 | Gretchen |  |
Scene.—A market-place in a German town. Entrance to
church on right of stage. A stone cross on the left.
Bessie, Barbara, and Agatha discovered, conversing. Three months have elapsed.
Aga.
Gottfried returned!
Bess.
Ay, and a captain, too;
All steel and gold! I hear the people say
That in the ranks of those who fought and bled,
No braver soldier lives!
Bar.
(maliciously).
Alas, poor Gottfried!
Bess.
Poor Gottfried! To have gained such poverty
I'd given ten years—ay, though it made me thirty!
Bar.
Fool! He is head and ears in love with Gretchen!
There's but a bitter time in store for him.
Bess.
Ah, 'tis a sorry thing this love!
Aga.
For that,
The world without it were a sorry thing!
It's meat and drink to me! (Sighing.)
Bar.
(to Bessie).
Thou foolish child,
Revile not that of which thou knowest naught.
Some day, maybe—observe, I say maybe—
Some one will love thee—strange things come to pass—
And then thou'lt change thy note.
Bess.
If so, I pray
'Twill not be such a one as that gay knight,
Who hath so wondrously bewitched our Gretchen!
But three months since, no happier maiden lived;
And now—kind Heaven help us all!—they say
She will not live to see her twentieth year!
Enter Lisa, unobserved.
Bar.
Girls do not die of honest-hearted love.
(Maliciously.)
They sometimes die of shame and penitence,
When love has carried them beyond themselves.
Lisa
(coming forward).
Foul shame on thee, who darest couple shame
With the most pure and perfect heart on earth!
May Heaven pardon thee thy bitter words!
I'll stake my soul upon her innocence!
Bar.
Thy stake is small—in that thou showest wisdom.
Thou shouldst be an unerring judge of guilt.
But as to innocence—leave innocence
To those who know the meaning of the word.
Lisa.
Rail on at me—I heed a mocking tongue
As little as I heed a winter's wind;
For misery hath hardened me to both.
But bow thy head, and stop thy shameless tongue,
When others speak of that pure angel heart,
Which, day by day, draws nearer to its heaven!
Aga.
(looking off).
See, see, the soldiers!
[All look off.
Bess.
Marry, how they march!
I love a soldier?
Aga.
(sighing).
I love several!
Enter the Soldiers, led by Friedrich, and accompanied by Men and Girls. They halt in line, in front of cathedral, at Friedrich's word.
Aga.
There's Karl!
Bar.
And Otto!
Bess.
Max!
Aga.
And Friedrich, too!
Oh, what a beard!
Gottfried enters, dressed as an officer.
Gott.
Break off!
[They recover pikes and break off, mingling with the crowd.
Whom have we here?
Why, Agatha! and Bessie! Barbara!
[They crowd around him as he greets them.
How fares it with you? Are you married yet?
[They sigh and shake their heads.
What, none of you? Well, there are plenty here
To set that right!
Aga.
Sir, welcome home again!
Bess.
And you're a captain!
Gott.
(laughing).
Yes, unworthily!
Fried.
Nay, never credit that. There never lived
A doughtier soldier!
Bar.
How came it to pass?
Gott.
My faith! I hardly know. 'Twas sheer good luck,
We were at rest around a big camp fire,
Dreaming, maybe, of loved ones far away,
When came a sudden trumpet-call—To horse!
Another moment saw us in the saddle,
And tearing on—we knew not why nor whither.
Then came a shock of strong men breast to breast—
A clash of swords—a hurricane of blows—
I on my back, half blind with blood and rage,
A thousand devils dancing in my eyes,
And friends and foes in wild entanglement,
All tussling for my body—then, a wrench—
A mighty shout—another rush, and lo,
A panting dozen of us on a hill,
Besmirched with blood and dust, and all agog
To grasp my hand and hail me as a hero! (Rises.)
That's all I know of it, except that I
Went in a trooper, and came out a captain!
[Several Soldiers stroll off with Girls. A Soldier remains with Bessie, another with Barbara, Friedrich with Agatha.
Gott.
But there—enough of that! Come, tell me now.
(Anxiously.)
How fares my cousin Gretchen—is she well?
Bess.
(confused).
Yes, yes—that is— (Aside to Soldier.)
How shall I answer him?
Gott.
Is aught amiss?
Bess.
How well thou carriest
Thy new-born rank!
Gott.
(impatiently).
The devil take my rank!
Tell me of Gretchen!
[Bessie, at fault, watches her opportunity, and exit with Soldier.
Bar.
Prithee, ask us not,
We would not say a word to give thee pain
On such a day.
[Exit with Soldier.
Gott.
(amazed).
Pain!
Aga.
Nay—be not distressed,
All may be well.
Gott.
(with sudden eagerness).
She lives?
Aga.
Yes, yes! she lives!
(To Friedrich.)
Oh, come away—I dare not tell him more!
Gott.
Why, how is this? A curse upon the fools!
Where are their tongues? Is aught amiss with her?
At the bare thought of it my heart stands still!
Fried.
Nay, never heed them—girls are all alike—
Mere jealous jades! Thy first and foremost thoughts
Were for another. There's the mischief of it.
Hadst thou but spoken lightly of thy cousin
A shower of praise would have been poured upon her!
Gott.
A plague upon their scurril serpent-tongues!
In the old days they knew no jealousy.
My blood is all a-chill! I shake with fear!
I'll to her house at once, and ere an hour,
I'll learn the best and worst!
[Exit.
Aga.
Alas, poor Gottfried!
Fried.
It's a strange world! Here is a plain, shrewd fellow,
With so much simple sense that when he hears
Of hearts and homes laid waste through misplaced faith,
Uplifts his hands in wonderment to think
That men can be such fools; and, thanking Heaven
That he is not as blind as others are,
He trusts a pretty woman to his friend!
Aga.
But see, she comes! Quick! take me hence away.
Enter Faustus and Gretchen, lovingly. Gretchen, seeing Agatha, advances to speak to her. Agatha turns about, and exit quickly with Friedrich.
Gret.
Oh, Faustus, didst thou see? She turned from me!
Faus.
Nay, nay, she saw thee not.
Gret.
She saw me well!
They shun me, one and all. Where'er I go,
My loved companions look at me askance,
And then, with sidelong looks and pitying words,
They whisper to each other of my shame!
Faus.
Nay, calm thy fears. They do not speak of thee.
Gret.
Oh, Faustus, Faustus,
I know the purport of their whispered words,
As though they had been spoken trumpet-tongued!
Faus.
Nay, never heed them, Gretchen.
Gret.
Never heed them!
They were my world before thou cam'st to me.
They loved me, Faustus, and they honoured me.
And now they turn away from me, as though
I bore a deadly poison in my glance!
Faus.
Dismiss them from thy thoughts. We will go hence
To some far-distant land where none shall know us,
And there the bond of all-forgiving Heaven
Shall sanctify our love.
Gret.
Oh, Faustus, Faustus,
I have thine heart?
Faus.
For ever, and for aye!
Gret.
Ah, Heaven is kind to me, for all my sin!
For when my heart is more than common sad,
I need but close my eyes—and all at once,
I wander at my will amid the days
When thou and I may face the world again.
And yet I am no fitting mate for thee.
Thou, a great lord—rich, honoured, and beloved—
I, a poor simple, untaught, peasant girl!
Yet bear with me—my love shall plague thee little,
Though ever and anon I come to thee,
With faltering step and tearful downcast eyes,
A timid suppliant for such alms of love
As thou in thy good-will mayst grant to me.
So, when thou seest, kneeling at thy feet,
Thy poor, mad, love-sick, trusting, trembling wife,
Throw her in charity one little flower
Out of the boundless garden of thy heart,
That she may go rejoicing on her way.
Faus.
Thou art, indeed, no fitting mate for me—
Thou, glorious in the sheen of innocence. (She covers her eyes.)
I, devil-taught in all unholy art!
Oh, Gretchen, dearly loving—dearly loved—
Wronged beyond all repair, yet all-forgiving,
The simple utterance of thy trusting heart
Is terrible to my unhallowed soul
As the proclaimèd doom of angered Heaven!
Gret.
Hush! hush!
I will not suffer thee to utter treason
Against my lord. I am but his handmaiden.
Yet I am jealous of my master's honour
As of his love.
Faus.
Ah, Gretchen, if his honour
Were trusty as his love, thy jealousy
Might slumber unto death!
Gret.
(anxiously).
But tell me, Faustus,
When first thou camest to me in the vision,
Hadst thou then loved?
Faus.
(sighing).
Ay, Gretchen, verily!
Gret.
With all thy heart?
Faus.
Alas, with all my heart!
Gret.
(sadly).
Would Heaven that I had been the first!
Faus.
Amen!
Gret.
And when she learnt that thou hadst love for me,
Did her heart break?
Faus.
Nay, nay—her love had died
A year before. She fled from me, and I,
In a mad frenzy, born of shattered hopes,
Gave up the world, and sought forgetfulness
In the cold cloisters of a monastery.
For twelve long months, twelve weary, weary months,
I strove to keep my ill-considered vows,
Till, wearying of the sacrilegious lie,
I broke my bonds, and cast my priesthood from me.
Gret.
(aghast).
Faustus! thou art a priest? No, no! no, no!
My senses cheat me, or thou mockest me!
Faus.
If the mere letter of a reckless vow
Could make me priest, I was a priest indeed.
If vows cast off and scattered to the wind
Can free me from my priesthood, I am free.
Gret.
(dazed).
Thou art a priest! and vowed to Heaven! (Suddenly.)
Why then—!
Oh, God preserve me! I am lost indeed!
Oh, grace of Heaven, have mercy on me now!
Oh, take me hence! oh, free me from my life!
What have I done! (Crossing and falling at foot of cross, and clinging to it.)
Oh, Heaven, pity me!
I knew it not! thou knowest I knew it not!
Faus.
(kneeling over her).
Gretchen, in Heaven's eyes I am no priest—
Apostate, if thou wilt; but still no priest.
If there be power in boundless love to heal
The wound that I have opened in thy heart,
That boundless love is thine.
Gret.
(clinging to cross, and shrinking from him).
Thou art a priest;
Thou hast a Bride—thy Church! Thy vows are plighted,
And thou hast cheated her! Away! away!
Lose not a moment—get thee hence to her—
Upon thy knees confess thy faithlessness,
That she may take thee to her heart again!
Be brave—go thou from my unhallowed arms
Back to the heavenly Bride from whom thou camest!
Faus.
Gretchen, be merciful—have pity on me—
Think of our love—I know thou lovest me.
Think of the shame that must await thee here,
If thou art left, unfriended and alone,
To bear the burden I have placed on thee!
Gret.
Think not of me—thy wrong to me is naught—
Thy wrong to injured Heaven is all in all!
Go, make thy peace with her while yet thou mayst.
In the rich plenitude of her great heart
Thy Bride may pardon thee! Oh, Faustus, Faustus!
Thou lovest my body, and I love thy soul!
Oh, be thou brave as I! If I can go
From the enduring heaven of thy love
To shame and misery unspeakable,
Canst thou not yield such mortal heart as mine,
For the pure love of an eternal Bride?
Faus.
Too late—my love for thee is all-supreme—
And while thou livest, as Heaven hears me now,
I'll leave thee not!
Gret.
Faustus, be not deceived.
I love thee with my heart—my heart of hearts—
My very death prayer shall be breathed for thee;
But, though it rend my heart to keep my vow,
As there is pardon for a penitent,
I will not meet thine eyes on earth again!
Nay, touch me not! God pardon thee! Farewell!
[Exit.
Faus.
My doom is spoken and I bow my head.
So, Gretchen, let it be! At thy just bidding
I go to death in life. There is a tomb
In which a living, loving man may bury
All but his aching heart. I go to it!
Mephisto has entered and overheard this.
Meph.
Why, how is this? does not the good work prosper?
Come, come, take heart—'tis but a summer storm—
A day, alone, will bring her to her senses.
Faus.
Fiend, I renounce thee! Give me back myself.
Let me go hence; our bond is at an end!
Meph.
Nay, that's ungenerous—it is indeed.
You are a Churchman—my profound respect
For all your cloth induced me to forego
The customary writing. Satisfied
That I was dealing with a holy man,
I asked no bond—I trusted to your honour.
And now, to take advantage of my weakness,
And turn my much-misplaced credulity
Against myself—nay, 'tis unworthy of you!
Faus.
Poor mocker, hold thy peace—let me go hence,
Back to my cloister, back to the old blank life!
My eyes are open and I see the gulf,
The broad, black gulf, deep as the nether hell,
To which thou leadest me! Release thy grasp—
My heart is changed. Thou hast no hold on me—
Accursed of God—our bond is at an end! (Breaks from him and rushes into the church.)
Meph.
(moving after him, but drawing back at sight of the church).
The blight of hell upon thy head, false priest!
False priest? True priest! true to the lying trade
That I have taught thy smug-faced brotherhood!
The old, old doom! My sword against myself!
As once it was, so ever must it be!
Well, go thy ways!
Go to thy kennel, dog Dominican,
And gnaw the fleshless bones of thy dead joy!
The end has yet to come, and Time's my friend.
But, oh! just Heaven,
Is the fight fair, when this mine enemy
May traffic with me till his end is gained,
Then steep his chicken-soul in penitence,
And cheat damnation? So it comes to pass
I gather fools, blind fools, and only fools!
Oh, for the soul of one wise man—but one—
To show, in triumph, at the Reckoning!
Enter Gottfried.
Gott.
My search is vain—she is not at her home.
Well, patience, patience! I must wait for her
As best I may! (Sees Mephisto.)
So, so; whom have we here?
Surely I know this worthy gentleman?
Meph.
Your humble servant, sir!
Gott.
'Tis Faustus' friend.
Meph.
His very loving friend. But welcome home—
Fame has been busy with your worship's valour.
Gott.
(anxiously).
Sir, you can give me news of cousin Gretchen.
Is the maid safe and well?
Meph.
Why, as to “well,”
What loving maid is ever in rude health,
When he who has her heart is far afield?
But as to “safe”—why, have you not a friend
Who's sworn to keep a watch upon her safety?
And is not that friend Faustus? Have more faith!
Gott.
True, true. He has watched over her?
Meph.
He has,
Most conscientiously. He never leaves her.
Gott.
I breathe again! My heart had sunk within me.
I asked some village girls an hour ago
For news of her. Well, this one shook her head,
And that one sighed; a third looked dubious,
Uncertain whether she should shake or sigh,
Then finally did both. I breathe again.
Meph.
The maid is well—a little pale, perhaps.
But then, poor child—her lover at the wars!
'Twas hardly fair to leave her as you did,
With a mere cold “good-bye.”
Gott.
Why, as for that,
I have no claim, alas! to rank as lover.
Meph.
Ah, pardon me—I know the maiden's heart.
Gott.
Sir, you are jesting!
Meph.
Jesting? Not at all.
For two months past, the town, from end to end,
Has known no topic but your worship's valour;
And while she trembled for your well-being,
Her bosom swelled with pride when brave men told
Of Gottfried's chivalry. Oh, mark my words,
You have gained more promotion than you wot of!
Gott.
Can this be true?
Meph.
Quite true—but see, she comes.
With your permission, and no doubt you'll grant it,
I will withdraw—but ere I take my leave,
Allow me to congratulate you both
On the great happiness in store for you.
Gott.
You're more than good!
Meph.
Some people seem to think so,
But then they flatter me—ha! ha! Good day!
[Exit.
Gott.
At last! at last! Why, how I tremble! Strange!
I am but little moved at thought of death.
I've stared his kingship out of countenance
A dozen times a day.
But, in the presence of this gentle child,
My well-beloved and loving kinswoman,
I am no better than a shaking coward!
Enter Gretchen.
Gott.
Gretchen! At last!
Gret.
(amazed).
Gottfried!
Gott.
Ay, home again!
Hale, sound, and whole, with money in my purse,
And a good-sounding title to my name,
So give me joy of it. Why, how is this?
Hast thou no welcome for me, cousin Gretchen?
Gret.
(with an effort).
Ay, welcome home, dear Gottfried! welcome home!
Gott.
But wherefore dost thou sigh?
Gret.
Nay, heed me not,
But tell me of thyself—the country side
Rings with the tidings of thy valour.
Gott.
Bah!
I am no hero, Gretchen, in myself—
A plain, rude man, with just so much of sense
As to go gladly two leagues round about
To save a broken crown; who loves not blood—
Unless, indeed, it be his own, and that
He loves too well to lose it willingly!
So, cousin Gretchen,
If there be aught of valour in my deeds,
The merit of it is thine own, not mine.
Gret.
Mine, Gottfried? mine?
Gott.
Ay, for it came from thee!
It lives for thee, and it will die with thee!
Gretchen, my dearly loved—
Gret.
Oh, Gottfried! Gottfried!
Gott.
For many a year, at home and far away,
I've had thee at my heart, but did not dare
To speak to thee of love. Misjudge me not—
I do not blush that I have loved thee, Gretchen.
God sent such truth and virgin innocence
To teach rough men how holy love may be.
Let that man blush (if such a one there live)
Who knows thy maiden heart and loves thee not.
I would not be that man!
But if, in giving tongue to my dumb love,
I overstep the bounds of reverence,
Look down in pity on my poor mad heart;
And tell me gently that for man to hope
For more than sister-love from such as thou
Is more than man should dare—and I'll believe it!
Gret.
Gottfried, have mercy on me and be silent!
Dear Gottfried—brother, be my brother still!
Oh, be my brother—I have need of thee!
Such need! Oh, Heaven pity me, such need!
Gott.
Gretchen, my sister, if no more than brother,
Then always brother, now as heretofore!
Why dost thou weep? Nay, nay, take heart again.
Tell me thy sorrow.
Gret.
(aghast).
Tell it unto thee?
No, not to thee! I have my punishment.
If thou hast love for me—I know thou hast—
Go, pray with all thy heart for such as I.
If thou hast pity—and I know thou hast—
Ask me no more, but go and pray for me!
Gott.
Well, be it so. Enough that thou hast cause
To hide thy grief. May Heaven lighten it!
I seek to know no more. My love for thee
Is deathless as the faith it feeds upon!
Gret.
Thy love for me comes of thy faith in me?
Gottfried!
Let thy love die! Uproot it from thine heart;
It feeds on falsehood! Oh, uproot the weed;
It hath no place amid the God-grown flowers—
Truth, steadfast honour, simple manliness—
That blossom in that goodly garden-land.
Let thy love die, brave heart; I am unworthy!
Gott.
(horror-struck).
Gretchen! what sayest thou?
Unworthy? And of what? Of such as I?
(After a pause.)
God help me if I read thy words aright!
Thou, Gretchen, thou? No, no—it could not be!
Thou, Gretchen? Oh, mankind is not so base!
Gret.
Oh, Gottfried, pity me—my heart is broken!
Gott.
Oh, my poor love—my gentle angel-heart!
Oh, death, kind death—that thou canst surely strike,
Hadst thou no pity on this poor fair flower?
Oh, death, kind death,
Would Heaven's mercy thou hadst been at hand,
To fold my darling in thy sheltering wings!
(With sudden fury.)
His name? Quick! quick! His name!
Gret.
(wildly).
Nay, ask me not!
In this have mercy!
Gott.
(drawing his sword).
Quick—his name, I say!
Gret.
No, no—ah, Gottfried, spare him!
Gott.
Quick—his name!
Gret.
He loved me, Gottfried—spare him—he is gone.
Oh, Gottfried, Gottfried—I— (Falls senseless at his feet.)
Gott.
Come hither, all!
[During these lines the Soldiers, Friedrich, and Girls have entered.
His name, give me his name! (They turn away.)
Why, how is this?
Why turn you from me, comrades? Have you heard?
Fried.
Ay, Gottfried, we have heard.
Gott.
A curse on you!
Why hold you back his name?
Fried.
In mercy to thee.
Gott.
(seizing him and threatening him).
Have mercy on thyself! Am I in mood
To play with words? I charge thee on thy life,
Give me his name.
Fried.
Then steel thy heart to hear it.
They say it was thy friend!
Gott.
My friend?
Fried.
Ay, Faustus!
Gott.
Faustus? My friend? They lie!
Bar.
Alas, alas!
She hath confessed the truth!
Gott.
Oh, earth and heaven!
Are there no bounds to human devil-hood?
Are heaven's weapons sheathed? Is honour dead?
Has innocence cast off her majesty? (Unhooks his scabbard and breaks it.)
Away! away! I have no need of thee!
Good, trusty sword, henceforth sheathless thou
Until I home thee to the very hilt
In the foul slough of his accursed heart—
His heart, and then—mine own!
Bessie, Barbara, and Agatha discovered, conversing. Three months have elapsed.
Aga.
Gottfried returned!
Bess.
Ay, and a captain, too;
All steel and gold! I hear the people say
That in the ranks of those who fought and bled,
No braver soldier lives!
Bar.
(maliciously).
Alas, poor Gottfried!
Bess.
Poor Gottfried! To have gained such poverty
I'd given ten years—ay, though it made me thirty!
Bar.
Fool! He is head and ears in love with Gretchen!
There's but a bitter time in store for him.
Bess.
Ah, 'tis a sorry thing this love!
Aga.
For that,
The world without it were a sorry thing!
It's meat and drink to me! (Sighing.)
Bar.
(to Bessie).
Thou foolish child,
Revile not that of which thou knowest naught.
Some day, maybe—observe, I say maybe—
Some one will love thee—strange things come to pass—
And then thou'lt change thy note.
Bess.
If so, I pray
'Twill not be such a one as that gay knight,
Who hath so wondrously bewitched our Gretchen!
But three months since, no happier maiden lived;
And now—kind Heaven help us all!—they say
She will not live to see her twentieth year!
Enter Lisa, unobserved.
Bar.
Girls do not die of honest-hearted love.
(Maliciously.)
They sometimes die of shame and penitence,
When love has carried them beyond themselves.
Lisa
(coming forward).
Foul shame on thee, who darest couple shame
183
May Heaven pardon thee thy bitter words!
I'll stake my soul upon her innocence!
Bar.
Thy stake is small—in that thou showest wisdom.
Thou shouldst be an unerring judge of guilt.
But as to innocence—leave innocence
To those who know the meaning of the word.
Lisa.
Rail on at me—I heed a mocking tongue
As little as I heed a winter's wind;
For misery hath hardened me to both.
But bow thy head, and stop thy shameless tongue,
When others speak of that pure angel heart,
Which, day by day, draws nearer to its heaven!
Aga.
(looking off).
See, see, the soldiers!
[All look off.
Bess.
Marry, how they march!
I love a soldier?
Aga.
(sighing).
I love several!
Enter the Soldiers, led by Friedrich, and accompanied by Men and Girls. They halt in line, in front of cathedral, at Friedrich's word.
Aga.
There's Karl!
Bar.
And Otto!
Bess.
Max!
Aga.
And Friedrich, too!
Oh, what a beard!
Gottfried enters, dressed as an officer.
Gott.
Break off!
[They recover pikes and break off, mingling with the crowd.
Whom have we here?
Why, Agatha! and Bessie! Barbara!
[They crowd around him as he greets them.
How fares it with you? Are you married yet?
[They sigh and shake their heads.
What, none of you? Well, there are plenty here
To set that right!
Aga.
Sir, welcome home again!
Bess.
And you're a captain!
Gott.
(laughing).
Yes, unworthily!
Fried.
Nay, never credit that. There never lived
A doughtier soldier!
184
How came it to pass?
Gott.
My faith! I hardly know. 'Twas sheer good luck,
We were at rest around a big camp fire,
Dreaming, maybe, of loved ones far away,
When came a sudden trumpet-call—To horse!
Another moment saw us in the saddle,
And tearing on—we knew not why nor whither.
Then came a shock of strong men breast to breast—
A clash of swords—a hurricane of blows—
I on my back, half blind with blood and rage,
A thousand devils dancing in my eyes,
And friends and foes in wild entanglement,
All tussling for my body—then, a wrench—
A mighty shout—another rush, and lo,
A panting dozen of us on a hill,
Besmirched with blood and dust, and all agog
To grasp my hand and hail me as a hero! (Rises.)
That's all I know of it, except that I
Went in a trooper, and came out a captain!
[Several Soldiers stroll off with Girls. A Soldier remains with Bessie, another with Barbara, Friedrich with Agatha.
Gott.
But there—enough of that! Come, tell me now.
(Anxiously.)
How fares my cousin Gretchen—is she well?
Bess.
(confused).
Yes, yes—that is— (Aside to Soldier.)
How shall I answer him?
Gott.
Is aught amiss?
Bess.
How well thou carriest
Thy new-born rank!
Gott.
(impatiently).
The devil take my rank!
Tell me of Gretchen!
[Bessie, at fault, watches her opportunity, and exit with Soldier.
Bar.
Prithee, ask us not,
We would not say a word to give thee pain
On such a day.
[Exit with Soldier.
Gott.
(amazed).
Pain!
Aga.
Nay—be not distressed,
All may be well.
Gott.
(with sudden eagerness).
She lives?
Aga.
Yes, yes! she lives!
(To Friedrich.)
Oh, come away—I dare not tell him more!
185
Why, how is this? A curse upon the fools!
Where are their tongues? Is aught amiss with her?
At the bare thought of it my heart stands still!
Fried.
Nay, never heed them—girls are all alike—
Mere jealous jades! Thy first and foremost thoughts
Were for another. There's the mischief of it.
Hadst thou but spoken lightly of thy cousin
A shower of praise would have been poured upon her!
Gott.
A plague upon their scurril serpent-tongues!
In the old days they knew no jealousy.
My blood is all a-chill! I shake with fear!
I'll to her house at once, and ere an hour,
I'll learn the best and worst!
[Exit.
Aga.
Alas, poor Gottfried!
Fried.
It's a strange world! Here is a plain, shrewd fellow,
With so much simple sense that when he hears
Of hearts and homes laid waste through misplaced faith,
Uplifts his hands in wonderment to think
That men can be such fools; and, thanking Heaven
That he is not as blind as others are,
He trusts a pretty woman to his friend!
Aga.
But see, she comes! Quick! take me hence away.
Enter Faustus and Gretchen, lovingly. Gretchen, seeing Agatha, advances to speak to her. Agatha turns about, and exit quickly with Friedrich.
Gret.
Oh, Faustus, didst thou see? She turned from me!
Faus.
Nay, nay, she saw thee not.
Gret.
She saw me well!
They shun me, one and all. Where'er I go,
My loved companions look at me askance,
And then, with sidelong looks and pitying words,
They whisper to each other of my shame!
Faus.
Nay, calm thy fears. They do not speak of thee.
Gret.
Oh, Faustus, Faustus,
I know the purport of their whispered words,
As though they had been spoken trumpet-tongued!
Faus.
Nay, never heed them, Gretchen.
Gret.
Never heed them!
They were my world before thou cam'st to me.
They loved me, Faustus, and they honoured me.
And now they turn away from me, as though
186
Faus.
Dismiss them from thy thoughts. We will go hence
To some far-distant land where none shall know us,
And there the bond of all-forgiving Heaven
Shall sanctify our love.
Gret.
Oh, Faustus, Faustus,
I have thine heart?
Faus.
For ever, and for aye!
Gret.
Ah, Heaven is kind to me, for all my sin!
For when my heart is more than common sad,
I need but close my eyes—and all at once,
I wander at my will amid the days
When thou and I may face the world again.
And yet I am no fitting mate for thee.
Thou, a great lord—rich, honoured, and beloved—
I, a poor simple, untaught, peasant girl!
Yet bear with me—my love shall plague thee little,
Though ever and anon I come to thee,
With faltering step and tearful downcast eyes,
A timid suppliant for such alms of love
As thou in thy good-will mayst grant to me.
So, when thou seest, kneeling at thy feet,
Thy poor, mad, love-sick, trusting, trembling wife,
Throw her in charity one little flower
Out of the boundless garden of thy heart,
That she may go rejoicing on her way.
Faus.
Thou art, indeed, no fitting mate for me—
Thou, glorious in the sheen of innocence. (She covers her eyes.)
I, devil-taught in all unholy art!
Oh, Gretchen, dearly loving—dearly loved—
Wronged beyond all repair, yet all-forgiving,
The simple utterance of thy trusting heart
Is terrible to my unhallowed soul
As the proclaimèd doom of angered Heaven!
Gret.
Hush! hush!
I will not suffer thee to utter treason
Against my lord. I am but his handmaiden.
Yet I am jealous of my master's honour
As of his love.
Faus.
Ah, Gretchen, if his honour
Were trusty as his love, thy jealousy
Might slumber unto death!
187
(anxiously).
But tell me, Faustus,
When first thou camest to me in the vision,
Hadst thou then loved?
Faus.
(sighing).
Ay, Gretchen, verily!
Gret.
With all thy heart?
Faus.
Alas, with all my heart!
Gret.
(sadly).
Would Heaven that I had been the first!
Faus.
Amen!
Gret.
And when she learnt that thou hadst love for me,
Did her heart break?
Faus.
Nay, nay—her love had died
A year before. She fled from me, and I,
In a mad frenzy, born of shattered hopes,
Gave up the world, and sought forgetfulness
In the cold cloisters of a monastery.
For twelve long months, twelve weary, weary months,
I strove to keep my ill-considered vows,
Till, wearying of the sacrilegious lie,
I broke my bonds, and cast my priesthood from me.
Gret.
(aghast).
Faustus! thou art a priest? No, no! no, no!
My senses cheat me, or thou mockest me!
Faus.
If the mere letter of a reckless vow
Could make me priest, I was a priest indeed.
If vows cast off and scattered to the wind
Can free me from my priesthood, I am free.
Gret.
(dazed).
Thou art a priest! and vowed to Heaven! (Suddenly.)
Why then—!
Oh, God preserve me! I am lost indeed!
Oh, grace of Heaven, have mercy on me now!
Oh, take me hence! oh, free me from my life!
What have I done! (Crossing and falling at foot of cross, and clinging to it.)
Oh, Heaven, pity me!
I knew it not! thou knowest I knew it not!
Faus.
(kneeling over her).
Gretchen, in Heaven's eyes I am no priest—
Apostate, if thou wilt; but still no priest.
If there be power in boundless love to heal
The wound that I have opened in thy heart,
That boundless love is thine.
Gret.
(clinging to cross, and shrinking from him).
Thou art a priest;
Thou hast a Bride—thy Church! Thy vows are plighted,
And thou hast cheated her! Away! away!
188
Upon thy knees confess thy faithlessness,
That she may take thee to her heart again!
Be brave—go thou from my unhallowed arms
Back to the heavenly Bride from whom thou camest!
Faus.
Gretchen, be merciful—have pity on me—
Think of our love—I know thou lovest me.
Think of the shame that must await thee here,
If thou art left, unfriended and alone,
To bear the burden I have placed on thee!
Gret.
Think not of me—thy wrong to me is naught—
Thy wrong to injured Heaven is all in all!
Go, make thy peace with her while yet thou mayst.
In the rich plenitude of her great heart
Thy Bride may pardon thee! Oh, Faustus, Faustus!
Thou lovest my body, and I love thy soul!
Oh, be thou brave as I! If I can go
From the enduring heaven of thy love
To shame and misery unspeakable,
Canst thou not yield such mortal heart as mine,
For the pure love of an eternal Bride?
Faus.
Too late—my love for thee is all-supreme—
And while thou livest, as Heaven hears me now,
I'll leave thee not!
Gret.
Faustus, be not deceived.
I love thee with my heart—my heart of hearts—
My very death prayer shall be breathed for thee;
But, though it rend my heart to keep my vow,
As there is pardon for a penitent,
I will not meet thine eyes on earth again!
Nay, touch me not! God pardon thee! Farewell!
[Exit.
Faus.
My doom is spoken and I bow my head.
So, Gretchen, let it be! At thy just bidding
I go to death in life. There is a tomb
In which a living, loving man may bury
All but his aching heart. I go to it!
Mephisto has entered and overheard this.
Meph.
Why, how is this? does not the good work prosper?
Come, come, take heart—'tis but a summer storm—
A day, alone, will bring her to her senses.
189
Fiend, I renounce thee! Give me back myself.
Let me go hence; our bond is at an end!
Meph.
Nay, that's ungenerous—it is indeed.
You are a Churchman—my profound respect
For all your cloth induced me to forego
The customary writing. Satisfied
That I was dealing with a holy man,
I asked no bond—I trusted to your honour.
And now, to take advantage of my weakness,
And turn my much-misplaced credulity
Against myself—nay, 'tis unworthy of you!
Faus.
Poor mocker, hold thy peace—let me go hence,
Back to my cloister, back to the old blank life!
My eyes are open and I see the gulf,
The broad, black gulf, deep as the nether hell,
To which thou leadest me! Release thy grasp—
My heart is changed. Thou hast no hold on me—
Accursed of God—our bond is at an end! (Breaks from him and rushes into the church.)
Meph.
(moving after him, but drawing back at sight of the church).
The blight of hell upon thy head, false priest!
False priest? True priest! true to the lying trade
That I have taught thy smug-faced brotherhood!
The old, old doom! My sword against myself!
As once it was, so ever must it be!
Well, go thy ways!
Go to thy kennel, dog Dominican,
And gnaw the fleshless bones of thy dead joy!
The end has yet to come, and Time's my friend.
But, oh! just Heaven,
Is the fight fair, when this mine enemy
May traffic with me till his end is gained,
Then steep his chicken-soul in penitence,
And cheat damnation? So it comes to pass
I gather fools, blind fools, and only fools!
Oh, for the soul of one wise man—but one—
To show, in triumph, at the Reckoning!
190
Gott.
My search is vain—she is not at her home.
Well, patience, patience! I must wait for her
As best I may! (Sees Mephisto.)
So, so; whom have we here?
Surely I know this worthy gentleman?
Meph.
Your humble servant, sir!
Gott.
'Tis Faustus' friend.
Meph.
His very loving friend. But welcome home—
Fame has been busy with your worship's valour.
Gott.
(anxiously).
Sir, you can give me news of cousin Gretchen.
Is the maid safe and well?
Meph.
Why, as to “well,”
What loving maid is ever in rude health,
When he who has her heart is far afield?
But as to “safe”—why, have you not a friend
Who's sworn to keep a watch upon her safety?
And is not that friend Faustus? Have more faith!
Gott.
True, true. He has watched over her?
Meph.
He has,
Most conscientiously. He never leaves her.
Gott.
I breathe again! My heart had sunk within me.
I asked some village girls an hour ago
For news of her. Well, this one shook her head,
And that one sighed; a third looked dubious,
Uncertain whether she should shake or sigh,
Then finally did both. I breathe again.
Meph.
The maid is well—a little pale, perhaps.
But then, poor child—her lover at the wars!
'Twas hardly fair to leave her as you did,
With a mere cold “good-bye.”
Gott.
Why, as for that,
I have no claim, alas! to rank as lover.
Meph.
Ah, pardon me—I know the maiden's heart.
Gott.
Sir, you are jesting!
Meph.
Jesting? Not at all.
For two months past, the town, from end to end,
Has known no topic but your worship's valour;
And while she trembled for your well-being,
Her bosom swelled with pride when brave men told
Of Gottfried's chivalry. Oh, mark my words,
191
Gott.
Can this be true?
Meph.
Quite true—but see, she comes.
With your permission, and no doubt you'll grant it,
I will withdraw—but ere I take my leave,
Allow me to congratulate you both
On the great happiness in store for you.
Gott.
You're more than good!
Meph.
Some people seem to think so,
But then they flatter me—ha! ha! Good day!
[Exit.
Gott.
At last! at last! Why, how I tremble! Strange!
I am but little moved at thought of death.
I've stared his kingship out of countenance
A dozen times a day.
But, in the presence of this gentle child,
My well-beloved and loving kinswoman,
I am no better than a shaking coward!
Enter Gretchen.
Gott.
Gretchen! At last!
Gret.
(amazed).
Gottfried!
Gott.
Ay, home again!
Hale, sound, and whole, with money in my purse,
And a good-sounding title to my name,
So give me joy of it. Why, how is this?
Hast thou no welcome for me, cousin Gretchen?
Gret.
(with an effort).
Ay, welcome home, dear Gottfried! welcome home!
Gott.
But wherefore dost thou sigh?
Gret.
Nay, heed me not,
But tell me of thyself—the country side
Rings with the tidings of thy valour.
Gott.
Bah!
I am no hero, Gretchen, in myself—
A plain, rude man, with just so much of sense
As to go gladly two leagues round about
To save a broken crown; who loves not blood—
Unless, indeed, it be his own, and that
He loves too well to lose it willingly!
So, cousin Gretchen,
If there be aught of valour in my deeds,
The merit of it is thine own, not mine.
Gret.
Mine, Gottfried? mine?
192
Ay, for it came from thee!
It lives for thee, and it will die with thee!
Gretchen, my dearly loved—
Gret.
Oh, Gottfried! Gottfried!
Gott.
For many a year, at home and far away,
I've had thee at my heart, but did not dare
To speak to thee of love. Misjudge me not—
I do not blush that I have loved thee, Gretchen.
God sent such truth and virgin innocence
To teach rough men how holy love may be.
Let that man blush (if such a one there live)
Who knows thy maiden heart and loves thee not.
I would not be that man!
But if, in giving tongue to my dumb love,
I overstep the bounds of reverence,
Look down in pity on my poor mad heart;
And tell me gently that for man to hope
For more than sister-love from such as thou
Is more than man should dare—and I'll believe it!
Gret.
Gottfried, have mercy on me and be silent!
Dear Gottfried—brother, be my brother still!
Oh, be my brother—I have need of thee!
Such need! Oh, Heaven pity me, such need!
Gott.
Gretchen, my sister, if no more than brother,
Then always brother, now as heretofore!
Why dost thou weep? Nay, nay, take heart again.
Tell me thy sorrow.
Gret.
(aghast).
Tell it unto thee?
No, not to thee! I have my punishment.
If thou hast love for me—I know thou hast—
Go, pray with all thy heart for such as I.
If thou hast pity—and I know thou hast—
Ask me no more, but go and pray for me!
Gott.
Well, be it so. Enough that thou hast cause
To hide thy grief. May Heaven lighten it!
I seek to know no more. My love for thee
Is deathless as the faith it feeds upon!
Gret.
Thy love for me comes of thy faith in me?
Gottfried!
Let thy love die! Uproot it from thine heart;
It feeds on falsehood! Oh, uproot the weed;
It hath no place amid the God-grown flowers—
Truth, steadfast honour, simple manliness—
That blossom in that goodly garden-land.
193
Gott.
(horror-struck).
Gretchen! what sayest thou?
Unworthy? And of what? Of such as I?
(After a pause.)
God help me if I read thy words aright!
Thou, Gretchen, thou? No, no—it could not be!
Thou, Gretchen? Oh, mankind is not so base!
Gret.
Oh, Gottfried, pity me—my heart is broken!
Gott.
Oh, my poor love—my gentle angel-heart!
Oh, death, kind death—that thou canst surely strike,
Hadst thou no pity on this poor fair flower?
Oh, death, kind death,
Would Heaven's mercy thou hadst been at hand,
To fold my darling in thy sheltering wings!
(With sudden fury.)
His name? Quick! quick! His name!
Gret.
(wildly).
Nay, ask me not!
In this have mercy!
Gott.
(drawing his sword).
Quick—his name, I say!
Gret.
No, no—ah, Gottfried, spare him!
Gott.
Quick—his name!
Gret.
He loved me, Gottfried—spare him—he is gone.
Oh, Gottfried, Gottfried—I— (Falls senseless at his feet.)
Gott.
Come hither, all!
[During these lines the Soldiers, Friedrich, and Girls have entered.
His name, give me his name! (They turn away.)
Why, how is this?
Why turn you from me, comrades? Have you heard?
Fried.
Ay, Gottfried, we have heard.
Gott.
A curse on you!
Why hold you back his name?
Fried.
In mercy to thee.
Gott.
(seizing him and threatening him).
Have mercy on thyself! Am I in mood
To play with words? I charge thee on thy life,
Give me his name.
Fried.
Then steel thy heart to hear it.
They say it was thy friend!
Gott.
My friend?
Fried.
Ay, Faustus!
Gott.
Faustus? My friend? They lie!
Bar.
Alas, alas!
She hath confessed the truth!
194
Oh, earth and heaven!
Are there no bounds to human devil-hood?
Are heaven's weapons sheathed? Is honour dead?
Has innocence cast off her majesty? (Unhooks his scabbard and breaks it.)
Away! away! I have no need of thee!
Good, trusty sword, henceforth sheathless thou
Until I home thee to the very hilt
In the foul slough of his accursed heart—
His heart, and then—mine own!
| Gretchen | |