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He wrote it at intervals over the sixty years, in four clearly distinguishable and widely separated phases—short periods of creative work on a project which, as we might therefore expect and as Goethe himself conceded, turned out to be something rather less than unitary in its conception or homogeneous in its execution.
The
Take a look at our patrons: you can tell Half of them have no taste, and half no heart.
Poor foolish poet, why invite Your Muse to toil for this? Make it your aim Merely to give them more—give them excess! It’s such a hard job to amuse them 130 That your best plan is to confuse them:
THE THREE IN CHORUS. And each of us, uncomprehending, Is strengthened as we gaze our fill; For all thy works, sublime, unending, Retain their first day’s splendour still. 270
Forgive me, but grand words are not my trick; I cut a sorry figure here, I know, But you would laugh at my high rhetoric If you’d not left off laughing long ago. The solar system I must leave unsung, And to mankind’s woes lend my humbler tongue. 280 The little earth-god still persists in his old ways, Ridiculous as ever, as in his first days. He’d have improved if you’d not given Him a mere glimmer of the light of heaven; He calls it Reason, and it only has increased
THE LORD. And that is all you have to say? Must you complain each time you come my way?
THE LORD. Do you know Faust? MEPHISTOPHELES. The doctor? Do you mean— THE LORD. My servant. MEPHISTOPHELES. Ah, he serves you well, indeed! 300 He scorns earth’s fare and drinks celestial mead. Poor fool, his ferment drives him far! He half knows his own madness, I’ll be bound.
THE LORD. He serves me, but still serves me in confusion;
MEPHISTOPHELES. If I may be his guide, you’ll lose him yet; I’ll subtly lead him my way, if you’ll let Me do so; shall we have a bet? THE LORD. He lives on earth, and while he is alive You have my leave for the attempt; Man errs, till he has ceased to strive. MEPHISTOPHELES. I thank your Grace; for dead men never tempt Me greatly, I confess. In this connection I like to see a full and fresh complexion; 320 A corpse is an unwelcome visitor. The cat-and-mouse game is what I prefer. THE LORD. Well, go and try what you can do!
And then, when you have failed, with shame confess: A good man, in his dark, bewildered stress, Well knows the path from which he should not stray. MEPHISTOPHELES. No doubt; it’s a short journey 330 anyway.
Among the spirits who negate, The ironic scold* offends me least of all. Man is too apt to sink into mere satisfaction, 340 A total standstill is his constant wish: Therefore your company, busily devilish,* Serves well to stimulate him into action.
But you, the authentic sons of God, enfold With praise the abundant beauty of the world; Love, as you do, the eternal Process, which Is ever living and forever rich; Its vanishing phenomena will last, By your angelic thoughts made firm and fast. [The heavens close, the ARCHANGELS disperse.]
God's praise of the angel's love and acceptance of His slow-to-unfold ways.
And so I am seeking magic’s assistance, Calling on spirits and their might To show me many a secret sight, To relieve me of the wretched task 380 Of telling things I ought rather to ask,
And can you still ask why your heart 410 Is pent and pining in your breast, Why you obscurely ache and smart, Robbed of all energy and zest? For here you sit, surrounded not By living Nature, not as when God made us, but by reek and rot And mouldering bones of beasts and men.
WAGNER. Alas, our life is short, And art is long, they say! My scholarly pursuits, how sore they weigh 560 Upon my heart and mind! One ought To learn the means of mounting to the sources, Yet even this task almost passes my resources; For we poor devils, by the time we’ve got Less than halfway, we die, as like as not.
Those few who had some knowledge of the truth, 590 Whose full heart’s rashness drove them to disclose Their passion and their vision to the mob, all those Died nailed to crosses or consigned to flames.
FAUST. Why does he not despair? A mind so void [UR And blinkered, so benighted and earthbound! Greedy for gold, he scratches in the ground, And when he finds some worms he’s overjoyed.
The spirit’s noblest moments, rare and high, Are choked by matter’s alien obtrusion, And rich with this world’s goods, we cry Scorn on those better things as mere illusion. Life-giving intuitions of great worth Are stifled in the muddle of the earth.
I am not like a god! Too deeply now I feel This truth. I am a worm stuck in the dust, Burrowing and feeding, where at last I must Be crushed and buried by some rambler’s heel.
This is the life for us, This is the strife for us! Castles or girls, we’ll Breach their defences! War-spoil and love-spoil 900 Are ours to be won. Soldiers, march on!
FAUST. A few steps further, to that rock up there; Now let us rest here from our walk. This place is one Where I would often sit and meditate alone, Keeping strict fast, in anguished prayer. Here, full of hope, firm in belief, I sought to alter heaven’s will; I groaned, I wrung my hands in grief— The pestilence continued still.
They all wasted away and perished—now Men praise that cynical mass-homicide.
WAGNER.
The very thing one needs one does not know, And what one knows is needless information.
Their spiteful ears are open to obey Our summons, for they love to harm and cheat; They pose as heaven’s angels, and though all they say 1140 Is false, their lisping voice is sweet.
If not in that old Gospel story? Here is the Greek text; I am moved to read 1220 Its sacred words, I feel the need Now to translate them true and clear Into the German tongue I hold so dear. [He opens a volume and prepares to write.] ‘In the beginning was the Word’: why, now I’m stuck already! I must change that; how? Is then ‘the word’ so great and high a thing? There is some other rendering, Which with the spirit’s guidance I must find. We read: ‘In the beginning was the Mind.’ Before you write this first phrase, think again; 1230 Good sense eludes the overhasty pen. Does
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Clearly enough; we say Lord of the Flies* Destroyer, Liar—each most fittingly applies. Well then, who are you? MEPHISTOPHELES. Part of that Power which would Do evil constantly, and constantly does good.
MEPHISTOPHELES. I am the spirit of perpetual negation; And rightly so, for all things that exist Deserve to perish, and would not be missed— 1340 Much better it would be if nothing were Brought into being. Thus, what you men call Destruction, sin, evil in short, is all My sphere, the element I most prefer.
I am part of that part which once, when all began, Was all there was; part of the Darkness before man 1350 Whence light was born, proud light, which now makes futile war To wrest from Night, its mother, what before Was hers, her ancient place and space. For light depends On the corporeal worlds—matter that sends Visible light out, stops light in its stride And by reflected light is beautified. So, light will not last long, I fear; Matter shall be destroyed, and light shall disappear.
MEPHISTOPHELES. My friend, you shall in this one night, In this one hour, know greater sensuous delight Than in a whole monotonous year! Delicate spirits now will bring You visions, and will charm your ear 1440 With song; theirs is no empty conjuring. Your palate also shall be sated, Your nostrils sweetly stimulated, Your sense of touch exhilarated. We are all ready, all are in Our places—come, at once, begin!
To split the spell: I need a rat’s tooth now. No need to conjure in this place for long! I hear them scuttling, soon they’ll hear my song. The master of all rats and mice, All flies and frogs and bugs and lice, Commands you to poke forth your snout And gnaw this floor to let me out! I’ll smear it for you with some drops 1520 Of oil. Aha! see, out he hops! Now set to work.
I’m still too young to lack desires, Not young enough now for mere play. What satisfaction can life hold? Do without, do without! That old Command pursues us down the years 1550 Endlessly echoing in our ears— The same old hoarse repeated song Heard hour by hour our whole life long! With each new dawn I wake aghast, My eyes with bitter tears are filled To think that when this day has passed I’ll not have had one single wish fulfilled, That even my presentiments of joy Will die of nagging scruples,
FAUST. You seem to like eavesdropping. MEPHISTOPHELES. I am not Omniscient, but I know a lot.
FAUST. And what is your reward for this to be? MEPHISTOPHELES. Long years will pass till we need 1650 think of that. FAUST. No, no! The Devil has his tit-for-tat; He is an egoist, he’ll not work for free, Merely to benefit humanity. State your conditions, make them plain and clear! Servants like you can cost one dear. MEPHISTOPHELES. In this world I will bind myself to cater For all your whims, to serve and wait on you; When we meet in the next world, some time later, Wages in the same kind will then fall due.* FAUST. The next world? Well, that’s no great matter; 1660 Here is
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FAUST. Poor devil! What can you offer to me? A mind like yours, how can it comprehend A human spirit’s high activity? But have you food that leaves one still unsatisfied, Quicksilver-gold that breaks up in One’s very hands? Can you provide 1680 A game that I can never win, Procure a girl whose roving eye Invites the next man even as I lie In her embrace? A meteoric fame That fades as quickly as it came? Show me the fruit that rots before it’s plucked And trees that change their foliage every day!
But there are times in life, my friend, 1690 When one enjoys mere quiet satisfaction. FAUST. If ever I lie down in sloth and base inaction, Then let that moment be my end! If by your false cajolery You lull me into self-sufficiency, If any pleasure you can give Deludes me, let me cease to live! I offer you this wager! MEPHISTOPHELES. Done!
I’ve purged the lust for knowledge from my soul; Now the full range of suffering it shall face, And in my inner self I will embrace [FRA 1770 The experience allotted to the whole Race of mankind; my mind shall grasp the heights And depths, my heart know all their sorrows and delights. Thus I’ll expand myself, and their self I shall be, And perish in the end, like all humanity. MEPHISTOPHELES. Oh, take my word for it, I who have chewed For centuries on this stale food— From birth to death a man may do his best, But this old leavened lump he’ll not digest! We do assure you, such
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The courage of the lion, The stag’s velocity, The Italian’s fiery zest, The north’s tenacity!
FAUST. What am I then, if it’s impossible To win that crown of our humanity, To be what all my senses ache to be? MEPHISTOPHELES. You are just what you are. Do what you will; Wear wigs, full-bottomed, each with a million locks, Stand up yards high on stilts or actor’s socks— You’re what you are, you’ll be the same man still.
Shadow of life you live, when all you do Just bores your pupils and bores you! Let your fat colleagues take the strain! Stop threshing empty straw! Why, even when There’s really something you could teach the poor lads, 1840 then It’s something you’re forbidden to explain.
MEPHISTOPHELES [in FAUST’S long gown]. Scorn reason, despise learning, man’s supreme* Powers and faculties; let your vain dream Of magic arts be fortified with sweet Flatteries by the Spirit of Deceit, And you’re mine, signature or none!—
an ever-striving mind; In headlong haste it drives him on, He skips the earth and leaves its joys behind. I’ll drag him through life’s wastes, through every kind 1860 Of meaningless banality;
Even without this devil’s bond that he has signed He’s doomed to perish nonetheless!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Make good use of your time! It hurries past, But order and method make time last.
When scholars study a thing, they strive To kill it first, if it’s alive; Then they have the parts and they’ve lost the whole, For the link that’s missing was the living soul. Encheiresis naturae,* says Chemistry now— 1940 Mocking itself without knowing how.
MEPHISTOPHELES. But come now, choose a Faculty! STUDENT. I don’t think Jurisprudence would be quite my line. MEPHISTOPHELES. Well, well, I can’t entirely disagree, 1970 I know a bit about that discipline. Statutes and laws, inherited Like an old sickness, passed on by the dead Through endless generations, creeping down From land to land, from town to town! Sense becomes nonsense, good deeds dangerous; Our forebears are our burden.
But he who seizes opportunities, He’s the successful man! Now, you’re still fairly young and strong And, I dare say, a bold lad too; 2020 Just let self-confidence carry you along, And others will have faith in you. Learn, above all, to handle women!
STUDENT [reads]. Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum. [He closes it reverently and takes his leave.] MEPHISTOPHELES. Now heed my ancient serpent-aunt—her words were wise!— And be like God; you’ll find it no light enterprise. 2050
Real decent chaps like us are much too good For such a slut! You make me sick. I’d serenade her windows with a brick!
