The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01 · Chapter 50Garden
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MARGARET on FAUST's arm. MARTHA with MEPHISTOPHELES walking up and down.
I feel it, you but spare my ignorance, The gentleman to blame me stoops thus low.
[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET From the Painting by Carl Becker]
A traveler from complaisance Still makes the best of things; I know Too well, my humble prattle never can Have power to entertain so wise a man.
One glance, one word from thee doth charm me more Than the world's wisdom or the sage's lore.
[He kisses her hand.]
Nay! trouble not yourself! A hand so coarse, So rude as mine, how can you kiss! What constant work at home must I not do perforce! My mother too exacting is.
[They pass on.]
Thus, sir, unceasing travel is your lot?
Traffic and duty urge us! With what pain Are we compelled to leave full many a spot, Where yet we dare not once remain!
In youth's wild years, with vigor crown'd, 'Tis not amiss thus through the world to sweep; But ah, the evil days come round! And to a lonely grave as bachelor to creep A pleasant thing has no one found.
The prospect fills me with dismay.
Therefore in time, dear sir, reflect, I pray.
[They pass on.]
Ay, out of sight is out of mind! Politeness easy is to you; Friends everywhere, and not a few, Wiser than I am, you will find.
O dearest, trust me, what doth pass for sense Full oft is self-conceit and blindness!
How?
Simplicity and holy innocence— When will ye learn your hallow'd worth to know! Ah, when will meekness and humility, Kind and all-bounteous nature's loftiest dower—
Only one little moment think of me! To think of you I shall have many an hour.
You are perhaps much alone?
Yes, small our household is, I own, Yet must I see to it. No maid we keep, And I must cook, sew, knit, and sweep, Still early on my feet and late; My mother is in all things, great and small, So accurate! Not that for thrift there is such pressing need, Than others we might make more show indeed; My father left behind a small estate, A house and garden near the city-wall. But fairly quiet now my days, I own; As soldier is my brother gone; My little sister's dead; the babe to rear Occasion'd me some care and fond annoy; But I would go through all again with joy, The darling was to me so dear.
An angel, sweet, if it resembled thee!
I reared it up, and it grew fond of me. After my father's death it saw the day; We gave my mother up for lost, she lay In such a wretched plight, and then at length So very slowly she regain'd her strength. Weak as she was, 'twas vain for her to try Herself to suckle the poor babe, so I Reared it on milk and water all alone; And thus the child became as 'twere my own; Within my arms it stretched itself and grew, And smiling, nestled in my bosom too.
Doubtless the purest happiness was thine.
But many weary hours, in sooth, were also mine. At night its little cradle stood Close to my bed; so was I wide awake If it but stirred; One while I was obliged to give it food, Or to my arms the darling take; From bed full oft must rise, whene'er its cry I heard, And, dancing it, must pace the chamber to and fro; Stand at the wash-tub early; forthwith go To market, and then mind the cooking too— Tomorrow like today, the whole year through. Ah, sir, thus living, it must be confess'd One's spirits are not always of the best; Yet it a relish gives to food and rest.
[They pass on.]
Poor women! we are badly off, I own; A bachelor's conversion's hard, indeed!
Madam, with one like you it rests alone, To tutor me a better course to lead.
Speak frankly, sir, none is there you have met? Has your heart ne'er attach'd itself as yet?
One's own fire-side and a good wife are gold And pearls of price, so says the proverb old.
I mean, has passion never stirred your breast?
I've everywhere been well received, I own.
Yet hath your heart no earnest preference known?
With ladies one should ne'er presume to jest.
Ah! you mistake!
I'm sorry I'm so blind! But this I know—that you are very kind.
[They pass on.]
Me, little angel, didst thou recognize, When in the garden first I came?
Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.
Thou dost forgive my boldness, dost not blame The liberty I took that day, When thou from church didst lately wend thy way?
I was confused. So had it never been; No one of me could any evil say. Alas, thought I, he doubtless in thy mien, Something unmaidenly or bold hath seen?
[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET IN THE GARDEN Liezen-Mayer]
It seemed as if it struck him suddenly, Here's just a girl with whom one may make free! Yet I must own that then I scarcely knew What in your favor here began at once to plead; Yet I was angry with myself indeed That I more angry could not feel with you.
Sweet love!
Just wait awhile! [She gathers a star-flower and plucks off the leaves one after another.]
A nosegay may that be?
No! It is but a game.
How?
Go, you'll laugh at me!
[She plucks off the leaves and murmurs to herself.]
What murmurest thou?
MARGARET (half aloud)
He loves me—loves me not.
Sweet angel, with thy face of heavenly bliss!
MARGARET (continues)
He loves me—not—he loves me—not— [plucking off the last leaf with fond joy.]
He loves me!
Yes! And this flower-language, darling, let it be A heavenly oracle! He loveth thee! Know'st thou the meaning of, He loveth thee? [He seizes both her hands.]
I tremble so!
Nay! do not tremble, love! Let this hand-pressure, let this glance reveal Feelings, all power of speech above; To give oneself up wholly and to feel A joy that must eternal prove! Eternal!—Yes, its end would be despair, No end!—It cannot end!
[MARGARET presses his hand, extricates herself, and runs away. He stands a moment in thought, and then follows her.]
MARTHA (approaching)
Night's closing.
Yes, we'll presently away.
I would entreat you longer yet to stay; But 'tis a wicked place, just here about; It is as if the folk had nothing else to do, Nothing to think of too, But gaping watch their neighbors, who goes in and out; And scandal's busy still, do whatsoe'er one may. And our young couple?
They have flown up there, The wanton butterflies!
He seems to take to her. And she to him. 'Tis of the world the way!