Act 2

Scene I: A High-Arched, Narrow, Gothic Chamber

Formerly Faust’s, Unchanged

Mephistopheles (Entering from behind a curtain. As he holds it up and looks behind him, Faust is seen lying stretched out on an antiquated bed.)

Lie there, unlucky man! One tempted by

The bonds of a love not readily undone!

The man whom Helena shall paralyse

Won’t find it easy to regain his reason.

(Looking around him.)

I look upwards, here, around me,

All’s unaltered, and undamaged:

Stained glass, there, shows darkly,

Spiders have added to their webs:

The ink is dry: the paper’s yellow,

But everything’s still in its place:

Even the quill-pen’s here, on show,

With which Faust and the Devil embraced.

Yes! Deeper in the nib there’s still

A drop of blood, I tempted him to spill.

It’s a unique piece, in my book,

So I’ll wish the great collectors luck.

The old fur-robe, on the hook, too,

Reminds me of a joke or two,

That time when I taught the student,

What, perhaps, in youth, he’s glad he learnt.

Truly the same desire is on me, for

You, smoke-singed gown: you and I,

To flaunt ourselves once more as a professor,

And speak as one who’s always in the right.

How to achieve that all the learned know:

It’s something the Devil lost long ago.

(He shakes the fur as he takes it down, and moths, crickets and beetles fly out.)

Chorus of Insects

Greetings! We’re greeting

Our Patron of old,

We’re floating and buzzing,

To us you’re well known.

Singly, in silence,

You sowed us like plants.

Father, in thousands

We’ve come to the dance.

The jester is snugly

Contained in the breast,

The lice in the fur they

Are sooner expressed.

Mephistopheles

What a nice surprise, this young brood of mine!

One merely sows, and harvests in due time.

I’ll shake this ancient fleece about,

Here and there, one flutters out. –

Away! Around! In a hundred leavings,

Hurry and hide yourself, you darlings.

There, where the ancient boxes lie,

Here, in the smoky parchment try,

In that broken dusty old pottery,

Or the skull, its eye-sockets empty.

All this jumbled mildewed existence,

Always gives one whims and fancies.

Again let’s dress up as a lecturer!

Today I’ll be the Principal, once more.

But it’s no use naming myself, you see:

Where are the people, to welcome me?

Famulus (A College Servant, tottering here, down the long gallery)

What a noise! What a quake!

The stairs sway, the walls shake:

Through the windows’ trembling colours

I see the lightning gleam above us.

The floor leaps, and, on high,

Plaster, rubble from the sky.

And the door, once tightly locked,

By wondrous force is thrown back. –

There! How fearful! A giant

Look, in Faust’s old garment!

At his gazing, and his pleas,

I want to sink to my knees.

Shall I go? Shall I remain?

Oh, what will happen to me, then!

Mephistopheles

Here, my friend! – You’re called Nicodemus.

Famulus

Honoured Sir! That’s my name – Oremus.

Mephistopheles

Enough of that!

Famulus

How pleased I am you knew me!

Mephistopheles

I know you well: a student still, I see,

Mossy Sir! After all, a learned man

Studies hard, and does the best he can.

So one builds a respectable house of cards,

That greater minds can’t finish afterwards.

But he’s a witty fellow, is your master,

Who doesn’t know the noble Doctor Wagner?

He’s the first in all the world of learning!

He’s unique: wisdom, each day increasing,

And all of it he still holds together,

Crowds, around him, panting, gather

Listeners, eaves’-droppers, welcome.

Alone, he shines there at the rostrum.

He holds a key, just like Saint Peter,

That unlocks the lower, and the higher.

He glows and sparkles above the rest,

No name and fame has wider standing:

Even that of Faust has dimmed, at best:

He’s the one who’s always inventing.

Famulus

Forgive me, honoured Sir, if I dare

To speak, and contradict you, there:

There’s no question of that, I must declare:

Since modesty’s his role, as all discern.

Discovering nothing of the circumstances,

Baffled by the great man’s disappearance:

He seeks all health and comfort in his return.

The room waits for its old master

While Doctor Faustus is away,

Untouched, still, as in his day.

And I scarcely dare to enter.

What can the stars be doing? –

The walls themselves are frightening me:

The doorframes quiver, bolts work free,

Or you yourself couldn’t have got in.

Mephistopheles

And your great man where is he?

Lead me there: or bring him here to me!

Famulus

Oh! His warnings are quite clear,

I’m not allowed to interfere.

For months I’ve left him in utter peace,

Till his great work is complete.

He, the most delicate of scholars,

His face looks like a charcoal burner’s,

Blackened now from nose to ears,

Eyes crimson, blowing up the fires,

All the while, so enthusiastic:

Clinking of tongs, that’s his music.

Mephistopheles

Why would he deny an entrance to me?

I’m one who’d speed his luck, you see.

(The Famulus exits: Mephistopheles sits down, gravely.)

I’ve hardly taken my seat here,

And I see a guest behind my chair.

But he’s one of the new school’s persuasion:

He’ll be arrogant, I think, on this occasion.

Baccalaureus (Storming along the corridor.)

I find the gates and doors are open!

Now there’s room at last for hope then,

That it won’t be merely as before,

A live man, acting as a corpse,

Wasting away, and rotting,

Till he merely dies of living.

These walls and these partitions,

Bow and sink towards perdition,

And if we don’t look about us,

Their decline and fall will rout us.

I’m audacious, no one more so,

But no further in do I go.

What will I find here today?

It’s years since I’ve been this way,

Where timid and innocent

As a freshman I was sent!

Where I trusted in my elders,

Edified by all their blather.

From the dry old books, they knew

They lied to me: what they knew,

Not believing in it truly,

Stealing life itself, from me.

What? – There, in his cell,

Sits a darkly bright one still!

With astonishment now, nearer,

See him sitting in his dark fur,

Truly, as I left him sitting

Still in all his coarse wrapping!

Then he seemed a fount of wisdom,

Since I didn’t understand him.

He won’t find me so today,

Fresh and new, I’m on my way!

Sir, if in Lethe’s melancholy stream

That bald nodding head’s not swum,

See your grateful scholar come,

Outgrown, his academic dream.

I find you now, as I saw you:

I was another though: that’s true.

Mephistopheles

I’m glad the ringing brought you.

I rated you once before as high:

The caterpillar, the chrysalis too,

Showed the bright future butterfly.

Your curly hair and pointed collar,

Made you a childishly pleasing scholar.

You never wore pigtails I believe? –

And today you’re cropped like a Swede.

I see you’re bold and resolute:

But don’t go home too absolute!

Baccalaureus

My old master! We’re in our old places:

But don’t think to renew time’s journey,

And spare me words with dual-faces:

I treat them now quite differently.

You teased the true, and honest youth.

It wasn’t difficult for you to do

It’s what no one dares to do today.

Mephistopheles

Pure truth on the young is thrown away,

The little beaks don’t like it, any way,

But afterwards when years have passed,

And they’ve learnt it for themselves at last,

And think it came from them, not school:

Then we hear: ‘The Master was a fool.’

Baccalaureus

A rascal, maybe! – What teacher ever shows us

The Truth directly, underneath our noses?

They know the way to make it seem more, or less,

Now serious, now playful, as suits the children best.

Mephistopheles

There’s a moment given us for learning, truly:

But you’re ready now to teach, yourself, I see.

For many moons, united with their suns,

You the riches of experience have won.

Baccalaureus

Experience! Mist and Foam!

And not the Spirit’s equal.

Confess! What one has known,

Is not worth knowing at all.

Mephistopheles (After a pause.)

I’ve thought so for ages. I was a Fool,

But I think that shallow now I’m sensible.

Baccalaureus

That pleases me! I hear pure Reason’s sound:

The first old man of sense I’ve ever found.

Mephistopheles

I sought for treasure, buried gold,

And brought to light frightful coals.

Baccalaureus

Confess now, your skull, bald and old,

Is worth no more than that empty poll.

Mephistopheles (Amiably.)

Do you know, my friend, how rude you seem to me?

Baccalaureus

In German, one’s lying if one speaks politely.

Mephistopheles (Wheeling his chair nearer to the proscenium and the audience.)

Up here I’m dazed by light and air:

Shall I take shelter with you down there?

Baccalaureus

I find it arrogant that in times like these,

A man wants to be what he no longer is.

Man’s life is in his arteries, and when

Are they so vibrant as in younger men?

There the fresh blood full of strength

Creates new life from its own life again.

There all works, and things get done,

The waverers fall, the capable get on.

While we’ve conquered half the world,

What have you done? Nodded, curled

In the sun, dreamed, weighed, plan on plan.

For sure, age is a chilling fever:

The frost of whims and need ahead.

When your thirtieth year is over,

A man’s as good as dead.

It would be best to seek an early grave.

Mephistopheles

That leaves the Devil nothing more to say.

Baccalaureus

Unless I will it, no Devil can exist.

Mephistopheles (Aside.)

The Devil will still trip you, in a bit.

Baccalaureus

This is youth’s noblest profession!

The world was nothing before my creation:

I drew the Sun out of the sea:

The Moon began her changeful course with me:

The daylight decked my path to greet me,

The Earth flowered, grew green, to meet me.

At my command, in primal night,

The stars in splendour swam to sight.

Who, but I, loosed from its prison

Cramped thought’s philistinism?

I, quite free, as my spirit cites,

Happily following my inner light,

And speeding on, in delight,

Darkness behind: and all before me, bright.

Mephistopheles

Go forth in splendour, you primal man! –

How could insight harm you, ever:

Who can think of stupid things or clever,

That past ages didn’t, long ago, understand.

Yet there’s no danger from him, you see,

He’ll think about it differently in time:

Even if the grape-juice acts absurdly,

In the end it changes into wine.

(To the younger members of the audience, who do not applaud.)

My words have left you cold, I gather,

May it be so for you, sweet children:

But think: the Devil’s a lot older,

So you need to be old to understand him!