1130 1140 1150 Grünender Hügel. Ueber die Höhen, Mephistopheles. YLOR Er schläft! So recht, ihr luft'gen, zarten Jungen! Für dieß Concert bin ich in eurer Schuld. INST RD Du bist noch nicht der Mann, den Teufel fest zu halten! Umgaukelt ihn mit süßen Traumgestalten, Versenkt ihn in ein Meer des Wahns! Doch dieser Schwelle Zauber zu zerspalten, 1160 Bedarf ich eines Rattenzahns. Nicht lange brauch' ich zu beschwören, Schon raschelt eine hier und wird sogleich mich hören. Der Herr der Ratten und der Mäuse, Da kommst du schon hervorgehupft! Nur frisch ans Werk! Die Spige, die mich bannte, 1170 Sie sigt ganz vornen an der Kante. Noch einen Biß, so ist's geschehn !— Nun, Fauste, träume fort, bis wir uns wiedersehn. Bin ich denn abermals betrogen? Verschwindet so der geisterreiche Drang, After a short interval, spent by Faust in a sad drowsy weariness and disappointment, a knock is heard at his door; after permission to enter has been given thrice, as the law of magic requires, Mephistopheles reappears, no longer in the guise of a travelling scholar, but as a gay gentleman of high degree, with a red coat, gold lace, silken cloak, and the long cock's-feather, now so inseparable from our idea of Mephistopheles, in his hat. He recommends Faust to adopt a similar costume, and come and see life in his company. Dress !— what can dress avail to alter the inner man? (rejoins Faust). “The torture of this narrow life of earth" would still be raging in his bosom. Abstain, abstain! such is the "eternal song" dinned into every mortal's ear. Every morning he says, in bitter disappointment, "Would God it were evening," and each evening "Would God it were morning." Life has "sent us sleep, and stricken sleep with dreams, Saying, joy is not, but love of joy shall be." E God Himself, who can stir the inner man so strongly, is powerless to change the outward world that presses so hardly and heavily upon humanity. Death itself were welcome! "Yes," Mephistopheles rejoins, "always welcome till he appears. Who was it who mixed a bowl of poison recently, and then somehow didn't drink it?” "Ah, yes," Faust answers; "a childlike reminiscence drew me back from my design! A curse upon all such sweet influences, such dazzling and enticing allurements, that attract us to life and its cheating delusions! a curse upon ambition, and upon fancy! a curse upon family ties and earthly goods; upon Mammon and the 'dreamful ease' proffered to us by him! a curse upon wine and love, upon Hope and Faith! and a triple curse upon Patience, the worst of all evils!" At this point, invisible spirits sing a wailing dirge over the destruction invoked, by Faust's words, on the beauty and order of the world; let him, the mightiest mind among earth's children, rebuild once more within his breast the shattered fabric-enter on a new path of life with brightened sense, and hear new songs from Nature's heart. Mephistopheles, claiming the spirits as his coadjutors, explains their words as recommending a life of passion and worldly activity. Away with pain and loneliness-go forth, be a man among men; companionship and faithful service shall not be wanting. "On what condition ?" says Faust. "Never mind the terms at present!" replies Mephistopheles. "Nay-but the devil does nothing for nothing—speak out, what are the conditions?" "Well, loyal service from Mephistopheles to Faust in this life; in the life beyond, master and servant to change their parts!" For Faust the Beyond has no terrors-it may be a land of love, or of hate—of height, or of depth. This world is the source of all his joys and sorrows-why prate or care about the possibilities of the next? Yet what, on this earth, can a poor sorry Devil confer on him, that is worth craving? Gold? a mere transitory means, not an end? a Woman's love? Yes, divided with one's neighbour! Honour and Fame? the meteors of a moment. A restless activity, a ceaseless round of seeing, experiencing, inquiring-that is the highest life-if once the passing moment seem attractive enough for its departure to be regretted, if once he be tempted to say to it, "Stay awhile, thou art so fair"—then let the compact be over, and Mephistopheles' services be complete, and, for Faust, Time be no more! "Done!" Mephistopheles rejoins; "only remember, for I shan't forget! And as it is to be a bargain, let it be put down and signed." "Pedant!" Faust exclaims. "Why trust a parchment if you doubt a promise? On what, too, shall it be written? and with what? Please yourself, since the Devil's turned precisian." "Pooh -don't be so eloquent about nothing-just your signature with a drop of blood!” "Well—have your whim, though there is little fear that I shall break the bond; Nature and the Earth Spirit reject me; Thought and Knowledge only bring ennui: let us try Life, Passion, Change, Activity; not seeking pure Joy or pure Pain, but the whirl and alternations between the two, making my own experience co-extensive with that of all humanity, and in the end, like it, perishing." "That is all very well," replies Mephistopheles, "but remember withal that none but a god can prove equal to such a task. Be as determined as you will, call a poet's imagination to your aid, combine all opposite qualities in yourself, till you are the very microcosm of mankind, yet at the end you will be—what you are--not what conventional 'trappings and suits,' whether of woe or of joy, would make you out to be. Come on and enjoy! never mind reflecting. What a martyrdom is it to live here, for instance, lecturing dull students, and getting dull yourself; thrashing straw with no corn in it! There's one outside now! go you and get ready for our journeyI'll deal with him.” Faust obeys-and Mephistopheles, putting on the Professor's gown, exults, in soliloquy, over the certainty of his triumph over Faust by dragging him through life wild and tame, and mocking him with unreal joys. Such a soul as Faust's, so restless and dissatisfied, hardly needs a Devil to lead it to its ruin. This over-confident estimate of his own power, and of Faust's weakness, is hardly finished, when the student enters a simpleminded youth, who has just left his mother, and comes, all eagerness, to learn at the feet of the famous Doctor. He naïvely confesses that his first impressions of the university are not favourable, but Mephistopheles reassures him, and inquires as to what course of study he intends to choose. To this question the student does not give a direct answer ; his ambition, it appears, like Faust's, is to know everything; but he is young, and a holiday now and then would be welcome. Mephistopheles, however, shows no sympathy with this youthful weakTime flies, he says, and must be used; and to use time rightly we require method. Therefore it will be wise to begin with a course of Logic, for Logic braces the mind up so tight that "it creeps cautiously along the path of thought," and no longer "goes Will-oWisping to and fro." It will also separate, and exhibit in detail, ness. all the interwoven threads of the web of thought, though, it is true, nothing comes of all this elaborate dissection; nay, the life itself is apt to disappear during the process. This medley of advice and satire produces its natural effect upon the student, and he complains that he feels as if "a mill-wheel were going round in his head." Mephistopheles, however, passes on unmoved to Metaphysics. The aim of this science, he says, is to be profound, to comprehend all that which is not suited for the brain of man. Here, accordingly, fine phrases are all-important. But, as the pupil appears to follow him less and less, he leaves Metaphysics, and proceeds to give him some practical directions as to how best to take advantage of the instruction here provided for him. Five lectures a day, each one to be carefully prepared from text-books, and notes taken at the lecture, in order to see that the lecturer says nothing but what stands in the text-book : such is the whimsical advice which Mephistopheles offers, and which the student innocently accepts. The latter, pressed again by Mephistopheles to choose a "faculty," can only express his horror of Jurisprudence, and in this Mephistopheles declares that he agrees with him: Law, he says, resembles an hereditary disease; by it, Reason is turned into Nonsense, and Charity is made a curse, while our inborn sense of Justice is totally ignored. Emboldened by this sympathy with his dislike for Law, the student somewhat timidly declares in favour of Theology; whereupon Mephistopheles, in his most solemn tones, warns the young man how hard it is to follow the right road, and to distinguish between the hidden poison and the true medicine. It is safest to listen to one teacher, and one only, and to swear by his words; in fact, words are everything, for by their help you will gain "the temple of certainty." Meaning is all very well, but it is not indispensable, for whenever it fails you, a trusty word is ever ready to take its place. Words are the true weapons of controversy; words are the best stones with which to build up a system; words are the most nourishing food for faith. The scholar is so impressed by this eloquent definition of Theology, that he begs Mephistopheles to give him a "strong word or two" on the subject of Medicine. But Mephistopheles is weary of the restraint under which he has hitherto been speaking, and in an aside informs us that in what he is about to say he will be once more himself. Accordingly he defines Medicine as a science in which, after long and thorough study, you make up your mind to leave everything to Providence. The main thing is to seize the right moment. He illustrates his meaning by proceeding to show the student how he may make the practice of Medicine subservient to base purposes. The young man then takes his leave, but first begs Mephistopheles to write something in his album. To |