University of Virginia Library

Laboratory (in the fashion of the Middle Ages. Cumbrous, heavy apparatus for fantastic purposes).
Wagner
(at the hearth).

Mephistopheles
(entering).
Welcome! I bring such luck as in my power.

Wagner
(anxiously).
Welcome! To come just at the planet hour!
(In a low voice.)
Hush! not a breath, while you look on intent.
A mighty work of wonderful event
Is at the moment of accomplishment—
A man is being made!

Mephistopheles
(in a whisper).
A man! and will it
Be soon done? are your lovers in the skillet?

Wagner.
Heaven help you! the romance of action, passion,
Father and mother, is quite out of fashion.
I've shown up pretty well that idle pother—
The thought of child by no means implies mother:
The tender point from which life sprang and started
Is gone—clean gone—the glory all departed.
The eager impulse from within that pressed,
Received and gave, and, prompt to manifest
Itself, went on advancing by degrees,
The nearest first, the foreign next to seize,
Is from its dignity deposed, dethroned,
From this day forward, disallowed, disowned
No doubt the old views may still for the brute beast
Answer, but man, high-gifted man at least,
Will have a higher, purer form of birth.
[Turns to the hearth.
Look yonder! see the flashes from the hearth!
Hope for the world dawns there, that, having laid
The stuff together of which man is made,
The hundred-fold ingredients mixing, blending,
(For upon mixture is the whole depending,)
If then in a retort we slowly mull it,
Next to a philosophic temper dull it,
Distil and re-distil, at leisure thin it,
All will come right, in silence, to a minute.
[Turning again to the hearth.
'Tis forming,—every second brings it nearer—
And my conviction becomes stronger, clearer.
What Nature veils in mystery, I expect
Through the plain understanding to effect;
What was organisation will at last
Be with the art of making crystals classed.

Mephistopheles.
Who has lived long will never be surprised—
Nothing in the world is new. I've long ago
Met, in my years of going to and fro
And up and down in earth, men crystallised.

Wagner
(gazing intently on the phial).
It forms! glows! gathers! in a moment more
The work's accomplished never done before!
Broach an unfolded project, men suspect it,
Scoff at it, as a madman's dream reject it;
We, in our turn, may laugh when the event
Is placed beyond the reach of accident.
Think of the thinker able to produce
A brain to think with fit for instant use!
(Gazing on the phial with complacency.)
The glass rings low, the charming power that lives
Within it makes the music that it gives.
It dims! it brightens! it will shape itself.
And see!—a graceful dazzling little elf.
He lives! he moves! spruce mannikin of fire,
What more can we? what more can earth desire?
Mystery is no longer mystery.
Listen! a sound! a voice! and soon will be
Intelligible words addressed to me.

Homunculus
(in the phial, to Wagner).
Ha! father dear! how goes it? 'twas no jest;
Clasp me affectionately to your breast.
Not quite so tight. So fervent an embrace
Incurs the risk of breaking the glass case.
Essentially distinct, the Natural
Finds in the Universe no resting-place,
The Artificial needs restricted space.
(To Mephistopheles.)
Ha! rascal! my old cousin, are you here?
Good fellow at such moment to appear.
What luck has brought you? nothing could in fact
Be timelier. While I am, I still must act;
I would address myself to work at once,
And you're the very fellow for the nonce.

Wagner.
A word, just one short word: till now I blushed
At my own ignorance, when thousands rushed
Up to my chair, and young and old perplexed
My brain with problems intricate and vexed;
As, for example, none can comprehend
How soul and body in such union blend,
Inseparably bound together they,
Yet battling with each other every day.
So then—

Mephistopheles.
A moment! pray, resolve the doubt,
How happens it that man and wife fall out?
On this, my friend, we'll get no satisfaction.
Here's work to do we had better set about:
The little fellow's attribute is action.

Homunculus.
What's to be done?

Mephistopheles
(pointing to a side-door).
Thy talents here employ.

Wagner
(still looking into the phial).
Thou art indeed a very lovely boy!

[The side-door opens. Faustus seen stretched on a couch. The phial slips from Wagner's hands, hovers over Faustus, and shines on him.
Homunculus.
Expressive!—
Lovely scenery all around!
A clear lake in the dusk grove's deep recess;
Nymphs playfully that to the water press;
And—what a pretty picture!—they undress.
Well! that's not bad; and near the lake's green bound,
Distinct from all, that countenance divine!
—To look on her is to adore and love.
Daughter seems she of old heroic line,
Or of the children of the Gods above.
Her foot she dips into the light serene
Of the waves' trembling crystal, cools the flame
Of life that glows through all that noble frame.
But what a rush and rustle of quick wings,
With splash and crash through the smooth mirror rings!
The maidens fly in terror; but the Queen
In womanly composure smiles to see
The prince of swans wind gently to her knee,
Nestling up to her—how familiarly!
Bold suitor, not to be denied is he!
—But suddenly a rising vapour draws
A curtain close of thick-inwoven gauze,
Hiding the loveliest scene.

Mephistopheles.
Why, what a world in all you do relate!
For such a little fellow, you're a great
Romancer—visionary, rather. I
See nothing.

Homunculus.
That I do believe, for why,
You're a born northern, born in a bleak clime;
And in the dreariest, blackest hour of time,
On the shapeless gloom of the dark ages flung;
And you in youth have been brought up among
Ritters and priests: how could your eye be free?
'Tis only in the dark that you can see.
(Looking around.)
Blocks of brown stone! vaults mouldering, dripping wall,
Zigzags, fantastic arches, low and small!
Into another scrape we shall have got;
Should he wake here, he dies upon the spot.
Wood-lake, and swans, and solitary stream,
And river-nymphs that from the waters gleam,
And Hope and Love, are his entrancing dream.
How could he to this den be reconciled?
Even I, that am as cheerful as a child,
And suit myself to all things, scarce can bear
This dungeon. Off with him!

Mephistopheles.
Aye off—but where?

Homunculus.
Command the warrior to the field of fight,
Lead to the dance the maiden, and all's right;
And luckily—it just occurs to me—
To-night's the Classical Walpurgis Night:
Cannot imagine a more apt event—
It brings him to his very element.

Mephistopheles.
I've never heard of it. What can it be?

Homunculus.
How could it ever have come to your ears!
Romantic spectres are your all in all!
The genuine are also Classical.

Mephistopheles.
But to what point of the compass sail we now
For this land of my old-world kinsmen? I somehow
Fancy with them that I shall never take—
'Tis an acquaintance I've no wish to make.

Homunculus.
North-western, Satan, lies thy pleasure ground;
'Tis to the south-east we to-night are bound.
Through a wide valley flows Peneios free,
In quiet creeks embowered with bush and tree;
The valley to the mountain glens lies spread
With old and new Pharsalus overhead.

Mephistopheles.
Pharsalus! do not speak of it,—the strife
Of Slave and Despot sickens me of life—
There is no end of it. A battle won
Does nothing; 'tis but a campaign begun;
While Asmodæus—this none calls to mind—
Still goads them on, and mocks them from behind.
They fight, they say, where Freedom's banner waves:
Seen truly, 'tis a war of slaves with slaves.

Homunculus.
Leave them to wrangle on. Man's nature and
Condition everlasting war demand;
Each has to guard himself as best he can
From boyhood up, and so grows into man.
But that's for them, not us. The matter now
Before us is to cure this man—but how?
If you have any remedy, apply it;
If you have none, then there's mine, let me try it.

Mephistopheles.
Oh! I know many a charm and Brocken spell
Should in a common case soon have him well;
But here, where Heathen bolts resist, repel,
I can do nothing. These Greeks never were
Worth any thing; yet do they dazzle you
With the free play of the senses, that so wins
The human breast, and lures to cheerful sins.
Ours are of soberer cast and graver hue;
And now—

Homunculus.
'Twas not your habit to be coy;
You'll find Thessalian witches there, my boy!

Mephistopheles.
Thessalian witches! They are persons whom
I have been asking after. I wish to
Make their acquaintance—just an interview;
Night after night with them would never do.
It were, I fancy, dreary merriment
But for a visit—but for an experiment.

Homunculus.
The mantle—trot him out—'tis good strong stuff,
And carries double—'twill do well enough;
Come wrap the ritter in it, neck and feet.
Off with us! Here, leap up into your seat—
Here, catch the skirt; I'll light you on your way.

Wagner.
And I—

Homunculus.
And You—oh! you at home may stay,
The main pursuit of life, as now, pursuing.
Spread the old parchments out as you are doing;
The scattered elements of life collect,
Combine them as the recipes direct;
In nothing from the letter deviate thou:
Think of the ‘what,’ but still more of the ‘how;’
While o'er a section of the world I fly,
To hit, perhaps, the dot upon the ‘i.’
The triumph's won, the mighty work attained,
The well-earned meed of thousand efforts gained;
Gold, honour, reputation, long life, health,
—Science, perhaps, and virtue—surely wealth.
Farewell!

Wagner.
Farewell! The cold word chills my heart:
Never to meet again, I feel, we part.

Mephistopheles.
Away we go! swift to Peneios tend!
There's something in my bright young cousin's aid.
(To the Spectators confidentially.)
In the end, we all depend
On the creatures we have made!