to  counsel,  no  guilty  person  should 
live  to  rejoice  in  his  impunity. 

Egmont.  Think  you  that  you  will  be  able  to  reach  them 
all?  Do  we  not  daily  hear  that  fear  is  driving  them  to  and 
fro,  and  forcing  them  out  of  the  land?  The  more  wealthy 
will  escape  to  other  countries  with  their  property,  their 
children,  and  their  friends ;  while  the  poor  will  carry  their 
industrious  hands  to  our  neighbours. 

Alva.  They  will,  if  they  cannot  be  prevented.  It  is  on 
this  account  that  the  king  desires  counsel  and  aid  from  every 
prince,  zealous  co-operation  from  every  stadtholder;  not 
merely  a  description  of  the  present  posture  of  affairs,  or 
conjectures  as  to  what  might  take  place  were  events  suffered 
to  hold  on  their  course  without  interruption.  To  contem- 
plate a  mighty  evil,  to  flatter  oneself  with  hope,  to  trust  to 
time,  to  strike  a  blow,  like  the  clown  in  a  play,  so  as  to 
make  a  noise  and  appear  to  do  something,  when  in  fact  one 
would  fain  do  nothing;   is  not   such   conduct   calculated  to 


306  GOETHE 

awaken  a  suspicion  that  those  who  act  thus  contemplate  with 
satisfaction  a  rebellion,  which  they  would  not  indeed  excite, 
but  which  they  are  by  no  means  unwilling  to  encourage? 

Egmont  (about  to  break  forth,  restrains  himself,  and  after 
a  brief  pause,  speaks  with  composure).  Not  every  design  is 
obvious,  and  many  a  man's  design  is  misconstrued.  It  is 
widely  rumoured,  however,  that  the  object  which  the  king 
has  in  view  is  not  so  much  to  govern  the  provinces  accord- 
ing to  uniform  and  clearly  defined  laws,  to  maintain  the 
majesty  of  religion,  and  to  give  his  people  universal  peace, 
as  unconditionally  to  subjugate  them,  to  rob  them  of  their 
ancient  rights,  to  appropriate  their  possessions,  to  curtail 
the  fair  privileges  of  the  nobles,  for  whose  sake  alone  they 
are  ready  to  serve  him  with  life  and  limb.  Religion,  it  is 
said,  is  merely  a  splendid  device,  behind  which  every  dan- 
gerous design  may  be  contrived  with  the  greater  ease;  the 
prostrate  crowds  adore  the  sacred  symbols  pictured  there, 
while  behind  lurks  the  fowler  ready  to  ensnare  them. 

Alva.  This  must  I  hear  from  you? 

Egmont.  I  speak  not  my  own  sentiments !  I  but  repeat 
what  is  loudly  rumoured,  and  uttered  now  here  and  now 
there  by  great  and  by  humble,  by  wise  men  and  fools. 
The  Netherlanders  fear  a  double  yoke,  and  who  will  be 
surety  to  them  for  their  liberty? 

Alva.  Liberty!  A  fair  word  when  rightly  understood. 
What  liberty  would  they  have?  What  is  the  freedom  of 
the  most  free?  To  do  right!  And  in  that  the  monarch 
will  not  hinder  them.  No  !  No !  They  imagine  themselves 
enslaved,  when  they  have  not  the  power  to  injure  them- 
selves and  others.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  abdicate  at 
once,  rather  than  rule  such  a  people?  When  the  country 
is  threatened  by  foreign  invaders,  the  burghers,  occupied 
only  with  their  immediate  interests,  bestow  no  thought  upon 
the  advancing  foe,  and  when  the  king  requires  their  aid,  they 
quarrel  among  themselves,  and  thus,  as  it  were,  conspire  with 
the  enemy.  Far  better  is  it  to  circumscribe  their  power,  to 
control  and  guide  them  for  their  good,  as  children  are  con- 
trolled and  guided.  Trust  me,  a  people  grows  neither  old 
nor  wise,  a  people  remains  always  in  its  infancy. 

Egmont.  How  raiely  does  a  king  attain  wisdom!     And  is 


EGMONT  307 

it  not  fit  that  the  many  should  confide  their  interests  to  the 
many  rather  than  to  the  one?  And  not  even  to  the  one,  but 
:o  the  few  servants  of  the  one,  men  who  have  grown  old 
under  the  eyes  of  their  master.  To  grow  wise,  it  seems,  is 
the  exclusive  privilege  of  these  favoured  individuals. 

Alva.  Perhaps  for  the  very  reason  that  they  are  not  left 
to  themselves. 

Egmont.  And  therefore  they  would  fain  leave  no  one 
else  to  his  own  guidance.  Let  them  do  what  they  like,  how- 
ever; I  have  replied  to  your  questions,  and  I  repeat,  the 
measures  you  propose  will  never  succeed !  They  cannot  suc- 
ceed !  I  know  my  countrymen.  They  are  men  worthy  to 
tread  God's  earth;  each  complete  in  himself,  a  little  king, 
steadfast,  active,  capable,  loyal,  attached  to  ancient  customs. 
It  may  be  difficult  to  win  their  confidence,  but  it  is  easy  to 
retain  it.  Firm  and  unbending!  They  may  be  crushed,  but 
not  subdued. 

Alva  (who  during  this  speech  has  looked  round  several 
times).  Would  you  venture  to  repeat  what  you  have  uttered, 
in  the  king's  presence? 

Egmont.  It  were  the  worse,  if  in  his  presence  I  were 
restrained  by  fear !  The  better  for  him  and  for  his  people, 
if  he  inspired  me  with  confidence,  if  he  encouraged  me  to 
give  yet  freer  utterance  to  my  thoughts. 

Alva.  What  is  profitable,  I  can  listen  to  as  well  as  he. 

Egmont.  I  would  say  to  him — 'Tis  easy  for  the  shepherd 
to  drive  before  him  a  flock  of  sheep;  the  ox  draws  the  plough 
without  opposition;  but  if  you  would  ride  the  noble  steed, 
you  must  study  his  thoughts,  you  must  require  nothing 
unreasonable,  nor  unreasonably,  from  him.  The  burgher 
desires  to  retain  his  ancient  constitution ;  to  be  governed 
by  his  own  countrymen ;  and  why  ?  Because  he  knows  in 
that  case  how  he  shall  be  ruled,  because  he  can  rely  upon 
their  disinterestedness,  upon  their  sympathy  with  his  fate. 

Alva.  And  ought  not  the  Regent  to  be  empowered  to 
alter  these  ancient  usages?  Should  not  this  constitute  his 
fairest  privilege?  What  is  permanent  in  this  world?  And 
shall  the  constitution  of  a  state  alone  remain  unchanged? 
Must  not  every  relation  alter  in  the  course  of  time,  and  on 
that  very  account,  an  ancient  constitution  become  the  source 


308  GOETHE 

of  a  thousand  evils,  because  not  adapted  to  the  present  con- 
dition of  the  people?  These  ancient  rights  afford,  doubt- 
less, convenient  loopholes,  through  which  the  crafty  and 
the  powerful  may  creep,  and  wherein  they  may  lie  con- 
cealed, to  the  injury  of  the  people  and  of  the  entire  com- 
munity; and  it  is  on  this  account,  I  fear,  that  they  are  held 
in  such  high  esteem. 

Egmont.  And  these  arbitrary  changes,  these  unlimited  en- 
croachments of  the  supreme  power,  are  they  not  indications 
that  one  will  permit  himself  to  do  what  is  forbidden  to  thou- 
sands? The  monarch  would  alone  be  free,  that  he  may  have 
it  in  his  power  to  gratify  his  every  wish,  to  realize  his 
every  thought.  And  though  we  should  confide  in  him  as  a 
good  and  virtuous  sovereign,  will  he  be  answerable  to  us 
for  his  successor?  That  none  who  come  after  him  shall 
rule  without  consideration,  without  forbearance !  And  who 
would  deliver  us  from  absolute  caprice,  should  he  send  hither 
his  servants,  his  minions,  who,  without  knowledge  of  the 
country  and  its  requirements,  should  govern  according  to 
their  own  good  pleasure,  meet  with  no  opposition,  and  know 
themselves  exempt  from  all  responsibility  ? 

Alva  (zvho  has  mcanzvhilc  again  looked  round).  There  is 
nothing  more  natural  than  that  a  king  should  choose  to 
retain  the  power  in  his  own  hands,  and  that  he  should 
select  as  the  instruments  of  his  authority,  those  who  best 
understand  him,  who  desire  to  understand  him,  and  who 
will  unconditionally  execute  his  will. 

Egmont.  And  just  as  natural  is  it,  that  the  burgher  should 
prefer  being  governed  by  one  born  and  reared  in  the  same 
land,  whose  notions  of  right  and  wrong  are  in  harmony  with 
his  own,  and  whom  he  can  regard  as  his  brother. 

Alva.  And  yet  the  noble,  methinks,  has  shared  rather 
unequally  with  these  brethren  of  his. 

Egmont.  That  took  place  centuries  ago,  and  is  now  sub- 
mitted to  without  envy.  But  should  new  men,  whose  pres- 
ence is  not  needed  in  the  country,  be  sent,  to  enrich  them- 
selves a  second  time,  at  the  cost  of  the  nation;  should  the 
people  see  themselves  exposed  to  their  bold,  unscrupulous 
rapacity,  it  would  excite  a  ferment  that  would  not  soon  be 
quelled. 


EGMONT  309 

Alva.  You  utter  words  to  which  I  ought  not  to  listen ; — 
I,  too,  am  a  foreigner, 

Egmont.  That  they  are  spoken  in  your  presence  is  a  suffi- 
cient proof  that  they  have  no  reference  to  you. 

Alva.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  would  rather  not  hear  them 
from  you.  The  king  sent  me  here  in  the  hope  that  I  should 
obtain  the  support  of  the  nobles.  The  king  wills,  and  will 
have  his  will  obeyed.  After  profound  deliberation,  the  king 
at  length  discerns  what  course  will  best  promote  the  welfare 
of  the  people;  matters  cannot  be  permitted  to  go  on  as 
heretofore;  it  is  the  king's  intention  to  limit  their  power 
for  their  own  good;  if  necessary,  to  force  upon  them  their 
salvation :  to  sacrifice  the  more  dangerous  burghers  in  order 
that  the  rest  may  find  repose,  and  enjoy  in  peace  the  bless- 
ing of  a  wise  government.  This  is  his  resolve;  this  I  am 
commissioned  to  announce  to  the  nobles;  and  in  his  name 
I  require  from  them  advice,  not  as  to  the  course  to  be  pur- 
sued— on  that  he  is  resolved — but  as  to  the  best  means  of 
carrying  his  purpose  into  effect. 

Egmont.  Your  words,  alas,  justify  the  fears  of  the  people, 
the  universal  fear !  The  king  has  then  resolved  as  no  sov- 
ereign ought  to  resolve.  In  order  to  govern  his  subjects 
more  easily,  he  would  crush,  subvert,  nay,  ruthlessly  destroy, 
their  strength,  their  spirit,  and  their  self-respect !  He  would 
violate  the  inmost  core  of  their  individuality,  doubtless  with 
the  view  of  promoting  their  happiness.  He  would  anni- 
hilate them,  that  they  may  assume  a  new,  a  different  form. 
Oh !  if  his  purpose  be  good,  he  is  fatally  misguided !  It  is 
not  the  king  whom  we  resist; — we  but  place  ourselves  in 
the  way  of  the  monarch,  who,  unhappily,  is  about  to  take 
the  first  rash  step  in  a  wrong  direction. 

Alva.  Such  being  your  sentiments,  it  were  a  vain  attempt 
for  us  to  endeavour  to  agree.  You  must  indeed  think  poorly 
of  the  king,  and  contemptibly  of  his  counsellors,  if  you  im- 
agine that  everything  has  not  already  been  thought  of  and 
maturely  weighed.  I  have  no  commission  a  second  time  to 
balance  conflicting  arguments.  From  the  people  I  demand 
submission; — and  from  you,  their  leaders  and  princes,  I 
demand  counsel  and  support,  as  pledges  of  this  uncondi- 
tional duty. 


310  GOETHE 

Egmont.  Demand  our  heads,  and  your  object  is  attained; 
to  a  noble  soul  it  must  be  indifferent  whether  he  stoop  his 
neck  to  such  a  yoke,  or  lay  it  upon  the  block.  I  have 
spoken  much  to  little  purpose,  I  have  agitated  the  air,  but 
accomplished  nothing. 

Enter  Ferdinand 

Ferdinand.  Pardon  my  intrusion.  Here  is  a  letter,  the 
bearer  of  w^hich  urgently  demands  an  answer. 

Alva.  Allow  me  to  peruse  its  contents.     (Steps  aside.) 

Ferdinand  (to  Egmont).  'Tis  a  noble  steed  that  your 
people  have  brought,  to  carry  you  away. 

Egmont.  I  have  seen  worse.  I  have  had  him  some  time; 
I  think  of  parting  with  him.  If  he  pleases  you  we  shall 
probably  soon  agree  as  to  the  price. 

Ferdinand.  We  will  think  about  it. 

(Alva  motions  to  his  son,  zvho  retires  to  the  back-ground.) 

Egmont.  Farewell !  Allow  me  to  retire ;  for,  by  heaven, 
I  know  not  what  more  I  can  say. 

Alva.  Fortunately  for  you,  chance  prevents  you  from 
making  a  fuller  disclosure  of  your  sentiments.  You  incau- 
tiously lay  bare  the  recesses  of  your  heart,  and  your  own 
lips  furnish  evidence  against  you,  more  fatal  than  could  be 
produced  by  your  bitterest  adversary. 

Egmont.  This  reproach  disturbs  me  not.  I  know  my  own 
heart;  I  know  with  what  honest  zeal  I  am  devoted  to  the 
king;  I  know  that  my  allegiance  is  more,  true  than  that  of 
many  who,  in  his  service,  seek  only  to  serve  themselves.  I 
regret  that  our  discussion  should  terminate  so  unsatisfac- 
torily, and  trust  that  in  spite  of  our  opposing  views,  the 
service  of  the  king,  our  master,  and  the  welfare  of  our 
country,  may  speedily  unite  us;  another  conference,  the 
presence  of  the  princes  who  to-day  are  absent,  may,  per- 
chance, in  a  more  propitious  moment,  accomplish  what  at 
present  appears  impossible.     In  this  hope  I  take  my  leave. 

Alva  (who  at  the  same  time  makes  a  sign  to  Ferdinand). 
Hold,  Egmont! — Your  sword! — (The  centre  door  opens  and 
discloses  the  gallery,  which  is  occupied  with  guards,  who 
remain  motionless.) 

Egmont   (after  a  pause  of  astonishment).  This  was  the 


EGMONT  311 

intention?  For  this  thou  hast  summoned  me?  (Grasping 
his  sword  as  if  to  defend  himself.)     Am  I  then  weaponless? 

Alva.  The  king  commands.  Thou  art  my  prisoner.  {At 
the  same  time  guards  enter  from  both  sides.) 

Egmont  {after  a  pause).  The  king? — Orange!  Orange! 
{after  a  pause,  resigning  hi^  sword).  Take  it!  It  has  been 
employed  far  oftener  in  defending  the  cause  of  my  king  than 
in  protecting  this  breast. 

{He  retires  by  the  centre  door,  follozved  by  the  guard 
and  Alva's  son.  Alva  remains  standing  while  the 
curtain  falls.) 

ACT   V 
Scene  I.— A  Street.     Twilight 

Clara,  Brackenburg,  Burghers 

Brackenburg.  Dearest,  for  Heaven's  sake,  what  wouldst 
thou  do? 

Clara.  Come  with  me,  Brackenburg !  Thou  canst  not 
know  the  people,  we  are  certain  to  rescue  him;  for  what  can 
equal  their  love  for  him?  Each  feels,  I  could  swear  it,  the 
burning  desire  to  deliver  him,  to  avert  danger  from  a  life 
so  precious,  and  to  restore  freedom  to  the  most  free.  Come ! 
A  voice  only  is  wanting  to  call  them  together.  In  their  souls 
the  memory  is  still  fresh  of  all  they  owe  him,  and  well  they 
know  that  his  mighty  arm  alone  shields  them  from  destruc- 
tion. For  his  sake,  for  their  own  sake,  they  must  peril 
everything.  And  what  do  we  peril?  At  most,  our  lives, 
which  if  he  perish,  are  not  worth  preserving. 

Blackenburg.  Unhappy  girl !  Thou  seest  not  the  power 
that  holds  us  fettered  as  with  bands  of  iron. 

Clara.  To  me  it  does  not  appear  invincible.  Let  us  not 
lose  time  in  idle  words.  Here  comes  some  of  our  old,  honest, 
valiant  burghers!  Hark  ye,  friends!  Neighboi'rs !  Hark! 
— Say,  how  fares  it  with  Egmont? 

Carpenter.  What  does  the  girl  want?  Tell  her  to  hold 
her  peace. 

Clara.  Step  nearer,  that  we  may  speak  low,  till  we  are 
united  and   more   strong.      Not   a   moment   is    to    be   lost ! 


312  GOETHE 

Audacious  tyranny,  that  dared  to  fetter  him,  already  lifts 
the  dagger  against  his  life.  Oh,  my  friends !  With  the  ad- 
vancing twilight  my  anxiety  grows  more  intense.  I  dread 
this  night.  Come !  Let  us  disperse ;  let  us  hasten  from 
quarter  to  quarter,  and  call  out  the  burghers.  Let  every  one 
grasp  his  ancient  weapons.  In  the  market-place  we  meet 
again,  and  every  one  will  be  carried  onward  by  our  gather- 
ing stream.  The  enemy  will  see  themselves  surrounded, 
overwhelmed,  and  be  compelled  to  yield.  How  can  a  handful 
of  slaves  resist  us?  And  he  will  return  among  us,  he  will 
see  himself  rescued,  and  can  for  once  thank  us,  us,  who  are 
already  so  deeply  in  his  debt.  He  will  behold,  perchance,  ay 
doubtless,  he  will  again  behold  the  morn's  red  dawn  in  the 
free  heavens. 

Carpenter.  What  ails  thee,  maiden? 

Clara.  Can  ye  misunderstand  me  ?  I  speak  of  the  Count ! 
I  speak  of  Egmont. 

Jetter.  Speak  not  the  name !  'tis  deadly. 

Clara.  Not  speak  his  name?  How?  Not  Egmont's 
name?  Is  it  not  on  every  tongue?  Where  stands  it  not  in- 
scribed? Often  have  I  read  it  emblazoned  with  all  its  letters 
among  these  stars.  Not  utter  it?  What  mean  ye?  Friends  ! 
good,  kind  neighbours,  ye  are  dreaming;  collect  yourselves. 
Gaze  not  upon  me  with  those  fixed  and  anxious  looks !  Cast 
not  such  timid  glances  on  every  side !  I  but  give  utterance 
to  the  wish  of  all.  Is  not  my  voice  the  voice  of  your  own 
hearts?  Who,  in  this  fearful  night,  ere. he  seeks  his  rest- 
less couch,  but  on  bended  knee  will,  in  earnest  prayer,  seek 
to  wrest  his  life  as  a  cherished  boon  from  heaven?  Ask 
each  other !  Let  each  ask  his  own  heart !  And  who  but  ex- 
claims with  me, — "  Egmont's  liberty,  or  death  !  " 

Jetter.  God  help  us !    This  is  a  sad  business. 

Clara.  Stay !  Stay  !  Shrink  not  away  at  the  sound  of 
his  name,  to  meet  whom  ye  were  wont  to  press  forward  so 
joyously ! — When  rumour  announced  his  approach,  when  the 
cry  arose,  "  Egmont  comes  !  He  comes  from  Ghent !  " — then 
happy  indeed  were  those  citizens  who  dwelt  in  the  streets 
through  which  he  was  to  pass.  And  when  the  neighing  of 
his  steed  was  heard,  did  not  every  one  throw  aside  his  work, 
while  a  ray  of  hope  and  joy,  like  a  sunbeam  from  his  counte- 


EGMONT  313 

nance,  stole  over  the  toil-worn  faces  that  peered  from  every 
window.  Then,  as  ye  stood  in  the  doorways,  ye  would  lift 
up  your  children  in  your  arms,  and  pointing  to  him,  exclaim : 
"  See,  that  is  Egmont,  he  who  towers  above  the  rest !  'Tis 
from  him  that  ye  must  look  for  better  times  than  those  your 
poor  fathers  have  known."  Let  not  your  children  inquire  at 
some  future  day,  "  Where  is  he?  Where  are  the  better  times 
ye  promised  us  ?  " — Thus  we  waste  the  time  in  idle  words ! 
do  nothing, — betray  him. 

SoEST.  Shame  on  thee,  Brackenburg !  Let  her  not  run  on 
thus  !     Prevent  the  mischief  ! 

Brackenburg.  Dear  Clara !  Let  us  go !  What  will  your 
mother  say?    Perchance — 

Clara.  Thinkest  thou  I  am  a  child,  or  frantic?  What 
avails  perchance? — With  no  vain  hope  canst  thou  hide  from 
me  this  dreadful  certainty  .  .  .  Ye  shall  hear  me  and  ye 
will :  for  I  see  it,  ye  are  overwhelmed,  ye  cannot  hearken 
to  the  voice  of  your  own  hearts.  Through  the  present  peril 
cast  but  one  glance  into  the  past, — the  recent  past.  Send 
your  thoughts  forward  into  the  future.  Could  ye  live,  would 
ye  live,  were  he  to  perish?  With  him  expires  the  last  breath 
of  freedom.  What  was  he  not  to  you?  For  whose  sake  did 
he  expose  himself  to  the  direst  perils?  His  blood  flowed,  his 
wounds  were  healed  for  you  alone.  The  mighty  spirit,  that 
upheld  you  all,  a  dungeon  now  confines,  while  the  horrors 
of  secret  murder  are  hovering  around.  Perhaps  he  thinks  of 
you — perhaps  he  hopes  in  you, — he  who  has  been  accustomed 
only  to  grant  favours  to  others  and  to  fulfil  their  prayers. 

Carpenter.  Come,  gossip. 

Clara.  I  have  neither  the  arms,  nor  the  vigour  of  a  man ; 
but  I  have  that  which  ye  all  lack — courage  and  contempt  of 
danger.  O  that  my  breath  could  kindle  your  souls !  That, 
pressing  you  to  this  bosom,  I  could  arouse  and  animate  you ! 
Come !  I  will  march  in  your  midst  1 — As  a  waving  banner, 
though  weaponless,  leads  on  a  gallant  army  of  warriors,  so 
shall  my  spirit  hover,  like  a  flame,  over  your  ranks,  while 
love  and  courage  shall  unite  the  dispersed  and  wavering 
multitude  into  a  terrible  host. 

Jetter.  Take  her  away ;  I  pity  her,  poor  thing ! 

[Exeunt  Burghers. 


Sl4  GOETHE 

Brackenburg.  Clara!     Seest  thou  not  where  we  are? 

Clara.  Where?  Under  the  dome  of  heaven,  which  has 
so  often  seemed  to  arch  itself  more  gloriously  as  the  noble 
Egmont  passed  beneath  it.  From  these  windows  I  have  seen 
them  look  forth,  four  or  five  heads  one  above  the  other;  at 
these  doors  the  cowards  have  stood,  bowing  and  scraping,  if 
he  but  chanced  to  look  down  upon  them !  Oh,  how  dear  they 
were  to  me,  when  they  honoured  him.  Had  he  been  a  tyrant 
they  might  have  turned  with  indifference  from  his  fall !  But 
they  loved  him !  O  ye  hands,  so  prompt  to  wave  caps  in  his 
honour,  can  ye  not  grasp  a  sword?  Brackenburg,  and  we? 
— do  we  chide  them?  These  arms  that  have  so  often  em- 
braced him,  what  do  they  for  him  now?  Stratagem  has  ac- 
complished so  much  in  the  world.  Thou  knowest  the  ancient 
castle,  every  passage,  every  secret  way. — Nothing  is  impos- 
sible,— suggest  some  plan — 

Brackenburg.  That  we  might  go  home ! 

Clara.  Well. 

Brackenburg.  There  at  the  corner  I  see  Alva's  guard;  let 
the  voice  of  reason  penetrate  to  thy  heart !  Dost  thou  deem 
me  a  coward?  Dost  thou  doubt  that  for  thy  sake  I  would 
peril  my  life?  Here  we  are  both  mad,  I  as  well  as  thou. 
Dost  thou  not  perceive  that  thy  scheme  is  impracticable? 
Oh,  be  calm !    Thou  art  beside  thyself. 

Clara.  Beside  myself !  Horrible.  You,  Brackenburg,  are 
beside  yourself.  When  you  hailed  the  hero  with  loud  ac- 
claim, called  him  your  friend,  your  hope,  your  refuge, 
shouted  vivats  as  he  passed ; — then  I  stood  in  my  corner, 
half  opened  the  window,  concealed  myself  while  I  listened, 
and  my  heart  beat  higher  than  yours  who  greeted  him  so 
loudly.  Now  it  again  beats  higher !  In  the  hour  of  peril  you 
conceal  yourselves,  deny  him,  and  feel  not,  that  if  he  perish, 
you  are  lost. 

Brackenburg.  Come  home. 

Clara.  Home? 

Brackenburg.  Recollect    thyself!      Look    around    thee?; 
These  are  the  streets   in  which  thou   wert  wont  to  appear 
only  on  the  Sabbath-day,  when  thou  didst  walk  modestly  to 
church;  where,  over-decorous  perhaps,  thou  wert  displeased 
if  I  but  joined  thee  with  a  kindly  greeting.     And  now  thou 


EGMONT  315 

dost  stand,  speak,  and  act  before  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world. 
Recollect  thyself,  love  !    How  can  this  avail  us  ? 

Clara.  Home !     Yes,  I  remember.     Come,  Brackenburg, 
let  us  go  home !    Knowest  thou  where  my  home  lies  ? 

[Exeunt. 


Scene  II.— A  Prison 
Lighted  by  a  lamp,  a  couch  in  the  back-ground 

Egmont  (alone).  Old  friend!  Ever  faithful  sleep,  dost 
thou  too  forsake  me,  like  my  other  friends?  How  wert 
thou  wont  of  yore  to  descend  unsought  upon  my  free  brow, 
cooling  my  temples  as  with  a  myrtle  wreath  of  love !  Amidst 
the  din  of  battle,  on  the  waves  of  life,  I  rested  in  thine 
arms,  breathing  lightly  as  a  growing  boy.  When  tempests 
whistled  through  the  leaves  and  boughs,  when  the  summits 
of  the  lofty  trees  swung  creaking  in  the  blast,  the  inmost 
core  of  my  heart  remained  unmoved.  What  agitates  thee 
now?  What  shakes  thy  firm  and  steadfast  mind?  I  feel  it, 
'tis  the  sound  of  the  murderous  axe,  gnawing  at  thy  root. 
Yet  I  stand  erect,  but  an  inward  shudder  runs  through  my 
frame.  Yes,  it  prevails,  this  treacherous  power;  it  under- 
mines the  firm,  the  lofty  stem,  and  ere  the  bark  withers, 
thy  verdant  crown  falls  crashing  to  the  earth. 

Yet  wherefore  now,  thou  who  hast  so  often  chased  the 
weightiest  cares  like  bubbles  from  thy  brow,  wherefore 
canst  thou  not  dissipate  this  dire  foreboding  which  inces- 
santly haunts  thee  in  a  thousand  different  shapes?  Since 
when  hast  thou  trembled  at  the  approach  of  death,  amid 
whose  varying  forms,  thou  wert  wont  calmly  to  dwell,  as 
with  the  other  shapes  of  this  familiar  earth.  But  'tis  not 
he,  the  sudden  foe,  to  encounter  whom  the  sound  bosom 
emulously  pants; — 'tis  the  dungeon,  emblem  of  the  grave, 
revolting  alike  to  the  hero  and  the  coward.  How  intolerable 
I  used  to  feel  it,  in  the  stately  hall,  girt  round  by  gloomy 
walls,  when,  seated  on  my  cushioned  chair,  in  the  solemn 
assembly  of  the  princes,  questions,  which  scarcely  required 
deliberation,  were  overlaid  with  endless  discussions,  while 
the  rafters  of  the  ceiling  seemed  to  stifle  and  oppress  me. 
Then  I  would  hurry  forth  as  soon  as  possible,  fling  myself 


316  GOETHE 

upon  my  horse  with  deep-drawn  breath,  and  away  to  the 
wide  champaign,  man's  natural  element,  where,  exhaling  from 
the  earth,  nature's  richest  treasures  are  poured  forth  around 
us,  while,  from  the  wide  heavens,  the  stars  shed  down  their 
blessings  through  the  still  air;  where,  like  earth-born  giants, 
we  spring  aloft,  invigorated  by  our  mother's  touch;  where 
our  entire  humanity  and  our  human  desires  throb  in  every 
vein;  where  the  desire  to  press  forward,  to  vanquish,  to 
snatch,  to  use  his  clenched  fist,  to  possess,  to  conquer,  glows 
through  the  soul  of  the  young  hunter ;  where  the  warrior, 
with  rapid  stride,  assumes  his  inborn  right  to  dominion  over 
the  world;  and,  with  terrible  liberty,  sweeps  like  a  desolating 
hailstorm  over  the  field  and  grove,  knowing  no  boundaries 
traced  by  the  hand  of  man. 

Thou  art  but  a  shadow,  a  dream  of  the  happiness  I  so 
long  possessed ;  where  has  treacherous  fate  conducted  thee  ? 
Did  she  deny  thee  to  meet  the  rapid  stroke  of  never-shunned 
death,  in  the  open  face  of  day,  only  to  prepare  for  thee  a 
foretaste  of  the  grave,  in  the  midst  of  this  loathsome  cor- 
ruption ?  How  revolting  its  rank  odour  exhales  from  these 
damp  stones !  Life  stagnates,  and  my  foot  shrinks  from 
the  couch  as  from  the  grave. 

Oh  care,  care !  Thou  who  dost  begin  prematurely  the 
work  of  murder, — forbear; — Since  when  has  Egmont  been 
alone,  so  utterly  alone  in  the  world?  'Tis  doubt  renders 
thee  insensible,  not  happiness.  The  justice  of  the  king,  in 
which  through  life  thou  hast  confided,  the  friendship  of  the 
Regent,  which,  thou  mayst  confess  it,  was  akin  to  love, — 
have  these  suddenly  vanished,  like  a  meteor  of  the  night, 
and  left  thee  alone  upon  thy  gloomy  path  ?  Will  not  Orange, 
at  the  head  of  thy  friends,  contrive  some  daring  scheme? 
Will  not  the  people  assemble,  and  with  gathering  might,  at- 
tempt the  rescue  of  their  faithful  friend? 

Ye  walls,  which  thus  gird  me  round,  separate  me  not 
from  the  well-intentioned  zeal  of  so  many  kindly  souls. 
And  may  the  courage  with  which  my  glance  was  wont  to 
inspire  them,  now  return  again  from  their  hearts  to  mine. 
Yes !  they  assemble  in  thousands !  they  come !  they  stand 
beside  me !  their  pious  wish  rises  urgently  to  heaven,  and 
impJores  a  miracle;  and  if  no  angel  stoops  for  my  deliver- 


EGMONT  317 

ance,  I  see  them  grasp  eagerly  their  lance  and  sword.  The 
gates  are  forced,  the  bolts  are  riven,  the  walls  fall  beneath 
their  conquering  hands,  and  Egmont  advances  joyously,  to 
hail  the  freedom  of  the  rising  morn.  How  many  well-known 
faces  receive  me  with  loud  acclaim !  O  Clara !  wert  thou 
a  man,  I  should  see  thee  here  the  very  first,  and  thank  thee 
for  that  which  it  is  galling  to  owe  even  to  a  king — Hberty. 

Scene  III. — Clara's  House 

Clara  (enters  from  her  chamber  with  a  lamp  and  a  glass 
of  water;  she  places  the  glass  upon  the  table  and  steps  to 
the  zvindow).  Brackenburg,  is  it  you?  What  noise  was 
that?  No  one  yet?  No  one!  I  will  set  the  lamp  in  the 
window,  that  he  may  see  that  I  am  still  awake,  that  I  still 
watch  for  hira.  He  promised  me  tidings.  Tidings?  horrible 
certainty  ! — Egmont  condemned ! — what  tribunal  has  the 
right  to  summon  him  ? — And  they  dare  to  condemn  him ! — 
Does  the  king  condemn  him,  or  the  duke?  And  the  Regent 
withdraws  herself !  Orange  hesitates,  and  all  his  friends ! 
— Is  this  the  world,  of  whose  fickleness  and  treachery  I 
have  heard  so  much,  and  as  yet  experienced  nothing?  Is 
this  the  world? — Who  could  be  so  base  as  to  bear  malice 
against  one  so  dear?  Could  villainy  itself  be  audacious 
enough  to  overwhelm  with  sudden  destruction  the  object  of 
a  nation's  homage?  Yet  so  it  is — it  is — O  Egmont,  I  held 
thee  safe  before  God  and  man,  safe  as  in  my  arms !  What 
was  I  to  thee.  Thou  hast  called  me  thine,  my  whole  being 
was  devoted  to  thee.  What  am  I  now?  In  vain  I  stretch 
out  my  hand  to  the  toils  that  environ  thee.  Thou  helpless 
and  I  free ! — Here  is  the  key  that  unlocks  my  chamber  door. 
My  going  out  and  my  coming  in,  depend  upon  my  own 
caprice;  yet,  alas ;  to  aid  thee  I  am  powerless! — Oh,  bind  me 
that  I  may  not  despair;  hurl  me  into  the  deepest  dungeon, 
that  I  may  dash  my  head  against  the  damp  walls,  groan  for 
freedom,  and  dream  how  I  would  rescue  him  if  fetters  did 
not  hold  me  bound. — Now  I  am  free,  and  in  freedom  lies 
the  anguish  of  impotence. — Conscious  of  my  own  existence, 
yet  unable  to  stir  a  limb  in  his  behalf,  alas !  even  this  in- 
significant portion  of  thy  being,  thy  Clara,  is,  like  thee,  a 


318  GOETHE 

captive,  and,  separated  from  thee,  consumes  her  expiring 
energies  in  the  agonies  of  death. — I  hear  a  stealthy  step, — a 
cough — Brackenburg, — 'tis  he ! — Kind,  unhappy  man,  thy 
destiny  remains  ever  the  same;  thy  love  opens  to  thee  the 
door  at  night,  alas !  to  what  a  doleful  meeting.  (Enter 
Brackenburg.)  Thou  com'st  so  pale,  so  terrified!  Brack- 
enburg!    What  is  it? 

Brackenburg.  I  have  sought  thee  through  perils  and  cir- 
cuitous paths.  The  principal  streets  are  occupied  with 
troops ; — through  lanes  and  by-ways  have  I  stolen  to  thee  I 

Clara.  Tell  me,  how  is  it? 

Brackenburg  (seating  himself).  O  Clara,  let  me  weep. 
I  loved  him  not.  He  was  the  rich  man  who  lured  to  better 
pasture  the  poor  man's  solitary  lamb.  I  have  never  cursed 
him,  God  has  created  me  with  a  true  and  tender  heart.  My 
life  was  consumed  in  anguish,  and  each  day  I  hoped  would 
end  my  misery. 

Clara.  Let  that  be  forgotten,  Brackenburg !  Forget  thy- 
self.    Speak  to  me  of  him!     Is  it  true?    Is  he  condemned? 

Brackenburg.  He  is !    I  know  it. 

Clara.  And  still  lives? 

Brackenburg.  Yes,  he  still  lives. 

Clara.  How  canst  thou  be  sure  of  that?  Tyranny  mur- 
ders the  hero  in  the  night !  His  blood  flows  concealed  from 
every  eye.  The  people  stunned  and  bewildered,  lie  buried 
in  sleep,  dream  of  deliverance,  dream  of  the  fulfilment  of 
their  impotent  wishes,  while,  indignant  at  our  supineness, 
his  spirit  abandons  the  world.  He  is  no  more !  Deceive  me 
not;  deceive  not  thyself! 

Brackenburg.  No, — he  lives !  and  the  Spaniards,  alas,  are 
preparing  for  the  people,  on  whom  they  are  about  to  trample, 
a  terrible  spectacle,  in  order  to  crush  for  ever,  by  a  violent 
blow,  each  heart  that  yet  pants  for  freedom, 

Clara.  Proceed !      Calmly   pronounce    my    death-warrant 
also !     Near  and  more  near  I  approach  that  blessed  land,  ' 
and  already  from  those  realms  of  peace,  I  feel  the  breath 
of  consolation.     Say  on. 

Brackenburg.  From  casual  words,  dropped  here  and 
there  by  the  guards,  I  learned  that  secretly  in  the  market- 
place they  were  preparing  some  terrible  spectacle.     Through 


I 


EGMONT  319 

by-ways  and  familiar  lanes  I  stole  to  my  cousin's  house, 
and  from  a  back  window,  looked  out  upon  the  market-place. 
Torches  waved  to  and  fro,  in  the  hands  of  a  wide  circle  of 
Spanish  soldiers.  I  sharpened  my  unaccustomed  sight;  and 
out  of  the  darkness  there  arose  before  me  a  scaffold,  black, 
spacious,  and  lofty !  The  sight  filled  me  with  horror.  Sev- 
eral persons  were  employed  in  covering  with  black  cloth 
such  portions  of  the  wood-work  as  yet  remained  white  and 
visible.  The  steps  were  covered  last,  also  with  black ; — I 
saw  it  all.  They  seemed  preparing  for  the  celebration  of 
some  horrible  sacrifice.  A  white  crucifix,  that  shone  like 
silver  through  the  night,  was  raised  on  one  side.  As  I  gazed 
the  terrible  conviction  strengthened  in  my  mind.  Scattered 
torches  still  gleamed  here  and  there ;  gradually  they  flickered 
and  went  out.  Suddenly  the  hideous  birth  of  night  returned 
into  its  mother's  womb. 

Clara.  Hush,  Brackenburg !  Be  still !  Let  this  veil  rest 
upon  my  soul.  The  spectres  are  vanished ;  and  thou,  gentle 
night,  lend  thy  mantle  to  the  inwardly  fermenting  earth, 
she  will  no  longer  endure  the  loathsome  burden,  shuddering, 
she  rends  open  her  yawning  chasms,  and  with  a  crash  swal- 
lows the  murderous  scaffold.  And  that  God,  whom  in  their 
rage  they  have  insulted,  sends  down  His  angel  from  on 
high ;  at  the  hallowed  touch  of  the  messenger  bolts  and  bars 
fly  back;  he  pours  around  our  friend  a  mild  radiance,  and 
leads  him  gently  through  the  night  to  liberty.  My  path  leads 
also  through  the  darkness  to  meet  him, 

Brackenburg  (detaining  he)').  My  child,  whither  wouldst 
thou  go?    What  wouldst  thou  do? 

Clara,  Softly,  my  friend,  lest  some  one  should  awake ! 
Lest  we  should  awake  ourselves !  Know'st  thou  this  phial, 
Brackenburg?  I  took  it  from  thee  once  in  jest,  when  thou, 
as  was  thy  wont,  didst  threaten,  in  thy  impatience,  to  end 
thy  days. — And  now  my  friend — 

Brackenburg.  In  the  name  of  all  the  saints ! 

Clara.  Thou  canst  not  hinder  me.  Death  is  my  portion ! 
Grudge  me  not  the  quiet  and  easy  death  which  thou  hadst 
prepared  for  thyself.  Give  me  thine  hand ! — At  the  moment 
when  I  unclose  that  dismal  portal  through  which  there  is 
no  return,  I  may  tell  thee,  with  this  pressure  of  the  hand, 


320  GOETHE 

how  sincerely  I  have  loved,  how  deeply  I  have  pitied  thee. 
My  brother  died  young;  I  chose  thee  to  fill  his  place;  thy 
heart  rebelled,  thou  didst  torment  thyself  and  me,  demanding 
with  ever  increasing  fervour  that  which  fate  had  not  des- 
tined for  thee.  Forgive  me  and  farewell !  Let  me  call  thee 
brother !  'Tis  a  name  that  embraces  many  names.  Receive, 
with  a  true  heart,  the  last  fair  token  of  the  departing  spirit 
— take  this  kiss.  Death  unites  all,  Brackenburg — us  too  it 
will  unite ! 

Brackenburg.  Let  me  then  die  with  thee !  Share  it !  oh, 
share  it !    There  is  enough  to  extinguish  two  lives. 

Clara.  Hold!  Thou  must  live,  thou  canst  live. — Support 
my  mother,  who,  without  thee,  would  be  a  prey  to  want. 
Be  to  her  what  I  can  no  longer  be,  live  together,  and  weep 
for  me.  Weep  for  our  fatherland,  and  for  him  who  could 
alone  have  upheld  it.  The  present  generation  must  still 
endure  this  bitter  woe;  vengeance  itself  could  not  obliterate 
it.  Poor  souls,  live  on,  through  .this  gap  in  time,  which  is 
time  no  longer.  To-day  the  world  suddenly  stands  still,  its 
course  is  arrested,  and  my  pulse  will  beat  but  for  a  fev/ 
minutes  longer.     Farewell. 

Brackenburg.  Oh,  live  with  us,  as  we  live  only  for  thj 
sake!  In  taking  thine  own  life,  thou  wilt  take  ours  also; 
still  live  and  suffer.  We  will  stand  by  thee,  nothing  shall 
sever  us  from  thy  side,  and  love,  with  ever-watchful  solici- 
tude, shall  prepare  for  thee  the  sweetest  consolation  in  its 
loving  arms.     Be  ours !     Ours !     I  dare  not  say,  mine. 

Clara.  Hush,  Brackenburg !  Thou  feelest  not  what  chord 
thou  touchest.  Where  hope  appears  to  thee,  I  see  only 
despair. 

Brackenburg.  Share  hope  with  the  living !  Pause  on  the 
brink  of  the  precipice,  cast  one  glance  into  the  gulf  below, 
and  then  look  back  on  us. 

Clara.  I  have  conquered ;  call  me  not  back  to  the  struggle. 

Brackenburg.  Thou  art  stunned ;  enveloped  in  night,  thou 
seekest  the  abyss.  Every  light  is  not  yet  extinguished,  yet 
many  days ! — 

Clara.  Alas !  Alas !  Cruelly  thou  dost  rend  the  veil 
from  before  mine  eyes.  Yes,  the  day  will  dawn !  Despite 
its  misty  shroud  it  needs  must  dawn.     Timidly  the  burgher 


EGMONT  321 

gazes  from  his  window,  night  leaves  behind  an  ebon  speck ; 
he  looks,  and  the  scaffold  looms  fearfully  in  the  morning 
light.  With  re-awakened  anguish  the  desecrated  image  of 
the  Saviour  lifts  to  the  Father  its  imploring  eyes.  The  sun 
veils  his  beams,  he  will  not  mark  the  hero's  death-hour. 
Slowly  the  fingers  go  their  round — one  hour  strikes  after 
another — hold !  Now  is  the  time.  The  thought  of  the  morn- 
ing scares  me  into  the  grave. 

(She  goes  to  the  window  as  if  to  look  out,  and  drinks 
secretly.) 

Brackenburg.  Clara !    Clara  ! 

Clara  {goes  to  the  table,  and  drinks  water).  Here  is  the 
remainder.  I  invite  thee  not  to  follow  me.  Do  as  thou  wilt; 
farewell.  Extiaguish  this  lamp  silently  and  without  delay; 
I  am  going  to  rest.  Steal  quietly  away,  close  the  door  after 
thee.  Be  still !  Wake  not  my  mother !  Go,  save  thyself, 
if  thou  wouldst  not  be  taken  for  my  murderer.  [Exit. 

Brackenburg.  She  leaves  me  for  the  last  time  as  she  has 
ever  done.  What  human  soul  could  conceive  how  cruelly 
she  lacerates  the  heart  that  loves  her?  She  leaves  me  to 
myself,  leaves  me  to  choose  between  life  and  death,  and  both 
are  alike  hateful  to  me.  To  die  alone !  Weep,  ye  tender 
souls !  Fate  has  no  sadder  doom  than  mine.  She  shares 
with  me  the  death-potion,  yet  sends  me  from  her  side !  She 
draws  me  after  her,  yet  thrusts  me  back  into  life !  Oh, 
Egmont,  how  enviable  a  lot  falls  to  thee  !  She  goes  before 
thee !  The  crown  of  victory  from  her  hand  is  thine,  she 
brings  all  heaven  to  meet  thee! — And  shall  I  follow?  Again 
to  stand  aloof?  To  carry  this  inextinguishable  jealousy 
even  to  yon  distant  realms?  Earth  is  no  longer  a  tarrying 
place  for  me,  and  hell  and  heaven  offer  equal  torture.  Now 
welcome  to  the  wretched  the  dread  hand  of  annihilation  ! 

\^Exit. 
{The  scene  remains  some  time  unchanged.    Music  sounds, 
indicating  Clara's  death;  the  lamp,  which  Bracken- 
burg had  forgotten  to  extinguish,  flares  up  once  or 
twice,  and  then  suddenly  expires.    The  scene  changes  to 


II~VOL.  XIX  HC 


322  GOETHE 

Scene  IV.— ^  Prison 

Egmont  is  discovered  sleeping  on  a  couch.  ^A  rustling  of 
keys  is  heard;  the  door  opens;  servants  enter  with 
torches;  Ferdinand  and  Silva  follow,  accompanied  by 
soldiers.    Egmont  starts  from  his  sleep. 

Egmont.  Who  are  ye  that  thus  rudely  banish  slumber 
from  my  eyes  ?  What  mean  these  vague  and  insolent 
glances?  Why  this  fearful  procession?  With  what  dream 
of  horror  come  ye  to  delude  my  half  awakened  soul? 

Silva.  The  duke  sends  us  to  announce  your  sentence. 

Egmont.  Do  ye  also  bring  the  headsman  who  is  to  exe- 
cute it? 

Silva.  Listen,  and  you  will  know  the  doom  that  awaits 
you. 

Egmont.  It  is  in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  your  infamous 
proceedings.  Hatched  in  night  and  in  night  achieved,  so 
would  this  audacious  act  of  injustice  shroud  itself  from 
observation ! — Step  boldly  forth,  thou  who  dost  bear  the 
sword  concealed  beneath  thy  mantle;  here  is  my  head,  the 
freest  ever  severed  by  tyranny  from  the  trunk. 

Silva.  You  err!  The  righteous  judges  who  have  con- 
demned you  will  not  conceal  their  sentence  from  the  light 
of  day. 

Egmont.  Then  does  their  audacity  exceed  all  imagination 
and  belief. 

Silva  {takes  the  sentence  from  an  attendant,  unfolds  it, 
and  reads).  "In  the  King's  name,  and  invested  by  his  Maj- 
esty with  authority  to  judge  all  his  subjects  of  whatever 
rank,  not  excepting  the  knights  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  we 
declare — " 

Egmont.  Can  the  king  transfer  that  authority? 

Silva.  "  We  declare,  after  a  strict  and  legal  investigation, 
thee,  Henry,  Count  Egmont,  Prince  of  Gaure,  guilty  of  high 
treason,  and  pronounce  thy  sentence : — That  at  early  dawn 
thou  be  led  from  this  prison  to  the  market-place,  and  that 
there,  in  sight  of  the  people,  and  as  a  warning  to  all  traitors, 
thou  with  the  sword  be  brought  from  life  to  death.  Given 
at  Brussels."  {Date  and  year  so  indistinctly  read  as  to  he 
imperfectly  heard  by  the  audience.)     "  Ferdinand,  Duke  of 


I 


EGMONT  323 

Alva,  President  of  the  Tribunal  of  Twelve."  Thou  know- 
est  now  thy  doom.  Brief  time  remains  for  thee  to  prepare 
for  the  impending  stroke,  to  arrange  thy  affairs,  and  to  take 
leave  of  thy  friends. 

[Exit  SiLVA  with  foUozvers.     Ferdinand  remains  with 
tzvo  torch-bearers.     The  stage  is  dimly  lighted. 

Egmont  (stands  for  a  time  as  if  buried  in  thought,  and 
allows  SiLVA  to  retire  without  looking  round.  He  imagines 
himself  alone,  and,  on  raising  his  eyes,  beholds  Alva's  son). 
Thou  tarriest  here?  Wouldst  thou  by  thy  presence  augment 
my  amazement,  my  horror  ?  Wouldst  thou  carry  to  thy  father 
the  welcome  tidings  that  in  unmanly  fashion  I  despair  ?  Go. 
Tell  him  that  he  deceives  neither  the  world  nor  me.  At  first 
it  will  be  whispered  cautiously  behind  his  back,  then  spoken 
more  and  more  loudly,  and  when  at  some  future  day  the 
ambitious  man  descends  from  his  proud  eminence,  a  thou- 
sand voices  will  proclaim — that  'twas  not  the  welfare  of  the 
state,  not  the  honour  of  the  king,  not  the  tranquillity  of  the 
provinces,  that  brought  him  hither.  For  his  own  selfish  ends 
he,  the  warrior,  has  counselled  war,  that  in  war  the  value  of 
his  services  might  be  enhanced.  He  has  excited  this  mon- 
strous insurrection  that  his  presence  might  be  deemed  nec- 
essary in  order  to  quell  it.  And  I  fall  a  victim  to  his  mean 
hatred,  his  contemptible  envy.  Yes,  I  know  it,  dying  and 
mortally  wounded  I  may  utter  it;  long  has  the  proud  man 
envied  me,  long  has  he  meditated  and  planned  my  ruin. 

Even  then,  when  still  young,  we  played  at  dice  together, 
and  the  heaps  of  gold,  one  after  the  other,  passed  rapidly 
from  his  side  to  mine;  he  would  look  on  with  affected  com- 
posure, while  inwardly  consumed  with  rage,  more  at  my  suc- 
cess than  at  his  own  loss.  Well  do  I  remember  the  fiery 
glance,  the  treacherous  pallor  that  overspread  his  features 
when,  at  a  public  festival,  we  shot  for  a  wager  before  assem- 
bled thousands.  He  challenged  me,  and  both  nations  stood 
by;  Spaniards  and  Netherlanders  wagered  on  either  side; 
I  was  the  victor;  his  ball  missed,  mine  hit  the  mark,  and 
the  air  was  rent  by  acclamations  from  my  friends.  His  shot 
now  hits  me.  Tell  him  that  I  know  this,  that  I  know  him, 
that  the  world  despises  every  trophy  that  a  paltry  spirit 
erects  for  itself  by  base  and  surreptitious  arts.     And  thou! 


324  GOETHE 

If  it  be  possible  for  a  son  to  swerve  from  the  manners  of 
his  father,  practise  shame  betimes,  while  thou  art  compelled 
to  feel  shame  for  him  whom  thou  wouldst  fain  revere  with 
thy  whole  heart. 

Ferdinand.  I  listen  without  interrupting  thee!  Thy  re- 
proaches fall  like  blows  upon  a  helmet.  I  feel  the  shock,  but 
I  am  armed.  They  strike,  they  wound  me  not;  I  am  sensible 
only  to  the  anguish  that  lacerates  my  heart.  Alas!  Alas! 
Have  I  lived  to  witness  such  a  scene?  Am  I  sent  hither 
to  behold  a  spectacle  like  this? 

Egmont.  Dost  thou  break  out  into  lamentations?  What 
moves,  what  agitates  thee  thus?  Is  it  a  late  remorse  at  hav- 
ing lent  thyself  to  this  infamous  conspiracy?  Thou  art  so 
young,  thy  exterior  is  so  prepossessing?  Thy  demeanour 
towards  me  was  so  friendly,  so  unreserved !  So  long  as  I 
beheld  thee,  I  was  reconciled  with  thy  father ;  and  crafty,  ay, 
more  crafty  than  he,  thou  hast  lured  me  into  the  toils.  Thou 
art  the  wretch  !  The  monster  !  Whoso  confides  in  him,  does 
so  at  his  own  peril;  but  who  could  apprehend  danger  in 
trusting  thee?  Go!  Go!  rob  me  not  of  the  few  moments 
that  are  left  me !  Go,  that  I  may  collect  my  thoughts,  the 
world  forget,  and  first  of  all  thyself! 

Ferdinand.  What  can  I  say?  I  stand  and  gaze  on  thee, 
yet  see  thee  not;  I  am  scarcely  conscious  of  my  own  exist- 
ence.^ Shall  I  seek  to  excuse  myself?  Shall  I  assure  thee 
that  it  was  not  till  the  last  moment  that  I  was  made  aware 
of  my  father's  intentions?  That  I  acted  as  a  constrained,  a 
passive  instrument  of  his  will?  What  signifies  now  the 
opinion  thou  mayst  entertain  of  me?  Thou  art  lost;  and  I, 
miserable  wretch,  stand  here  only  to  assure  thee  of  it,  only  to 
lament  thy  doom. 

Egmont.  What  strange  voice,  what  unexpected  consola- 
tion comes  thus  to  cheer  my  passage  to  the  grave?  Thou, 
the  son  of  my  first,  of  almost  my  only  enemy,  thou  dost  pity 
me^  thou  art  not  associated  with  my  murderers  ?  Speak ! 
In  what  light  must  I  regard  thee? 

Ferdinand.  Gruel  father !  Yes,  I  recognize  thy  nature  in 
this  command.  Thou  didst  know  my  heart,  my  disposition, 
which  thou  hast  so  often  censured  as  the  inheritance  of  a 
tender-hearted  mother.     To  mould  me  into  thine  own  like- 


EGMONT  325 

ness  thou  hast  sent  me  hither.  Thou  dost  compel  me  to  be- 
hold this  man  on  the  verge  of  the  yawning  grave,  in  the 
grasp  of  an  arbitrary  doom,  that  I  may  experience  the 
profoundest  anguish;  that  thus,  rendered  callous  to  every 
fate,  I  may  henceforth  meet  every  event  with  a  heart  un- 
moved. 

Egmoxt.  I  am  amazed  !  Be  calm  !  Act,  speak  like  a  man. 
Ferdinand.  Oh,  that  I  were  a  woman  !  That  they  might 
say — what  moves,  what  agitates  thee?  Tell  me  of  a  greater, 
a  more  monstrous  crime,  make  me  the  spectator  of  a  more 
direful  deed ;  I  will  thank  thee,  I  will  say :  this  was  nothing. 
Egmont.  Thou  dost  forget  thyself.  Consider  where 
thou  art ! 

Ferdinand.  Let  this  passion  rage,  let  me  give  vent  to  my 
anguish !  I  will  not  seem  composed  when  my  whole  inner 
being  is  convulsed.  Thee  must  I  behold  here?  Thee?  It  is 
horrible  !  Thou  understandest  me  not !  How  shouldst  thou 
understand  me  ?    Egmont !     Egmont ! 

(Falling  on  his  neck.) 
Egmont.  Explain  this  mystery. 
Ferdinand.  It  is  no  mystery. 

Egmont.  How  can  the  fate  of  a  mere  stranger  thus  deeply 
move  thee? 

Ferdinand.  Not  a  stranger !  Thou  art  no  stranger  to  me. 
Thy  name  it  was  that,  even  from  my  boyhood,  shone  before 
me  like  a  star  in  heaven !  How  often  have  I  made  inquiries 
concerning  thee,  and  listened  to  the  story  of  thy  deeds !  The 
youth  is  the  hope  of  the  boy,  the  man  of  the  youth.  Thus 
didst  thou  walk  before  me,  ever  before  me ;  I  saw  thee  with- 
out envy,  and  followed  after,  step  by  step;  at  length  I  hoped 
to  see  thee — I  saw  thee,  and  my  heart  flew  to  thy  embrace.  I 
had  destined  thee  for  myself,  and  when  I  beheld  thee,  I  made 
choice  of  thee  anew.  I  hoped  now  to  know  thee,  to  live  with 
thee,  to  be  thy  friend, — thy — 'tis  over  now  and  I  see  thee 
here ! 

Egmont.  My  friend,  if  it  can  be  any  comfort  to  thee,  be 
assured  that  the  very  moment  we  met  my  heart  was  drawn 
towards  thee.  Now  listen !  Let  us  exchange  a  few  quiet 
words.  Tell  me:  is  it  the  stern,  the  settled  purpose  of  thy 
father  to  take  my  life  ? 


326  GOETHE 

Ferdinand.  It  is. 

Egmont.  This  sentence  is  not  a  mere  empty  scarecrow, 
designed  to  terrify  me,  to  punish  me  through  fear  and  in- 
timidation, to  humiliate  me,  that  he  may  then  raise  me  again 
by  the  royal  favour? 

Ferdinand.  Alas,  no !  At  first  I  flattered  myself  with  this 
delusive  hope;  and  even  then  my  heart  was  filled  with  grief 
and  anguish  to  behold  thee  thus.  Thy  doom  is  real !  Is 
certain  !  No,  I  cannot  command  myself.  Who  will  counsel, 
who  will  aid  me,  to  meet  the  inevitable? 

Egmont.  Hearken  then  to  me !  If  thy  heart  is  impelled  so 
powerfully  in  my  favour,  if  thou  dost  abhor  the  tyranny  that 
holds  me  fettered,  then  deliver  me !  The  moments  are 
precious.  Thou  art  the  son  of  the  all-powerful,  and  thou 
hast  power  thyself.  Let  us  fly !  I  know  the  roads ;  the 
means  of  effecting  our  escape  cannot  be  unknown  to  thee. 
These  walls,  a  few  short  miles,  alone  separate  me  from  my 
friends.  Loose  these  fetters,  conduct  me  to  them ;  be  ours. 
The  king,  on  some  future  day,  will  doubtless  thank  my  de- 
liverer. Now  he  is  taken  by  surprise,  or  perchance  he  is 
ignorant  of  the  whole  proceeding.  Thy  father  ventures  on 
this  daring  step,  and  majesty,  though  horror-struck  at  the 
deed,  must  needs  sanction  the  irrevocable.  Thou  dost  de- 
liberate? Oh,  contrive  for  me  the  way  to  freedom!  Speak; 
nourish  hope  in  a  living  soul. 

Ferdinand.  Cease  !  Oh,  cease  !  Every  word  deepens  my 
despair.  There  is  here  no  outlet,  no  counsel,  no  escape. — 
'Tis  this  thought  that  tortures  me,  that  seizes  my  heart,  and 
rends  it  as  with  talons.  I  have  myself  spread  the  net;  I  know 
its  firm,  inextricable  knots;  I  know  that  every  avenue  is 
barred  alike  to  courage  and  to  stratagem.  I  feel  that  I  too, 
like  thyself,  like  all  the  rest,  am  fettered.  Think' st  thou  that 
I  should  give  way  to  lamentation  if  any  means  of  safety  re- 
mained untried?  I  have  thrown  myself  at  his  feet,  remon- 
strated, implored.  He  has  sent  me  hither,  in  order  to  blast 
in  this  fatal  moment,  every  remnant  of  joy  and  happiness 
that  yet  survived  within  my  heart. 

Egmont.  And  is  there  no  deliverance? 

Ferdinand.  None ! 

Egmont    (stamping    his   foot).  No    deliverance! — Sweet 


EGMONT  327 

life!  Sweet,  pleasant  habitude  of  existence  and  of  activity! 
from  thee  must  I  part !  So  calmly  part !  Not  in  the  tumult 
of  battle,  amid  the  din  of  arms,  the  excitement  of  the  fray, 
dost  thou  send  me  a  hasty  farewell;  thine  is  no  hurried 
leave;  thou  dost  not  abridge  the  moment  of  separation. 
Once  more  let  me  clasp  thy  hand,  gaze  once  more  into  thine 
eyes,  feel  with  keen  emotion,  thy  beauty  and  thy  worth,  then 
resolutely  tear  myself  away,  and  say; — depart! 

Ferdinand.  Must  I  stand  by,  and  look  passively  on ;  un- 
able to  save  thee,  or  to  give  thee  aid !  What  voice  avails 
for  lamentation !  What  heart  but  must  break  under  the 
pressure  of  such  anguish? 

Egmont.  Be  calm ! 

Ferdinand.  Thou  canst  be  calm,  thou  canst  renounce,  lefi! 
on  by  necessity,  thou  canst  advance  to  the  direful  struggle, 
with  the  courage  of  a  hero.  What  can  I  do  ?  What  ought  I 
to  do  ?  Thou  dost  conquer  thyself  and  us ;  thou  art  the  vic- 
tor ;  I  survive  both  myself  and  thee.  I  have  lost  my  light  at 
the  banquet,  my  banner  on  the  field.  The  future  lies  before 
me,  dark,  desolate,  perplexed. 

Egmont.  Young  friend,  whom  by  a  strange  fatality,  at  the 
same  moment,  I  both  win  and  lose,  who  dost  feel  for  me, 
who  dost  suffer  for  me  the  agonies  of  death, — look  on  me; 
— thou  wilt  not  lose  me.  If  my  life  was  a  mirror  in  which 
thou  didst  love  to  contemplate  thyself,  so  be  also  my  death. 
Men  are  not  together  only  when  in  each  other's  presence ; — 
the  distant,  the  departed,  also  live  for  us.  I  shall  live  for 
thee,  and  for  myself  I  have  lived  long  enough.  I  have  en- 
joyed each  day ;  each  day,  I  have  performed,  with  prompt 
activity,  the  duties  enjoined  by  my  conscience.  Now  my  life 
ends,  as  it  might  have  ended,  long,  long,  ago,  on  the  sands  of 
Gravelines.  I  shall  cease  to  live;  but  I  have  lived.  My 
friend,  follow  in  my  steps,  lead  a  cheerful  and  a  joyous  life, 
and  dread  not  the  approach  of  death. 

Ferdinand.  Thou  shouldst  have  saved  thyself  for  us,  thou 
couldst  have  saved  thyself.  Thou  art  the  cause  of  thine  own 
destruction.  Often  have  I  listened  when  able  men  dis- 
coursed concerning  thee;  foes  and  friends,  they  would  dis- 
pute long  as  to  thy  worth ;  but  on  one  point  they  were 
agreed,   none  ventured  to   deny,  every   one   confessed,   that 


328  GOETHE 

thou  wert  treading  a  dangerous  path.  How  often  have  I 
longed  to  warn  thee !     Hadst  thou  then  no  friends  ? 

Egmont.  I  was  warned. 

Ferdinand.  And  when  I  found  all  these  allegations,  point 
for  point,  in  the  indictment,  together  with  thy  answers,  con- 
taining much  that  might  serve  to  palliate  thy  conduct,  but  no 
evidence  weighty  enough  fully  to  exculpate  thee — 

Egmont.  No  more  of  this.  Man  imagines  that  he  directs 
his  life,  that  he  governs  his  actions,  when  in  fact  his  ex- 
istence is  irresistibly  controlled  by  his  destiny.  Let  us  not 
dwell  upon  this  subject;  these  reflections  I  can  dismiss  with 
ease — not  so  my  apprehensions  for  these  provinces;  yet  they 
too  will  be  cared  for.  Could  my  blood  flow  for  many,  bring 
peace  to  my  people,  how  freely  should  it  flow !  Alas !  This 
may  not  be.  Yet  it  ill  becomes  a  man  idly  to  speculate,  when 
the  power  to  act  is  no  longer  his.  If  thou  canst  restrain  or 
guide  the  fatal  power  of  thy  father;  do  so.  Alas,  who  can? 
— Farewell ! 

Ferdinand.  I  cannot  leave  thee. 

Egmont.  Let  me  urgently  recommend  my  followers  to  thy 
care !  I  have  worthy  men  in  my  service ;  let  them  not  be 
dispersed,  let  them  not  become  destitute !  How  fares  it 
with  Richard,  my  secretary? 

Ferdinand.  He  is  gone  before  thee.  They  have  beheaded 
him,  as  thy  accomplice  in  high  treason. 

Egmont.  Poor  soul! — Yet  one  word,  and  then  farewell,  I 
can  no  more.  However  powerfully  the  spirit  may  be  stirred, 
nature  at  length  irresistibly  asserts  her  rights;  and  like  a 
child,  who,  enveloped  in  a  serpent's  folds,  enjoys  refreshing 
slumber,  so  the  weary  one  lays  himself  down  to  rest  before 
the  gates  of  death,  and  sleeps  soundly,  as  though  a  toilsome 
journey  yet  lay  before  him. — One  word  more, — I  know  a 
maiden;  thou  wilt  not  despise  her  because  she  was  mine. 
Since  I  can  recommend  her  to  thy  care,  I  shall  die  in  peace. 
Thy  soul  is  noble;  in  such  a  man,  a  woman  is  sure  to  find 
a  protector.    Lives  my  old  Adolphus?    Is  he  free? 

Ferdinand.  The  active  old  man,  who  always  attended 
thee  on  horseback? 

Egmont.  The  same. 

Ferdinand.  He  lives,  he  is  free. 


EGMONT  329 

Egmont.  He  knows  her  dwelling;  let  him  guide  thy  steps 
thither,  and  reward  him  to  his  dying  day,  for  having  shown 
thee  the  way  to  this  jewel. — Farewell ! 

Ferdinand.  I  cannot  leave  thee. 

Egmont  (urging  him  tozuards  the  door).  Farewell! 

Ferdinand.  Oh,  let  me  linger  yet  a  moment ! 

Egmont.  No  leave-taking,  my  friend. 

{He  accompanies  Ferdinand  to  the  door,  and  then  tears 
himself  away;  Ferdinand,  overwhelmed  with  grief, 
hastily  retires.) 

Egmont  (alone) 
Egmont.  Cruel  man !  Thou  didst  not  think  to  render  me 
this  service  through  thy  son.  He  has  been  the  means  of 
relieving  my  mind  from  the  pressure  of  care  and  sorrow, 
from  fear  and  every  anxious  feeling.  Gently,  yet  urgently, 
nature  claims  her  final  tribute.  'Tis  past ! — 'Tis  resolved ! 
And  the  reflections  which,  in  the  suspense  of  last  night, 
kept  me  wakeful  on  my  couch,  now  with  resistless  certainty 
lull  my  senses  to  repose. 

(He  seats  himself  upon  the  couch;  music) 
Sweet  sleep !  Like  the  purest  happiness,  thou  comest  most 
willingly,  uninvited,  unsought.  Thou  dost  loosen  the  knots 
of  earnest  thoughts,  dost  mingle  all  images  of  joy  and  of 
sorrow,  unimpeded  the  circle  of  inner  harmony  flows  on, 
and  wrapped  in  fond  delusion,  we  sink  into  oblivion,  and 
cease  to  be, 

(He  sleeps;  music  accompanies  his  slumber.  Behind  his 
couch  the  wall  appears  to  open  and  discovers  a  brilliant 
apparition.  Freedom,  in  a  celestial  garb,  surrounded 
by  a  glory,  reposes  on  a  cloud.  Her  features  arc  those 
of  Clara  and  she  inclines  tozvards  the  sleeping  hero. 
Her  countenance  betokens  compassion,  she  seems  to 
lament  his  fate.  Quickly  she  recovers  herself  and 
with  an  encouraging  gesture  exhibits  the  symbols  of 
freedom,  the  bundle  of  arrows,  with  the  staff  and  cap. 
She  encourages  him  to  be  of  good  cheer,  and  zvhile 
she  signifies  to  him  that  his  death  will  secure  the 
freedom  of  the  provinces,  she  hails  him  as  a  conqueror, 
and  extends  to  him  a  laurel  crown.    As  the  wreath 


330  GOETHE 

approaches  his  head,  Egmont  moves  like  one  asleep, 
and  reclines  with  his  face  towards  her.     She  holds 
the  zvreath  suspended  over  his  head; — martial  music 
is  heard  in  the  distance,  at  the  first  sound  the  vision 
disappears.      The    music    grozvs   louder    and    louder. 
Egmont   awakes.     The   prison   is   dimly   illuminated 
by  the  dawn. — His  first  impulse  is  to  lift  his  hand 
to  his  head,  he  stands  up,  and  gazes  round,  his  hand 
still  upraised.) 
The   crown   is   vanished!      Beautiful   vision,  the   light   of 
day  has   frighted  thee !     Yes,   they  revealed  themselves   to 
my  sight  uniting  in  one  radiant  form  the  two  sweetest  joys 
of   my   heart.     Divine   Liberty   borrowed   the   mien   of   my 
beloved  one;  the  lovely  maiden  arrayed  herself  in  the  celes- 
tial garb  of  my  friend.    In  a  solemn  moment  they  appeared 
united,  with  aspect  more  earnest  than  tender.     With  blood- 
stained feet  the  vision  approached,  the  waving  folds  of  her 
robe  also  were  tinged  with  blood.    It  was  my  blood,  and  the 
blood  of  many  brave  hearts.    No !     It  shall  not  be  shed  in 
vain !     Forward !     Brave  people !     The  goddess  of  liberty 
leads  you  on !    And  as  the  sea  breaks  through  and  destroys 
the  barriers  that  would  oppose  its  fury,  so  do  ye  overwhelm 
the  bulwark  of  tyranny,  and  with  your  impetuous  flood  sweep 
it  away  from  the  land  which  it  usurps.  (Drums.) 

Hark !  Hark !  How  often  has  this  sound  summoned  my 
joyous  steps  to  the  field  of  battle  and  of  victory !  How 
bravely  did  I  tread,  with  my  gallant  comrades,  the  danger- 
ous path  of  fame !  And  now,  from  this  dungeon  I  shall 
go  forth,  to  meet  a  glorious  death;  I  die  for  freedom,  for 
whose  cause  I  have  lived  and  fought,  and  for  whom  I  now 
offer  myself  up  a  sorrowing  sacrifice. 

(The   background  is  occupied   by  Spanish  soldiers  with 

halberts.) 
Yes,  lead  them  on!     Close  your  ranks,  ye  terrify  me  not. 
I  am  accustomed  to  stand  amid  the  serried  ranks  of  war, 
and  environed  by  the  threatening  forms  of  death,  to   feel, 
with  double  zest,  the  energy  of  life.  (Drums.) 

The  foe  closes  round  on  every  side!  Swords  are  flashing; 
courage,  friends !  Behind  are  your  parents,  your  wives,  your 
children !  (Pointing  to  the  guard.) 


EGMONT  331 

And  these  are  impelled  by  the  word  of  their  leader,  not 
by  their  own  free  will.  Protect  your  homes !  And  to 
save  those  who  are  most  dear  to  you,  be  ready  to  follow  my 
example,  and  to  fall  with  joy. 

(Drums.  'As  he  advances  through  the  guards  towards  the 
door  in  the  hachgroiind,  the  curtain  falls.  The  music 
joins  in,  and  the  scene  closes  with  a  symphony  of  victory. 


i 


HERMANN   AND    DOROTHEA 


BY 
GOETHE 


TRANSLATED    BY 
ELLEN    FROTHINGHAM 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

There  are  few  modern  poems  of  any  country  so  perfect  in  their 
kind  as  the  "Hermann  and  Dorothea"  of  Goethe.  In  clearness  of 
charactcriaation,  in  unity  of  tone,  in  the  adjustment  of  hack- 
ground  and  foreground,  in  the  conduct  of  the  narrative,  it  con- 
forms admirably  to  the  strict  canons  of  art;  yet  it  preserves  a 
freshness  and  spontaneity  in  its  emotional  appeal  that  are  rare  in 
works  of  so  classical  a  perfection  in  form. 

The  basis  of  the  poem  is  a  historical  incident.  In  the  year  1731 
the  Archbishop  of  Salzburg  drove  out  of  his  diocese  a  thousand 
Protestants,  who  took  refuge  in  South  Germany,  and  among 
whom  was  a  girl  zvho  became  the  bride  of  the  son  of  a  rich 
burgher.  The  occasion  of  the  girl's  exile  was  changed  by  Goethe 
to  more  recent  times,  and  in  the  poem  she  is  represented  as  a 
German  from  the  west  bank  of  the  Rhine  fleeing  from  the  tur- 
moil caused  by  the  French  Revolution.  The  political  element  is 
not  a  mere  background,  but  is  woven  into  the  plot  with  consum- 
mate skill,  being  used,  at  one  point,  for  example,  in  the  charac- 
tcriaation of  Dorothea,  who  before  the  time  of  her  appearance  in 
the  poem  has  been  deprived  of  her  first  betrothed  by  the  guillo- 
tine; and,  at  another,  in  furnishing  a  telling  contrast  between  the 
revolutionary  uproar  in  France  and  the  settled  peace  of  the  Ger- 
man village. 

The  characters  of  the  father  and  the  minister  Goethe  took  over 
from  the  original  incident,  the  mother  he  invented,  and  the  apoth- 
ecary he  made  to  stand  for  a  group  of  friends.  But  all  of  these , 
persons,  as  well  as  the  two  lovers,  are  recreated,  and  this  so  skil- 
fully that  while  they  are  made  notably  familiar  to  us  as  individ- 
uals, they  are  no  less  significant  as  permanent  types  of  human 
nature.  The  hexameter  measure  zvhich  he  employed,  and  which  is 
retained  in  the  present  translation,  he  handled  with  such  charm 
that  it  has  since  seemed  the  natural  verse  for  the  domestic  idyl — 
witness  the  obvious  imitation  of  this,  as  of  other  features  of  the 
poem,  in  Longfellow's  "Evangeline." 

Taken  as  a  whole,  with  its  beauty  of  form,  its  sentiment,  tender 
yet  restrained,  and  the  compelling  pathos  of  its  story,  "Hermann 
and  Dorothea"  appeals  to  a  wider  public  than  perhaps  any  other 
product  of  its  author. 

334 


HERMANN  AND   DOROTHEA 

CALLIOPE 

FATE  AND  SYMPATHY 

*f  I  ^RULY,  I  never  have  seen  the  market  and  street  so 
■  deserted ! 

J-    How   as   if   it   were   swept  looks   the   town,   or   had 

perished !     Not  fifty- 
Are  there,  methinks,  of  all  our  inhabitants  in  it  remaining. 
What  will  not  curiosity  do !  here  is  every  one  running, 
Hurrying  to  gaze  on  the  sad  procession  of  pitiful  exiles. 
Fully  a  league  it  must  be  to  the  causeway  they  have  to  pass 

over, 
Yet  all  are  hurrying  down  in  the  dusty  heat  of  the  noonday. 
I,  in  good  sooth,  would  not  stir  from  my  place  to  witness  the 

sorrows 
Borne  by  good,  fugitive  people,  who  now,  with  their  rescued 

possessions, 
Driven,  alas !  from  beyond  the  Rhine,  their  beautiful  country. 
Over  to  us  are  coming,  and  through  the  prosperous  corner 
Roam  of  this  our  luxuriant  valley,  and  traverse  its  windings. 
Well  hast  thou   done,  good  wife,   our   son   in  thus   kindly 

dispatching. 
Laden  with  something  to  eat  and  to  drink,  and  with  store 

of  old  linen, 
'Mongst  the  poor  folk  to  distribute;  for  giving  belongs  to 

the  wealthy. 
How  the  youth  drives,  to  be  sure !     What  control  he  has 

over  the  horses ! 
Makes  not  our  carriage  a  handsome  appearance, — the  new 

one?    With  comfort, 

335 


336  GOETHE 

Four  could  be  seated  within,  with  a  place  on  the  box  for  the 

coachman. 
This  time,  he  drove  by  himself.    How  lightly  it  rolled  round 

the  corner !  " 
Thus,  as  he  sat  at  his  ease  in  the  porch  of  his  house  on  the 

market. 
Unto  his  wife  was  speaking  mine  host  of  the  Golden  Lion. 

Thereupon    answered    and    said    the    prudent,    intelligent 

housewife: 
"  Father,  I  am  not  inclined  to  be  giving  away  my  old  linen : 
Since  it  serves  many  a  purpose;  and  cannot  be  purchased  for 

money. 
When  we  may  want  it.     To-day,  however,  I  gave,  and  with 

pleasure, 
Many  a  piece  that  was  better,  indeed,  in  shirts  and  in  bed- 
clothes ; 
For   I  was  told  of  the  aged  and  children  who  had  to  go 

naked. 
But  wilt  thou  pardon  me,   father?   thy  wardrobe  has  also 

been  plundered. 
And,    in   especial,    the   wrapper    that    has    the   East-Indian 

flowers. 
Made  of  the  finest  of  chintz,  and  lined  with  delicate  flannel, 
Gave  I  away:  it  was  thin  and  old,  and  quite  out  of  the 

fashion." 

Thereupon  answered  and  said,  with  a  smile,  the  excellent 

landlord : 
"  Faith !  I  am  sorry  to  lose  it,  my  good  old  calico  wrapper, 
Real  East-Indian  stuff :  I  never  shall  get  such  another. 
Well,  I  had  given  up  wearing  it :  nowadays,  custom  compels 

us 
Always  to  go  in  surtout,  and  never  appear  but  in  jacket; 
Always  to  have  on  our  boots;  forbidden  are  night-cap  and 

slippers." 


"See!"  interrupted  the  wife;  "even  now  some  are  yon- 
der returninsf. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  337 

Who  have  beheld  the  procession:  it  must,  then,  already  be 

over. 
Look  at  the  dust  on  their  shoes !  and  see  how  their  faces  are 

glowing ! 
Every  one  carries  his  kerchief,  and  with  it  is  wiping  the 

sweat  off. 
Not  for  a  sight  like  that  would  I  run  so  far  and  so  suffer, 
Through  such  a  heat;  in  sooth,  enough  shall  I  have  in  the 

telling." 

Thereupon   answered  and  said,  with   emphasis,  thus,  the 

good  father : 
"  Rarely   does  weather  like  this  attend   such   a  harvest  as 

this  is. 
We  shall  be  bringing  our  grain  in  dry,  as  the  hay  was  be- 
fore it. 
Not  the   least  cloud  to  be  seen,  so   perfectly  clear  is   the 

heaven  ; 
And,  with  delicious  coolness,  the  wind  blows  in  from  the 

eastward. 
That   is   the   weather  to  last!   over-ripe   are   the  cornfields 

already ; 
We    shall    begin    on    the    morrow    to    gather   our    copious 

harvest." 

Constantly,  while  he  thus  spoke,  the  crowds  of  men  and 
of  women 

Grew,  who  their  homeward  way  were  over  the  market-place 
wending ; 

And,  with  the  rest,  there  also  returned,  his  daughters  be- 
side him, 

Back  to  his  modernized  house  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
market, 

Foremost  merchant  of  all  the  town,  their  opulent  neighbor. 

Rapidly  driving  his  open  barouche, — it  was  builded  in 
Landau. 

Lively  now  grew  the  streets,  for  the  city  was  handsomely 
peopled. 

Many  a  trade  was  therein  carried  on,  and  large  manu- 
factures. 


338  GOETHE 

Under  their  doorway  thus  the  affectionate  couple  were 
sitting, 

Pleasing  themselves  with  many  remarks  on  the  wandering 
people. 

Finally  broke  in,  however,  the  worthy  housewife,  exclaim- 
ing: 

"  Yonder  our  pastor,  see !  is  hitherward  coming,  and  with 
him 

Comes  our  neighbor  the  doctor,  so  they  shall  every  thing 
tell  us; 

All  they  have  witnessed  abroad,  and  which  'tis  a  sorrow  to 
look  on." 

Cordially  then  the  two  men   drew  nigh,   and   saluted  the 

couple ; 
Sat  themselves   down  on   the  benches   of  wood   that  were 

placed  in  the   doorway, 
Shaking  the  dust  from  their   feet,  and  fanning  themselves 

with  their  kerchiefs. 
Then  was  the  doctor,  as  soon  as  exchanged  were  the  mutual 

greetings. 
First  to  begin,  and  said,  almost  in  a  tone  of  vexation: 
"  Such    is    mankind,    forsooth !    and   one   man    is   just    like 

another, 
Liking  to  gape  and  to  stare  when  ill-luck  has  befallen  his 

neighbor. 
Every  one  hurries  to  look  at  the  flames;  as  they  soar  in 

destruction ; 
Runs  to  behold  the  poor  culprit,  to  execution  conducted : 
Now  all  are  sallying   forth  to  gaze  on  the  need  of  these 

exiles. 
Nor  is  there  one  who  considers  that  he,  by  a  similar  fortune. 
May,  in  the  future,  if  not  indeed  next,  be  likewise  o'ertaken. 
Levity  not   to  be  pardoned,  I   deem;  yet  it   lies   in   man's 

nature." 


Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  noble,  intelligent  pastor; 
Ornament  he  of  the  town,  still  young,  in  the  prime  of  his 
manhood. 


HERMANN    AND   DOROTHEA  339 

He  was  acquainted  with  life, — with  the  needs  of  his  hearers 
acquainted ; 

Deeply  imbued  he  was  with  the  Holy  Scriptures'  importance, 

As  they  reveal  man's  destiny  to  us,  and  man's  disposition ; 

Thoroughly  versed,  besides,  in  best  of  secular  writings. 

"  I  should  be  loath,"  he  replied,  "  to  censure  an  innocent 
instinct, 

Which  to  mankind  by  good  mother  Nature  has  always  been 
given. 

What  understanding  and  reason  may  sometimes  fail  to  ac- 
complish. 

Oft  will  such  fortunate  impulse,  that  bears  us  resistlessly 
with  it. 

Did  curiosity  draw  not  man  with  its  potent  attraction. 

Say,  would  he  ever  have  learned  how  harmoniously  fitted 
together 

Worldly  experiences  are  ?    For  first  what  is  novel  he  covets ; 

Then  with  unwearying  industry  follows  he  after  the  useful ; 

Finally  longs  for  the  good  by  which  he  is  raised  and 
ennobled. 

While  he  is  young,  such  lightness  of  mind  is  a  joyous  com- 
panion, 

Traces  of  pain-giving  evil  effacing  as  soon  as  'tis  over. 

He  is  indeed  to  be  praised,  who,  out  of  this  gladness  of 
temper. 

Has  in  his  ripening  years  a  sound  understanding  developed; 

Who,  in  good  fortune  or  ill,  with  zeal  and  activity  labors : 

Such  an  one  bringeth  to  pass  what  is  good,  and  repaireth 
the  evil." 

Then    broke    familiarly   in   the  housewife   impatient,    ex- 
claiming: 
"Tell  us  of  what  ye  have  seen;  for  that  I  am  longing  to 
hear  of !  " 

"  Hardly,"   with   emphasis  then   the   village  doctor   made 
answer, 
"  Can   I   find  spirits   so  soon   after   all   the   scenes   I   have 

witnessed. 
Oh,  the  manifold  miseries!  who  shall  be  able  to  tell  them? 


340  GOETHE 

E'en  before  crossing  the  meadows,  and  while  we  were  yet  at 
a  distance, 

Saw  we  the  dust ;  but  still  from  hill  to  hill  the  procession 

Passed  away  out  of  our  sight,  and  we  could  distinguish  but 
little. 

But  when  at  last  we  were  come  to  the  street  that  crosses  the 
valley. 

Great  was  the  crowd  and  confusion  of  persons  on  foot  and 
of  wagons. 

There,  alas !  saw  we  enough  of  these  poor  unfortunates 
passing, 

And  could  from  some  of  them  learn  how  bitter  the  sorrow- 
ful flight  was. 

Yet  how  joyful  the  feeling  of  life  thus  hastily  rescued. 

Mournful  it  was  to  behold  the  most  miscellaneous  chattels, — 

All  those  things  which  are  housed  in  every  well-furnished 
dwelling, 

All  by  the  house-keeper's  care  set  up  in  their  suitable  places. 

Always  ready  for  use;  for  useful  is  each  and  important. — 

Now  these  things  to  behold,  piled  up  on  all  manner  of 
wagons, 

One  on  the  top  of  another,  as  hurriedly  they  had  been 
rescued. 

Over  the  chest  of  drawers  were  the  sieve  and  wool  coverlet 
lying; 

Thrown  in  the  kneading-trough  lay  the  bed,  and  the  sheets 
on  the  mirror. 

Danger,  alas !  as  we  learned  ourselves  in  our  great  con- 
flagration 

Twenty  years  since,  will  take  from  a  man  all  power  of 
reflection. 

So  that  he  grasps  things  worthless  and  leaves  what  is  pre- 
cious behind  him. 

Here,  too,  with  unconsidering  care  they  were  carrying  with 
them 

Pitiful  trash,  that  only  encumbered  the  horses  and  oxen; 

Such  as  old  barrels  and  boards,  the  pen  for  the  goose,  and 
the  bi-rd-cage. 

Women  and  children,  too,  went  toiling  along  with  their 
bundles, 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  341 

Panting  'neath  baskets  and  tubs,  full  of  things  of  no  manner 

of  value : 
So  unwilling  is  man  to  relinquish  his  meanest  possession. 
Thus    on    the   dusty   road    the   crowded    procession    moved 

forward, 
All  confused  and  disordered.     The  one  whose  beasts  were 

the  weaker. 
Wanted   more  slowly    to   drive,   while    faster   would    hurry 

another. 
Presently  went  up  a  scream  from  the  closely  squeezed  women 

and  children, 
And  with  the  yelping  of  dogs  was  mingled  the  lowing  of 

cattle, 
Cries  of  distress  from  the  aged  and  sick,  who  aloft  on  the 

wagon. 
Heavy   and  thus   overpacked,   upon   beds   were  sitting   and 

swaying. 
Pressed  at  last   from  the  rut  and  out  to  the  edge  of  the 

highway. 
Slipped  the  creaking  wheel ;  the  cart  lost  its  balance,  and 

over 
Fell  in  the  ditch.     In  the  swing  the  people  were  flung  to  a 

distance, 
Far    off    into    the    field,    with    horrible    screams;    by    good 

fortune 
Later   the  boxes   were   thrown   and  fell   more  near   to  the 

wagon. 
A'erily  all  who  had  witnessed  the  fall,  expected  to  see  them 
Crushed  into  pieces  beneath  the  weight  of  trunks  and  of 

presses. 
So  lay  the  cart  all  broken  to  fragments,   and  helpless  the 

people. 
Keeping  their  onward  way,  the  others  drove  hastily  by  them,    ^ 
Each  thinking  only  of  self,  and  carried  away  by  the  current. 
Then   we   ran    to    the    spot,    and    found    the    sick    and   the 

aged,— 
Those  who  at  home  and  in  bed  could  before  their  lingering 

ailments 
Scarcely  endure, — lying  bruised  on  the  ground,  complaining 

and  groaning. 


342  GOETHE 

Choked  by  the  billowing  dust  and  scorched  by  the  heat  of 
the  noonday." 

Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  kind-hearted  landlord, 

with  feeling: 
"  Would  that  our  Hermann  might  meet  them  and  give  them 

refreshment  and  clothing ! 
Loath  should  I  be  to  behold  them :  the  looking  on  suffering 

pains  me. 
Touched  by  the  earliest  tidings  of  their  so  cruel  afflictions. 
Hastily  sent  we  a  mite  from  out  of  our  super-abundance, 
Only  that  some  might  be  strengthened,  and  we  might  our- 
selves be  made  easy. 
But  let  us  now  no  longer  renew  these  sorrowful  pictures 
Knowing  how  readily  fear  steals  into  the  heart  of  us  mortals. 
And  anxiety,  worse  to  me  than  the  actual  evil. 
Come  with  me  into  the  room  behind,  our  cool  little  parlor, 
Where  no  sunbeam  e'er   shines,  and  no  sultry  breath  ever 

enters 
Through  its  thickness  of  wall.    There  mother  will  bring  us 

a  flagon 
Of  our  old   eighty-three,   with  which  we  may  banish   our 

fancies. 
Here  'tis  not  cosey  to  drink:  the  flies  so  buzz  round  the 

glasses." 
Thither  adjourned  they  then,  and  all  rejoiced  in  the  coolness. 

Carefully  brought  forth  the  mother  the  clear  and  glorious 

vintage, 
Cased   in   a  well-polished   flask,   on  a  waiter   of   glittering 

pewter, 
Set  round  with  large  green  glasses,  the  drinking  cups  meet 

for  the  Rhine  wine. 
So  sat  the  three  together  about  the  highly  waxed  table, 
Gleaming  and  round  and  brown,  that  on  mighty   feet  was 

supported. 
Joyously  rang  at  once  the  glasses  of  landlord  and  pastor, 
But  his  motionless  held  the  third,  and  sat  lost  in  reflection, 
Until   with   words   of   good-humor   the   landlord   challenged 

him,  saying, — 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  343 

"  Come,  sir  neighbor,  empty  your  glass,  for  God  in  his 

mercy 
Thus  far  has  kept  us  from  evil,  and  so  in  the  future  will 

keep  us. 
For   who  acknowledges   not,   that   since   our   dread   confla- 
gration, 
When    he   so   hardly   chastised   us,    he   now    is   continually 

blessing, 
Constantly  shielding,  as  man  the  apple  of  his  eye  watches 

over, 
Holding    it   precious    and    dear   above   all    the    rest   of   his 

members  ? 
Shall  he   in   time  to   come  not  defend  us   and   furnish   us 

succor  ? 
Only  when  danger  is  nigh  do  we  see  how  great  is  his  power. 
Shall  he  this  blooming  town  which  he  once  by  industrious 

burghers 
Built  up  afresh  from  its  ashes,  and  afterwards  blessed  with 

abundance, 
Now  demolish  again,  and  bring  all  the  labor  to  nothing?" 

Cheerfully  said  in  reply  the  excellent  pastor,  and  kindly: 
'■  Keep  thyself  firm   in   the    faith,   and   firm    abide   in   this 

temper ; 
For  it  makes  steadfast  and  wise  when  fortune  is  fair,  and 

when  evil, 
Furnishes   sweet  consolation   and  animates  hopes  the   sub- 

limest." 

Then  made  answer  the  landlord,  with  thoughts  judicious 

and  manly : 
"  Often  the  Rhine's  broad  stream  have  I  with  astonishment 

greeted, 
As  I   have   neared   it  again,   after   travelling   abroad   upon 

business. 
Always  majestic  it  seemed,  and  my  mind  and  spirit  exalted. 
But   I   could   never    imagine   its  beautiful  banks   would   so 

shortly 
Be  to  a  rampart  transformed,  to  keep  from  our  borders  the 

Frenchman, 


344  GOETHE 

And  its  wide-spreading  bed  be  a  moat  all  passage  to  hinder. 

See !  thus  nature  protects,  the  stout-hearted  Germans  pro- 
tect us, 

And  thus  protects  us  the  Lord,  who  then  will  be  weakly 
despondent  ? 

Weary  already  the  combatants,  all  indications  are  peaceful. 

Would  it  might  be  that  when  that  festival,  ardently  longed 
for. 

Shall  in  our  church  be  observed,  when  the  sacred  Te  Deum 
is  rising, 

Swelled  by  the  pealing  of  organ  and  bells,  and  the  blaring 
of  trumpets, — 

Would  it  might  be  that  that  day  should  behold  my  Hermann, 
sir  pastor,  . 

Standing,  his  choice  now  made,  with  his  bride  before  thee 
at  the  altar, 

Making  that  festal  day,  that  through  every  land  shall  be 
honored. 

My  anniversary,  too,  henceforth  of  domestic   rejoicing ! 

But  I  observe  with  regret,  that  the  youth  so  efficient  and 
active 

Ever  in  household  affairs,  when  abroad  is  timid  and  back- 
ward. 

Little  enjoyment  he  finds  in  going  about  among  others; 

Nay,  he  will  even  avoid  young  ladies'  society  wholly ; 

Shuns  the  enlivening  dance  which  all  young  persons  de- 
light in." 

Thus  he  spoke  and  listened;   for  now  was  heard   in  the 

distance 
Clattering  of  horses'  hoofs  drawing  near,  and  the  roll  of 

the  wagon, 
Which,    with    furious    haste,    came    thundering    under    the 

gateway. 


TERPSICHORE 

HERMANN 

NOW   when   of  comely   mien  the    son   came  into  the 
chamber. 
Turned    with    a    searching    look    the    eyes    of    the 
preacher  upon   him, 
And,  with  the  gaze  of  the  student,  who  easily  fathoms  ex- 
pression. 
Scrutinized  well  his  face  and  form  and  his  general  bearing. 
Then  with  a  smile  he  spoke,  and  said  in  words  of  affection : 
"  Truly  a  different  being  thou  comest !    I  never  have  seen 

thee 
Cheerful  as  now,  nor  ever  beheld  I  thy  glances  so  beaming. 
Joyous  thou  comest,  and  happy:  'tis  plain  that  among  the 

poor  people 
Thou  hast  been  sharing  thy  gifts,  and  receiving  their  bless- 
ings upon  thee." 

Quietly  then,  and  with  serious  words,  the  son  made  him 

answer : 
"If  I  haVe  acted  as  ye  will  commend,  I  know  not;  but  I 

followed 
That  which  my  heart  bade  me  do,  as  I  shall  exactly  relate 

you. 
Thou  wert,  mother,  so  long  in  rummaging  'mong  thy  old 

pieces, 
Picking  and  choosing,   that  not  until  late  was  thy   bundle 

together ; 
Then  too  the  wine  and  the  beer  took  care  and  time  in  the 

packing. 
When  I  came  forth  through  the  gateway  at  last,  and  out  on 

the  high-road, 

345 


346  GOETHE 

Backward  the  crowd  of  citizens  streamed  with  women  and 

children, 
Coming  to  meet  me;  for  far  was  already  the  band  of  the 

exiles. 
Quicker  I  kept  on  my  way,  and  drove  with   speed  to  the 

village, 
Where  they  were  meaning  to  rest,  as  I  heard,  and  tarry  till 

morning. 
Thitherward  up  the  new  street  as  I  hasted,  a  stout-timbered 

wagon. 
Drawn  by  two  oxen,  I  saw,  of  that  region  the  largest  and 

strongest ; 
While,  with  vigorous  steps,  a  maiden  was  walking  beside 

them, 
And,  a  long  staff  in  her  hand,  the  two  powerful  creatures  was 

guiding, 
Urging  them   now,  now  holding  them  back;  with  skill  did 

she  drive  them. 
Soon  as  the  maiden  perceived  me,   she  calmly  drew  near 

to  the  horses. 
And  in  these  words  she  addressed  me :  '  Not  thus  deplorable 

always 
Has  our  condition  been,  as  to-day  on  this  journey  thou  seest. 
I  am  not  yet  grown  used  to  asking  gifts  of  a  stranger. 
Which   he    will    often   unwillingly    give,    to    be    rid    of    the 

beggar. 
But  necessity  drives  me  to  speak ;  for  here,  on  the  straw,  lies 
Newly   delivered  of  child,  a  rich    land-owner's  wife,  whom 

I   scarcely 
Have  in  her  pregnancy,  safe  brought  off  with  the  oxen  and 

wagon. 
Naked,  now  in  her  arms  the  new-born  infant  is  lying. 
And  but  little  the  help  our  friends  will  be  able  to  furnish, 
H  in  the  neighboring  village,  indeed,  where  to-day  we  v^^ould 

rest  us. 
Still  we  shall  find  them ;  though  much  do  I  fear  they  already 

have  passed  it. 
Shouldst  thou  have  linen  to  spare  of  any  description,  pro- 
vided 
Thou  of  this  neighborhood  art,  to  the  poor  in  charity  give  it.' 


I 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  347 

"  Thus  she  spoke,  and  the  pale-faced  mother  raised  herself 

feebly 
!    Up  from  the  straw,  and  towards  me  looked.    Then  said  I  in 

answer : 
I    *  Surely  unto  the  good,  a  spirit  from  heaven  oft  speaketh, 
I    Making   them    feel    the   distress  that   threatens   a    suffering 

brother. 
For  thou  must  know  that  my  mother,  already  presaging  thy 

sorrows, 
j    Gave  me  a  bundle  to  use  it  straightway  for  the  need  of  the 

naked.' 
Then  I  untied  the  knots  of  the  string,  and  the  wrapper  of 

father's 
Unto  her  gave,   and  gave  her  as   well  the  shirts  and  the 

linen.  , 

And  she  thanked  me  with  joy,  and  cried:  *  The  happy  believe 

not 
Miracles  yet   can   be   wrought:   for   only   in    need  we   ac- 
knowledge 
God's  own  hand  and  finger,  that  leads  the  good  to   show 

goodness. 
What  unto  us  he  has  done  through  thee,  may  he  do  to  thee 

also ! ' 
And  I  beheld  with  what  pleasure  the  sick  woman  handled 

the  linens. 
But    with    especial    delight    the    dressing-gown's    delicate 

flannel. 
*  Let  us  make  haste,'  the  maid  to  her  said,  '  and  come  to 

the  village, 
Where  our  people  will  halt  for  the  night  and  already  are 

resting. 
There  these  clothes  for  the  children  I,  one  and  all,  straight- 
way will  portion.' 
Then  she  saluted  again,  her  thanks  most  warmly  expressing, 
Started   the   oxen ;  the   wagon   went  on ;  but   there   I   still 

lingered, 
Still   held   the   horses   in    check;    for   now   my   heart   was 

divided 
Whether  to  drive  with  speed  to  the  village,  and  there  the 

provisions 


348  GOETHE 

Share  'mong  the  rest  of  the  people,  or  whether  I  here  to 

the  maiden 
All  should  deliver  at  once,  for  her  discreetly  to  portion. 
And  in  an  instant  my  heart  had  decided,  and  quietly  driving 
After  the  maiden,   I   soon  overtook  her,   and   said   to   her 

quickly : 
*  Hearken,  good  maiden ; — my  mother  packed  up  not  linen- 
stuffs  only 
Into  the  carriage,  that  I  should  have  clothes  to  furnish  the 

naked ; 
Wine  and  beer  she  added  besides,  and  supply  of  provisions: 
Plenty  of  all  these  things  I  have  in  the  box  of  the  carriage. 
But  now  I  feel  myself  moved  to  deliver  these  offerings  also 
Into  thy  hand ;  for  so  shall  I  best  fulfil  my  commission. 
Thou    wilt   divide    them    with    judgment,   while    I    must   by 

chance  be  directed.' 
Thereupon  answered  the  maiden :  '  I  will  with  faithfulness 

portion 
These  thy  gifts,  that  all  shall  bring  comfort  to  those  who  are 

needy.' 
Thus   she   spoke,   and   quickly   the   box   of   the  carriage   I 

opened, 
Brought  forth  thence  the  substantial  hams,  and  brought  out 

the  breadstuffs, 
Bottles   of  wine   and   beer,   and   one  and   all   gave  to   the 

maiden. 
Willingly  would  I  have  given  her  more,  but  the  carriage  was 

empty. 
All  she  packed  at  the  sick  woman's  feet,  and  went  on  her 

journey. 
I,  with  my  horses  and  carriage,  drove  rapidly  back  to  the 

city." 

Instantly  now,  when  Hermann  had  ceased,  the  talkative 

neighbor 
Took  up  the  word,  and  cried :  "  Oh  happy,  in  days  like  the 

present. 
Days  of  flight  and  confusion,  who  lives  by  himself  in  his 

dwelling. 
Having  no  wife  nor  child  to  be  clinging  about  him  in  terror! 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  349 

Happy  I  feel  myself  now,  and  would  not  for  much  be  called 

father ; 
Would  not  have  wife  and  children  to-day,  for  whom  to  be 

anxious. 
Oft  have  I  thought  of  this  flight  before;  and  have  packed 

up  together 
All  my  best  things  already,  the  chains  and  old  pieces  of 

money 
That  were  my  sainted  mother's,  of  which  not  one  has  been 

sold  yet. 
Much  would  be  left  behind,  it  is  true,  not  easily  gotten. 
Even  the  roots  and  the  herbs,  that  were  with  such  industry 

gathered, 
I  should  be  sorry  to  lose,  though  the  worth  of  the  goods  is 

but  trifling. 
If   my  purveyor   remained,   I  could   go   from   my   dwelling 

contented. 
When  my  cash  I  have  brought  away  safe,  and  have  rescued 

my  person. 
All  is  safe :  none  find  it  so  easy  to  fly  as  the  single." 

"  Neighbor,"  unto  his  words  young  Hermann  with  em- 
phasis answered: 

"  I  can  in  no  wise  agree  with  thee  here,  and  censure  thy 
language. 

Is  he  indeed  a  man  to  be  prized,  who,  in  good  and  in  evil, 

Takes  no  thought  but  for  self,  and  gladness  and  sorrow  with 
others 

Knows  not  how  to  divide,  nor  feels  his  heart  so  impel 
him  ? 

Rather  than  ever  to-day  would  I  make  up  my  mini  to  be 
married : 

Many  a  worthy  maiden  is  needing  a  husband's  protection. 

And  the  man  needs  an  inspiriting  wife  when  ill  is  im- 
pending." 

''    Thereupon  smiling  the  father  replied :   "  Thus  love  I   to 
hear  thee ! 
That  is  a  sensible  word  such  as  rarely  I've  known  thee  to 
utter." 


350  GOETHE 

Straightway,  however,  the  mother  broke   in  with  quick- 
ness,   exclaiming : 
"  Son,  to  be  sure,  thou  art  right !  we  parents  have  set  the 

example ; 
Seeing  that  not  in   our   season  of  joy   did   we   choose   one 

another ; 
Rather  the  saddest  of  hours  it  was  that  bound  us  together. 
Monday  morning — I  mind  it  well ;  for  the  day  that  preceded 
Came  that  terrible  fire  by  which  our  city  was  ravaged — 
Twenty  years  will  have  gone.     The  day  was  a  Sunday  as 

this  is; 
Hot  and  dry   was   the   season ;  the   water   was   almost  ex- 
hausted. 
All  the  people  were  strolling  abroad  in  their  holiday  dresses, 
'Mong   the  villages   partly,   and   part   in   the   mills   and   the 

taverns. 
And  at  the  end  of  the   city   the   flames   began,   and  went 

coursing 
Quickly    along    the    streets,    creating    a    draught    in    their 

passage. 
Burned  were  the  barns  where  the  copious  harvest  already 

was  garnered; 
Burned  were  the  streets  as  far  as  the  market ;  the  house  of 

my  father. 
Neighbor    to   this,   was    destroyed,    and    this    one    also    fell 

with  it. 
Little  we   managed   to   save.     I    sat,    that    sorrowful   night 

through. 
Outside  the  town  on  the  common,  to  guard  the  beds  and  the 

boxes. 
Sleep  overtook  me  at  last,  and  when  I  again  was  awakened, 
Feeling  the  chill  of  the  morning  that  always  descends  before 

sunrise. 
There   were  the  smoke  and  the  glare,   and   the  walls  and  , 

chimneys  in  ruins. 
Then  fell  a  weight  on  my  heart;  but  more  majestic  than  ever 
Came  up  the  sun  again,  inspiring  my  bosom  with  courage. 
Then  I  rose  hastily  up,  with  a  yearning  the  place  to  revisit 
Whereon  our  dwelling  had  stood,  and  to  see  if  the  hens  had 

been  rescued, 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  3S1 

Which   I   especially  loved,  for   I    still   was   a   child  in   my 

feelings. 
Thus  as  I  over  the  still-smoking  timbers  of  house  and  of 

court-yard 
Picked    my    way,   and   beheld    the    dwelling    so    ruined   and 

wasted, 
Thou    camest   up   to    examine    the   place,    from    the    other 

direction. 
Under  the  ruins  thy  horse  in  his  stall  had  been  buried;  the 

rubbish 
Lay  on  the  spot  and  the   glimmering  beams ;  of  the  horse 

we  saw  nothing. 
Thoughtful  and  grieving  we  stood  there  thus,  each  facing 

the  other, 
Now  that  the  wall  was   fallen  that  once  had  divided  our 

court-yards. 
Thereupon  thou  by  the  hand  didst  take  me,  and  speak  to  me, 

saying, — 
'  Lisa,  how  camest  thou  hither  ?     Go  back !  thy  soles  must 

be  burning; 
Hot  the  rubbish  is  here:  it  scorches  my  boots,  which  are 

stronger.' 
And  thou  didst  lift  me  up,  and  carry  me  out  through  thy 

court-yard. 
There  was  the  door  of  the  house  left  standing  yet  with  its 

archway. 
Just  as  'tis  standing  now,  the  one  thing  only  remaining. 
Then  thou  didst   set  me  down  and  kiss  me ;  to  that  I   ob- 
jected; 
But    thou    didst    answer    and    say    with    kindly    significant 

language : 
'See!  my  house  lies  in  ruins:  remain  here  and  help  me  re- 
build it; 
So    shall    my    help    in    return    be    given    to    building    thy 

father's.' 
Yet  did  I  not  comprehend  thee  until  thou  sentest  thy  mother 
Unto  my   father,   and  quick   were   the  happy  espousals  ac- 
complished. 
E'en  to  this  day  I  remember  with  joy  those  half-consumed 

timbers. 


352  GOETHE 

And   I   can    see   once   more   the    sun   coming    up    in    such 

splendor ; 
For  'twas  the  day  that  gave  me  my  husband;  and,  ere  the 

first  season 
Passed  of  that  wild  desolation,  a  son  to  my  youth  had  been 

given. 
Therefore  I  praise  thee,  Hermann,  that  thou,  with  an  honest 

assurance, 
Shouldst,  in  these  sorrowful  days,  be  thinking  thyself  of  a 

maiden, 
And  amid  ruins  and  war  shouldst  thus  have  the  courage  to 

woo  her." 

Straightway,  then,  and  with  warmth,  the   father  replied 

to  her,  saying: 
"  Worthy   of   praise   is   the    feeling,   and   truthful   also   the 

story, 
Mother,   that  thou  hast   related;   for   so   indeed   everything 

happened. 
Better,  however,  is  better.    It  is  not  the  business  of  all  men 
Thus  their  life  and  estate  to  begin  from  the  very  foundation: 
Every  one  needs  not  to  worry  himself  as  we  and  the  rest 

did. 
Oh,  how  happy  is  he  whose   father  and  mother  shall  give 

him. 
Furnished  and  ready,  a  house  which  he.  can  adorn  with  his 

increase. 
Every  beginning  is  hard;  but  most  the  beginning  a  house- 
hold. 
Many  are  human  wants,  and  every  thing  daily  grows  dearer, 
So  that  a  man  must  consider  the  means  of  increasing  his 

earnings. 
This  I  hope  therefore  of  thee,  my  Hermann,  that  into  our 

dwelling 
Thou  wilt  be  bringing  ere  long  a  bride  who  is  handsomely 

dowered ; 
For  it  is  meet  that  a  gallant  young  man  have  an  opulent 

maiden. 
Great  is   the  comfort  of  home  whene'er,  with  the  woman 

elected, 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  353 

Enter  the  useful  presents,  besides,  in  box  and  in  basket. 
Not  for  this  many  a  year  in  vain  has  the  mother  been  busy 
Making  her  daughter's  Hnens  of  strong  and  deHcate  texture ; 
God-parents  have  not  in  vain  been  giving  their  vessels  of 

silver. 
And  the  father  laid  by  in  his  desk  the  rare  pieces  of  money ; 
For  there   a   day   will  come   when   she,  with  her  gifts   and 

possessions, 
Shall  that  youth  rejoice  who  has  chosen  her  out  of  all  others. 
Well  do  I  know  how  good  in  a  house  is  a  woman's  position, 
Who  her  own   furniture  round  her  knows,   in  kitchen   and 

chamber ; 
Who  herself  the  bed  and  herself  the  table  has  covered. 
Only  a  well-dowered  bride   should  I   like  to  receive  to  my 

dwelling. 
She  who  is  poor  is  sure,  in  the  end,  to  be  scorned  by  her  . 

husband ; 
And  will  as  servant  be  held,  who  as  servant  came  in  with  her 

bundle. 
Men  will  remain  unjust  when  the  season  of  love  is  gone 

over. 
Yes,  my  Hermann,  thy  father's  old  age  thou  greatly  canst 

gladden. 
If    thou    a    daughter-in-law    will    speedily    bring    to    my 

dwelling. 
Out  of  the  neighborhood  here, — from  the  house  over  yon- 
der, the  green  one. 
Rich  is  the  man,  I  can  tell  thee.     His  manufactures   and 

traffic 
Daily  are  making  him   richer;  for   whence  draws  the  mer- 
chant not  profit? 
Three  daughters  only  he  has,  to  divide  his  fortune  among 

them. 
True  that  the  eldest  already  is  taken ;  but  there  is  the  second 
Still  to  be  had,  as  well  as  the  third;   and  not  long  so,   it 

may  be. 
I   would  never  have  lingered  till  now,  had   I  been   in  thy 

place ; 
But  had  fetched  one  of  the  maidens,  as  once  I  bore  off  thy 

dear  mother." 

12 — VOL.  XIX  HO 


354  GOETHE 

Modestly  then  did  the  son  to  the  urgent  father  make 
answer: 

"  Truly  'twas  my  wish  too,  as  well  as  thine  own,  to  have 
chosen 

One  of  our  neighbor's  daughters,  for  we  had  been  brought 
up  together; 

Played,  in  the  early  days,  about  the  market-place  fountain; 

And,  from  the  other  boys'  rudeness,  I  often  have  been  their 
defender. 

That,  though,  is  long  since  past:  the  girls,  as  they  grew  to 
be  older, 

Properly  stayed  in  the  house,  and  shunned  the  more  bois- 
terous pastimes. 

Well  brought  up  are  they,  surely !  I  used  sometimes  to  go 
over. 

Partly  to  gratify  thee,  and  because  of  our  former  ac- 
quaintance : 

But  no  pleasure  I  ever  could  take  in  being  among  them; 

For  I  was  always  obliged  to  endure  their  censures  upon  me. 

Quite  too  long  was  my  coat,  the  cloth  too  coarse,  and  the 
color 

Quite  too  common ;  my  hair  was  not  cropped,  as  it  should 
be,  and  frizzled. 

I  was  resolved,  at  last,  that  I,  also,  would  dress  myself 
finely. 

Just  as  those  office-boys  do  who  always  are  seen  there  on 
Sundays, 

Wearing  in  summer  their  half-silken  flaps,  that  dangle  about 
them ; 

But  I  discovered,  betimes,  they  made  ever  a  laughing-stock 
of  me. 

And  I  was  vexed  when  I  saw  it, — it  wounded  my  pride ;  but 
more  deeply 

Felt  I  aggrieved  that  they  the  good-will  should  so  far  mis- 
interpret 

That  in  my  heart  I  bore  them,, — especially  Minna  the 
youngest. 

It  was  on  Easter-day  that  last  I  went  over  to  see  them ; 

Wearing  my  besc  new  coat,  that  is  now  hanging  up  in  the 
closet, 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  355 

'And  having  frizzled  my  hair,  Hke  that  of  the  other  young 

fellows. 
Soon  as  I  entered,  they  tittered;  but  that  not  at  me,  as  I 

fancied. 
Minna  before  the  piano  was  seated ;  the  father  was  present, 
Hearing  his  daughters  sing,  and   full  of  delight  and  good- 
humor. 
Much  I  could  not  understand  of  all  that  was   said  in  the 

singing; 
But  of  Pamina  I  often  heard,  and  oft  of  Tamino : 
And  I,  besides,  could  not  stay  there  dumb ;   so,  as  soon  as 

she  ended, 
Something    about   the   words    I    asked,   and    about    the   two 

persons. 
Thereupon  all  were  silent  and  smiled;  but  the  father  made 

answer: 
*  Thou  knowest  no  one,  my  friend,  I  believe,  but  Adam  and 

Eve?' 
No  one  restrained  himself  longer,  but  loud  laughed  out  then 

the  maidens. 
Loud  laughed  out  the  boys,  the  old  man  held  his  sides  for 

his  laughing. 
I,    in    embarrassment,    dropped   my    hat,    and    the    giggling 

continued. 
On  and  on  and  on,  for  all  they  kept  playing  and  singing. 
Back  to  the  house  here  I  hurried,  o'ercome  with  shame  and 

vexation, 
Hung  up  my  coat  in  the  closet,  and  pulled  out  the  curls  with 

my  fingers. 
Swearing  that  never  again  my  foot  should  cross  over  that 

threshold. 
And  I  was  perfectly  right;  for  vain   are  the  maidens,  and 

heartless. 
E'en   to   this  day,    as   I    hear,    I    am   called   by   them   ever 

'  Tamino.' " 

Thereupon    answered     the     mother,     and     said :     "  Thou 
shouldest  not,  Hermann, 
Be  so  long  vexed  with  the  children :  indeed,  they  are  all  of 
them  children. 


356  GOETHE 

Minna,  believe  me,  is   good,   and   was  always  disposed  to 

thee  kindly. 
'Twas  not  long  since  she  was  asking  about  thee.     Let  her 

be  thy  chosen  !  " 

Thoughtfully  answered  the  son :  "  I  know  not.  That  mor- 
tification 

Stamped  itself  in  me  so  deeply,  I  never  could  bear  to  behold 
her 

Seated  before  the  piano  or  listen  again  to  her  singing." 

Forth    broke    the    father    then,    and    in    words    of    anger 

made  answer: 
"  Little  of  joy  will  my  life  have  in  thee !     I  said  it  would 

be  so 
When  I  perceived  that  thy  pleasure  was   solely  in  horses 

and  farming: 
Work   which  a   servant,   indeed,   performs    for  an   opulent 

master. 
That  thou  doest;  the  father  meanwhile  must  his  son  be  de- 
prived of. 
Who  should  appear  as  his  pride,  in  the  sight  of  the  rest  of 

the  townsmen. 
Early  with  empty  hopes  thy  mother  was  wont  to  deceive  me. 
When  in   the   school  thy   studies,   thy   reading  and  writing, 

would  never 
As  with  the  others  succeed,  but  thy  seat  would  be  always  the 

lowest. 
That  comes  about,   forsooth,  when  a  youth  has  no   feeling 

of  honor 
Dwelling  within  his  breast,  nor  the   wish  to  raise  himself 

higher. 
Had   but  my    father   so  cared   for   me   as   thou   hast  been 

cared  for; 
If  he  had   sent  me  to   school,  and   provided  me  thus  with 

instructors, 
I  should  be  other,  I  trow,  than  host  of  the  Golden  Lion  !  " 

Then  the  son  rose  from  his  seat  and  noiselessly  moved 
to  the  doorway, 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  357 

Slowly,   and   speaking  no    word.      The    father,   however,    in 

passion 
After  him  called,  "  Yes,  go,  thou  obstinate  fellow !    I  know 

thee! 
Go  and  look  after  the  business  henceforth,  that  I  have  not 

to  chide  thee ; 
But    do    thou    nowise    imagine    that    ever    a    peasant-born 

maiden 
Thou  for  a  daughter-in-law  shalt  bring  into  my  dwelling,  the 

hussy ! 
Long  have   I  lived   in   the  world,   and   know  how  mankind 

should  be  dealt  with ; 
Know  how  to  entertain  ladies  and  gentlemen  so  that  con- 
tented 
They  shall  depart  from  my  house,  and  strangers  agreeably 

can  flatter. 
Yet   I'm   resolved   that   some   day   I    one   will   have    for   a 

daughter, 
Who   shall   requite   me    in   kind   and   sweeten   my   manifold 

labors ; 
..'ho  the  piano  shall  play  to  me,  too;   so  that  there  shall 

with  pleasure 
All  the  handsomest  people  in  town  and  the  finest  assemble, 
As  they  on  Sundays  do  now  in  the  house  of  our  neighbor." 

Here  Hermann 
Softly    pressed  on   the   latch,   and   so    went   out   from    the 

chamber. 


THALIA 

THE    CITIZENS 

THUS  did  the  modest   son   slip  away   from   the  angry 
upbraiding ; 
But  in  the   tone  he  had  taken   at   first,   the   father 

continued: 
"That  comes  not  out  of  a  man  which  he  has  not  in  him; 

and  hardly 
Shall    the    joy    ever   be    mine    of    seeing   my    dearest    wish 

granted : 
That  my  son  may  not  as  his  father  be,  but  a  better. 
What  would  become  of  the  house,  and  what  of  the  city  if 

each  one 
Were  not  with  pleasure  and  always  intent  on  maintaining, 

renewing. 
Yea,  and  improving,  too,  as  time  and  the  foreigner  teach  us ! 
Mian  is  not  meant,  forsooth,  to  grow  from  the  ground  like 

a  mushroom, 
Quickly  to  perish  away   on  the  spot  of  ground  that  begot 

him, 
Leaving  no  trace  behind  of  himself  and  his  animate  action ! 
As  by  the  house  we   straightway  can  tell  the  mind  of  the 

master, 
So,  when  we  walk  through  a  city,  we  judge  of  the  persons 

who  rule  it. 
For  where  the  towers  and  walls  are  falling  to  ruin;  where 

offal 
Lies  in  heaps  in  the  gutters,  and  alleys  with  offal  are  littered ; 
Where   from  its  place  has  started   the   stone,   and  no   one 

resets  it; 
Where    the  timbers    are    rotting   away,    and   the    house    is 

awaiting 

358 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  359 

Vainly  its  new  supports, — that  place  we  may  know  is  ill 
governed. 

Since  if  not  from  above  work  order  and  cleanliness  down- 
ward, 

Easily  grows  the  citizen  used  to  untidy  postponement; 

Just  as  the  beggar  grows  likewise  used  to  his  ragged  apparel. 

Therefore  I  wished  that  our  Hermann  might  early  set  out 
on  some  travels; 

That  he  at  least  might  behold  the  cities  of  Strasburg  and 
Frankfort, 

Friendly  Mannheim,  too,  that  is  cheerful  and  evenly  builded. 

He  that  has  once  beheld  cities  so  cleanly  and  large,  never 
after 

Ceases  his  own  native  city,  though  small  it  may  be,  to  em- 
bellish. 

Do  not  the  strangers  who  come  here  commend  the  repairs 
in  our  gateway, 

Notice  our  whitewashed  tower,  and  the  church  we  have 
newly  rebuilded  ? 

Are  not  all  praising  our  pavement?  the  covered  canals  full 
of  water, 

Laid  with  a  wise  distribution,  which  furnish  us  profit  and 
safety, 

So  that  no  sooner  does  fire  break  out  than  'tis  promptly 
arrested  ? 

Has  not  all  this  come  to  pass  since  the  time  of  our  great 
conflagration? 

Builder  I  six  times  was  named  by  the  council,  and  won  the 
approval. 

Won  moreover  the  heartfelt  thanks  of  all  the  good  burghers, 

Actively  carrying  out  what  I  planned,  and  also  fulfilling 

What  had  by  upright  men  been  designed,  and  left  uncom- 
pleted. 

Finally  grew  the  same  zeal  in  every  one  of  the  council ; 

All  now  labor  together,  and  firmly  decided  already 

Stands  it  to  build  the  new  causeway  that  shall  with  the 
highroad    connect    us. 

But  I  am  sorely  afraid  that  will  not  be  the  way  with  our 
children. 

Some   think   only   of   pleasure   and   perishable   apparel; 


360  GOETHE 

Others   will  cower  at  home,   and  behind  the   stove  will  sit 

brooding. 
One  of  this  kind,  as  I  fear,  we  shall  find  to  the  last  in  our 

Hermann." 

Straightway  answered  and  said  the  good  and  intelligent 

mother : 
"  Why    wilt   thou   always,    father,    be    doing    our    son    such 

injustice? 
That  least  of  all  is  the  way  to  bring  thy  wish  to  fulfilment. 
We  have  no  power  to  fashion  our  children  as   suiteth  our 

fancy ; 
As  they  are  given  by  God,  we  so  must  have  them  and  love 

them ; 
Teach  them  as  best  we  can,  and  let  each  of  them  follow 

his  nature. 
One  will  have  talents  of  one  sort,  and  different  talents  another. 
Every  one  uses  his  own ;  in  his  own  individual  fashion, 
Each  must  be  happy  and  good.    I  will  not  have  my  Hermann 

found  fault  with; 
For  he  is  worthy,   I  know,  of  the  goods  he  shall  one  day 

inherit; 
Will   be   an   excellent   landlord, ,  a   pattern   to   burghers   and 

builders ; 
Neither  in  council, .as   I   can   foresee,   will   he   be  the  most 

backward. 
But  thou  keepest  shut  up  in  his  breast  all  the  poor  fellow's 

spirit, 
Finding  such   fault  with  him  daily,  and  censuring  as   thou 

but  now   hast." 
And   on  the   instant   she  quitted  the   room,    and   after   him 

hurried, 
Hoping    she    somewhere    might   find   him,    and   might    with 

her  words  of  affection 
Cheer  him  again,  her  excellent  son,  for  well  he  deserved  it. 

Thereupon  when   she  was  gone,   the   father  thus   smiling 
continued : 
"  What  a  strange  folk,  to  be  sure,  are  these  women ;  and 
just  like  the  children ; 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  361 

Both  of  them  bent  upon  Hving  according  as  suiteth  their 
pleasure, 

While  we  others  must  never  do  aught  but  flatter  and  praise 
them. 

Once  for  all  time  holds  good  the  ancients'  trustworthy- 
proverb  : 

'  Whoever  goes  not  forward  comes  backward.'  So  must 
it  be  always." 

Thereupon  answered  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  reflection,  the 

doctor: 
''That,   sir   neighbor,    I   willingly   grant;    for   m.yself    I   am 

always 
Casting   about   for   improvement, — things   new,   so   they   be 

not  too  costly. 
But  what  profits  a  man,  who  has  not  abundance  of  money. 
Being   thus    active   and    stirring,   and   bettering    inside   and 

outside  ? 
Only  too  much   is  the  citizen  cramped :   the   good,  though 

he  know  it. 
Has  he  no  means  to  acquire  because  too  slender  his  purse  is, 
While  his  needs   are   too   great;   and  thus  is   he  constantly 

hampered. 
Many   the   things    I   had  done ;   but   then   the  cost   of   such 

changes 
Who    does    not    fear,    especially    now    in    this    season    of 

danger  ? 
Long    since    my    house    was    smiling    upon    me    in    modish 

apparel ! 
Long  since  great  panes  of   glass  were  gleaming  in  all  of 

the  windov/s ! 
But  who  can  do  as  the  merchant  does,  who,  with  his  re- 
sources. 
Knows  the  methods  as  well  by  which  the  best  is  arrived  at? 
Look    at    that   house    over    yonder, — the   new    one;    behold 

with  what  splendor 
'Gainst  the  background  of  green  stand  out  the  white  spirals 

of  stucco  ! 
Great   are   the  panes  in   the   windows;   and  how  the  glass 

sparkles  and  glitters. 


362  GOETHE 

Casting  quite   into   the   shade  the   rest  of   the  market-place 

houses ! 
Yet  just  after  the  fire  were  our  two  houses  the  finest, 
This    of   the    Golden   Lion,   and   mine   of   the   sign   of  the 

Angel. 
So  was  my  garden,  too,  throughout  the  whole  neighborhood 

famous : 
Every  traveller  stopped  and  gazed  through  the  red  palisa- 

does. 
Caught  by  the  beggars  there  carved  in  stone  and  the  dwarfs 

of  bright  colors. 
Then  whosoever  had  coffee  served  in  the  beautiful  grotto, — 
Standing   there   now   all   covered    with   dust   and   partly    in 

ruins, — 
Used  to  be  mightily  pleased  with   the  glimmering  light  of 

the  mussels 
Spread  out  in  beautiful  order;  and  even  the  eye  of  the  critic 
Used   by   the    sight   of    my    corals    and   potter's    ore   to   be 

dazzled. 
So  in  my  parlor,  too,  they  would  always  admire  the  painting, 
Where  in  a  garden  are  gaily  dressed  ladies  and  gentlemen 

walking. 
And  with  their  taper  fingers  are  plucking  and  holding  the 

flowers. 
But   who   would  look   at   it  now !     In   sooth,   so  great   my 

vexation 
Scarcely   I  venture   abroad.      All   now   must   be  other  and 

tasteful, 
So  they   call  it;  and  white   are   the  laths  and  benches  of 

wood-work ; 
Everything  simple  and  smooth ;  no  carving  longer  or  gilding 
Can  be  endured,  and  the  woods  from  abroad  are  of  all  the 

most   costly. 
Well,  I  too  should  be  glad  could  I  get  for  myself  something 

novel ; 
Glad  to  keep  up  with  the  times,  and  be  changing  my  furni- 
ture often; 
Yet  must  we   all  be  afraid  of  touching  the  veriest  trifle. 
For  who  among  us  has  means  for  paying  the  v;ork-people's 

wages  ? 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  363 

Lately  I  had  an  idea  of  giving  the  Archangel  Michael, 
Making  the  sign  of  my  shop,  another  fresh  coating  of  gilding, 
And  to  the  terrible  dragon  about  his  feet  that  is  winding; 
But  I  e'en  let  him  stay  browned  as  he  is :   I  dreaded  the 
charges." 


EUTERPE 

MOTHER  AND  SON 

THUS    entertaining   themselves,    the   men    sat    talking. 
The   mother 
Went   meanwhile   to   look    for   her   son   in    front  of 
the  dwelling, 

First  on  the  settle  of  stone,  whereon  'twas  his  wont  to  be 
seated. 

When   she   perceived   him   not   there,   she  went   farther   to 
look   in   the   stable, 

If  he  were  caring  perhaps  for  his  noble  horses,  the  stallions, 

Which  he  as  colts  had  bought,  and  whose  care  he  intrusted 
to  no  one. 

And  by  the  servant  she  there  was  told :  He  is  gone  to  the 
garden. 

Then  with  a  nimble  step  she  traversed  the  long,  double  court- 
yards. 

Leaving  the  stables  behind,  and  the  well-builded  barns,  too, 
behind  her ; 

Entered    the    garden,    that    far    as    the    walls   of    the    city 
extended ; 

Walked  through  its  length,   rejoiced  as  she  went  in   every 
thing  growing; 

Set  upright  the  supports  on  which  were  resting  the  branches 

Heavily   laden   with   apples,   and   burdening  boughs   of  the 
pear-tree. 

Next  some  caterpillars  removed  from  a  stout,  swelling  cab- 
bage; 

For   an   industrious   woman   allows  no   step   to  be  wasted. 

Thus  was  she  come  at  last  to  the  end  of  the  far-reaching 
garden, 

Where  stood  the  arbor  embowered  in  woodbine;  nor  there 
did  she  find  him, 

364 


I 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  365 

More  than  she  had  hitherto  in  all  her  search  through  the 
garden. 

But  the  wicket  was  standing  ajar,  which  out  of  the  arbor, 

Once   by  particular   favor,   had  been   through  the   walls   of 
the  city 

Cut  by  a  grandsire  of  hers,  the  worshipful  burgomaster. 

So    the    now    dried-up    moat    she    next    crossed   over    with 
comfort. 

Where,  by  the  side  of  the  road,  direct  the  well-fenced  vine- 
yard. 

Rose   with   a    steep   ascent,    its    slope    exposed    to    the    sun- 
shine. 

Up  this  also  she  went,  and  with  pleasure  as  she  was  ascend- 
ing 

Marked  the   wealth   of   the   clusters,   that   scarce   by   their 
leafage  were  hidden. 

Shady  and  covered  the  way  through  the  lofty  middlemost 
alley. 

Which   upon   steps  that  were  made  of  unhewn   blocks   you 
ascended. 

There   were  the   Muscatel,    and   there   were   the   Chasselas 
hanging 

Side  by  side,  of  unusual  size  and  colored  with  purple, 

All  set  out  with  the  purpose  of  decking  the  visitor's  table; 

While  with  single  vine-stocks  the  rest  of  the  hillside  was 
covered. 

Bearing    inferior    clusters,    from    which    the    delicate    wine 
comes. 

Thus  up  the  slope  she  went,  enjoying  already  the  vintage, 

And  that  festive  day  on  which  the  whole  country,  rejoicing, 

Picks  and  tramples  the  grapes,  and  gathers  the  must  into 
vessels : 

Fireworks,  when    it   is    evening,    from    every   direction   and 
corner 

Crackle  and  blaze,  and  so  the  fairest  of  harvests  is  honored. 

But  more  uneasy  she  went,  her  son  after  twice  or  thrice 
calling. 

And  no  answer  receiving,  except  from  the  talkative  echo, 

That  with  many  repeats  rang  back  from  the  towers  of  the 
city. 


366  GOETHE 

Strange  it  was  for  her  to  seek  him;  he  never  had  gone  to 

a  distance 
That  he  told  her  not  first,  to  spare  his  affectionate  mother 
Every  anxious  thought,  and  fear  that  aught  ill  had  befallen. 
Still  did  she  constantly  hope  that,  if  further  she  went,  she 

should  find  him ; 
For  the   two  doors  of  the   vineyard,  the  lower  as  well  as 

the  upper. 
Both  were  alike  standing   open.      So   now   she  entered  the 

cornfield. 
That  with  its  broad  expanse  the  ridge  of  the  hill  covered 

over. 
Still  was  the  ground  that  she  walked  on  her  own;  and  the 

crops   she   rejoiced   in, — 
All  of  them  still  were  hers,  and  hers  was  the  proud-waving 

grain,  too, 
Over   the    whole    broad    field   in    golden    strength   that   was 

stirring. 
Keeping  the  ridgeway,  the  footpath,  between  the  fields  she 

went  onward. 
Having   the   lofty   pear-tree   in    view,   which    stood   on    the 

summit, 
And  was  the  boundary-mark  of  the  fields  that  belonged  to 

her  dwelling. 
Who  might  have  planted   it,   none   could  know,  but  visible 

was  it 
Far  and  wide  through  the  country;  the  fruit  of  the  pear- 
tree  was  famous. 
'Neath  it  the  reapers  were  wont  to  enjoy  their  meal  at  the 

noon-day, 
And  the  shepherds   were  used  to   tend  their  flocks   in  its 

shadow. 
Benches    of    unhewn    stones    and    of    turf   they    found    set 

about  it. 
'    And  she  had  not  been  mistaken,  for  there  sat  her  Hermann, 

and  rested, — 
Sat  with  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  seemed  to  be  viewing 

the  landscape 
That   to  the   mountains   lay:   his   back   was   turned  to    his 

mother. 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  367 

Towards  him  softly  she  crept,  and  lightly  touched  on  the 

shoulder ; 
Quick   he  turned   himself   round:  there   were  tears  in   his 

eyes  as  he  met  her. 

"  Mother,  how  hast  thou  surprised  me !  "  he  said  in  con- 
fusion;  and  quickly 

Wiped  the  high-spirited  youth  his  tears  away.  But  the 
mother, 

"What!  do  I  find  thee  weeping,  my  son?"  exclaimed  in 
amazement. 

"  Nay,  that  is  not  like  thyself:  I  never  before  have  so  seen 
thee! 

Tell  me,  what  burdens  thy  heart?  what  drives  thee  here, 
to  be  sitting 

Under  the  pear-tree  alone?  These  tears  in  thine  eyes,  what 
has  brought   them  ?  " 

Then,   collecting  himself,   the  excellent  youth   made  her 
answer: 
"  Truly  no  heart  can  that  man  have  in  his  bosom  of  iron, 
Who  is  insensible  now  to  the  needs  of  this  emigrant  people; 
He  has  no  brains  in  his  head,  who  not  for  his  personal 

safety, 
Not  for  his  fatherland's  weal,  in  days  like  the  present  is 

anxious. 
Deeply  my  heart  had  been  touched  by  the  sights  and  sounds 

of  the  morning; 
Then  I  went  iorth  and  beheld  the  broad  and  glorious  land- 
scape 
Spreading  its  fertile  slopes  in  every  direction  about  us. 
Saw  the  golden  grain  inclining  itself  to  the  reapers. 
And  the  promise  of  well-filled  barns  from  the  plentiful  har- 
vest. 
But,  alas,  how  near  is  the  foe!    The  Rhire  with  its  waters 
Guards  us,  indeed;  but,  ah,  what  now  are  rivers  and  moun- 
tains 
'Gainst  that  terrible  people  that  onward  bears  like  a  tempest ! 
For  they  summon  their  youths  from  every  quarter  together. 
Call  up  their  old  men  too,  and  press  with  violence  forward. 


368  GOETHE 

Death   cannot   frighten   the   crowd:    one   muhitude   follows 
another. 

And  shall  a  German  dare  to  linger  behind  in  his  homestead? 

Hopes  he  perhaps  to  escape  the  everywhere  threatening  evil? 

Nay,  dear  mother,  I  tell  thee,  to-day  has  made  me  regretful 

That  I  was  lately  exempt,  when  out  of  our  townsmen  were 
chosen 

Those  who  should  serve  in  the  army.     An  only  son  I  am 
truly, 

Also  our  business  is  great,  and  the  charge  of  our  household 
is  weighty. 

Yet  were  it  better,  I  deem,  in  the  front  to  offer  resistance 

There    on    the    border,    than    here    to    await    disaster    and 
bondage. 

So  has  my  spirit  declared,  and  deep  in  my  innermost  bosom 

Courage  and  longing  have  now  been  aroused  to  live  for  my 
country, 

Yea,  and  to  die,  presenting  to  others  a  worthy  example. 

If   but   the   strength   of   Germany's  youth   were   banded   to- 
gether 

There  on  the  frontier,  resolved  that  it  never  would  yield  to 
the  stranger, 

Ah,  he  should  not  on  our  glorious  soil  be  setting  his  foot- 
steps, 

Neither  consuming  before  our  eyes  the  fruit  of  our  labor. 

Ruling  our  men,  and  making  his  prey  of  our  wives  and  our 
daughters. 

Hark  to  me,  mother :  for  I  in  the  depths  of  my  heart  am 
determined 

Quickly  to  do,  and  at  once,  what  appears  to  me  right  and 
in  reason ; 

For  he  chooses  not  always  the  best  who  longest  considers. 

Hearken,  I  shall  not  again  return  to  the  house ;  but  directly 

Go    from   this    spot   to   the   city,   and   there   present   to   the 
soldiers 

This  right  arm   and  this  heart,  to  be  spent  in   the   father- 
land's   service. 

Then  let  my  father  say  if  there  be  no  feeling  of  honor 

Dwelling   within   my   breast,   nor   a   wish   to    raise   myself 
higher." 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  369 

Then  with  significant  words  spoke  the  good  and  intelligent 

mother, 
While  from  her  eyes  the  quick-starting  tears  were  silently 

falling: 
"  Son,  what  change  has  come  o'er  thee  to-day,  and  over  thy 

temper, 
That  thou  speakest  no  more,  as  thou  yesterday  didst,  and 

hast  always, 
Open  and  free,  to  thy  mother,  and  tellest  exactly  thy  wishes? 
Any  one  else,  had  he  heard  thee  thus  speak,  would  in  sooth 

have  commended. 
And  this  decision  of  thine  would  have  highly  approved  as 

most  noble. 
Being  misled  by  thy  tone  and  by  thy  significant  language. 
Yet  have  I  nothing  but  censure  to  speak;  for  better  I  know 

thee. 
Thou  concealest  thy  heart,  and  thy  thoughts  are  not  such 

as  thou  tellest. 
Well  do  I  know  that  it  is  not  the  drum,  not  the  trumpet 

that  calls  thee : 
Neither    in    uniform   wouldst    thou    figure    in    sight    of   the 

maidens ; 
Since,  for  all  thou  art  honest  and  brave,  it  is  thy  vocation 
Here  in   quiet  to  care   for  the   farm  and  provide   for  the 

household. 
Tell   me   honestly,   therefore,   what   goads   thee   to    such   a 

decision?  " 

Earnestly  answered  the  son :  "Nay,  thou  art  mistaken, 
dear  mother : 

One  day  is  not  like  another.  The  youth  matures  into  man- 
hood: 

Better  in  stillness  oft  ripening  to  deeds  than  when  in  the 
tumult 

Wildering  and  wild  of  existence,  that  many  a  youth  has 
corrupted. 

And,  for  as  still  as  I  am  and  was  always,  there  yet  in  my 
bosom. 

Has  such  a  heart  been  shaped  as  abhors  all  wrong  and 
injustice; 


370  GOETHE 

And  I  have  learned  aright  between  worldly  things  to  dis- 
tinguish. 

Arm  and  foot,  besides,  have  been  mightily  strengthened  by 
labor. 

All  this,  I  feel,  is  true:  I  dare  with  boldness  maintain  it. 

Yet  dost  thou  blame  me  with  reason,  O  mother !  for  thou 
hast  surprised  me 

Using  a  language  half  truthful  and  half  that  of  dissimu- 
lation. 

For,  let  me  honestly  own, — it  is  not  the  near  danger  that 
calls  me 

Forth  *from  my  father's  house;  nor  is  it  the  lofty  ambition 

Helpful  to  be  to  my  country,  and  terrible  unto  the 
foeman. 

They  were  but  words  that  I  spoke:  they  only  were  meant 
for   concealing 

Those  emotions  from  thee  with  which  my  heart  is  dis- 
tracted ; 

And  so  leave  me,  O  mother !  for,  since  the  wishes  are 
fruitless 

Which  in  my  bosom  I  cherish,  my  life  must  go  fruitlessly 
over. 

For,  as  I  know,  he  injures  himself  who  is  singly  devoted, 

When  for  the  common  cause  the  whole  are  not  working 
together." 

"  Hesitate  not,"  replied  thereupon  the  intelligent  mother, 

"  Every  thing  to  relate  me,  the  smallest  as  well  as  the 
greatest. 

Men  will  always  be  hasty,  their  thoughts  to  extremes  ever 
running: 

Easily  out  of  their  course  the  hasty  are  turned  by  a  hin- 
drance. 

Whereas  a  woman  is  clever  in  thinking  of  means,  and  will 
venture 

E'en  on  a  roundabout  way,  adroitly  to  compass  her  object. 

Let  me  know  every  thing,  then;  say  wherefore  so  greatly 
excited 

As  I  ne'er  saw  thee  before,  why  thy  blood  is  coursing  so 
hotly, 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  371 

Wherefore,  against  thy  will,  tears  are  filling  thine  eyes  to 
o'erflowing." 

Then  he  abandoned  himself,  the  poor  boy,  to  his  sorrow, 

and  weeping, 
Weeping   aloud   on   his   kind   mother's    breast,   he   brokenly 

answered : 
■'  Truly  my  father's  words  to-day  have  wounded  me  sorely, — 
Words  which  I  have  not  deserved;  not  to-day,  nor  at  any 

time  have  I : 
For  it  was  early  my  greatest  delight  to  honor  my  parents. 
No  one  knew  more,  so  I  deemed,  or  was  wiser  than  those 

who  begot  me,  • 

And  had  with  strictness  ruled  throughout.,  the  dark  season 

of  childhood. 
Many   the   things,   in  truth,   I   with  patience  endured    from 

my    playmates. 
When   the  good-will   that  I   bore  them  they  often   requited 

with  malice. 
Often  I  suffered  their  flings  and  their  blows  to  pass  unre- 

sented ; 
But    if    they    ventured    to    ridicule    father,    when    he    of    a 

Sunday 
Home    from    Church    would    come,    with    his    solemn    and 

dignified  bearing; 
If  they  made  fun  of  his  cap-string,  or  laughed  at  the  flowers 

of  the   wrapper 
He  with  such  stateliness  wore,  which  was  given  away  but 

this   morning, — 
Threateningly  doubled  my   fist  in   an   instant;  with   furious 

passion 
Fell  I  upon   them,   and   struck  out  and  hit,   assailing  them 

blindly. 
Seeing  not  where.     They  howled  as  the  blood  gushed   out 

from   their  noses : 
Scarcely  they  made  their  escape  from  my  passionate  kicking 

and  beating. 
Then,   as   I   older   grew,   I   had  much    to   endure    from   my 

father ; 
Violent  words  he  oft  vented  on  me,  instead  of  on  others, 


372  GOETHE 

When,  at  the  board's  last  session,  the  council  had  roused 
his  displeasure, 

And  I  was  made  to  atone  for  the  quarrels  and  wiles  of  his 
colleagues. 

Thou  has  pitied  me   often  thyself;   for  much  did  I   suffer. 

Ever  remembering  with  cordial  respect  the  kindness  of 
parents. 

Solely  intent  on  increasing  for  us  their  goods  and  posses- 
sions. 

Much  denying  themselves  in  order  to  save  for  their  children. 

But,  alas !  saving  alone,  for  the  sake  of  a  tardy  enjoyment, — 

That  is   not  happiness :  pile  upon  pile,   and  acre  on  acre. 

Make  us  not  happy,  no  matter  how  fair  our  estates  may  be 
rounded. 

For  the  father  grows  old,  and  with  him  will  grow  old  the 
children. 

Losing  the  joy  of  the  day,  and  bearing  the  care  of  to- 
morrow. 

Look  thou  below,  and  see  how  before  us  in  glory  are  lying. 

Fair  and  abundant,  the  corn-fields;  beneath  them,  the  vine- 
yard and  garden; 

Yonder  the  stables  and  barns;  our  beautiful  line  of  pos- 
sessions. 

But  when  I  look  at  the  dwelling  behind,  where  up  in  the 
gable 

We  can  distinguish  the  window  that  marks  my  room  in  the 
attic ; 

When  I  look  back,  and  remember  how  many  a  night  from 
that  window 

I  for  the  moon  have  watched;  for  the  sun,  how  many  a 
morning ! 

When  the  healthful  sleep  of  a  few  short  hours  sufficed  me, — 

Ah,  so  lonely  they  seem  to  me  then,  the  chamber  and  court- 
yard. 

Garden  and  glorious  field,  away  o'er  the  hill  that  is 
stretching ; 

All  so  desert  before  me  lie:  'tis  the  wife  that  is  wanting." 

Thereupon  spoke  the  good  mother,  and  thus  with  intelli- 
gence answered: 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  373 

"  Son,  not  greater  thy  wish  to  bring  thee  a  bride  to  thy 
chamber, 

That  thou  mayst  find  thy  nights  a  beautiful  part  of  existence, 

And  that  the  work  of  the  day  may  gain  independence  and 
freedom, 

Than  is  thy  fathers  wish  too,  and  thy  mother's.  We  always 
have  counselled, — 

Yea,  we  have  even  insisted, — that  thou  shouldst  elect  thee 
a  maiden. 

But  I  was  ever  aware,  and  now  my  heart  gives  me  assurance, 

That  till  the  hour  appointed  is  come,  and  the  maiden  ap- 
pointed 

Shall  with  the  hour  appear,  the  choice  will  be  left  for  the 
future, 

While  more  strong  than  all  else  will  be  fear  of  grasping  the 
wrong  one. 

If  I  may  say  it,  my  son,  I  believe  thou  already  hast  chosen; 

For  thy  heart  has  been  touched,  and  been  made  more  than 
wontedly  tender. 

Speak  it  out  honestly,  then;  for  my  soul  has  told  me  before- 
hand: 

That  same  maiden  it  is,  the  exile,  whom  thou  hast  elected." 

"  Thou  has  said,  mother !  "  the  son  thereupon  with  eager- 
ness answered. 

"Yes,  it  is  she;  and  if  I  to-day  as  my  bride  do  not  bring 
her 

Home  to  our  dwelling,  she  from  me  will  go,  perhaps  vanish 
for  ever, 

Lost  in  the  war's  confusion  and  sad  movings  hither  and 
thither. 

Mother,  for  ever  in  vain  would  then  our  abundant  pos- 
sessions 

Prosper  before  me,  and  seasons  to  come  be  in  vain  to  me 
fruitful. 

Yea,  I  should  hold  in  aversion  the  wonted  house  and  the 
garden : 

Even  my  mother's  love,  alas !  would  not  comfort  my  sorrow. 

Every  tie,  so  I  feel  in  my  heart,  by  love  is  unloosened 

Soon  as  she  fastens  her  own;  and  not  the  maid  is  it  only 


374  GOETHE 

Leaves   behind   father  and   mother,  to   follow  the  man   she 

has  chosen. 
He  too,  the  youth,  no  longer  knows  aught  of  mother  and 

father, 
When  he  the  maiden,  his  only  beloved,  sees  vanishing  from 

him. 
Suffer  me,  then,  to  go  hence  wherever  despair  shall  impel  me : 
Since  by  my   father  himself  the  decisive  words  have  been 

spoken ; 
Since  his  house  can  no  longer  be  mine  if  he  shut  out  the 

maiden. 
Her   whom   alone   as   my   bride   I   desire  to   bring   to   our 

dwelling." 

Thereupon  quickly  made  answer  the  good  and  intelligent 

mother: 
"  How  like  to   rocks,   forsooth,  two  men  will   stand   facing 

each  other ! 
Proud  and  not  to  be  moved,  will  neither  draw  near  to  his 

fellow ; 
Neither  will  stir  his  tongue  to  utter  the  first  word  of  kind- 
ness. 
Therefore  I  tell  thee,  my  son,  a  hope  yet  lives  in  my  bosom, 
So  she  be  honest  and  good,  thy  father  will  let  thee  espouse 

her, 
Even  though  poor,  and  against  a  poor  girl  so  decisive  his 

sentence. 
Many  a  thing  he  is  wont  to  speak  out  in  his  violent  fashion 
Which  he  yet  never  performs;  and  so  what  he  denies  will 

consent  to. 
Yet  he  requires  a  kindly  word,  and  is  right  to  require  it: 
He  is  the  father !     Besides  we  know  that  his  wrath  after 

dinner, — 
When    he    most    hastily    speaks,    and    questions    all    others' 

opinions, — 
Signifies  naught ;  the  full  force  of  his  violent  will  is  excited 
Then  by  the  wine,   which   lets  him  not  heed   the  language 

of  others ; 
None  but  himself  does  he  see  and  feel.     But  now  is  come 

evening, 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  375 

Talk  upon  various  subjects  has  passed  between  him  and  his 

neighbors. 
Gentle,  he  is;  I  am  sure,  now  his  little  excitement  is  over, 
And  he  can  feel  how  unjust  his  passion  has  made  him  to 

others. 
Come,  let  us  venture  at  once :  success  is  alone  to  the  valiant ! 
Further  we  need  the  friends,  still  sitting  together  there  with 

him; 
And  in  especial  the  worthy  pastor  will  give  us  assistance." 

Thus  she  hastily  spoke,  and  up  from  the  stone  then  arising, 
Drew  from  his  seat  her  son,  who  willingly  followed.     In 

silence 
Both  descended  the  hill,  their  important  purpose  revolving. 


POLYHYMNIA 

THE    CITIZEN    OF    THE    WORLD 

THERE   the  three  men,   however,   still   sat   conversing 
together. 
With  mine  host  of  the  Lion,  the  village  doctor,  and 
pastor; 
And   their   talk   was   still    on    the    same   unvarying   subject. 
Turning    it    this    way    and    that,    and    viewing    from    every 

direction. 
But   with   his    sober   judgment    the    excellent    pastor   made 

answer : 
''  Here  will  I  not  contradict  you.     I  know  that  man  should 

be  always 
Striving  for  that  which  is  better;  indeed,  as  we  see,  he  is 

reaching 
Always  after  the  higher,  at  least  some  novelty  craving. 
But  be  careful  ye  go  not  too  far,  for  with  this  disposition 
Nature  has  given  us  pleasure  in  holding  to  what  is  familiar ; 
Taught  us  in  that  to  delight  to  which  we  have  long  been 

accustomed. 
Every   condition    is    good    that    is    founded   on    reason    and 

nature. 
Many  are  man's  desires,  yet  little  it  is  that  he  needeth ; 
Seeing  the  days  are  short  and  mortal  destiny  bounded. 
Ne'er   would   I   censure   the   man   whom   a   restless   activity 

urges. 
Bold   and    industrious,   over    all   pathways   of   land    and    of 

ocean, 
Ever  untiring  to  roam;  who  takes  delight  in  the  riches. 
Heaping    in    generous    abundance    about    himself    and    his 

children. 
Yet  not  unprized  by  me  is  the  quiet  citizen  also, 

376 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  377 

Alaking    the    noiseless    round    of    his    own    inherited    acres, 
TilHng  the  ground  as  the  ever-returning  seasons  command 

him. 
Xot  with  every  year  is  the  soil  transfigured  about  him ; 
Not   in  haste  does  the  tree  stretch   forth,   as   soon  as   'tis 

planted, 
Full-grown  arms  towards  heaven  and  decked  with  plenteous 

blossoms. 
No :  man  has  need  of  patience,  and  needful  to  him  are  also 
Calmness    and    clearness    of    mind,    and    a    pure    and    right 

understanding. 
Few    are    the    seeds    he    intrusts    to    earth's    all-nourishing 

bosom; 
Few  are  the  creatures  he  knows  how  to  raise  and  bring  to 

perfection. 
Centred  are  all  his  thoughts  alone  on  that  which  is  useful. 
Happy  to  whom  by  nature  a  mind  of  such  temper  is  given, 
For    he    supports    us    all !      And    hail,    to    the    man    whose 

abode  is 
Where  in  a  town  the  country  pursuits  with   the   city  are 

blended. 
On  him  lies  not  the  pressure  that  painfully  hampers   the 

farmer. 
Nor  is  he  carried  away  by  the  greedy  ambition  of  cities; 
Where  they  of  scanty  possessions  too  often  are   given  to 

aping. 
Wives  and  daughters  especially,  those  who  are  higher  and 

richer. 
Blessed  be  therefore  thy  son  in  his  life  of  quiet  employment; 
Blessed  the  wife,  of  like  mind  with  himself,  whom  he  one 

day  shall  choose  him." 

Thus  he  spoke;  and  scarce  had  he  ended  when  entered 
the  mother. 

Holding  her  son  by  the  hand,  and  so  led  him  up  to  her 
husband. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  how  oft  when  we  two  have  been 
chatting  together. 

Have  we  rejoiced  in  the  thought  of  Hermann's  future  es- 
pousal. 


378  GOETHE 

When   he   should  bring  his  bride   to  be   the   light   of   our 

dwelling ! 
Over  and  over  again  the  matter  we  pondered :  this  maiden 
Fixing  upon  for   him  first,   and  then  that,  with  the  gossip 

of  parents. 
But   that   day   is   now   come ;    and   Heaven   at   last   has   the 

maiden 
Brought  to  him  hither,  and  shown  him ;  and  now  his  heart 

has  decided. 
Said  we  not  always  then  he  should  have  his  own  choice  in 

the  matter? 
Was   it  not  just  now   thy   wish   that   he  might   with   lively 

affection 
Feel  himself  drawn   to   some  maiden?     The  hour   is   come 

that  we  hoped  for. 
Yes;    he   has    felt   and   has    chosen   and   come    to    a   manly 

decision. 
That   same   maiden    it   is   that   met   him    this   morning,    the 

stranger : 
Say  he  may  have  her,  or  else,  as  he  swears,  his  life  shall 

be  single." 

"  Give  her  me,  father,"  so  added  the  son :  "  my  heart  has 
elected 
Clear  and   sure;   she   will  be   to   you   both   the   noblest   of 
daughters." 

But  the   father  was  silent.     Then  hastily  rose  the  good 

pastor. 
Took  up  the  word  and  said:  "  The  moment  alone  is  decisive; 
Fixes  the  life  of  man,  and  his  future  destiny  settles. 
After  long  taking  of  counsel,  yet  only  the  work  of  a  moment 
Every  decision  must  be;  and  the  wise  alone  seizes  the  right 

one. 
Dangerous  always  it  is  comparing  the  one  with  the  other 
When   we   are   making   our   choice,    and   so   confusing   our 

feelings. 
Hermann  is  pure.     From  childhood  up  I  have  known  him, 

and  never 
E'en  as  a  boy  was  he  wont  to  be  reaching  for  this  and  the 

other : 


HERMANN   AND  DOROTHEA  379 

What  he  desired  was  best  for  him  too,  and  he  held  to  it 
firmly. 

Be  not  surprised  and  alarmed  that  now  has  appeared  of  a 
sudden, 

What  thou  hast  wished  for  so  long.  It  is  true  that  the 
present  appearance 

Bears  not  the  form  of  the  wish,  exactly  as  thou  hadst  con- 
ceived it: 

For  our  wishes  oft  hide  from  ourselves  the  object  we  wish 
for; 

Gifts  come  down  from  above  in  the  shapes  appointed  by 
Heaven. 

Therefore  misjudge  not  the  maiden  who  now  of  thy  dearly 
beloved. 

Good  and  intelligent  son  has  been  first  to  touch  the  affec- 
tions : 

Happy  to  whom  at  once  his  first  love's  hand  shall  be  given. 

And  in  whose  heart  no  tenderest  wish  must  secretly  languish. 

Yes:  his  whole  bearing  assures  me  that  now  his  fate  is 
decided. 

Genuine  love  matures  in  a  moment  the  youth  into  man- 
hood; 

He  is  not  easily  moved;  and  I  fear  that  if  this  be  refused 
him. 

Sadly  his  years  will  go  by,  those  years  that  should  be  the 
fairest." 

Straightway  then  in  a  thoughtful  tone  the  doctor  made 
answer, 

On  whose  tongue  for  a  long  time  past  the  words  had  been 
trembling: 

"  Pray  let  us  here  as  before  pursue  the  safe  middle  course 
only. 

Make  haste  slowly :  that  was  Augustus  the  emperor's  motto. 

Willingly  I  myself  place  at  my  well-beloved  neighbor's 
disposal. 

Ready  to  do  him  what  service  I  can  with  my  poor  under- 
standing. 

Youth  most  especially  stands  in  need  of  some  one  to  guide  it. 

Let  me  therefore  go  forth  that  I  may  examine  the  maiden, 


380  GOETHE 

And  may  question  the  people  among  whom   she  lives  and 

who  know  her. 
Me   'tis  not   easy  to   cheat:   I   know  how   words   should   be 

valued." 

Straightway  the  son  broke  in,  and  with  winged  words 
made  he  answer : 

"  Do  so,  neighbor,  and  go  and  make  thine  inquiries ;  but 
with  thee 

I  should  be  glad  if  our  minister  here  were  joined  in  the  errand : 

Two   such   excellent  men   would  be   irreproachable  judges. 

O  my  father!  believe  me,  she's  none  of  those  wandering 
maidens. 

Not  one  of  those  who  stroll  through  the  land  in  search 
of  adventure. 

And  who  seek  to  ensnare  inexperienced  youth  in  their 
meshes. 

No:  the  hard  fortunes  of  war,  that  universal  destroyer, 

Which  is  convulsing  the  earth  and  has  hurled  from  its  deep 
foundations 

Many  a  structure  already,  have  sent  the  poor  girl  into  exile. 

Are  not  now  men  of  high  birth,  the  most  noble,  in  misery 
roaming? 

Princes  fly  in  disguise  and  kings  are  in  banishment  living. 

So  alas !  also  is  she,  the  best  among  all  of  her  sisters. 

Driven  an  exile  from  home;  yet,  her  personal  sorrows 
forgetting. 

She  is  devoted  to  others;  herself  without  help,  she  is 
helpful. 

Great  is  the  want  and  the  suffering  over  the  earth  that  are 
spreading : 

Shall  not  some  happiness,  too,  be  begotten  of  all  this  afflic- 
tion, 

And  shall  not  I  in  the  arms  of  my  wife,  my  trusted  com- 
panion, 

Look  back  with  joy  to  the  war,  as  do  ye  to  the  great  con- 
flagration? " 

Outspoke    the    father    then    in    a    tone    of    decision,    and 
answered : 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  381 

"  Strangely  thy  tongue  has   been   loosened,   my   son,  which 

many  a  year  past 
Seemed  to  have  stuck  in  thy  mouth,  and  only  to  move  on 

compulsion  ! 
I  must  experience  to-day,  it  would  seem,  what  threatens  all 

fathers. 
That  the  son's  headstrong  will  the  mother  with   readiness 

favors, 
Showing    too    easy    indulgence;    and    every    neighbor    sides 

with  them 
When  there  is  aught  to  be  carried  against  the  father  and 

husband. 
But  I  will  not  oppose  you,  thus  banded  together:  how  could 

I? 
For  I  already  perceive  here  tears  and  defiance  beforehand. 
Go    ye    therefore,    inquire,    in    God's    name,    bring    me    the 

daughter. 
But  if  not   so,   then  the  boy  is  to  think  no  more  of  the 

maiden." 

Thus  the  father.    The  son  cried  out  with  joyful  demeanor, 
"  Ere  it  is  evening  the  noblest  of  daughters  shall  hither  be 

brought  you. 
Such  as  no  man  with  sound  sense  in  his  breast  can  fail  to  be 

pleased  with. 
Happy,  I  venture  to  hope,  will  be  also  the  excellent  maiden. 
Yes;  she  will  ever  be  grateful  for  having  had  father  and 

mother 
Given  once  more  in  you,  and  such  as  a  child  most  delights  in. 
Now   I   will   tarry  no   longer,   but   straightway  harness   the 

horses. 
Drive   forth   our    friends   at   once   on   the    footsteps   of   my 

beloved. 
Leaving  them  then  to  act  for  themselves,  as  their  wisdom 

shall  dictate. 
Guide   myself  wholly,   I   promise,   according  to   what   they 

determine. 
And,  until  I  may  call  her  my  own,  ne'er  look  on  the  maiden." 
Thus  he  went  forth :  the  others  meanwhile  remained  in  dis- 
cussion, 


382  GOETHE 

Rapid  and  earnest,  considering  deeply  their  great  under- 
taking. 

Hermann  hasted  straightway  to  the  stable,  where  quietly 
standing 

Found  he  the  spirited  stallions,  the  clean  oats  quickly  de- 
vouring, 

And  the  well-dried  hay  that  was  cut  from  the  richest  of 
meadows. 

On  them  without  delay  the  shining  bits  he  adjusted, 

Hastily  drew  the  straps  through  the  buckles  of  beautiful 
plating. 

Firmly  fastened  then  the  long  broad  reins,  and  the  horses 

Led  without  to  the  court-yard,  whither  the  willing  assistant 

Had  with  ease,  by  the  pole,  already  drawn  forward  the 
carriage. 

Next  to  the  whipple-tree  they  with  care  by  the  neatly  kept 
traces 

Joined  the  impetuous  strength  of  the  freely  travelling 
horses. 

Whip  in  hand  took  Hermann  his  seat  and  drove  under  the 
doorway. 

Soon  as  the  friends  straightway  their  commodious  places 
had  taken, 

Quickly  the  carriage  rolled  ofif,  and  left  the  pavement  be- 
hind it, 

Left  behind  it  the  walls  of  the  town  and  the  fresh-whitened 
towers. 

Thus  drove  Hermann  on  till  he  came  to  the  well-known 
causeway. 

Rapidly,  loitering  nowhere,  but  hastening  up  hill  and  down 
hill. 

But  as  he  now  before  him  perceived  the  spire  of  the  vil- 
lage. 

And  no  longer  remote  the  garden-girt  houses  were  lying, 

Then  in  himself  he  thought  that  here  he  would  rein  up  the 
horses. 

Under  the  solemn  shade  of  lofty  linden-trees  lying. 
Which  for  centuries  past  upon  this  spot  had  been  rooted, 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  383 

Spread  in  front  of  the  village  a  broad  and  grass-covered 

common, 
Favorite  place  of  resort  for  the  peasants  and  neighboring 

townsfolk. 
Here,  at  the  foot  of  the  trees,  sunk  deep  in  the  ground  w^as 

a  v^ell-spring ; 
When  you  descended  the  steps,  stone  benches  you  found  at 

the  bottom, 
Stationed  about  the  spring,  whose  pure,  living  waters  were 

bubbling 
Ceaselessly  forth,  hemmed  in  by  low  walls  for  convenience 

of  drawing. 
Hermann  resolved  that  here  he  would  halt,  with  his  horses 

and  carriage. 
Under  the  shade  of  the  trees.     He  did  so,  and  said  to  the 

others : 
"  Here  alight,  my  friends,  and  go  your  ways  to  discover 
Whether  the  maiden  in  truth  be  worthy  the  hand  that  I  offer. 
That  she  is  so,   I   believe;   naught  new  or   strange  will  ye 

tell  me. 
Had  I   to  act   for  myself,  I   should  go  with   speed  to  the 

village, 
Where   a    few   words    from   the   maiden's   own   lips    should 

determine  my  fortune. 
Ye  will  with  readiness  single  her  out  from  all  of  the  others, 
For  there  can  scarcely  be  one  that  to  her  may  be  likened 

in  bearing. 
But  I  will  give  you,  besides,  her  modest  attire  for  a  token : 
Mark,  then,  the  stomacher's  scarlet,  that  sets  off  the  arch 

of  her  bosom. 
Prettily  laced,  and  the  bodice  of  black  fitting  close  to  her 

figure ; 
Neatly  the  edge  of  her  kerchief  is  plaited  into  a  ruffle. 
Which    with    a    simple    grace    her    chin's    rounded    outline 

encircles; 
Freely  and  lightly  rises  above  it  the  head's  dainty  oval ; 
And  her  luxuriant  hair  over  silver  bodkins-  is  braided ; 
Down  from  under  her  bodice,  the  full,  blue  petticoat  falling, 
Wraps  itself,  when  she  is  walking,  about  her  neatly  shaped 

ankles. 


384  GOETHE 

Yet  one  thing  will   I   say,   and  would  make  it  my   earnest 

petition, — 
Speak  not  yourselves  with  the  maiden,  nor  let  your  intent 

be  discovered; 
Rather  inquire  of  others,  and  hearken  to  what  they  may  tell 

you. 
When  ye  have  tidings  enough  to  satisfy  father  and  mother, 
Then  return  to  me  here,  and  we  will  consider  what  further. 
So  did   I   plan   it  all   out   in   my   mind   while    driving   you 

hither." 

Thus  he  spoke.     The   friends  thereupon   went   their  way 

to  the  village, 
Where,   in   the  houses   and   gardens   and   barns,   the   people 

were  swarming; 
Wagons  on  wagons  stood  crowded  together  along  the  broad 

highway. 
Men  for  the  harnessed  horses  and  lowing  cattle  were  caring. 
While  the  women  were  busy  in  drying  their  clothes  on  the 

hedges, 
And  in  the  running  brook  the  children  were  merrily  splashing. 
Making  their  way  through  the  pressure  of  wagons,  of  people 

and  cattle. 
Went  the  commissioned  spies,  and  to  right  and  to  left  looked 

about  them. 
If    they    a   figure   might    see   that   answered    the   maiden's 

description ; 
But  not  one  of  them  all  appeared  the  beautiful  damsel. 
Denser   soon   grew   the   press.     A   contest   arose   round   the 

wagons 
'Mongst  the  threatening  men,  wherein  blended  the  cries  of 

the  women. 
Rapidly  then  to  the  spot,  and  with  dignified  step,  came  an 

elder, 
Joined  the  clamoring  group,  and  straightway  the  uproar  was 

silenced, 
As    he    commanded    peace,    and    rebuked    with    a    fatherly 

sternness. 
"  Has,  then,  misfortune,"   he  cried,   "'  not  yet   so  bound  us 

together. 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  385 

That   we    have    finally    learned    to    bear    and    forbear    one 

another, 
Though  each  one,  it  may  be,  do  not  measure  his  share  of  the 

labor? 
He  that  is  happy,  forsooth,  is  contentious !     Will  sufferings 

never 
Teach  you  to  cease  from  your  brawls  of  old  between  brother 

and  brother? 
Grudge  not  one  to  another  a  place  on  the  soil  of  the  stranger; 
Rather  divide  what  ye  have,  as  yourselves  ye  would  hope  to 

find  mercy." 

Thus   spoke  the  man   and  all   became   silent :   restored  to 
good  humor. 

Peaceably  then  the  people  arranged  their  cattle  and  wagons. 

But  when  the  clergyman  now  had  heard  what  was  said  by 
the  stranger, 

And   had   the   steadfast   mind   of   the    foreign   justice    dis- 
covered, 

He  to  the  man  drew  near  and  with  words  of  meaning  ad- 
dressed him: 

"  True    it    is,    father,    that    when    in    prosperity    people    are 
living, 

Feeding  themselves    from   the   earth,   which    far   and   wide   , 
opens  her  bosom. 

And  in  the  years  and  months  renews  the  coveted  blessings, — ■ 

All  goes  on  of  itself,  and  each  himself  deems  the  wisest. 

Deems  the  best,  and  so  they  continue  abiding  together. 

He  of  greatest  intelligence  ranking  no  higher  than  others ; 

All  that  occurs,  as  if  of  itself,  going  quietly  forward. 

But  let  disaster  unsettle  the  usual  course  of  existence. 

Tear  down  the  buildings  about  us,  lay  waste  the  crops  and 
the  garden, 

Banish  the  husband  and  wife  from  their  old,  familiar-grown 
dwelling. 

Drive  them  to  wander  abroad  through   nights  and  days  of 
privation, — 

Then,  ah  then !  we  look  round  us  to  see  what  man  is  the 
wisest, 

And  no  longer  in  vain  his  glorious  words  will  be  spoken. 

13 — VOL.  XIX  HC 


386  GOETHE 

Tell  me,  art  thou  not  judge  among  this  fugitive  people, 
Father,  who  thus  in  an  instant  canst  bid  their  passions  be 

quiet? 
Thou  dost  appear  to-day  as  one  of  those  earliest  leaders, 
Who  through  deserts  and  wanderings  guided  the  emigrant 

nations. 
Yea,  I  could  even  believe  I  were  speaking  with  Joshua  or 

Moses." 

Then   with    serious    look   the   magistrate    answered    him, 

saying: 
"  Truly  our  times  might  well  be  compared  with  all  others 

in  strangeness, 
Which  are  in  history  mentioned,  profane  or  sacred  tradition ; 
For  who  has  yesterday  lived  and  to-day  in  times  like  the 

present. 
He  has  already  lived  years,  events  are  so  crowded  together. 
If  I  look  back  but  a  little,  it  seems  that  my  head  must  be 

hoary 
Under  the  burden  of  years,  and  yet  my  strength  is  still  active. 
Well    may    we    of    this    day    compare    ourselves    unto    that 

people 
Who,   from  the  burning  bush,  beheld  in  the  hour  of  their 

danger 
God  the  Lord:  we  also   in  cloud  and  in  fire  have  beheld 

him." 

Seeing  the  priest  was  inclined  to  speak  yet  more  with  the 
stranger. 
And   was   desirous   of   learning   his    story  and   that  of   his 

people. 
Privately  into  his  ear  his  companion  hastily  whispered : 
"  Talk  with  the  magistrate  further,  and  lead  him  to  speak  of 

the  maiden. 
I,  however,  will  wander  in  search,  and  as  soon  as  I  find  her, 
Come  and  report  to  thee  here."     The  minister  nodded,  as- 
senting; 
And  through  the  gardens,  hedges,  and  barns,  went  the  spy 
on  his  errand. 


CLIO 


THE  AGE 

NOW  when  the  foreign  judge  had  been  by  the  minister 
questioned 
As  to  his  people's  distress,  and  how  long  their  exile 
had  lasted, 

Thus  made  answer  the  man:  "Of  no  recent  date  are  our 
sorrows ; 

Since   of   the   gathering  bitter   of   years   our   people   have 
drunken, — 

Bitterness  all  the  more  dreadful  because  such  fair  hope  had 
been  blighted. 

Who  will  pretend  to  deny  that  his  heart  swelled  high  in 
his  bosom. 

And  that  his   freer  breast  with  purer  pulses  was  beating. 

When  we  beheld  the  new  sun  arise  in  his   earliest  splen- 
dor, 

When  of  the  rights  of  men  we  heard,  which  to  all  should 
be  common. 

Were  of  a  righteous  equality  told,  and  inspiriting  freedom? 

Every  one  hoped  that  then  he  should  live  his  own  life,  and 
the  fetters. 

Binding  the  various  lands,  appeared  their  hold  to  be  loos- 
ing,— 

Fetters  that  had  in  the  hand  of  sloth  been  held  and  self- 
seeking. 

Looked  not  the  eyes  of  all  nations,  throughout  that  calami- 
tous season. 

Towards  the  world's  capital  city,  for  so  it  had  long  been 
considered. 

And  of  that  glorious  title  was  now,  more  than  ever,  de- 
serving? 

387 


388  GOETHE 

Were  not  the  names  of  those  men  who  firSt  delivered  the 
message, 

Names  to  compare  with  the  highest  that  under  the  heavens 
are  spoken  ? 

Did  not,  in  every  man,  grow  courage  and  spirit  and  lan- 
guage?^ 

And,  as  neighbors,  we,  first  of  all,  were  zealously  kindled. 

Thereupon  followed  the  war,  and  armed  bodies  of  French- 
men 

Pressed  to  us  nearer ;  yet  nothing  but  friendship  they  seemed 
to  be  bringing ; 

Ay,  and  they  brought  it  too;  for  exalted  the  spirit  within 
them : 

They  with  rejoicing  the  festive  trees  of  liberty  planted. 

Promising  every  man  what  was  his  own,  and  to  each  his  own 
ruling. 

High  beat  the  heart  of  the  youths,  and  even  the  aged  were 
joyful; 

Gaily  the  dance  began  about  the  newly  raised  standard. 

Thus  had  they  speedily  won,  these  overmastering  French- 
men, 

First  the  spirits  of  men  by  the  fire  and  dash  of  their  bearing. 

Then  the  hearts  of  the  women  with  irresistible  graces. 

Even  the  pressure  of  hungry  war  seemed  to  weigh  on  us 
lightly. 

So  before  our  vision  did  hope  hang  over  the  future, 

Luring  our  eyes  abroad  into  newly  opening  pathways. 

Oh,  how  joyful  the  time  when  with  her  beloved  the  maiden 

Whirls  in  the  dance,  the  longed-for  day  of  their  union 
awaiting ! 

But  more  glorious  that  day  on  which  to  our  vision  the 
highest 

Heart  of  man  can  conceive  seemed  near  and  attainable  to  us. 

Loosened  was  every  tongue,  and  men — the  aged,  the  strip- 
ling- 
Spoke  aloud  in  words  that  were  full  of  high  feeling  and 
wisdom. 

Soon,  however,  the  sky  was  o'ercast.    A  corrupt  generation 

Fought  for  the  right  of  dominion,  unworthy  the  good  to 
establish ; 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  389 

So  that  they  slew  one  another,  their  new-made  neighbors 

and  brothers 
Held  in  subjection,  and  then  sent  the  self-seeking  masses 

against  us. 
Chiefs  committed  excesses  and  wholesale  plunder  upon  us. 
While  those  lower  plundered  and  rioted  down  to  the  lowest: 
Every  one  seemed  but  to  care  that  something  be  left  for 

the  morrow. 
Great  past  endurance  the  need,  and  daily  grew  the  oppres- 
sion: 
They  were  the  lords  of  the  day;  there  was  none  to  hear  our 

complaining. 
Then   fell  trouble  and  rage  upon   even  the  quietest  spirit. 
One  thought  only  had  all,  and  swore  for  their  wrongs  to 

have  vengeance, 
And  for  the  bitter  loss  of  their  hope  thus  doubly  deluded. 
Presently  Fortune  turned  and  declared  on  the  side  of  the 

German, 
And  with  hurried  marches  the  French  retreated  before  us. 
Ah !  then  as  never  before  did  we  feel  the  sad  fortunes  of 

warfare : 
He  that  is  victor  is  great  and  good, — or  at  least  he  appears 

so, — 
And  he,  as  one  of  his  own,  will  spare  the  man  he  has  con- 
quered, 
Him   whose   service    he   daily   needs,    and    whose   property 

uses. 
But  no  law  the  fugitive  knows,  save  of  self-preservation. 
And,  with   a  reckless  greed,   consumes   all  the   possessions 

about  him ; 
Then  are  his  passions  also  inflamed:  the  despair  that  is  in 

him 
Out  of  his  heart  breaks  forth,  and  takes  shape  in  criminal 

action. 
Nothing  is  further  held  sacred;  but  all  is  for  plunder.     His 

craving 
Turns   in   fury   on   woman,   and   pleasure   is    changed   into 

horror. 
Death  he  sees  everywhere  round  him,  and  madly  enjoys  his 

last  moments, 


390  GOETHE 

Taking  delight  in  blood,   in  the  shriekings  of  anguish   ex- 
ulting. 

Thereupon  fiercely  arose  in  our  men  the  stern  resolution 

What  had  been  lost  to  avenge,   and  defend  whate'er  was 
remaining. 

Every  man  sprang  to  his  arms,  by  the  flight  of  the  foeman 
encouraged, 

And  by  his  blanching  cheeks,  and  his  timorous,  vi^avering 
glances. 

Ceaselessly  now  rang  out  the  clanging  peal  of  the  tocsin. 

Thought   of   no   danger   to    come    restrained   their    furious 
anger. 

Quick    into    weapons    of    war    the    husbandman's    peaceful 
utensils 

All  were  converted;  dripped  with  blood  the  scythe  and  the 
ploughshare. 

Quarter    was    shown    to    none:    the    enemy     fell    without 
mercy. 

Fury  everywhere  raged  and  the  cowardly  cunning  of  weak- 
ness. 

Ne'er  may  I  men  so  carried  away  by  injurious  passion 

See  again !   the   sight  of  the   raging  wild  beast  would  be 
better. 

Let  not  man  prattle   of   freedom,   as   if  himself  he   could 
govern ! 

Soon  as  the  barriers  are  torn  away,  then  all  of  the  evil 

Seems  let  loose,  that  by  law  had  been  driven  deep  back  into 
corners." 

"Excellent    man!"    thereupon    with    emphasis    answered 

the  pastor: 
"  Though  thou  misjudgest  mankind,  yet  can  I  not  censure 

thee  for  it. 
Evil  enough,  I  confess,  thou  hast  had  to  endure  from  man's 

passions. 
Yet  wouldst  thou  look  behind  over  this  calamitous  season, 
Thou  wouldst  acknowledge  thyself  how  much  good  thou  also 

hast  witnessed. 
How  many  excellent  things  that  would  in  th*  heart  have  Iain 

hidden, 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  391 

Had    not    danger    aroused    them,    and    did    not    necessity's 

pressure 
Bring   forth   the   angel   in   man,   and  make   him   a   god  of 

deliv'rance." 

Thereupon   answered   and   said   the   reverend   magistrate, 

smiling: 
"  There  thou   remindest  me  aptly  of  how  we  console  the 

poor  fellow, 
After  his  house  has  been  burned,  by  recounting  the  gold 

and  the  silver 
Melted   and   scattered   abroad   in   the   rubbish,   that   still   is 

remaining. 
Little  enough,  it  is  true;  but  even  that  little  is  precious. 
Then  will  the  poor  wretch  after  it  dig  and  rejoice  if  he 

find  it. 
Thus    I    likewise    with    happier    thoughts    will    gratefully 

turn  me 
Towards  the  few  beautiful  deeds  of  which  I  preserve  the 

remembrance. 
Yes,  I  will  not  deny,  I  have  seen  old  quarrels  forgotten, 
111   to   avert   from   the   state;    I    also   have   witnessed   how 

friendship, 
Love  of  parent  and  child,  can  impossibilities  venture; 
Seen   how   the   stripling   at   once   matured   into   man;   how 

the  aged 
Grew    again    young;    and   even    the   child    into   youth    was 

developed, 
Yea,  and  the  weaker  sex  too,  as  we  are  accustomed  to  call  it, 
Showed  itself  brave  and  strong  and  ready  for  every  emer- 
gence. 
Foremost  among  them  all,  one  beautiful  deed  let  me  mention, 
Bravely    performed    by    the    hand    of    a    girl,    an    excellent 

maiden ; 
Who,  with  those  younger  than  she,  had  been  left  in  charge 

of  a  farmhouse. 
Since  there,  also,  the  men  had  marched  against  the  invader. 
Suddenly  fell  on  the  house  a  fugitive  band  of  marauders, 
Eager  for  booty,  who  crowded  straightway  to  the  room  of 

the  women. 


392  GOETHE 

There  they  beheld  the  beautiful   form  of  the   fully  grown 

maiden, 
Looked  on  the  charming  young  girls,  who  rather  might  still 

be  called  children. 
Savage  desire  possessed  them;  at  once  with  merciless  paa 

sion 
They   that   trembling   band   assailed   and   the    high-hearted 

maiden. 
But  she  had  snatched  in  an  instant  the  sword  of  one  from 

its  scabbard. 
Felled  him  with  might  to  the  ground,  and  stretched  him 

bleeding  before  her. 
Then    with    vigorous    strokes    she    bravely    delivered    the 

maidens. 
Smiting  yet  four  of  the  robbers;  who  saved  themselves  only 

by  flying. 
Then  she  bolted  the  gates,  and,  armed,  awaited  assistance." 

Now  when  this  praise  the  minister  heard  bestowed   on 

the  maiden, 
Rose  straightway  for  his  friend  a  feeling  of  hope  in  his 

bosom. 
And  he  had  opened  his  lips  to  inquire  what  further  befell 

her. 
If  on  this  mournful  flight  she  now  with  her  people  were 

present ; 
When    with   a    hasty    step   the    village    doctor    approached 

them. 
Twitched  the  clergyman's   coat,  and  said  in  his  ear   in   a 

whisper: 
"  I  have  discovered  the  maiden  at  last  among  several  hun- 
dreds ; 
By  the  description  I  knew  her,  so  come,  let  thine  own  eyes 

behold  her ! 
Bring  too  the  magistrate  with  thee,  that  so  we  may  hear 

him  yet  further." 
But  as  they  turned  to  go,  the  justice  was  summoned  to  leave 

them, 
Sent  for  by  some  of  his  people  by  whom  his  counsel  was 

needed. 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  393 

Straightway  the  preacher,  however,  the  lead  of  the  doctor 

had  followed 
Up  to  a  gap  in  the  fence  where  his  finger  he  meaningly 

pointed. 
"  Seest  thou  the  maiden?''  he  said:  "she  has  made  some 

clothes  for  the  baby 
Out  of  the  well-known  chintz, — I  distinguish  it  plainly;  and 

further 
There  are  the   covers  of  blue  that  Hermann  gave  in  his 

bundle. 
Well  and  quickly,  forsooth,  she  has  turned  to  advantage  the 

presents. 
Evident  tokens   are   these,    and   all    else   answers   well   the 

description. 
Mark  how  the  stomacher's  scarlet  sets  off  the  arch  of  her 

bosom, 
Prettily   laced,   and   the   bodice   of   black   fits   close   to   her 

figure; 
Neatly  the  edge  of  her  kerchief  is  plaited  into  a  ruffle. 
Which,   with    a   simple   grace,    her    chin's    rounded   outline 

encircles ; 
Freely  and  lightly  rises  above  it  the  head's  dainty  oval. 
And  her  luxuriant  hair  over  silver  bodkins  is  braided. 
Now    she    is    sitting,    yet    still    we    behold    her    majestical 

stature. 
And  the  blue  petticoat's  ample  plaits,  that  down  from  her 

bosom 
Hangs  in  abundant  folds  about  her  neatly  shaped  ankles, 
She   without   question    it    is ;    come,   therefore,   and   let   us 

discover 
Whether  she  honest  and  virtuous  be,  a  housewifely  maiden." 

Then,  as  the  seated  figure  he  studied,  the  pastor  made 
answer : 

"  Truly,  I  find  it  no  wonder  that  she  so  enchanted  the  strip- 
ling, 

Since,  to  a  man's  experienced  eye,  she  seems  lacking  in 
nothing. 

Happy  to  whom  mother  Nature  a  shape  harmonious  has 
given ! 


394  GOETHE 

Such  will  always  commend  him,  and  he  can  be  nowhere  a 

stranger. 
All  approach  with  delight,  and  all  are  delighted  to  linger, 
If  to  the  outward  shape  correspond  but  a  courteous  spirit. 
I  can  assure  thee,  in  her  the  youth  has  found  him  a  maiden. 
Who,  in  the  days  to  come,  his  life  shall  gloriously  brighten, 
Standing  with  womanly  strength  in  every  necessity  by  him. 
Surely  the  soul  must  be  pure  that  inhabits  a  body  so  perfect, 
And  of  a  happy  old  age  such  vigorous  youth  is  the  promise." 

Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  doctor  in  language  of 

caution : 
''Often  appearances  cheat;  I  like  not  to  trust  to  externals. 
For  I  have  oft  seen  put  to  the  test  the  truth  of  the  proverb : 
Till  thou  a  bushel  of  salt  with  a  new  acquaintance  hast 

eaten, 
Be  not  too  ready  to  trust  him;  for  time  alone  renders  thee 

certain 
How  ye   shall   fare  with   each   other,   and  how   well  your 

friendship  shall  prosper. 
Let  us  then  rather  at  first  make  inquiries  among  the  good 

people 
By  whom  the  maiden  is  known,  and  who  can  inform  us  about 

her." 

"  Much  I  approve  of  thy  caution,"  the  preacher  replied  as 
he  followed. 
"Not  for  ourselves  is  the  suit,  and  'tis  delicate  wooing  for 
others." 

Towards  the  good  magistrate,  then,  the  men  directed  their 
footsteps, 
Who  was  again  ascending  the  street  in  discharge  of  his 
duties. 

Him   the   judicious   pastor   at   once   addressed   and   with 

caution. 
"  Look !  we  a  maiden  have  here  descried  in  the  neighboring 

garden, 
Under   an  apple-tree  sitting,  and  making  up  garments  for 

children 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  395 

Out  of  second-hand  stuff  that  somebody  doubtless  has  given ; 
And  we  were  pleased  with  her  aspect:  she  seems  like  a  girl 

to  be  trusted. 
Tell   us    whatever   thou    knowest:    we   ask   it   with    honest 

intentions." 

Soon  as  the  magistrate  nearer  had  come,  and  looked  into 
the  garden, 
"  Her  thou  knowest  already,"  he  said ;  "  for  when  I   was 

telling 
Of  the  heroic  deed  performed  by  the  hand  of  that  maiden. 
When  she  snatched  the  man's  sword,  and  delivered  herself 

and  her  charges, 
This  was  the  one !  she  is  vigorous  born,  as  thou  seest  by  her 

stature ; 
Yet  she  is  good  as  strong,  for  her  aged  kinsman  she  tended 
Until  the  day  of  his  death,  which  was  finally  hastened  by 

sorrow 
Over  his  city's  distress,  and  his  own  endangered  possessions. 
Also,  with  quiet  submission,  she  bore  the  death  of  her  lover, 
Who  a  high-spirited  youth,  in  the  earliest  flush  of  excite- 
ment. 
Kindled  by  lofty  resolve  to  fight  for  a  glorious  freedom, 
Hurried  to  Paris,  where  early  a  terrible  death  he  encoun- 
tered. 
For  as  at  home,  so  there,  his  foes  were  deceit  and  oppression." 

Thus  the  magistrate  spoke.  The  others  saluted  and 
thanked  him. 

And  from  his  purse  a  gold-piece  the  pastor  drew  forth; — • 
for  the  silver 

He  had  some  hours  before  already  in  charity  given. 

When  he  in  mournful  groups  had  seen  the  poor  fugitives 
passing; — 

And  to  the  magistrate  handed  it,  saying:  "Apportion  the 
money 

'Mongst  thy  destitute  people,  and  God  vouchsafe  it  an  in- 
crease." 

But  the  stranger  declined  it,  and,  answering,  said :  "  We 
have  rescued 


396  GOETHE 

Many  a  dollar  among  us,  with  clothing  and  other  possessions, 
And  shall  return,  as  I  hope,  ere  yet  our  stock  is  exhausted." 

Then  the  pastor  replied,  and  pressed  the  money  upon  him : 

"  None  should  be  backward  in  giving  in  days  like  the  present, 
and  no  one 

Ought  to  refuse  to  accept  those  gifts  which  in  kindness  are 
offered. 

None  can  tell  how  long  he  may  hold  what  in  peace  he  pos- 
sesses. 

None  how  much  longer  yet  he  shall  roam  through  the  land 
of  the  stranger. 

And  of  his  farm  be  deprived,  and  deprived  of  the  garden  that 
feeds  him." 

"Ay,  to  be  sure !  "   in  his  bustling  way   interrupted  the 

doctor : 
"  If  I  had  only  some  money  about  me,  ye  surely  should  have 

it. 
Little  and  big;  for  certainly  many  among  you  must  need  it. 
Yet  I'll  not  go  without  giving  thee  something  to  show  what 

my  will  is. 
Even  though  sadly  behind  my  good-will  must  lag  the  per- 
formance." 
Thus,  as  he  spoke,  by  its  straps  his  embroidered  pocket  of 

leather, 
Where  his  tobacco  was  kept,  he  drew  forth, — enough  was 

now  in  it 
Several  pipes  to  fill, — and  daintily  opened,  and  portioned. 
"  Small  is  the  gift,"  he  added.     The  justice,  however,  made 

answer: 
"  Good  tobacco  can  ne'er  to  the  traveller  fail  to  be  welcome." 
Then  did  the  village  doctor  begin  to  praise  his  canaster. 

But  the  clergyman  drew  him  away,  and  they  quitted  the 

justice. 
"  Let  us  make  haste,"  said  the  thoughtful  man :  "  the  youth's 

waiting  in  torture ; 
Come!  let  him  hear,  as  soon  as  he  may,  the  jubilant  tidings." 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  397 

So  they  hastened  their  steps,  and  came  to  where  under 

the  lindens 
Hermann   against   the   carriage   was   leaning.     The   horses 

were  stamping 
Wildly   the   turf;   he   held   them   in   check,   and,   buried   in 

musing. 
Stood,  into  vacancy  gazing  before  him ;  nor  saw  the  two 

envoys. 
Till,  as  they  came,  they  called  out  and  made  to  him  signals 

of  triumph. 
E'en  as  far  off  as  they  then  were,  the  doctor  began  to  address 

him; 
But  they  were  presently  nearer   come  and   then  the  good 

pastor 
Grasped  his  hand  and  exclaimed,  interrupting  the  word  of 

his  comrade : 
"  Hail  to  thee,  O  young  man !  thy  true  eye  and  heart  have 

well  chosen; 
Joy  be  to  thee  and  the  wife  of  thy  youth ;  for  of  thee  she  is 

worthy. 
Come  then  and  turn  us  the  wagon,  and  drive  straightway  to 

the  village. 
There  the  good  maid  to  woo,  and  soon  bring  her  home  to  thy 

dwelling." 

Still,   however,   the   young   man    stood,   without    sign   of 

rejoicing 
Hearing  his  messenger's  words,  though  heavenly  they  were 

and  consoling. 
Deeply  he  sighed  as  he  said :  "  With  hurrying  wheels  we 

came  hither, 
And  shall  be  forced,  perchance,  to  go  mortified  homeward 

and  slowly. 
For    disquiet    has    fallen    upon    me    since    here    Fve    been 

waiting, 
Doubt  and  suspicion  and  all  that  can  torture  the  heart  of 

a  lover. 
Think  ye  we  have  but  to  come,  and  that  then  the  maiden 

will  follow 
Merely  because  we  are  rich,  while  she  is  poor  and  an  exile? 


398  GOETHE 

Poverty,    too,    makes    proud,    when    it    comes    unmerited! 

Active 
Seems  she  to  be,  and  contented,  and  so  of  the  world  is  she 

mistress. 
Think  ye  a  maiden  Hke  her,  with  the  manners  and  beauty 

that  she  has, 
Can   into  woman  have   grown,  and  no  worthy  man's  love 

have  attracted? 
Think  ye  that  love  until  now  can  have  been  shut  out  from 

her  bosom? 
Drive  not  thither  too  rashly:  we  might  to  our  mortification 
Have  to  turn  softly  homewards  our  horses'  heads.    For  my 

fear  is 
That   to   some   youth   already   this   heart   has   been   given; 

already 
This  brave  hand  has  been  clasped,  has  pledged  faith  to  some 

fortunate  lover. 
Then  with  my  offer,  alas !  I  should  stand  in  confusion  before 

her." 

Straightway  the  pastor  had  opened  his  lips  to  speak  con- 
solation. 

When  his  companion  broke  in,  and  said  in  his  voluble 
fashion : 

*'  Years  ago,  forsooth,  unknown  had  been  such  a  dilemma. 

AH  such  affairs  were  then  conducted  in  regular  fashion. 

Soon  as  a  bride  for  their  son  had  been  by  the  parents 
selected, 

First  some  family  friend  they  into  their  councils  would 
summon, 

Whom  they  afterwards  sent  as  a  suitor  to  visit  the  par- 
ents 

Of  the  elected  bride.     Arrayed  in  his  finest  apparel. 

Soon  after  dinner  on  Sunday  he  sought  the  respectable 
burgher, 

When  some  friendly  words  were  exchanged  upon  general 
subjects. 

He  knowing  how  to  direct  the  discourse  as  suited  his  pur- 
pose. 

After  much  circumlocution  he  finally  mentioned  the  daughter, 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  399 

Praising  her  highly,  and  praising  the  man  and  the  house 

that  had  sent  him. 
Persons  of  tact  perceived  his  intent,  and  the  poUtic  envoy 
Readily  saw  how^  their  minds  were  disposed,  and  explained 

himself  further. 
Then  were  the  offer  declined,   e'en  the   '  no '  brought  not 

mortification ; 
But  did  it  meet  with  success,  the  suitor  was  ever  thereafter 
Made  the  chief  guest  in  the  house  on  every  festive  occasion. 
For,  through  the  rest  of  their  lives,  the  couple  ne'er  failed 

to  remember 
That  'twas  by  his  experienced  hand  the  first  knot  had  been 

gathered. 
All  that,  however,  is  changed,  and,  with  many  another  good 

custom. 
Quite  fallen  out  of  the  fashion;  for  every  man  woos  for 

himself  now. 
Therefore  let  every  man  hear  to  his  face  pronounced  the 

refusal, 
If  a  refusal  there  be,  and  stand  shamed  in  the  sight  of  the 

maiden !  " 

"  Let  that  be  as  it  may !  "  made  answer  the  youth,  who  had 

scarcely 
Unto   the   words  paid  heed;  but  in   silence   had  made  his 

decision. 
"I   will    go   thither   myself,   will    myself   hear   my   destiny 

spoken 
Out  of  the  lips  of  a  maiden  in  whom  I  a  confidence  cherish 
Greater  than   heart  of  man   has   e'er   before   cherished   in 

woman. 
Say  what  she  will,  'twill  be  good  and  wise;  of  that  I  am 

certain. 
Should  I  behold  her  never  again,  yet  this  once  will  I  see 

her; 
Yet  this  once  the  clear  gaze  of  those  dark  eyes  will  en- 
counter. 
If  I  must  press  her  ne'er  to  my  heart,  yet  that  neck  and  that 

bosom 
■Will  I  behold  once  more,  that  my  arm  so  longs  to  encircle; 


400  GOETHE 

Once  more  that  mouth  will  see,  whose  kiss  and  whose  '  yes ' 

would  for  ever 
Render  me  happy,  from  which  a  '  no  '  will  for  ever  destroy 

me. 
But  ye  must  leave  me  alone.     Do  not  wait  for  me  here; 

but  return  ye 
Back  to  my  father  and  mother  again,  and  give  them  the 

knowledge 
That  their  son  has  not  been  deceived,  that  the  maiden  is 

worthy. 
So  then  leave  me  alone !     I  shall  follow  the  footpath  that 

crosses 
Over  the  hill  by  the  pear-tree,  and  thence  descends  through 

our  vineyard, 
Taking  a  shorter  way  home.     And  oh,  may  I  bring  to  our 

dwelling. 
Joyful   and   quick   my   beloved !   but   perhaps   I   alone   may 

come  creeping 
Over  that  path  to  the  house,  and  ne'er  again  tread  it  with 

gladness." 

Thus  he  spoke,  and  gave  up  the  reins  to  the  hand  of  the 

pastor, 
Who    understandingly    grasped    them,    the    foaming    horses 

controlling. 
Speedily  mounted  the  carriage,  and  sat  in  the  seat  of  the 

driver. 

But  thou  didst  hesitate,  provident  neighbor,  and  say  in 

remonstrance : 

"  Heart  and  soul  and  spirit,  my  friend,  I  willingly  trust  thee ; 

But  as  for  life  and  limb,  they  are  not  in  the  safest  of  keeping, 

When  the  temporal  reins  are  usurped  by  the  hand  of  the 

clergy." 

But  thou  didst  laugh  at  his  words,  intelligent  pastor,  and 
answer : 
*'  Sit  thee  down,   and   contentedly   trust  me  both  body  and 

spirit; 
For,  in  holding  the  reins,  my  hand  grew  long  ago  skilful, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  401 

Long  has  my  eye  been  trained  in  making  the  nicest  of  turn- 
ings; 

For  we  were  practised  well  in  driving  the  carriage  in  Stras- 
burg, 

When  I  the  youthful  baron  accompanied  thither;  then  daily 

Rolled  the  carriage,  guided  by  me,  through  the  echoing 
gateway, 

Out  over  dusty  roads  till  we  reached  the  meadows  and 
lindens. 

Steering  through  groups  of  the  town's-folk  beguiling  the 
day  there  with  walking." 

Thereupon,  half-reassured,  the  neighbor  ascended  the 
wagon. 

Sat  like  one  who  for  a  prudent  leap  is  holding  him  ready. 

And  the  stallions  sped  rapidly  homeward,  desiring  their 
stable. 

Clouds  of  dust  whirled  up  from  under  their  powerful  hoof- 
beats. 

Long  the  youth  stood  there  yet,  and  saw  the  dust  in  its 
rising, 

Saw  the  dust  as  it  settled  again:  he  stood  there  unheeding. 


ERATO 

iDOROTHEA 

I  IKE  as  the  traveller,  who,  when  the  sun  is  approach- 
.        ing  its  setting, 
^     Fixes  his  eyes  on  it  once  again  ere  quickly  it  vanish. 
Then  on  the  sides  of  the  rocks,  and  on  all  the  darkening 

bushes, 
Sees  its  hovering  image;  whatever  direction  he  look  in 
That    hastes   before,    and    flickers    and   gleams    in    radiant 

colors, — 
So  before  Hermann's  eyes  moved  the  beautiful  shape  of  the 

maiden 
Softly,  and   seeming  to   follow  the   path  that  led  into  the 

cornfield. 
But  he  aroused  from  his  wildering  dream  and  turned  himself 

slowly 
Towards  where  the  village  lay  and  was  wildered  again ;  for 

again  came 
Moving  to  meet  him  the  lofty  form  of  the. glorious  maiden. 
Fixedly  gazed  he  upon  her ;  herself  it  was  and  no  phantom. 
Bearing  in  either  hand  a  larger  jar  and  a  smaller. 
Each  by   the  handle,  with  busy   step   she  came  on   to  the 

fountain. 
Joyfully  then  he  hastened  to  meet  her;  the  sight  of  her  gave 

him 
Courage    and    strength;    and    thus   the    astonished    girl   he 

accosted : 
"  Do  I  then  find  thee,  brave-hearted  maiden,  so  soon  again 

busy, 
Rendering   aid  unto  others,   and   happy   in   bringing   them 

comfort? 
Say  why  thou  comest  alone  to  this  well  which  lies  at  such  a 

distance, 

402. 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  403 

When  all  the  rest  are  content  with  the  water  they  find  in 

the  village? 
This  has  peculiar  virtues,  'tis  true ;  and  the  taste  is  delicious. 
Thou  to  that  mother  wouldst  bring  it,  I  trow,   whom  thy 

faithfulness  rescued." 

Straightway  with  cordial  greeting  the  kindly  maiden  made 
answer : 

*'  Here  has  my  walk  to  the  spring  already  been  amply 
rewarded. 

Since  I  have  found  the  good  friend  who  bestowed  so  abun- 
dantly on  us ; 

For  a  pleasure  not  less  than  the  gifts  is  the  sight  of  the 
giver. 

Come,  I  pray  thee,  and  see  for  thyself  who  has  tasted  thy 
bounty ; 

Come,  and  the  quiet  thanks  receive  of  all  it  has  solaced. 

But  that  thou  straightway  the  reason  mayst  know  for  which 
I  am  hither 

Come  to  draw,  where  pure  and  unfailing  the  water  is 
flowing, 

This  I  must  tell  thee, — that  all  the  water  we  have  in  the 
village 

Has  by  improvident  people  been  troubled  with  horses  and 
oxen 

Wading  direct  through  the  source  which  brings  the  inhabi- 
tants water. 

And  furthermore  they  have  also  made  foul  with  their  wash- 
ings and  rinsings 

All  the  troughs  of  the  village,  and  all  the  fountains  have 
sullied ; 

For  but  one  thought  is  in  all,  and  that  how  to  satisfy 
quickest 

Self  and  the  need  of  the  moment,  regardless  of  what  may 
come  after." 

Thus  she  spoke,  and  the  broad  stone  steps  meanwhile  had 
descended 
With  her  companion  beside  her,  and  on  the  low  wall  of  the 
fountain 


404  GOETHE 

Both  sat  them  down.     She  bent  herself  over  to  draw,  and  he 

also 
Took  in  his  hand  the  jar  that  remained,  and  bent  himself 

over; 
And  in  the  blue  of  the  heavens,  they,   seeing  their   image 

reflected. 
Friendly   greetings   and   nods   exchanged   in   the    quivering 

mirror. 

"  Give  me  to  drink,"  the  youth  thereupon  in  his  gladness 

petitioned. 
And  she  handed  the  pitcher.    Familiarly  sat  they  and  rested, 
Both  leaning  over  their  jars,  till  she  presently  asked  her 

companion : 
"  Tell  me,  why  I  find  thee  here,  and  without  thy  horses  and 

wagon, 
Far  from  the  place  where  I  met  thee  at  first?  how  earnest 

thou  hither  ?  " 

Thoughtful  he  bent  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  then  quietly 
raised  them 

Up  to  her  face,  and,  meeting  with  frankness  the  gaze  of 
the  maiden. 

Felt  himself  solaced  and  stilled.    But  then  impossible  was  it. 

That  he  of  love  should  speak;  her  eye  told  not  of  affection, 

Only  of  clear  understanding,  requiring  intelligent  answer. 

And  he  composed  himself  quickly,  and  cordially  said  to 
the  maiden : 

"  Hearken  to  me,  my  child,  and  let  me  reply  to  thy  question. 

'Twas  for  thy  sake  that  hither  I  came;  why  seek  to  con- 
ceal it? 

Know  I  live  happy  at  home  with  both  my  affectionate 
parents. 

Faithfully  giving  my  aid  their  house  and  estates  in  directing, 

Being  an  only  son,  and  because  our  affairs  are  extensive. 

Mine  is  the  charge  of  the  farm;  my  father  bears  rule  in 
the  household; 

While  the  presiding  spirit  of  all  is  the  diligent  mother. 

But  thine  experience  doubtless  has  taught  thee  how  griev- 
ously servants. 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  405 

Now  through  deceit,   and  now   through  their  carelessness, 

harass  the  mistress, 
Forcing  her  ever  to  change  and  replace  one  fault  with  another. 
Long  for  that  reason  my  mother  has  wished  for  a  maid  in 

the  household, 
Who  not  with   hand  alone,  but  with   heart,  too,  will  lend 

her  assistance, 
Taking   the   daughter's   place,   whom,   alas !    she   was  early- 
deprived  of. 
Now  when  to-day  by  the  wagon  I  saw  thee,  so  ready  and 

cheerful. 
Witnessed  the  strength  of  thine  arms,  and  thy  limbs  of  such 

healthful  proportion, 
When  thy  intelligent  speech  I   heard,  I  was   smitten  with 

wonder. 
Hastening  homeward,  I  there  to  my  parents  and  neighbors 

the  stranger 
Praised  as  she  well  deserved.     But  I  now  am  come  hither 

to  tell  thee 
What  is  their  wish  as  mine. — Forgive  me  my  stammering 

language." 

"  Hesitate   not,"   she,   answering,   said,  "  to  tell   me  what 

follows. 
Tbou  dost  not  give  me  offence ;  I  have  listened  with  gratitude 

to  thee : 
Speak  it  out  honestly  therefore;  the  sound  of  it  will  not 

alarm  me. 
Thou  wouldst  engage  me  as  servant  to  wait  on  thy  father 

and  mother. 
And  to  look  after  the  well-ordered  house  of  which  ye  are  the 

owners ; 
And  thou  thinkest  in  me  to  find  them  a  capable  servant, 
One  who  is  skilled  in  her  work,  and  not  of  a  rude  disposition. 
Short  thy   proposal  has  been,   and  short  shall  be  also  my 

answer. 
Yes,  I  will  go  with  thee  home,  and  the  call  of  fate  I  will 

follow. 
Here  my  duty  is  done :  I  have  brought  the  newly  made  mother 
Back  to  her  kindred  again,  who  are  all  in  her  safety  rejoicing. 


406  GOETHE 

Most  of  our  people  already  are  gathered;  the  others  will 

follow. 
All  think  a  few  days  more  will  certainly  see  them  returning 
Unto  their  homes;  for  such  is  the  exile's  constant  delusion. 
But  by  no  easy  hope  do  I  suffer  myself  to  be  cheated 
During  these  sorrowful  days  which  promise  yet  more  days 

of  sorrow. 
All  the  bands  of  the  world  have  been  loosed,  and  what  shall 

unite  them, 
Saving  alone  the  need,  the  need  supreme,  that  is  on  us? 
If  in  a  good  man's  house  I  can  earn  my  living  by  service. 
Under  the  eye  of  an  excellent  mistress,  I  gladly  will  do  it; 
Since    of    doubtful    repute,    must   be    always    a    wandering 

maiden. 
Yes,  I  will  go  with  thee,  soon  as  I  first  shall  have  carried 

the  pitchers 
Back  to  my  friends,  and  prayed  the  good  people  to  give  me 

their  blessing. 
Come  thou  must  see  them  thyself,   and   from  their  hands 

must  receive  me." 

Joyfully  hearkened  the  youth  to  the  willing  maiden's 
decision, 

Doubtful  whether  he  ought  not  at  once  to  make  honest  con- 
fession. 

Yet  it  appeared  to  him  best  to  leave  her  awhile  in  her 
error, 

Nor  for  her  love  to  sue,  before  leading  her  home  to  his 
dwelling. 

Ah !  and  the  golden  ring  he  perceived  on  the  hand  of  the 
maiden. 

Wherefore  he  let  her  speak  on,  and  gave  diligent  ear  to 
her  language. 

"  Come,"  she  presently  said,  "  Let  us  back  to  the  village ; 

for  maidens 
Always   are  sure  to  be   blamed   if   they   tarry   too   long   at 

the  fountain. 
Yet  how  delightful  it  is  to  chat  by  the  murmuring  water !  " 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  407 

Then  from  their  seats  they  rose,  and  both  of  them  turned 
to  the  fountain 

One  more  look  behind,  and  a  tender  longing  possessed  them. 

Both  of  the  water-jars  then  in  silence  she  took  by  the 
handle. 

Carried  them  up  the  steps,  while  behind  her  followed  her 
lover. 

One  of  the  pitchers  he  begged  her  to  give  him  to  lighten 
the   burden. 

*'  Nay,  let  it  be ! "  she  said :  "  I  carry  them  better  so 
balanced. 

Nor  shall  the  master,  who  is  to  command,  be  doing  me 
service. 

Look  not  so  gravely  upon  me,  as  thinking  my  fortune  a 
hard  one. 

Early  a  woman  should  learn  to  serve,  for  that  is  her  calling; 

Since  through  service  alone  she  finally  comes  to  the  head- 
ship, 

Comes  to  the  due  command  that  is  hers  of  right  in  the 
household. 

Early  the  sister  must  wait  on  her  brother,  and  wait  on  her 
parents ; 

Life  must  be  always  with  her  a  perpetual  coming  and 
going, 

Or  be  a  fetching  and  carrying,  makmg  and  doing  for 
others. 

Happy  for  her  be  she  wonted  to  think  no  way  is  too  grievous. 

And  if  the  hours  of  the  night  be  to  her  as  the  hours  of  the 
daytime ; 

If  she  find  never  a  needle  too  fine,  nor  a  labor  too  trifling ; 

Wholly  forgetful  of  self,  and  caring  to  live  but  in  others ! 

For  she  will  surely,  as  mother,  have  need  of  every  virtue, 

When,  in  the  time  of  her  illness,  the  cries  of  her  infant 
arouse   her 

CaUing  for  food  from  her  weakness,  and  cares  are  to  suffer- 
ing added. 

Twenty  men  bound  into  one  were  not  able  to  bear  such 
a  burden; 

Nor  is  it  meant  that  they  should,  yet  should  they  with  grati- 
tude view  it." 


408  GOETHE 

Thus    she    spoke,    and   was    come,    meanwhile,    with    her 
silent  companion, 
Far  as  the  floor  of  the  barn,  at  the  furthermost  end  of  the 

garden, 
Where  was  the  sick  woman  lying,  whom,  glad,  she  had  left 

with  her  daughters, 
Those    late    rescued    maidens:    fair    pictures    of    innocence 

were  they. 
Both  of  them  entered  the  barn;  and,  e'en  as  they  did  so, 

the  justice, 
Leading   a   child   in    each    hand,   came    in    from   the   other 

direction. 
These  had  been  lost,  hitherto,  from  the  sight  of  their  sor- 
rowing mother ; 
But    in    the    midst    of    the    crowd    the    old    man    now    had 

descried  them. 
Joyfully   sprang  they   forward  to  meet  their  dear  mother's 

embraces. 
And   to   salute   with    delight    their    brother,    their   unknown 

companion. 
Next  upon  Dorothea  they  sprang  with  affectionate  greeting, 
Asking  for  bread  and  fruit,  but  more  than  all  else  for  some 

water. 
So   then    she    handed    the    water   about;    and   not   only    the 

children 
Drank,  but  the  sick  woman  too,  and  her  daughters,  and  with 

them  the  justice. 
All  were    refreshed,    and    highly    commended    the    glorious 

water ; 
Acid  it  was  to  the  taste,  and  reviving,   and  wholesome  to 

drink  of. 

Then    with   a   serious    face   the   maiden   replied  to   them, 

saying : 
"  Friends,  for  the  last  time  now  to  your  mouth  have  I  lifted 

my  pitcher; 
And  for  the  last  time  by  me  have  your  lips  been  moistened 

with  water. 
But  henceforth   in  the  heat  of  the  day  when  the  draught 

shall  refresh  you. 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  409 

When    in   the    shade   ye   enjoy    your    rest    beside   a    clear 

fountain, 
Think    of    me   then    sometimes    and   of   all   my   afifectionate 

service, 
Prompted  more  by   my  love  than  the  duty  I  owed  you  as 

kindred. 
I   shall   acknowledge   as   long  as   I   live  the  kindness  ye've 

shown  me. 
'Tis  with  regret  that  I  leave  you;  but  every  one  now  is  a 

burden, 
More  than  a  help  to  his  neighbor,  and  all  must  be  finally 

scattered 
Far  through    a   foreign   land,   if   return   to   our   homes   be 

denied  us. 
See,  here  stands  the  youth  to  whom  we  owe  thanks  for  the 

presents. 
He  gave   the   cloak   for   the   baby,   and  all   these   welcome 

provisions. 
Now  he  is  come,  and  has  asked  me  if  I  will  make  one  in  his 

dwelling, 
That  I   may   serve  therein   his  wealthy  and  excellent  par- 
ents. 
And  I   refuse  not   the  offer;  for  maidens  must  always  be 

serving ; 
Burdensome  were  it  for  them  to  rest  and  be  served  in  the 

household. 
Therefore   I    follow   him    gladly.     A   youth  of   intelligence 

seems  he, 
And  so  will  also  the  parents  be,  as  becometh  the  wealthy. 
So  then   farewell,  dear  friend;   and  mayst  thou  rejoice  in 

thy  nursling. 
Living,  and  into  thy  face  already  so  healthfully  looking! 
When  thou  shalt  press  him  against  thy  breast  in  these  gay- 
colored  wrappings, 
Oh,  then  remember  the  kindly  youth   who   bestowed  them 

upon  us. 
And  who  me  also  henceforth,  thy   sister,  will  shelter  and 

nourish. 
Thou,  too,  excellent  man !  "  she  said  as  she  turned  to  the 

justice; 


410  GOETHE 

"  Take  my  thanks  that  in  many  a  need  I  have  found  thee 
a  father." 

Then  she  knelt  down  on  the  floor  by  the  side  of  the  newly 
made  mother, 
Kissing  the  weeping  woman,  and  taking  her  low-whispered 
blessing. 

Thou,    meanwhile,   worshipful    justice,    wast    speaking  to 

Hermann  and  saying: 
"Justly  mayst  thou,  my  friend,  be  counted  among  the  good 

masters. 
Careful    to   manage    their   household    affairs    with   capable 

servants. 
For  I  have  often  observed  how  in  sheep,  as  in  horses  and 

oxen, 
Men  conclude  never  a  bargain  without  making  closest  in- 
spection. 
While  with   a  servant  who  all  things  preserves,  if  honest 

and  able, 
And  who  will  every  thing  lose  and  destroy,   if  he   set  to 

work  falsely. 
Him  will  a  chance  or  an   accident  make  us  admit  to  our 

dwelling. 
And  we  are  left,  when  too  late,  to  repent  an  o'er  hasty 

decision. 
Thou  understandest  the  matter  it  seems;  because  thou  hast 

chosen. 
Thee  and  thy  parents  to  serve  in  the  house,  a  maid  who  is 

honest. 
Hold  her  with  care ;  for  as  long  as  thy  household  is  under 

her  keeping. 
Thou  shalt  not  want  for  a  sister,  nor  yet  for  a  daughter 

thy  parents." 

Many  were   come,  meanwhile,   near  relatives   all  of  the 

mother, 
Bringing    her    various    gifts,    and    more    suitable    quarters 

announcing. 
All  of  them,  hearing  the  maiden's  decision,  gave  Hermann 

their  blessing, 


HERMANN"    AND    DOROTHEA  411 

Coupled    with    glances    of    meaning,    while    each    made   his 

special  reflections. 
Hastily    one    and    another    would    say    in    the    ear    of    his 

neighbor : 
"  If  in  the  master   a   lover   she   find,  right  well  were  she 

cared   for." 
Hermann  took  her  at  last  by  the  hand,  and  said  as  he  did 

so: 
"Let   us    be   going;    the   day    is   declining,    and  distant  the 

city." 
Eager  and  voluble  then  the  women  embraced  Dorothea. 
Hermann  drew  her  away ;  but  other  adieus  must  be  spoken : 
Lastly   the   children   with   cries   fell   upon  her  and  terrible 

weeping. 
Clung  to   her  garments,   and  would  not  their  dear   second 

mother   should  leave  them. 
But  in  a  tone  of  command  the  women  said,  one  and  another: 
"Hush   now,   children,    she's    going  to    the    town,    and  will 

presently  bring  you 
Plenty   of  nice   sweet  cake   that   was   by  your   brother   be- 
spoken 
When  by  the  stork  just  now  he  was  brought  past  the  shop 

of  the  baker. 
Soon  you  will   see  her  come  back  with  sugar-plums  splen- 
didly gilded." 
Then   did   the    little   ones    loose   their   hold,    and   Hermann, 

though  hardly. 
Tore    her    from    further    embraces   away,    and    far-waving 

kerchiefs. 


MELPOMENE 

HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA 

TOWARDS  the  setting  sun  the  two  thus  went  on  their 
journey: 
Close  he  had  wrapped  himself  round  with  clouds  por- 
tending a  tempest. 
Out   from  the   veil,   now   here    and  now   there,   with   fiery 

flashes. 
Gleaming  over  the  field  shot  forth  the  ominous  lightning. 
"  May  not  these  threatening  heavens,"  said  Hermann,  "  be 

presently  sending 
Hailstones  upon  us  and  violent  rains ;  for  fair  is  the  harvest." 
And  in  the  waving  luxuriant  grain  they  delighted  together : 
Almost  as  high  it  reached  as  the  lofty  shapes  that  moved 
through  it. 

Thereupon    spoke    the    maiden,    and    said    to    her    guide 

and  companion : 
"  Friend,  unto  whom  I  soon  am  to  owe  so  kindly  a  fortune. 
Shelter   and   home,   while  many   an   exile's  exposed  to  the 

tempest, 
Tell   me   concerning   thy  parents,  I   pray   thee,   and   teach 

me  to  know  them, 
Them   whom   with   all  my   heart   I  desire  to   serve  in  the 

future. 
Who  understands  his  master,  more  easily  gives  satisfaction, 
Having    regard    to    the    things    which    to    him    seem    chief 

in  importance, 
And  on  the  doing  of  which  his  firm-set  mind  is  determined. 
Tell    me    therefore,    I   pray,    how    to   win    thy   father   and 

mother." 

And    to    her    question    made   answer    the    good    and    in- 
telligent Hermann: 

412 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  413 

*Ah,  what  wisdom  thou  showest,  thou  good,  thou  excellent 

maiden, 
Asking  thus  first  of  all  concerning  the  tastes  of  my  parents ! 
Know  that  in  vain  hitherto  I  have  labored  in  serving  my 

father. 
Taking  upon  me   as   were  it  my   own,   the  charge   of  the 

household; 
Early  and   late   at  work   in   the  fields,  and  o'erseeing  the 

vineyard. 
But  my  mother  I  fully  content,  who  can  value  my  service; 
And   thou   wilt  also   appear  in   her   eyes   the  worthiest  of 

maidens, 
If  for  the  house  thou  carest,  as  were  it  thine  own  thou  wast 

keeping. 
Otherwise    is   it   with    father,   who  cares   for   the   outward 

appearance. 
Do  not  regard  me,  good  maiden,  as  one  who  is  cold  and 

unfeeling. 
That    unto    thee    a    stranger    I    straightway    discover    my 

father. 
Nay,  I  assure  thee  that  never  before  have  words  such  as 

these   are 
Freely  dropped  from  my  tongue,  which  is  not  accustomed 

to  prattle; 
But  from  out  of  my  bosom  thou  lurest  its  every  secret. 
Some  of  the  graces  of  life  my  good  father  covets  about  him, 
Outward  signs  of  affection  he  wishes,  as  well  as  of  honor ; 
And  an  inferior  servant  might  possibly  give  satisfaction, 
Who  could  turn  these  to   account,  while  he  might  be  dis- 
pleased with  a  better." 

Thereupon  said  she  with  joy,  the  while  him  hastening 
footsteps 

Over  the  darkening  pathway  with  easy  motion  shv.  quickened : 

"Truly  I  hope  to  them  both  I  shall  equally  give  satis- 
faction : 

For  in  thy  mother's  nature  I  find  such  an  one  as  mine 
own  is, 

And  to  the  outward  graces  Fve  been  from  my  childhood 
accustomed. 


414  GOETHE 

Greatly    was    courtesy    valued    among    our    neighbors    the 

Frenchmen, 
During    their    earlier   days ;    it    was   common    to  noble   and 

burgher, 
As  to  the  peasant,  and  every  one  made  it  the  rule  of  his 

household. 
So,  on  the  side  of  us  Germans,  the  children  were  likewise 

accustomed 
Daily  to  bring  to  their  parents,  with  kissing  of  hands  and 

with    curtseys. 
Morning  good-wishes,  and  all  through  the  day  to  be  prettily 

mannered. 
Every  thing  thus  that  I  learned,  and  to  which  I've  been  used 

from  my  childhood. 
All  that  my  heart  shall  suggest,  shall  be  brought  into  play 

for  thy  father. 
But  who  shall  tell  me  of  thee,  and  how  thyself  shouldst 

be  treated, 
Thou    the    only    son    of    the    house,    and    henceforth    my 

master?" 

Thus  she  said,  and  e'en  as  she  spoke  they  stood  under  the 

pear-tree. 
Down  from  the  heavens  the  moon  at  her  full  was  shedding 

her  splendor. 
Night  had  come  on,  and  wholly  obscured  was  the  last  gleam 

of  sunlight. 
So  that  contrasting  masses  lay  side  by  side  with  each  other, 
Clear  and  bright  as  the  day,  and  black  with  the  shadows  of 

midnight ; 
Gratefully    fell    upon    Hermann's    ear    the    kindly    asked 

question 
Under    the    shade    of    the    glorious    tree,    the    spot    he    so 

treasured, 
Which  but   this  morning  had  witnessed  the   tears  he  had 

shed  for  the  exile. 
And   while   they   sat  themselves   down   to   rest   them   here 

for  a  little, 
Thus  spoke  the  amorous  youth,  as  he  grasped  the  hand  of 

the  maiden: 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA  415 

"  Suffer  thy  heart  to  make  answer,  and  follow  it  freely  in 

all  things." 
Yet  naught  further  he  ventured  to  say  although  so  propitious 
Seemed  the  hour;  he  feared  he  should  only  haste  on  a  refusal. 
Ah,  and  he  felt  besides  the  ring  on  her  finger,  sad  token ! 
Therefore  they  sat  there,  silent  and  still,  beside  one  another. 

First  was  the  maiden  to  speak :  "  How  sweet  is  this 
glorious  moonlight !  " 

Said  she  at  length:  "It  is  as  the  light  of  the  day  in  its 
brightness. 

There  in  the  city  I  plainly  can  see  the  houses  and  court- 
yards. 

And  in  the  gable — methinks  I  can  number  its  panes — is 
a  window." 

"  What   thou   seest,"   the   modest  youth   thereupon   made 

her  answer, — 
"What  thou  seest  is  our  dwelling,  to  which  I  am  leading 

thee  downward. 
And  that  window  yonder  belongs  to  my  room  in  the  attic. 
Which  will  be  thine  perhaps,  for  various  changes  are  making. 
All  these  fields,  too,  are  ours ;  they  are  ripe  for  the  harvest 

to-morrow. 
Here  in  the  shade  we  will  rest,  and  partake  of  our  noontide 

refreshment. 
But  it  is  time  we  began  our  descent  through  the  vineyard 

and  garden; 
For  dost  thou  mark  how  yon  threatening  storm-cloud  comes 

nearer  and  nearer. 
Charged  with  lightning,  and  ready  our   fair   full  moon  to 

extinguish  ?  " 

So  they  arose  from  their  seats,  and  over  the  cornfields 
descended, 
Through    the   luxuriant    grain,   enjoying   the   brightness   of 

evening, 
Until   they  came  to  the  vineyard,  and  so   entered   into  its 
shadow. 
Then  he  guided  her  down  o'er  the  numerous  blocks  that 
were  lying, 


416  GOETHE 

Rough  and  unhewn  on  the  pathway,  and  served  as  the  steps 

of  the  alley. 
Slowly  the  maiden  descended,  and  leaning  her  hands  on  his 

shoulder. 
While  with  uncertain  beams,  the  moon  through  the  leaves 

overlooked  them. 
Ere  she  was  veiled  by  the  cloud,  and  so  left  the  couple  in 

darkness. 
Carefully  Hermann's  strength  supported  the  maid  that  hung 

o'er  him ; 
But,  not  knowing  the  path  and  the  rough-hewn  steps  that  led 

down  it, 
Missed  she  her  footing,  her  ankle  turned,  and  she  surely 

had  fallen, 
Had  not  the  dexterous  youth  his  arm   outstretched  in   an 

instant. 
And  his  beloved  upheld.     She  gently  sank  on  his  shoulder; 
Breast  was  pressed  against  breast,  and  cheek  against  cheek. 

Thus  he  stood  there 
Fixed   as   a  marble   statue,   the   force  of  will  keeping  him 

steadfast. 
Drew  her  not  to  him  more  closely,  but  braced  himself  under 

her  pressure. 
Thus  he  the  glorious  burden  felt,  the  warmth  of  her  bosom, 
And   the  perfume   of   her   breath,   that   over   his   lips  was 

exhaling; 
Bore  with  the  heart  of  a  man   the  majestic   form  of  the 

woman. 

But  she  with  playfulness  said,  concealing  the  pain  that  she 
suffered : 

"  That  is  a  sign  of  misfortune,  so  timorous  persons  would 
tell  us. 

When  on  approaching  a  house  we  stumble  not  far  from  the 
threshold; 

And  for  myself,  I  confess,  I  could  wish  for  a  happier  omen. 

Let  us  here  linger  awhile  that  thy  parents  may  not  have  to 
blame  thee, 

Seeing  a  limping  maid,  and  thou  seem  an  incompetent  land- 
lord." 


URANIA 

PROSPECT 

MUSES,  O  ye  who  the  course  of  true  love  so  willingly 
favor, 
Ye  who  thus  far  on  his  way  the  excellent  youth 
have  conducted, 
Even  before  the  betrothal  have  pressed  to  his  bosom  the 

maiden ; 
Further  your  aid  vouchsafe  this  charming  pair  in  uniting, 
Straightway  dispersing  the  clouds  which  over  their  happi- 
ness lower ! 
Yet  first  of  all  declare  what  is  passing  meanwhile  at  the 
Lion. 

Now  for  the  third  time  again  the  mother  impatient  had 

entered 
Where  were  assembled  the  men,  whom  anxious  but  now  she 

had  quitted; 
Spoke  of   the   gathering  storm,  and  the  moonlight's   rapid 

obscuring ; 
Then  of  her  son's  late  tarrying  abroad  and  the  dangers  of 

nightfall ; 
Sharply  upbraided  her  friends  that  without  having  speech  of 

the  maiden, 
And  without  urging  his  suit,  they  had  parted  from  Hermann 

so  early. 

"  Make  it  not  worse  than  it  is,"  the  father  replied  with 
displeasure. 
"  For,  as  thou  seest,  we  tarry  ourselves  and  are  waiting  the 
issue." 

Calmly,  however,  from  where  he  was  sitting  the  neighbor 
made  answer : 
14— VOL.  xrx  417  HC 


418  GOETHE 

"  Never  in  hours  of  disquiet  like  this  do  I  fail  to  be  grateful 
Unto  my  late,  blessed  father,  who  every  root  of  impatience 
Tore  from  my  heart  v^hen  a  child,  and  left  no  fibre  re- 
maining ; 
So  that  I  learned  on  the  instant  to  wait  as  do  none  of  your 
sages." 

"  Tell   us,"   the  pastor   returned,   "  what   legerdemain   he 

made  use  of." 
"  That   will   I   gladly   relate,    for   all   may   draw   from   it   a 

lesson ;" 
So  made  the  neighbor  reply.    "  When  a  boy  I  once  stood  of 

a    Sunday 
Full  of  impatience,  and  looking  with  eagerness  out  for  the 

carriage 
Which  was  to  carry  us  forth  to  the  spring  that  lies  under 

the  lindens. 
Still  the  coach  came  not.     I  ran,  like  a  weasel,  now  hither, 

now  thither, 
Up  stairs  and  down,  and  forward  and  back,  'twixt  the  door 

and  the  window ; 
Even  my  fingers  itched  to  be  moving;  I   scratched  on  the 

tables, 
Went  about  pounding  and  stamping,  and  hardly  could  keep 

me  from  weeping. 
All  was  observed  by   the  calm-tempered  man;   but  at   last 

when  my  folly 
Came  to  be  carried  too  far,  by  the  arm  he  quietly  took  me, 
Led  me  away   to   the  window,   and   spoke   in  this    serious 

language : 
"Seest  thou  yonder  the  carpenter's  shop  that  is  closed  for 

the  Sunday? 
He  will   re-open  to-morrow,   when   plane   and   saw  will   be 

started, 
And  will  keep  on  through  the  hours  of  labor  from  morning 

till  evening. 
But  consider  you  this, — a  day  will  be  presently  coming 
When  that  man  shall  himself  be  astir  and  all  of  his  work- 
men. 
Making  a  coffin  for  thee  to  be  quickly  and  skilfully  finished. 


HERMANN   AND    DOROTHEA  419 

Then   that   house   of   boards    they    will   busily   bring   over 

hither, 
Which  must  at  last  receive  alike  the  impatient  and  patient, 
And  which  is  destined  soon  with  close-pressing  roof  to  be 

covered.' 
Straightway  I  saw  the  whole  thing  in  my  mind  as  if  it  were 

doing ; 
Saw  the  boards   fitting  together,   and  saw  the  black  color 

preparing. 
Sat    me    down    patiently    then,    and    in    quiet    awaited    the 

carriage. 
Now  when  others  I  see,  in  seasons  of  anxious  expectance, 
Running  distracted  about,  I  cannot  but  think  of  the  coffin." 

Smiling,  the  pastor  replied :  "  The  affecting  picture  of 
death  stands 

Not  as  a  dread  to  the  wise,  and  not  as  an  end  to  the  pious. 

Those  it  presses  again  into  life,  and  teaches  to  use  it; 

These  by  affliction  it  strengthens  in  hope  to  future  salvation. 

Death  becomes  life  unto  both.  Thy  father  was  greatly 
mistaken 

When  to  a  sensitive  boy  he  death  in  death  thus  depicted. 

Let  us  the  value  of  nobly  ripe  age,  point  out  to  the  young 
man, 

And  to  the  aged  the  youth,  that  in  the  eternal  progression 

Both  may  rejoice,  and  life  may  in  life  thus  find  its  com- 
pletion." 

But  the  door  was  now  opened,  and  showed  the  majestical 
couple. 

Filled  with  amaze  were  the  friends,  and  amazed  the  affec- 
tionate parents. 

Seeing  the  form  of  the  maid  so  well  matched  with  that  of 
her  lover. 

Yea,  the  door  seemed  too  low  to  allow  the  tall  figures  to 
enter. 

As  they  together  now  appeared  coming  over  the  threshold. 

Hermann,  with  hurried  words,  presented  her  thus  to  his 
parents : 


420  GOETHE 

"  Here  is  a  maiden,"  he  said ;  "  such  a  one  as  ye  wish  in  the 
household. 

Kindly  receive  her,  dear  father:  she  merits  it  well;  and 
thou,  mother, 

Question  her  straightway  on  all  that  belongs  to  a  house- 
keeper's duty, 

That  ye  may  see  how  well  she  deserves  to  ye  both  to  be 
nearer." 

Quickly    he    then    drew    aside    the    excellent    clergyman, 

saying : 
"  Help  me,  O  worthy  sir,  and  speedily  out  of  this  trouble ; 
Loosen,  I  pray  thee,  this  knot,  at  whose  untying  I  tremble. 
Know  that  'tis  not  as  a  lover  that  I  have  brought  hither  the 

maiden ; 
But  she  believes  that  as  servant  she  comes  to  the  house,  and 

I   tremble 
Lest  in  displeasure  she  fly  as  soon  as  there's  mention  of 

marriage. 
But  be  it  straightway  decided ;  for  she  no  longer  in  error 
Thus  shall  be  left,  and  I  this  suspense  no  longer  can  suffer. 
Hasten   and   show  us   in   this   a   proof   of  the  wisdom  we 

honor." 

Towards  the  company  then  the  clergyman  instantly  turned 

him; 
But  already,  alas !  had  the  soul  of  the  maiden  been  troubled. 
Hearing  the  father's  speech;  for  he,  in  his  sociable  fashion. 
Had  in  these  playful  words,  with  the  kindest  intention  ad- 
dressed her : 
"Ay,  this  is  well,  my  child !  with  delight  I  perceive  that  my 

Hermann 
Has  the  good  taste  of  his  father,  who  often  showed  his  in 

his  young  days. 
Leading  out  always  the  fairest  to  dance,  and  bringing  the 

fairest 
Finally  home  as  his  wife;  our  dear  little  mother  here  that 

was. 
For  by  the  bride  that  a  man  shall  elect  we  can  judge  what 

himself  is, 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  421 

Tell  what  the  spirit  is  in  him,  and  whether  he  feel  his  own 

value. 
Nor  didst  thou  need  for  thyself,  I'll  engage,  much  time  for 

decision ; 
For,   in   good   sooth,   methinks,   he's   no   difficult   person   to 

follow." 

Hermann  had  heard  but  in  part;  his  limbs  were  inwardly 
trembling. 
And  of  a  sudden  a  stillness  had  fallen  on  all  of  the  circle. 

But  by  these  words  of  derision,  for  such  she  could  not 
but  deem  them, 

Wounded,  and  stung  to  the  depths  of  her  soul,  the  excellent 
maiden. 

Stood,  while  the  fugitive  blood  o'er  her  cheeks  and  e'en  to 
her  bosom 

Poured  its  flush.  But  she  governed  herself,  and  her  cour- 
age collecting, 

Answered  the  old  man  thus,  her  pain  not  wholly  concealing: 

"  Truly  for  such  a  reception  thy  son  had  in  no  wise  pre- 
pared  me. 

When  he  the  ways  of  his  father  described,  the  excellent 
burgher. 

Thou  art  a  man  of  culture,  I  know,  before  whom  I  am 
standing ; 

Dealest  with  every  one  wisely,  according  as  suits  his 
position ; 

But  thou  hast  scanty  compassion,  it  seems,  on  one  such  as 
I  am. 

Who,  a  poor  girl,  am  now  crossing  thy  threshold  with  pur- 
pose to  serve  thee ; 

Else,  with  such  bitter  derision,  thou  wouldst  not  have  made 
me  remember 

How  far  removed  my  fortune  from  that  of  thyself  and  thy 
son  is. 

True,  I  come  poor  to  thy  house,  and  bring  with  me  naught 
but  my  bundle 

Here  where  is  every  abundance  to  gladden  the  prosperous 
inmates. 


422  GOETHE 

Yet  I  know  well  myself;  I  feel  the  relations  between  us. 
Say,  is  it  noble,  with  so  much  of  mockery   straightway  to 

greet  me, 
That  I  am  sent  from  the  house  while  my  foot  is  scarce  yet 

on  the  threshold  ?  " 

Anxiously   Hermann  turned  and   signed  to   his   ally   the 

pastor 
That  he  should  rush  to  the  rescue  and  straightway  dispel 

the  delusion. 
Then  stepped  the  wise  man  hastily  forward  and  looked  on 

the  maiden's 
Tearful  eyes,  her  silent  pain  and  repressed  indignation. 
And  in  his  heart  was  impelled  not  at  once  to  clear  up  the 

confusion. 
Rather  to  put  to  the  test  the  girl's  disquieted  spirit. 
Therefore  he  unto  her  said  in  language  intended  to  try  her : 
"  Surely,  thou  foreign-born  maiden,  thou  didst  not  maturely 

consider. 
When    thou   too    rashly    decidedst   to   enter    the   service   of 

strangers. 
All  that  is  meant  by  the  placing  thyself  'neath  the  rule  of 

a  master; 
For  by  our  hand  to  a  bargain  the  fate  of  the  year  is  de- 
termined, 
And  but  a  single  '  yea '  compels  to  much  patient  endurance. 
Not  the  worst  part  of  the  service  the  wearisome  steps  to  be 

taken. 
Neither  the  bitter  sweat  of  a  labor  that  presses  unceasing; 
Since   the   industrious    freeman   must   toil    as   well    as   the 

servant. 
But  'tis  to  bear  with  the  master's  caprice  when  he  censures 

unjustly. 
Or  when,  at  variance  with  self,  he  orders  now  this,  now  the 

other; 
Bear  with  the  petulance,  too,  of  the  mistress,  easily  angered. 
And    with    the    rude,     overbearing    ways    of    unmannerly 

children. 
AH  this  is  hard  to  endure,  and  yet  to  go  on  with  thy  duties 
Quickly,  without  delay,  nor  thyself  grow  sullen  and  stubborn. 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  423 

Yet  thou  appearest  ill  fitted  for  this,  since  already  so  deeply 
Stung  by  the  father's  jests:  whereas  there  is  nothing  more 

common 
Than  for  a  girl  to  be  teased  on  account  of  a  youth  she  may 

fancy." 

Thus  he  spoke.     The  maiden  had  felt  the  full  force  of 

his  language, 
And  she  restrained  her  no  more;  but  with  passionate  out- 
burst her  feelings 
Made   themselves   way;    a    sob  broke    forth    from   her   now 

heaving  bosom, 
And,  while  the  scalding  tears  poured  down,  she  straightway 

made  answer: 
"  Ah,  that  rational  man  who  thinks  to  advise  us  in  sorrow, 
Knows   not   how   little   of  power  his   cold   words   have   in 

relieving 
Ever  a  heart   from  that  woe  which   a   sovereign    fate  has 

inflicted. 
Ye  are  prosperous  and  glad;  how  then  should  a  pleasantry 

v/ound  you? 
Yet  but  the  lightest  touch  is  a  source  of  pain  to  the  sick 

man. 
Nay,  concealment  itself,  if  successful,  had  profited  nothing. 
Better   show  now  what   had   later   increased   to   a  bitterer 

anguish. 
And  to  an  inward  consuming  despair  might  perhaps  have 

reduced  me. 
Let  me   go   back !    for  here  in  this  house   I  can  tarry  no 

longer. 
I  will  away,  and  wander  in  search  of  my  hapless  companions, 
Whom  I  forsook  in  their  need;  for  myself  alone  choosing 

the  better. 
This  is  my  firm  resolve,  and  I  therefore  may  make  a  con- 
fession 
Which  might  for  years  perhaps  have  else  lain  hid  in  my 

bosom. 
Deeply  indeed  was  I  hurt  by  the  father's  words  of  derision; 
Not   that    I'm   sensitive,    proud    beyond    what    is    fitting    a 

servant ; 


424  GOETHE 

But  that  my  heart  in  truth  had  felt  itself  stirred  with 
affection 

Towards  the  youth  who  to-day  had  appeared  to  my  eyes  as 
a  savior. 

When  he  first  left  me  there  on  the  road,  he  still  remained 
present, 

Haunting  my  every  thought ;  I  fancied  the  fortunate  maiden 

Whom  as  a  bride,  perhaps,  his  heart  had  already  elected. 

When  at  the  fountain  I  met  him  again,  the  sight  of  him 
wakened 

Pleasure  as  great  as  if  there  had  met  me  an  angel  from 
heaven ; 

And  with  what  gladness  I  followed,  when  asked  to  come  as 
his  servant. 

True,  that  I  flattered  myself  in  my  heart, — I  will  not  deny 

it- 
While  we  were  hitherward  coming,  I  might  peradventure 
deserve  him. 

Should  I  become  at  last  the  important  stay  of  the  house- 
hold. 

Now  I,  alas !  for  the  first  time  see  what  risk  I  was  run- 
ning, 

When  I  would  make  my  home  so  near  to  the  secretly  loved 
one; 

Now  for  the  first  time  feel  how  far  removed  a  poor  maiden 

Is  from  an  opulent  youth,  no  matter  how  great  her 
deserving. 

All  this  I  now  confess,  that  my  heart  ye  may  not  misin- 
terpret. 

In  that  'twas  hurt  by  a  chance  to  which  I  owe  my  awaking. 

Hiding  my  secret  desires,  this  dread  had  been  ever  before 
me, 

That  at  some  early  day  he  would  bring  him  a  bride  to  his 
dwelling; 

And  ah,  how  could  I  then  my  inward  anguish  have  suf- 
fered ! 

Happily  I  have  been  warned,  and  happily  now  has  my 
bosom 

Been  of  its  secret  relieved,  while  yet  there  is  cure  for  the 
evil. 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  425 

"But  no  more ;  I  have  spoken ;  and  now  shall  nothing  de- 
tain me 

Longer  here  in  a  house  where  I  stay  but  in  shame  and  con- 
fusion, 

Freely  confessing  my  love  and  that  foolish  hope  that  I 
cherished. 

Not  the  night  which  abroad  is  covered  with  lowering  storm 
clouds ; 

Not  the  roll  of  the  thunder — I  hear  its  peal — shall  deter 
me; 

Not  the  pelt  of  the  rain  which  without  is  beating  in  fury; 

Neither  the  blustering  tempest;  for  all  these  things  have  I 
suffered 

During  our  sorrowful  flight,  and  while  the  near  foe  was 
pursuing. 

Now  I  again  go  forth,  as  I  have  so  long  been  accustomed, 

Carried  away  by  the  whirl  of  the  times,  and  from  every 
thing  parted. 

Fare  ye  well !     I  tarry  no  longer ;  all  now  is  over." 

Thus  she  spoke  and  back  to  the  door  she  hastily  turned 

her, 
Still  bearing  under  her  arm,  as  she  with  her  had  brought 

it,  her  bundle. 
But  with  both  of  her  arms  the  mother  seized  hold  of  the 

maiden. 
Clasping  her  round  the  waist,  and  exclaiming,  amazed  and 

bewildered : 
"  Tell  me,  what  means  all  this  ?  and  these  idle  tears,  say, 

what  mean  they? 
I  will  not  let  thee  depart:  thou  art  the  betrothed  of  my 

Hermann." 

But  still  the  father  stood,  observing  the  scene  with  dis- 
pleasure. 
Looked  on  the  weeping  girl,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  vexation : 
"  This  then  must  be  the  return  that  I  get  for  all  my  indul- 
gence. 
That  at  the  close  of  the  day  this  most  irksome  of  all  things 
should  happen ! 


426  GOETHE 

For   there   is    naught   I    can   tolerate    less    than   womanish 

weeping, 
Violent  outcries,  which  only  involve  in  disorder  and  passion, 
What  with  a  little  of  sense  had  been  more  smoothly  adjusted. 
Settle  the  thing  for  yourselves:  I'm  going  to  bed;  I've  no 

patience 
Longer  to  be  a  spectator  of  these  your  marvellous  doings." 
Quickly  he  turned  as  he  spoke,  and  hastened  to  go  to  the 

chamber 
Where  he  was  wonted  to  rest,  and  his  marriage  bed  was 

kept   standing, 
But  he  was  held  by  his  son,  who  said  in  a  tone  of  entreaty : 
"  Father,  hasten  not  from  us,  and  be  thou  not  wroth  with 

the  maiden. 
I,  only  I,  am  to  blame  as  the  cause  of  all  this  confusion, 
Which  by  his  dissimulation  our  friend  unexpectedly  height- 
ened. 
Speak,   O  worthy   sir ;  for  to  thee  my  cause  I   intrusted. 
Heap  not  up  sorrow  and  anger,  but  rather  let  all  this  be 

ended ; 
For  I  could  hold  thee  never  again  in  such  high  estimation. 
If   thou    shouldst    show    but    delight   in    pain,    not    superior 

wisdom." 

Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  excellent  clergyman, 
smiling: 

"  Tell  me,  what  other  device  could  hav6  drawn  this  charm- 
ing confession 

Out  of  the  good  maiden's  lips,  and  thus  have  revealed  her 
affection  ? 

Has  not  thy  trouble  been  straightway  transformed  into  glad- 
ness and  rapture  ? 

Therefore  speak  up  for  thyself;  what  need  of  the  tongue  of 
another  ?  " 

Thereupon  Hermann  came   forward,  and  spoke  in  these 

words  of  affection : 
''  Do  not  repent  of  thy  tears,  nor  repent  of  these  passing 

distresses ; 
For  they  complete  my  joy,  and — may  I  not  hope  it — thine 

also? 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  427 

Not  to  engage  the  stranger,  the  excellent  maid,  as  a  ser- 
I  vant, 

i     Unto  the  fountain  I  came;  but  to  sue  for  thy  love  I  came 
i  thither. 

i      Only,  alas !  my  timorous  look  could  thy  heart's  inclination 

Nowise  perceive;  I  read  in  thine  eyes  of  nothing  but  kind- 
!  ness. 

As    from    the    fountain's    tranquil    mirror    thou   gavest   me 
j         _    greeting. 

j     Might  I  but  bring  thee  home,  the  half  of  my  joy  was  accom- 
I  plished. 

j     But  thou  completest  it  unto  me  now;  oh,  blest  be  thou  for 
I  it  I  " 

I     Then  with  a  deep  emotion  the  maiden  gazed  on  the  strip- 
1  _  ling; 

Neither  forbade  she  embrace  and  kiss,  the  summit  of  rap- 
ture, 

When  to  a  loving  pair  they  come  as  the  longed-for  assur- 
ance, 

Pledge  of  a  lifetime  of  bliss,  that  appears  to  them  now 
never-ending. 

Unto  the  others,  meanwhile,  the  pastor  had  made  ex- 
planation. 

But  with  feeling  and  grace  the  maid  now  advanced  to  the 
father. 

Bent  her  before  him,  and  kissing  the  hand  he  would  fain 
have  withholden. 

Said:  "Thou  wilt  surely  be  just  and  forgive  one  so  startled 
as  I  was, 

First  for  my  tears  of  distress,  and  now  for  the  tears  of  my 
gladness. 

That  emotion  forgive  me,  and  oh !  forgive  me  this  also. 

For  I  can  scarce  comprehend  the  happiness  newly  vouch- 
safed me. 

Yes,  let  that  first  vexation  of  which  I,  bewildered,  was 
guilty 

Be  too  the  last.     Whatever  the  maid  of  affectionate  service 

Faithfully  promised,  shall  be  to  thee  now  performed  by  the 
daughter." 


428  GOETHE 

Straiglilway  then,  concealing  his  tears,  the  father  em- 
braced her, 

Cordially,  too,  the  mother  came  forward  and  kissed  her  with 
fervor, 

Pressing  her  hands  in  her  own :  the  weeping  women  were 
silent. 

Thereupon    quickly   he    seized,    the   good    and    intelligent 
pastor, 
First  the  father's  hand,  and  the  wedding-ring  drew   from 

his    finger, — 
Not  so   easily   either:  the  finger   was  plump   and  detained 

it- 
Next  took  the  mother's  ring  also,  and  with  them  betrothed 

he  the  children. 
Saying:  "These  golden  circlets  once  more  their  office  per- 
forming 
Firmly  a  tie  shall  unite,  which  in  all  things  shall  equal  the 

old  one. 
Deeply  is  this  young  man  imbued  with  love  of  the  maiden, 
And,  as  the  maiden  confesses,  her  heart  is  gone  out  to  him 

also. 
Here  do   I   therefore  betroth  you  and  bless   for  the  years 

that  are  coming. 
With  the  consent  of  the  parents,  and  having  this  friend  as 

a  witness." 

Then  the  neighbor  saluted  at  once,  and  expressed  his  good 
wishes ; 

But  when  the  clergyman  now  the  golden  circlet  was  draw- 
ing 

Over  the  maiden's  hand,  he  observed  with  amazement  the 
other. 

Which  had  already  by  Hermann  been  anxiously  marked  at 
the  fountain. 

And  with  a  kindly  raillery  thus  thereupon  he  addressed 
her: 

"  So,  then  thy  second  betrothal  is  this?  let  us  hope  the  first 
bridegroom 

May  not  appear  at  the  altar,  and  so  prohibit  the  marriage." 


HERMANN    AND   DOROTHEA  429 

But  she,  answering,  said :  "  Oh,  let  me  to  this  recollection 
Yet  one  moment  devote;  for  so  much  is  due  the  good  giver, 
Him  who  bestowed  it  at  parting,  and  never  came  back  to 

his  kindred. 
All  that  should  come  he  foresaw,  when  in  haste  the  passion 

for  freedom, 
When  a  desire  in  the  newly  changed  order  of  things  to  be 

working. 
Urged  him   onward   to   Paris,   where  chains   and  death   he 

encountered. 
*  Fare  thee  well,'  were  his  words ;  '  I  go,  for  all  is  in  motion 
Now  for  a  time  on  the  earth,  and  every  thing  seems  to  be 

parting. 
E'en  in  the  firmest  states  fundamental  laws  are  dissolving; 
Property  falls  away  from  the  hand  of  the  ancient  possessor; 
Friend  is  parted  from  friend;  and  so  parts  lover  from  lover. 
Here  I  leave  thee,  and  where  I  shall  find  thee  again,  or  if 

ever, 
Who  can  tell?     Perhaps  these  words  are  our  last  ones  to- 
gether. 
Man's  but  a  stranger  here  on  the  earth,  we  are  told  and 

with  reason; 
And  we  are  each  of  us  now  become  more  of  strangers  than 

ever. 
Ours  no  more  is  the  soil,  and  our  treasures  are  all  of  them 

changing: 
Silver  and  gold  are  melting  away  from  their  time-honored 

patterns. 
All  is  in  motion  as  though  the  already-shaped  world  into 

chaos 
Meant  to  resolve  itself  backward  into  night,  and  to  shape 

itself  over. 
Mine  thou  wilt  keep  thine  heart,  and   should  we  be  ever 

united 
Over  the  ruins  of  earth,  it  will  be  as  newly  made  creatures, 
Beings  transformed  and  free,  no  longer  dependent  on  for- 
tune; 
For  can  aught  fetter  the  man  who  has  lived  through  days 

such  as  these  are ! 
But  if  it  is  not  to  be,  that,  these  dangers  happily  over. 


430  GOETHE 

Ever  again  we  be  granted  the  bliss  of  mutual  embraces, 
Oh,  then  before  thy  thoughts   so  keep  my  hovering  image 
That  with  unshaken  mind  thou  be  ready   for  good  or  for 

evil ! 
Should  new  ties  allure  thee  again,  and  a  new  habitation, 
Enter  with   gratitude  into  the  joys  that   fate   shall  prepare 

thee; 
Love  those  purely  who  love  thee;  be  grateful  to  them  who 

show  kindness. 
But  thine  uncertain  foot  should  yet  be  planted  but  lightly, 
For   there   is   lurking  the  twofold  pain   of  a  new  separa- 
tion. 
Blessings   attend  thy   life ;   but  value   existence  no   higher 
Than  thine  other  possessions,  and  all  possessions  are  cheat- 
ing ! ' 
Thus  spoke  the  noble  youth,  and  never  again  I  beheld  him. 
Meanwhile  I  lost  my  all,  and  a  thousand  times  thought  of 

his  warning. 
Here,  too,  I  think  of  his  words,  when  love  is  sweetly  pre- 
paring 
Happiness  for  me  anew,  and  glorious  hopes  are  reviving. 
Oh  forgive  me,  excellent  friend,  that  e'en  while  I  hold  thee 
Close  to  my  side  I  tremble !     So  unto  the  late-landed  sailor 
Seem    the    most   solid    foundations    of    firmest   earth   to    be 
rocking." 

Thus  she  spoke,  and  placed  the  two  rings  on  her  finger 
together. 

But  her  lover  replied  with   a  noble  and  manly  emotion : 

"  So  much  the  firmer  then,  amid  these  universal  convul- 
sions, 

Be,  Dorothea,  our  union !  We  two  will  hold  fast  and  con- 
tinue. 

Firmly  maintaining  ourselves,  and  the  right  to  our  ample 
possessions. 

For  that  man,  who,  when  times  are  uncertain,  is  faltering 
in  spirit, 

Only  increases  the  evil,  and  further  and  further  transmits  it ; 

While  he  refashions  the  world,  who  keeps  himself  stead- 
fastly  minded. 


HERMANN    AND    DOROTHEA  431 

Poorly  becomes  it  the  German  to  give  to  these  fearful  ex- 
citements 

Aught  of  continuance,  or  to  be  this  way  and  that  way  in- 
clining. 

This  is  our  own  !  let  that  be  our  word,  and  let  us  main- 
tain it ! 

For  to  those  resolute  peoples  respect  will  be  ever  accorded. 

Who  for  God  and  the  laws,  for  parents,  women  and  chil- 
dren, 

Fought  and  died,  as  together  they  stood  with  their  front 
to  the  foeman. 

Thou  art  mine  own ;  and  now  what  is  mine,  is  mine  more 
than  ever. 

Not  with  anxiety  will  I  preserve  it,  and  trembling  enjoy- 
ment ; 

Rather  with  courage  and  strength.  To-day  should  the 
enemy   threaten, 

Or  in  the  future,  equip  me  thyself  and  hand  me  my 
weapons. 

Let  me  but  know  that  under  thy  care  are  my  house  and 
dear  parents, 

Oh !  I  can  then  with  assurance  expose  my  breast  to  the 
foeman. 

And  were  but  every  man  minded  like  me,  there  would  be 
an  upspring 

Might  against  might,  and  peace  should  revisit  us  all  with 
its  gladness." 


Planned  and   Designed 
at  The  Collier  Press 
By   IVilham  Patten 


I 

I 


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