Act One: The Emperor's Court

A Pleasant Landscape

FAUST lies on flowery grass, weary, restless, trying to sleep. Twilight. A circle of hovering SPIRITS, small graceful forms. ARIEL sings, accompanied by Aeolian harps.

ARIEL. When the spring rain of blossoms floats down upon them all, when the green blessing of the fields gleams for all the earthborn, the little elves, great in spirit, hurry to help where help can be; whether he is holy or wicked, they pity the man in misfortune. You who hover round this head in airy circles, calm the fierce struggle of his heart; remove the burning, bitter arrows of reproach, cleanse his inner being of the horror he has lived. Bathe him in the dew of Lethe; give him back to the holy light.

The SPIRITS sing through the four watches of the night. The sun rises with a tremendous noise.

ARIEL. Listen! Hear the storm of the Hours! A new day is already born. Slip into the flower bells; whoever it strikes is deafened.

FAUST (waking). The pulses of life beat fresh and lively, gently greeting the ethereal dawn; you, Earth, were constant through this night too, and breathe, refreshed, at my feet, and begin already to surround me with delight; you stir and quicken a strong resolve to strive always for the highest form of being. Look up! The giant summits of the mountains proclaim already the most solemn hour; the sun steps forth — and, blinded, I turn away, my eyes pierced with pain. So it is when a longing hope has worked its way to the highest wish and finds the gates of fulfilment open wide; then from those eternal depths breaks forth a flame too great; we stand amazed. We wished to light the torch of life, and a sea of fire engulfs us — what a fire! So let the sun stay at my back! The waterfall roaring through the cleft rock, I watch it with growing rapture. How glorious, sprung from this storm, the changing permanence of the rainbow arches, now drawn clearly, now dissolved in air, spreading fragrant coolness all around! It mirrors human striving. Ponder it, and you will grasp it better: we have our life in the coloured reflection.

The Imperial Palace. Throne Room

The COUNCIL OF STATE awaits the EMPEROR. Trumpets. Courtiers in splendid dress. The EMPEROR on his throne; at his right the ASTROLOGER. MEPHISTOPHELES has taken the place of the court fool, who has fallen down drunk.

EMPEROR. I greet you, faithful and dear ones, gathered from near and far. But we should rather be holding a carnival, and here are cares instead.

The CHANCELLOR, the COMMANDER, the TREASURER and the STEWARD report in turn: justice is gone, everyone robs and is robbed; the mercenaries are unpaid and rebellious; the treasury is empty, the vassals pay nothing, the moneylenders hold the pledges; the kitchen has no wine, the cellar is drunk dry.

EMPEROR (after a pause, to Mephistopheles). Tell me, fool, do you know of some new trouble too?

MEPHISTOPHELES. I? Not at all. Where is there a lack in the world? Here it's money. Granted, you can't scrape it off the floor; but wisdom knows how to dig up what lies deepest. In veins in the mountains, in the foundations of walls, gold is to be found, minted and unminted. And if you ask me who will bring it to light: the natural and spiritual power of a gifted man.

CHANCELLOR. Nature and spirit — one doesn't speak to Christians so. That's why atheists are burned.

MEPHISTOPHELES. I see the learned gentleman in this! What you can't touch is miles away for you; what you can't grasp is not there for you at all; what you can't count, you think isn't true.

EMPEROR. Enough of this endless Lent! Let's have the carnival first; then we'll dig for gold.

Trumpets. Exeunt.

MEPHISTOPHELES (alone). How merit and fortune go together the fools never understand; if they had the philosopher's stone, the stone would lack the philosopher.

A Spacious Hall. Masquerade

A great carnival procession: gardeners and flower girls, mothers and daughters, woodcutters and parasites, poets and the Graces, the Fates and the Furies, Hope and Fear and Prudence riding an elephant. Then a magic chariot drawn by four horses, driven by a radiant BOY CHARIOTEER, who scatters jewels that turn to beetles and butterflies in the hands of the greedy. In the chariot sits FAUST, as PLUTUS, god of wealth; behind it, MEPHISTOPHELES, as the gaunt figure of AVARICE. A chest of gold is set down. The crowd presses forward to seize the gold. Then a band of wild men comes in, led by GREAT PAN — the EMPEROR in disguise — and the gnomes lead him to the chest; his beard catches fire from the glowing gold, and the flames spread; the whole hall seems to burn. PLUTUS strikes the floor with his staff, and a mist puts out the fire.

PLUTUS. Terror has gone on long enough; now help must come. If spirits threaten to do us harm, let magic show its power.

Pleasure Garden

Morning sun. The EMPEROR, his court. FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES, dressed properly, not conspicuously, kneel.

EMPEROR. I want more such jests. The fire was splendid; for a moment I thought myself Pluto, king of the underworld.

The STEWARD, the COMMANDER and the TREASURER come in, overjoyed: the debts are paid, the soldiers have their pay, the whole country is in festive mood.

TREASURER. Ask these two, who did the work.

FAUST. The Chancellor will explain.

CHANCELLOR (reading). "To all whom it may concern: this paper is worth a thousand crowns. As certain security for it is pledged the countless treasure buried in the Emperor's lands. It is provided that the treasure, once dug up, shall serve to redeem it."

EMPEROR. I sense a crime, a monstrous fraud! Who forged the Emperor's signature here?

TREASURER. Remember: you signed it yourself, last night, in the costume of great Pan. The Chancellor said to you: "Grant yourself this great feast; the people's welfare, a few strokes of the pen." You wrote; and that same night a thousand artists multiplied the thousand notes.

EMPEROR. And my people take it for good gold? The army and the court are paid in full? I can hardly believe it; but I must let it pass.

MEPHISTOPHELES. Such a paper, instead of gold and pearls, is so convenient: you know what you have. You need no bargaining or exchanging to get drunk on love and wine.

The EMPEROR hands out the new notes. The courtiers at once take them to gamble, to buy horses, to buy wine.

A Dark Gallery

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

MEPHISTOPHELES. Why do you drag me into these gloomy passages?

FAUST. Don't tell me! The Emperor wants it, he wants to see Helen and Paris before him, the model of men and the model of women, in distinct forms. Quickly, to work!

MEPHISTOPHELES. The heathen folk are no concern of mine; they live in their own hell. But there is a way.

FAUST. Out with it, now!

MEPHISTOPHELES. I am loath to reveal a higher mystery. Goddesses sit enthroned in solitude, around them no place, still less any time; it bewilders me to speak of them. They are the Mothers.

FAUST (startled). The Mothers!

MEPHISTOPHELES. Does it make you shudder?

FAUST. The Mothers! Mothers! It sounds so strange!

MEPHISTOPHELES. It is strange. Goddesses unknown to you mortals, and not gladly named by us. You'll have to dig to their dwelling in the deepest depths. There is no road! Into the untrodden, the not-to-be-trodden; a road to the unbegged, the not-to-be-begged. Are you ready? You will find no lock to draw back, no bolt; you will be driven through solitudes. Have you an idea of emptiness and loneliness?

FAUST. In your nothing I hope to find the All.

MEPHISTOPHELES. Here, take this key. It will smell out the right place; follow it down, it will lead you to the Mothers. A glowing tripod will tell you at last that you have reached the deepest, deepest ground. By its light you will see the Mothers; some sit, others stand and walk, as it happens. Formation, transformation, eternal mind's eternal entertainment, surrounded by images of all creatures. Go straight to the tripod and touch it with the key.

FAUST (making a firmly commanding gesture with the key). Good! I feel new strength.

He stamps, and sinks.

MEPHISTOPHELES. I'm curious whether he'll come back.

Hall of the Knights

Dim light. The EMPEROR and the COURT have come in. MEPHISTOPHELES in the prompter's box. Music. FAUST rises, in priestly robe, with the glowing tripod. From the incense smoke appear PARIS, and then HELEN.

LADIES (of Paris). How young and handsome!

GENTLEMEN. A shepherd boy; no prince; no courtly manners.

HELEN appears.

MEPHISTOPHELES. So that's her! I'd get no rest from her; pretty, I admit, but she's not my type.

FAUST. Have I eyes still? Is the source of beauty pouring out its fullest stream into my inmost mind? My dreadful journey brings the most blessed gain. How empty the world was for me, how closed! What was it, since my priesthood began? Only now desirable, well-founded, enduring! The form that once delighted me, that gladdened me in the magic mirror, was only a foam-image of such beauty! You are the one to whom I give the stirring of all strength, the essence of passion, inclination, love, worship, madness!

PARIS embraces HELEN, to carry her off. FAUST, in a frenzy, seizes her.

FAUST. Bold one! You dare? You don't hear me? Stop! It is too much! Did I not hold the key? I brought it here, through horrors, waves, the surf of solitudes, to this firm shore. Here I stand on realities. She who was so far, how can she be nearer? I'll save her, and she will be twice mine. You Mothers! You must grant it! Whoever has known her cannot do without her.

He touches PARIS with the key. An explosion. FAUST lies on the floor. The spirits dissolve in mist.

MEPHISTOPHELES (taking Faust on his shoulders). There you are! Burden yourself with fools, and it'll harm even the Devil in the end.

Darkness, tumult.