Oh, let me take your lily hand,And where the secret star-beams shineDraw near, to see and understandPierrot and Columbine.Around the fountains, in the dew,Where afternoon melts into night,With gracious mirth their gracious crewEntice the shy birds of delight.Of motley dress and maskèd face,Of sparkling unrevealing eyes,They track in gentle aimless chaseThe moment as it flies.Their delicate beribboned rout,Gallant and fair, of light intent,Weaves through the shadows in and outWith infinite artful merriment.Dear lady of the lily hand—Do then our stars so clearly shineThat we, who do not understand,May mock Pierrot and Columbine?Beyond this garden-grove I seeThe wise, the noble, and the braveIn ultimate futilityGo down into the grave.And all they dreamed and all they sought,Crumbled and ashen grown, departs;And is as if they had not wroughtThese works with blood from out their hearts.The nations fall, the faiths decay,The great philosophies go by—And life lies bare, some bitter day,A charnel that affronts the sky.The wise, the noble, and the brave—They saw and solved—as we must seeAnd solve—the universal grave,The ultimate futility.Look—where beside the garden-poolA Venus rises in the grove,More suave, more debonair, more coolThan ever burned with Paphian love.'Twas here the delicate ribboned routOf gallants and the fair ones wentAmong the shadows in and outWith infinite artful merriment.Then let me take your lily hand,And let us tread, where star-beams shine,A dance; and be, and understandPierrot and Columbine.
Oh, let me take your lily hand,And where the secret star-beams shineDraw near, to see and understandPierrot and Columbine.
Around the fountains, in the dew,Where afternoon melts into night,With gracious mirth their gracious crewEntice the shy birds of delight.
Of motley dress and maskèd face,Of sparkling unrevealing eyes,They track in gentle aimless chaseThe moment as it flies.
Their delicate beribboned rout,Gallant and fair, of light intent,Weaves through the shadows in and outWith infinite artful merriment.
Dear lady of the lily hand—Do then our stars so clearly shineThat we, who do not understand,May mock Pierrot and Columbine?
Beyond this garden-grove I seeThe wise, the noble, and the braveIn ultimate futilityGo down into the grave.
And all they dreamed and all they sought,Crumbled and ashen grown, departs;And is as if they had not wroughtThese works with blood from out their hearts.
The nations fall, the faiths decay,The great philosophies go by—And life lies bare, some bitter day,A charnel that affronts the sky.
The wise, the noble, and the brave—They saw and solved—as we must seeAnd solve—the universal grave,The ultimate futility.
Look—where beside the garden-poolA Venus rises in the grove,More suave, more debonair, more coolThan ever burned with Paphian love.
'Twas here the delicate ribboned routOf gallants and the fair ones wentAmong the shadows in and outWith infinite artful merriment.
Then let me take your lily hand,And let us tread, where star-beams shine,A dance; and be, and understandPierrot and Columbine.
FAUST
Splendid! Delightful!
SATAN
You are flattering me.How did you like it, really?
FAUST
Well, as artI think it splendid; as philosophy,I hardly praise it. 'Tis a mood that comesAnd has its will of us in its own hours—Yes, irresistibly. But past the hourWait graver judges. I decline to be,As you suggest delightfully, a flyOn the spoiled beer of life. Nor do I leanToward your ingenious blending of despair,Satiety, and child's-play.
SATAN
Those who takeThis attitude, however, swiftly growThe darlings of existence—souls that sipOf every flower the nectar, and are boundUnto no laws or standards, but move free,Viewing all things as relative.... And yetYour special temperament may not preferNectar. Those lines of sternness round your mouthConvince me you are right; another cureBetter befits you. And a mighty oneI set before you, which has ever servedAs lodestar for all high and glorious minds,All kings of earth, all potentates of thought,All great achievers. Power I offer you—The one chief prize that all men have desiredAnd shall desire forever.
FAUST
Now you growRather more interesting. What do you mean?A crown and sceptre and a thousand slavesTo serve me?
SATAN
Do not jest. I offer youThe one sole reservoir where power to-dayLies stored in sleeping cataracts. At noonCome with me into Wall Street; take your stand;Buy, sell, as I direct you; and one hourShall make you richer than you ever dreamedIn madness of desire. For three days moreCome there each noon again; at end of these,If you have done my bidding, you shall beMaster of the finances of the world,Despot of nations, unto whom the kingsAnd captains of the earth shall kneel to craveCrumbs from the table. Then let pen and swordForget their quarrel for supremacy;Since you can buy them both, or starve them both,Or cast them to the wilderness! Such powerI offer as would make the pulses beatEven of a skeleton!
FAUST
But not a soulGrown sceptical of life. Power? Power? For what?And over what? And toward what? Not a powerOver myself or pain or lonelinessOr ignorance or evil; not a strengthTo bid the near-world cease, and in its placeInstate my visions beautiful and pale,Nearer the heart's desire. No, you would givePower to direct the miseries of men,But not to stay them: power to hold the worldAs some cold robber-baron from his rocksOnce held his little valley: power to sitIn ultimate seclusion, and look downOn streets and mines and workshops with the senseThat I was fountain of the miseriesDark in them all. I thank you; but I thinkI should derive small sport from such a game.You see, I am not Satan.
SATAN
Well, you areA subtle one, a shrewd one! On my word,I hardly had suspected you so deep.What time I have been wasting! Mr. Faust,At last I know you for a prince of men—A brilliant mind, a high intelligence,A spirit incorruptible. The trash,Baubles and claptrap which the foolish herdSnatch at, you scoff—and rightly. I will notWith one more word of it insult your mindThat admirably penetrates to deepsWhere I, too, love to dwell. I put asideAll trivialities, and frankly sayThat I can offer you one ultimate giftFit even for you—a subtle paradiseSuch as not Hercules mid Western IslesFound in the Garden of Hesperides.It is a paradise of secret peace,A glorious land of amaranthine bloom;Where happiness, having fled the world, now dwellsIn shining gladness. Guarded, deep, sublimeWith lights and shadows, lies it: there have heartsThe weariest and the greatest of mankindFound perfect refuge and abiding-placeFor time and for eternity. To fewIts gates are open: it I promise youIf you but trust me!
FAUST
But why should I trust you?If history speaks true, you have deceivedAll who, since Eve, have put their faith in you.Further, your paradise could hardly haveJoys in it worth the grasping, to my taste.So pardon me if frankly I admitI doubt your promise.
SATAN
Ah, you are wholly wrong!I am quite honest with you, now having learnedYour true capacity.
FAUST
Perhaps, perhaps.And yet I must decline.
SATAN
You doubt me still.But I will prove my utter honestyBeyond contention. In my deepest soul,I know this paradise will serve your need;And to make plain to you my fair intent,I offer you a bargain whose clear termsMust drive your doubts away. I am preparedTo pledge myself to be your abject slaveAnd servant for all time if you yourselfDo not acknowledge that my paradiseDelights you wholly!
FAUST
Well! Thatisan offer!
SATAN
What could be fairer? You yourself shall judge;And you risk nothing. Ah, your look still doubts!You have in mind those libellous poets' talesOf bonds inscribed in blood which I exactIn payment, and destroy men's souls! My friend,Have I yet asked you for a bond of blood?And if I ever do, I give you leaveTo wring my neck unceremoniously.
FAUST
Well, for the life of me, I cannot read you!Yet let me ask: why such an eager willTo serve a man into whose rooms you cameBy chance to-night? Why give yourself such painsTo furnish him a paradise?
SATAN
There isNo mystery in that. I would allyYou to myself.
FAUST
Thanks, I decline.
SATAN
You failTo understand me. For I ask not thisAs promise of you.
FAUST
What, then, do you mean?What do you count on? Whence do you expectPay for your trouble and your risk—a riskNot trivial, I warn you?
SATAN
Let me makeThe matter clear to you. I know quite wellThe risk is nothing, since my paradiseWill utterly delight you. Granting this,You see my profit: you will stay with meWillingly there forever, to my endsAn interested assistant. I will serveForth on my tables such delicious fareThat you will freely choose to be my guestThrough time and through eternity. I say:Fie for a bond written in scrawly blood!A bond of choice is better. Could a saintSpeak fairer to you? I risk everything,And you risk nothing but a little time;And time, as you are placed, seems not so dearThat you need hoard it.
FAUST
But your ends are—what?
SATAN
How can it matter now—if seeing themYou shall approve them?
FAUST
Are you serious?
SATAN
My jests have other aspect.
FAUST
I accept.Your game is to my taste. For thirty yearsHave I made search through all the lands of earth,The realms of learning, and the tangled grovesOf fancy, for some region which my soulMight with entire approval view; but noneHas been vouchsafed me. If the Devil canIn this surpass the world's established powers,Then I am his disciple willingly....But if you fail, friend Satan!—I shall tieYou to a cart's tail and exhibit youLike a dead whale throughout the country—orMake you curator of an orphanage!
SATAN
I shall not fail.
OLDHAM(enters)
I beg your pardon, Faust;I thought you'd be alone. My brother left,Not waiting for me; and, as I passed by,I saw your lights, and thought I would look inJust for a moment. I had things to sayThat are perhaps much better left unsaid.Good-bye, my dear friend. I will not disturb you.Good night again.
FAUST
Wait, Oldham; do not go.I have a visitor whose name you know,But not, perhaps, his person. Let me haveThe pleasure of presenting you. This isThe Devil—Mr. Oldham.
OLDHAM
You are mad!What jest is this?
SATAN
I am indeed the Devil.Look in my eyes intently.... Shall I tell youYour thought, two minutes since?... Or what you holdClutched now against your side?...Or where you goWhen you go hence to-night?...
OLDHAM
No!... I believe you....Although it is incredible!...
FAUST
You comeJust at the proper moment for good-bye,For I am going with him on a journey,And do not know how soon I shall return.If I return at all.
OLDHAM
A journey? Where?
SATAN
To paradise.
FAUST
He offers paradiseThat will suffice my wish, and gives himselfAs pledge of his success.
SATAN
Come, we must haste,For it is very far.
FAUST
To paradise!...
OLDHAM
To paradise.... Take me with you!
FAUST
My friend,It is not possible. I do foreseeSome perils to whose touch I would subjectNone save myself.
OLDHAM
And what care I for them!Faust—on my word, when I climbed up your stairThis second time, it was to say good-byeTo you forever, being quite resolvedTo end my choking loneliness and loathingWith a quick shot to-night. Take me, or IShall carry out my purpose. What care IWhither you go, or what the perils be?I would go with you into Hell!
SATAN
We goTo paradise. What is this Hell you name?
CURTAIN
The scene is the stone-paved courtyard of a ruined temple. In the centre lies a square pool, with wide rows of steps leading down to the water, now overgrown with lotus plants. Around the court rise long colonnades of pillars with grotesquely carven bases and capitals of luxuriant design. Beyond these appear green masses of dense tropical foliage, in which an occasional brilliant flower shines.
Faust, Satan and Oldham, all wearing white tropical dress and sun-helmets, are seated on fragments of fallen columns in front of the pool. Luncheon is spread before them. Oldham is lighting a cigarette; Faust is just finishing his meal; Satan is leaning back, contemplating the surrounding jungle. Two dark-skinned servants, wearing white robes and turbans, are beginning to bear away the repast.
OLDHAM
One's blood beats fuller in these tropic lands.Last night, as we were dining, where the beachWith its plumed palm-trees sloped to meet the sea,And the white foam along the glassy wavesPlayed in the evening light—I half believeI could have written love-songs. But to whom—That were a problem!
FAUST
Yes, one's brain is litWith fire beneath this sun. At night, the glowIs magical; but at this height of day,When all the branches and the flowers and rocksAnd the far glimmering rivers shake and writheIn the fierce blaze, I feel a hideous touchOf madness in it.
SATAN
Keep you to the shade!This is the pinnacle, the very noonOf summer in these lands. One hour of sunUnshaded—and poor Oldham and poor IMight have a maniac or a corpse as guest.
OLDHAM
I am not sure that I would help you with him.I might be elsewhere occupied. Last nightI entertained myself with imagingA project which, if I adopted it,Would preëngage me.
SATAN
With a single guess,I'll tell you what it was.
OLDHAM
I give you twenty.
SATAN
You thought perhaps it would be nice to beThe white bull we saw yesterday, and eatWithout reproof from every vender's stallThroughout the whole bazar; and you intendThus to disguise yourself, and try the sport.
OLDHAM
You hit it nearer than I thought you would!'Twas something like that. I was wonderingIf, in this marvellous and lazy clime,It were not possible for one to takeTwenty young beauties and a hundred slaves—Retire to some secluded isle of palms—And live without a thought, a wish, a hope,Drugged with the warmth, the languor and the light.
FAUST
Possible?—For a rabbit! Not for you.
SATAN
I am afraid you'd find it wearisome.Some like it; but not your kind.
FAUST
In this heatEven he grows crazy; and we, Satan, turnUnsympathetic creatures. Whew, this blazeIs getting worse! Can't we move on?
SATAN
We goNo farther.
FAUST
Lovely residence!
SATAN
It is hereThat our long journey terminates, my friends.Upon this spot I trust, if all goes well,To give your long tried patience recompense.
FAUST
Recompense? I am sceptical of it!But we deserve this. None but idiotsWould have come with you to this boiling landOn a wild-goose chase; on each step of whichOne gets a fleeting panoramic viewOf kinds of misery one did not guessExisted in the world. Those lepers, beggars,Cripples, fanatics, reptiles—all the swarmsOf loathsome creatures we have passed—will hauntMy dreams forever with new vivid masksOf nightmare. Recompense? There isn't any!
SATAN
Await the event. You shall have recompense.
OLDHAM
Satan, what is your meaning? What eventDo you await here? You have been to us,Through our long journey, secretive and closeOf all your purposes—from day to dayGiving no hint of your to-morrow's planNor of our destination. Now, I think,Silence is not a virtue. Have we comeIn fact to our last halt?
SATAN
This is the spotToward which our course unswervingly has aimedSince the first day. This vast and ruined shrine,Built in forgotten times to unknown gods,And now in timeless solitude enfolded,Has long been known to me. Here, in retreatFrom the world's noises, dwells a holy man,A wonder-worker of unfathomed power,Now long forgotten by the troubled worldExcept me only. 'Tis his aged handShall open to you those celestial gatesWe come to enter.
FAUST
Ah, a wonder-worker!Perhaps he will perform the mango trick,Or the rope-climbing, or the boy-in-the-basket?The jugglers here have been below reportOne hears of them.
SATAN
Put by your idle sneers.He is a prophet and a saint whose likeThe world can offer not. Upon his faceYou shall behold such utter holiness,Such sublimate devotion as shall shakeYour hearts' foundations.
FAUST
Well, I can endureThe meeting if he can.
OLDHAM
Satan, you chooseSometimes strange company. You often speakOf friendship with such men of holinessAs much surprises me.
SATAN
If you were butA little wiser, you would understandThat I have taught them much, at various times,That is of profit to them.
FAUST
Pray teach meA little something also.
SATAN
No, you thinkYou know too much already.... Furthermore,You do not trust me; and I will not teachOne who keeps restlessly, the whole day long,His eyes upon me, as though fearful IWere waiting to spring on him unawares!
FAUST
Oh, you exaggerate.
OLDHAM
Look through yonder palms!Someone is coming.
SATAN
He sees us! It is he![Through the colonnade along the far side of thecourtyard, there enters the Holy One, an aged manof venerable and sublime appearance, clad in a simplewhite robe. In his hand is a large copper bowl, whichhe carries with some care.
SATAN
He brings a bowl of water from the spring—The very bowl I gave him!
OLDHAM
What a face!What light, what soundless calm!
FAUST
He is, indeed,One of the ancient prophets....
SATAN
Holy One!Satan salutes you!
THE HOLY ONE
Satan—come againAfter so long? A little longer—thenNo carcass of illusion here shall waitTo greet you.
SATAN
In the greatness of the seaAll waves find home....
THE HOLY ONE
Yea, verily; and the deepLies not far off. I am drawn nearer itSince last you came: I see its floods more clear,It laves me daily.... But what brings you backTo my deserted dwelling from the pressWhere you are ever going to and froUpon the earth?
SATAN
I came to seek for you,Whose feet are on the path of blessedness.
THE HOLY ONE
Ah, has illusion rent itself in twainFor your sight also?
SATAN
Ask me not. I comeNot on my mission, but on theirs....
THE HOLY ONE
On theirs!And who are your companions?
SATAN
Friends, who seekWhat you have found.
THE HOLY ONE
They have not in their eyesWholly the look of Seekers. Passion lurksAlong their ruddy lips.... And yet, who knows?
FAUST
I offer you our greetings, reverend sir.A long way have we come to meet with you,By Satan led.
THE HOLY ONE
And what would you with me?
FAUST
Paradise! Paradise!
THE HOLY ONE
Too hotly spoken!Go, get you to the dancers of Tanjore....Paradise!
OLDHAM
You belie us, Faust. Let meHave speech with him.
Most Holy One, we come,From lands far off, beyond remotest seasOf sunset. There, in midst of toil and stressAnd clamor, have we dwelt, till wearinessOf all life's gifts impelled us to go forthTo seek if anywhere a region layWhere happiness still dwelt. To you we turnAs unto one upon whose face is setThe seal of peace such as we dreamed not of.
SATAN
They seek the Way, the Way, most Holy One.
THE HOLY ONE
The Blessed Eightfold Way lies free to all.I cannot ope it to them. Peace, joy, bliss,Supernal glory is it to those soulsWho have put by the follies of their birthAnd sought its refuge. But though now I standWith lighted heart upon its blissful path,I can stretch out no hand to grasp their handsAnd draw them toward it.
SATAN
Yet the Blessed One,In Gaya first enlightened, far and wideTaught men the Way....
THE HOLY ONE
Aye, verily.... Some moodOf evil in my heart has closed my mouthAnd darkened thus my eyesight. But 'tis gone....Brethren, have comfort on my frugal stones.Ask me all ye desire.
SATAN
Most Holy One,These are my friends; I bring them in sore needUnto your wisdom. For methinks they standNow at the cross-roads where the choice is madeOf truth or vanity. I beg you, tellUnto their ears how, in your day, you cameTo that dark crossing.
THE HOLY ONE
I would do your willIn this, and in all other services,My brethren.
You must know that in my youthI was a lusty noble of the realmOf Jeypore; and the falcon and the swordAnd the nautch-dancers and the palace-girlsWere mine to love and master like a lord.Lordlike I lived; the caskets of the dayAnd of the night I crowded with bright jewelsOf love and joy and laughter. No desirePanted unslaked an instant at my doors—Nay, feasts were spread for it. And poor men gazedOn me with envy, muttering from their dust:"Behold, the Heavens' darling."...
OLDHAM
Other landsKnow the same tale.
THE HOLY ONE
Aye, aye, all lands. And thenOne night, alone in mine own garden walls,Beneath the piercing stars, I gathered my lifeInto my hands, and looked at it, and farBeyond it at all other mortal lives;And dust fell from mine eyelids....
For I sawBirth and desire, satiety and pain,Recurrent yearning that is never stilled,Agony, death, rebirth in other forms,And agony, and desire, and agony.But nowhere saw I happiness or peaceOr rest from cravings that like vultures tearThe fibres of the heart.
Then wandered IForth from my palaces in utter pain,Seeing the world as dust and vanity,A desert of despair, a raging seaOf torment....
SATAN
Now why stops the Holy One?
THE HOLY ONE
It wearies me to speak, and to recallThose perished years.... Give me to drink.
OLDHAM
He speaksOut of familiar deeps. Seas sunder us,But the same stars have cast their ghostly raysInto our bosoms.
FAUST
And those cloudless eyesHave seen what we have seen!
THE HOLY ONE
I am refreshed....Thus long ago, in my most desolate hour,I was refreshed by draughts from the deep springsOf light. Beneath a pipal tree I satIn lost despair; and thither to me cameA pilgrim; and he glanced into mine eyesWith sight that read the sickness of my soul,And sat beside me, and in measured wordsLike far-off song told me this parable:
The Buddha came to where the seaCurled silver-white upon the land,And murmurs of infinityBreathed on the sand.
And there lay shells like rosy foamBorne from the caverns of the deep,Frail playthings drifted from the homeOf timeless, tideless sleep.
And on the sand a Fisher stood,Drying his nets that late had seenThe silent caverns of the floodAnd all the wastes between.
The Fisher lingered in his placeWith countenance of mild surprise,And looked upon the Buddha's faceWith dumb, uncomprehending eyes.
And Buddha spake: "Thy nets are drawn,Thy boat rocks idle on the sea,Thy day turns westward, and is gone....Come thou with me."
The Fisher marvelled: "I must toilWith nets and shells among the caves,To win the sea's unwilling spoilFrom the harsh waves."
And Buddha answered: "Cast no moreThy nets upon the troubled sea,Nor gather shells along the shore.Come thou with me.
"Thou drawest shells and curious flowersFrom out the blue untrodden caves.Thou seest the passing of the hours.Thou hearest the clamor of the waves.
"Thou openest the shell where liesThe pearl more white than driven spray—And trackless past thy vision fliesEach passing day.
"But I will teach thee not to stirThe shell nor flower in its sleep.For thou shalt roam the sepulchreThat chasms all their native deep.
"And vain desire, like terror grownDeep in the chambers of thy breast,Shall be from thee forever flown,And thou shalt rest.
"No search for pearls shall blind thy thought,Nor waves, with clamorous harmonies.But in the silence where is naughtThou shalt behold the One that is.
"And where the days now speed like foamAcross thy vision, there shall beFor thee a vast eternal home—An Infinite Sea."
The Fisher looked on Buddha dumb—Looked deep into that tender gaze—Those eyes within whose depths had comeAnd gone the sorrows of all days.
He looked uncomprehendingly,And wearily he shook his head;And turned once more to drag the sea,Knowing not what the Buddha said.
FAUST
The cup again! The Holy One is faint.
OLDHAM
He speaks a miracle!...
THE HOLY ONE
And then I knewThat pilgrim as a saint, whose lips revealedThe glory of the Buddha. I beheldMy life one poisoned network of desireAnd fleshly longing and pain-sowing hope—The evil self seeking its happinessAnd shaping horror. And I cast awayMyself, and cried: What am I but a dream,A wave within the sea, a passing cloudUpon the radiance of eternity?All yearning will I slay, and slay therewithThe sorrow that succeeds it!...
So the lustOf life passed from me; so the narrow IMerged in the infinite, from hope set free—Heritor of Nirvana's holy calm,Wherein the voices of the heart's unrestAre stifled, and the soul expands to claspJoy, nothingness, eternity and peace.
FAUST
Peace.... Peace.... Like bells from upland monasteriesYou speak the word that summons us. But whereIn peace is room for all once-towering hopes—Nay, even for the wrecked and prostrate monolithsThat mark those fallen pylons?
THE HOLY ONE
Let the earth,Ravenous of her young, these too devour,And dust and nothingness engulf their shapes—Vain burdens, bitter monuments.
FAUST
And whereShall I find deeps wherein without a soundI can extinguish my wild will that leapsFlamelike to meet the stars?
THE HOLY ONE
In that deep seaHid in thy breast. Seek thou that tide of calm,For it lies there awaiting.
FAUST
Can it beThat life's whole burden may be cast asideAnd named as nothing, and its memoryPerish forever? In the summer nights,Comes there no stealing ecstasy to stirThe old forgotten longings?
THE HOLY ONE
In the nightAnd in the day, one ecstasy abidesCeaselessly with the heart that has put offDesire—one ecstasy of final calm.All other voices seem harsh clamorings.
OLDHAM
Ah, Holy One, lead me thy way of peace!For I am weary of my heart's vain wars.My life is as a desert, where desireCorrodes me ceaselessly. Instruct my soulTo follow thee home to the gulfs of rest!That, in renouncement of this bitter will,It find at last deliverance it has sought.
THE HOLY ONE
My son, thou hast spoken; thou shalt come in timeTo that abode. The Buddha's light shall guideBoth thee and me, poor seekers. Bide with me;And what I know, that shalt thou freely know,And my peace shall be thy peace....
SATAN
Faust, the gatesAdmit one form already.
FAUST
Ah, the gatesAre pearl and silver.... Would that there were spaceWithin them for such fevered heart as mine—That with the restlessness of stormy windsBeats on its barriers!
THE HOLY ONE
There is room for allWhose souls renounce the world and life and hopeTo gain that soundless silence.
OLDHAM
Faust, I feel,Transfused with light and glory, that deep peaceAwaiting. There shall perish like a flameThe passions which have seared my tortured soulAll my life long. They die; and nothingnessLike a cool flood sweeps over me. Ah, comeWhere never storm shall smite!
FAUST
I see the gates;I see the cool breast of the silvery floodOf refuge and oblivion.... Fare you well,Oldham, and light go with you! For I go,Alas, not with you....
OLDHAM
Faust, Faust, turn not back!I, who am casting all desires in dust,To one desire still cling: I long that joyOf such deliverance fill you as fills meOn this first step of the sublime ascent.
FAUST
I see the light that waits you on the peak;And my heart follows you. But my stern soulPlucks me yet back with cold insistencyI cannot master.... Go! If I could pray,My prayers should follow you. My visions shall;My love shall fold you. But I cannot comeWhere you shall go; I cannot cast asideAll that I surely know—this pitifulAnd shattered mortal life, with its strange gleamsAnd shadows—and embrace the icy voidWhere Being trembles on the final verge.To bid life cease—but linger as the moonLingers in heaven—ah, that is horribleBeyond life's proper horrors!... Were my painA single atom greater—were my soulA single breath more weary—I would come.But now I must confront the winds of heavenStill master of my destinies.... To the last,Not in such tomb-world can my spirit rest.No golden clouds that throng Nirvana's gatesShall tempt me there to enter and resignMy right to strain beyond all gates that be....But you I cannot counsel....
OLDHAM
Me the peaceAlready laps with wavelets of the flood.
FAUST
The flood is sundering us.
OLDHAM
Farewell, farewell,Belovèd friend. I with the Holy OneHenceforth am linked; and grief shall follow meIn what should be your footsteps.
FAUST
Have no grief.In the vast deeps of life's salt bitter seaPerhaps awaits my anodyne, to healLife's wounds....
OLDHAM
Farewell! I go to paradise.[Oldham and the Holy One move slowly away together,pass through the colonnades, and disappear into theforest. Faust follows with his eyes their retreating figures.
SATAN
You do not know a paradise when you see it!Some day, when I have time, I'll start a schoolTo give instruction to great minds like you—Débutant!
FAUST
Ah, I had forgotten you....Two men are worth a thousand devils still.
SATAN
I overrated you. Now get you goneBefore I call the savagery that sleepsHere in the jungle to annihilate youFor your unparalleled stupidity.
FAUST
Stupidity or no, I have one wordStill to say to you, my malicious friend:To heel!
SATAN
What!
FAUST
Aye, to heel, I say! Crouch downAnd follow me, my hound and servitorFrom this hour forth!
SATAN
You have grown very witty.Your wit, however, does not please me.
FAUST
Please you!There are few things that I desire less.To heel!
SATAN
What fiends possess you? Ah, I see!You are still thinking of that wager made,That jest of ours.
FAUST
I am still thinking of it.
SATAN
You do not mean that now you wish to claimThat forfeit seriously?
FAUST
I mean quite that.
SATAN
What an amazing man you really are!For your own sake, I tried to offer youA splendid paradise; I brought you hereAt infinite cost and trouble; you have hadAn hour of insight and experienceNew and instructive to you; your best friendHas found eternal bliss: and now you turn,And just because your uttermost crazy whimIs not quite satisfied with what he graspedThankfully, you revert, with sorry taste,To my old careless generous remarks.I do not think your friends at home would call itA sporting attitude.
FAUST
The jungle shakes—Do you not hear it?—with the stifled, chokedLaughter of leopards, elephants, hyenas,Rhinoceroses, apes, pythons, and tigers,Who hear you and are overcome with mirth....I also laugh with them.
SATAN
MagnanimousYour laughter sounds! True, you have beaten me,And I am at your mercy. By some whim,Trick, technicality, your mind rejectsA noble paradise; and to my pledgeYou therefore are entitled. And I standReady to pay it.
FAUST
Ah, at last we haveAcknowledgment of it! Frankness is goodEven for the Devil, Satan.
SATAN
I have beenFrank with you always. And, if to your taste,I will be franker still. Your stake is won;You have your triumph: but does it quite fillThe chambers of your heart? Will it sufficeIn place of that bright paradise you dreamedMight be your gain as loser? Ah, my friend,In copper you have won, but lost in gold!And victory will not requite for thatYour empty treasury.
FAUST
Not empty quite;You are too modest.
SATAN
Oh, if you choose, my pledgeShall be fulfilled, and I will be your dog—Snarling a little, sometimes—snapping atYour friends and furniture and lady-loves—But yet your dog. However, I can doBetter for you than that....
FAUST
Enough! Enough!
SATAN
But hear me! You'll admit, a feather's weight,A hair's breadth only held you from the gatesThat Oldham entered. Almost they sufficedYour spirit; yes, a moth's wing could have blownYou toward them! 'Twas so nearly I fulfilledAll that I promised. Therefore when I speak,You will, for justice's sake, concede I amNo absolute bungler, no coarse-palatedPlebeian, as to paradises.
FAUST
No.I will admit that.
SATAN
Good! Now, I would makeOne final offer to you.
Faust, I knowIn other regions, beneath other skies,One haven more, the only one of earthThat can be judged in glory to surpassThis paradise you entered not. My faithIs absolute that it is to your needUtterly moulded. Like your heart itself,Its halls are structured, destinate for youAs perfect refuge. And I say to you:Give me the leave, and I will lead you thereFor one supreme and ultimate trial of choiceThat has no doubtful outcome. And my pledgeShall still be valid! If this refuge givesNot all that you desire, you still may claimMy service as your slave. Thus do you riskNo atom, but have gain of one last chanceTo win the paradise you hunger for!
FAUST
A pleasing logic; but I do not trustThe mind behind it.
SATAN
Trust it, or distrust—What matter?—when the issue is so plain!
FAUST
Away! Away!
SATAN
Well, if this hope is vainTo urge you, let despair serve in its steadAs roweled spur. For see where now you stand:The mock of destiny—the man who lostAll joys of the bright many that the worldCherishes! Aye, and even lost his friend,His one deep lasting friend—and stood thereafterFixed like a donkey.... Though I led you onFrom paradise to paradise, and noneSufficed you—that were surely better sport—Testing and trying with sublime contempt—Than finger-twirling! But not thus I lead.For now you shall, you shall have paradise!
FAUST
Deep in my soul, there is a sense that loathesPacts with the Devil. Yet the sanctioned powersEstablished in the world have proved them voidAnd ignorant of paradise.... Where lies it?
SATAN
Follow, and I will lead.
FAUST
A long path?
SATAN
Yes.
FAUST
On! But your bondage waits you at the end.
SATAN
Ah, jester, jester!... Come—give me your hand!
CURTAIN
The scene is the nave of a great cathedral. Two rows of many-shafted columns stretch back to where, in the far background, rises the elaborate magnificence of the High Altar.
The nave is empty, except for an occasional figure moving at the far end of the long central aisle, and an occasional attendant in sacerdotal robes making ready the Altar.
Faust, entering from the right, and Satan, entering from the left, meet in the foreground. Satan is dressed in the dark robes of a priest.
FAUST
I care not for your masquerade attire;But let that pass.... Well, I have kept your hour.And this perhaps is not unfitting placeTo make confession that you weary meA little. In this running to and froOver the earth, my inclination tiresOf your companionship. I am resolved,If three days' time brings forth no new event,To end this, and reclaim you to obeyMy will.
SATAN
I am content; three days will serve.
FAUST
Good! Meanwhile, 'tis at least some recompenseThat we return from airy Eastern domesGlittering in blank sunlight, unto landsWhere men erect their temples to the godsIn forms whose light and shadow, stress and playOf arch and buttress, satisfies my bloodBetter than does barbaric loveliness.The dome that poises its clear perfect curvesRising above the palm-trees, with the lookAs of a wingèd bubble lightly restingOn needless masonry—that symbolled formOf heavenly perfection never fillsMy heart as do these knotted buttressesAnd writhing ribs and vaults that strain in fight—And are victorious, as they raise to heavenThe climbing spires of such an edifice.
SATAN
Quite right—but if you'll let me interrupt—There is a woman yonder who, I think,Is waiting for a chance to speak to you.She looks at you, and hesitates, and turns—As though a little fearful to approachSo great a person.
FAUST
Where is she? I see.I wonder if I know her.
SATAN
She is coming.[A young woman, hardly more than a girl, comesfrom between the pillars and approaches Faust.Satan withdraws a little as she approaches.
THE WOMAN
I did not want to interrupt your talk;But, Mr. Faust, I wished so much to speakTo you. You do not know me?
FAUST
Why, it seems...
THE WOMAN
Of course you do not; why should you remember?But I have seen your face so many timesWhen you perhaps not noticed me at all,That I feel half-acquainted. Mr. BranderSpeaks of you, too, so much that I have grownTo think I know you.
FAUST
Ah; yes, Brander....
THE WOMAN
StillI have not told you who I am, and youDo not yet know me. I am Mrs. Brander.
FAUST
What! Mrs. Brander! Ah, delighted ... yes....
THE WOMAN
You had not heard that we were married?
FAUST
No.Of course, I am astounded; it's delightful—And most surprising.
THE WOMAN
It was very sudden—While you were gone.
FAUST
I see. Yes, I'm surprisedAnd charmed. It's strange, at first I could not bringYou to my memory.
THE WOMAN
I don't believeThat you can yet!
FAUST
Why....
THE WOMAN
I don't wonder at it.I used to whisk about and peer at youAs you came in....
FAUST
Are you then ... then are you ...Midge?
MIDGE
Yes! exactly.
FAUST
This is very charming.Now I remember perfectly, of course,Dear Mrs. Brander! I shall hope to seeBrander himself to-morrow. Give him, please,My warmest wishes.
MIDGE
We shall hope to see youIn our apartment soon. It's very tinyAnd in a quite unfashionable street;But it looks out across a bit of parkTo westward, as I've always hoped it would.Some days the sunset lights are lovely there.You must come look at them.
FAUST
Thank you—indeedI shall be very glad to!
MIDGE
And I know—How shall I say it?—that you'll think me strange,And that I cannot ever be your friendAs Mr. Brander is. I know so little—
FAUST
Dear Mrs. Brander!
MIDGE
But I am so eagerThat you should give me just a little trial—I want so much to know you, and so muchHe should not lose you....
FAUST
Why, you make me feelQuite like a monster!
MIDGE
Then you'll come?
FAUST
I'll come!
MIDGE
Good-bye—and don't forget me.[Midge gives him her hand, and moves away smiling.
FAUST
Well, of allImpossible, grotesque, outrageous tricksThat Brander could have played upon himself!Married—the fool, the fool!—And yet she isCuriously sweet and fresh, that kitchen-maid.
SATAN
Are you quite through?
FAUST
Quite, thank you.... It is strange....But I forget; you are not interested.What is it you would say now?
SATAN
I have thingsGraver to speak of than admiring ladiesOr Gothic architecture. Here, to-day,Unto your doubting eyes there shall be madeA revelation of profounder scopeThan aught that life has brought you.
FAUST
The hour strikesTardily; I am wearier than I wasWhen on this trial we entered.
SATAN
You have lookedAskance at me these many days, perplexedTo reconcile the fountains of my willWith my strange acts, and with the dark reportThat you have heard concerning me. Dear friend,Be you not angry, now I say to youIn full confession, that from day to dayI have deceived you: I have hid my faceEven from my friend: I have with doubtful maskIn alien guises tempted you, to tryYour metal. But the hour of trial is past;The event is sure; and now I ope my heartAnd show to you what few of living menHave guessed—my final secret.
FAUST
Play no tricks.Before me, Satan; try no mumming game.If you speak truth, let riddles cloak it not.
SATAN
Listen, and be truth's judge. I am not suchAs men esteem me; and my spirit's springsRise not from buried and infernal realms,But like your own, out of the fount of GodThey have their being. I, though lowliest far,Yet am a servant of the House of God—Deputed to mine office by His hand,And on His mission.
FAUST
You are trifling with me.
SATAN
I speak the gospel of the living God.
FAUST
Are you not Lord of Evil? God doubtless asksThat service of you?
SATAN
God is infinite,Likewise His wisdom. His omniscience willsThat I go forth among the haunts of menAnd offer evil to their touch. Thereby,Some spurn me—and the force whereby they spurnLifts them up nearer to His arms. Some takeThe sin I offer, fall from grace, go down—And lost in fathomless gulfs of wickedness,Cry out with utter yearning to His loveThat it may save them, and repentant turnTheir prodigal faces toward His doors again,Never to wander more. But some few souls,Who neither spurn temptation nor repentAfter their fall—these unregenerateIt is mine office wholly to destroyAnd cleanse the universe for the praise of God.Thus does all evil serve His mighty throne,And all return to Him.
FAUST
I have no powerTo take the measure of the words you speak.Why tell me such things?
SATAN
I would tell you allAnd show to you at last your destiny.The vanities of the world, the woes and sins,Are but the acid by whose fiery touchI sort the gold from out the transient brassAnd purify and fine it that it beWorthy God's altar. My belovèd friend,Such was your trial; thus have I tempted youWith things averse to God, with forms and faithsOutcast and separate from Him. You have seenThe whole world's vanities; you have come to knowThat in this world's illusion is no powerWhose love is refuge: even the living deathOf cold Nirvana frights you. Thus at last,Knowing that you are powerless, and the worldBare of salvation for your feebleness,You stand on this great threshold; and your eyesThat see despair and loneliness shall raiseTheir sight to heaven; and peace shall fold you round;And God, who is our Father, shall be yours.
FAUST
This is not truth! My fevered eyes are weakTo look into this glowing maze of fireWith vision. All the ramparts of the worldReel round me. I have scoffed God all my days,Believing pain—your province of the world—Proof of His non-existence. And you comeCrying His glory, testifying His faith,Exhorting me to seek Him.... I am lostWhere naught is known to me.