PROLOGUE
IN HEAVEN
from Goethe's FAUST- new English version Mark Scrivener
The
Prologue in Heaven is an essential part of the drama as written by
Goethe. In it the Lord and Mephistopheles ("God" and the
"Devil") strike up a wager over the soul of Faust. To
start the Archangels come forth and recite verses praising God and
creation. Note the reference to the "unheard" and spiritual
harmony of the spheres
that goes back to Pythagoras (see e.g. Shakespeare in the Merchant of
Venice-
There’s
not the smallest orb which thou behold’st
But
in his motion like an angel sings,
Still
choiring to the young-eyed cherubins.
Such
harmony is in immortal souls,
But
whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth
grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.).
Mephistopheles
then appears and, as the spirit of negativity, delivers a negative
and sarcastic version of human life on earth. The Lord disagrees and
they argue over the fate of Faust. Note how heaven here appears a
little like a Medieval court (somewhat like a King and Jester). Also
in some respects Goethe sees Faust as an archetypal striving,
post-medieval human being. The Lord maintains in an ambiguous
statement that The
human errs while yet it strives.
And further notes that spirits like Mephistopheles are a spur to
human development overcoming obstacles and
they
prevent humans loving unconditional
rest.
PROLOGUE
IN HEAVEN
The Lord. The Heavenly Hosts. Later Mephistopheles. Three Archangels come forward.
RAPHAEL
In ways of old the sun sounds forth,
Where brother spheres as rivals sing,
Full-ending his pre-written course
With far-resounding thundering.
His aspect gives the angels might,
Though none may fathom his foundation.
Works, great beyond thought’s grasp, are bright
As on the first day of creation.
GABRIEL
And swiftly, swift beyond all grasping,
There spins the splendour of earth's light-
A paradise of brightness passing
To dark and shiver-filled, deep night.
And in broad streams up-foams the ocean
Upon the rocks' deep-founded base;
And rock and sea sweep on in motion
In planets' swift eternal race.
MICHAEL
And tempests roar in rivalry
From sea to land, from land to sea;
In fury forge wide chains that flare
With deepest working through the air.
There flashing desolations sear
The path before the thunder play;
Yet Lord, Your messengers revere
The gentle changes of Your day.
ALL THREE
This aspect gives the angels might,
While none may fathom Your foundation.
And all of Your high works are bright
As on the first day of creation.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Since You, O Lord, once again draw near
To ask how things are going down with us,
And since You used to like to see me, here
Am I where all Your household helpers fuss.
Please pardon, but I can't work high-worded styles,
Though all this circle mock and scoff.
I'm sure, my pathos would just make You laugh,
Had You not sworn off laughing this long while.
I've nothing grand to spout of sun and worlds,
I only see that humans plague themselves.
The world's small god is still the same, old way-
As deeply strange as on the dawn of its first day.
They'd lead a somewhat better life
If you'd withheld a seeming sheen of heaven's light.
They call it reason, merely using this
To be more bestial than any beast.
It seems, please pardon if it's impolite,
That his is that long-legged grasshopper's plight,
That tries to fly yet springs along
And in the grasses sings the same, old song.
Yet would he only lie within the grasses!
He pokes his nose in any poo he passes.
THE LORD
You've nothing further but this strain?
Come you but ever to complain?
Is nothing on the earth now ever right by you?
MEPHISTOPHELES
No, Lord! I find it there, as ever, bad right through.
I feel so saddened by the wretched lives of men
That even I am loath to torment them.
THE LORD
Do you know Faust?
MEPHISTOPHELES
The doctor?
THE LORD
My servant.
MEPHISTOPHELES
In truth, his way of serving's strange enough!
That madcap's drink and food's not earthly stuff.
His ferment urges him afar.
He's half-aware of his own craziness.
From heaven he demands the highest stars
And from the earth all highest happiness.
Yet nothing, from both near and far,
Can calm deep trouble brewing in his breast.
THE LORD
If He but serves Me in confusion's night,
Soon I shall lead him into greater light.
The gardener knows, although the sapling's green,
In coming years the flower and fruit are seen.
MEPHISTOPHELES
What will you bet? You'll still lose him I say
As long as I may have your leave
To lead him gently down my way.
THE LORD
As long as he's on earth alive
You're not forbidden to go ahead.
The human errs while yet it strives.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Thanks there. For never towards the dead
Have I a bias, so to speak.
For most of all I love the full, fresh cheek.
If corpses call, I'm not at home that day.
A cat upon a mouse, that's how I play.
THE LORD
Very well. Then you may have your day.
So drag his spirit from its ancient spring
And lead, if you can seize and cling,
Off there upon your downward way.
Then stand ashamed when finally you say,
A good man, with a dim, impulsive force,
Is well aware of rightly-rising course.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Good. Fine. And little time I'll take,
No fear I'll lose this bet. And for my sake,
When I attain my aim, my stake,
You'll let my heart fill with triumphant might.
Dust he'll devour and with delight,
Just like my cousin, the famous snake.
THE LORD
There too you may appear as free.
Your type has never had My hate.
Of all the spirits that deny, for Me
The roguish knave is least of weight.
The human's doing all too lightly slips to dream
And soon loves unconditional rest. Therefore
I'm pleased to partner them with one who's sure
To work and goad, with active devil-scheme.
But you, true sons of God, delight
In rich and vibrant beauty's sight.
May-Coming-To-Being, that ever works and lives,
Encompass you with gracious bounds of love.
And what's afloat in shimmering sheen-creation
Hold fast with lasting contemplation.
THE HEAVENS CLOSE, THE ARCHANGELS SEPARATE
MEPHISTOPHELES (ALONE)
I like to see the Old One from time to time;
And take pains not to break with Him. From the level
Of such a Great Lord, it is rather fine
To speak so humanly with the very devil.
The Lord. The Heavenly Hosts. Later Mephistopheles. Three Archangels come forward.
RAPHAEL
In ways of old the sun sounds forth,
Where brother spheres as rivals sing,
Full-ending his pre-written course
With far-resounding thundering.
His aspect gives the angels might,
Though none may fathom his foundation.
Works, great beyond thought’s grasp, are bright
As on the first day of creation.
GABRIEL
And swiftly, swift beyond all grasping,
There spins the splendour of earth's light-
A paradise of brightness passing
To dark and shiver-filled, deep night.
And in broad streams up-foams the ocean
Upon the rocks' deep-founded base;
And rock and sea sweep on in motion
In planets' swift eternal race.
MICHAEL
And tempests roar in rivalry
From sea to land, from land to sea;
In fury forge wide chains that flare
With deepest working through the air.
There flashing desolations sear
The path before the thunder play;
Yet Lord, Your messengers revere
The gentle changes of Your day.
ALL THREE
This aspect gives the angels might,
While none may fathom Your foundation.
And all of Your high works are bright
As on the first day of creation.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Since You, O Lord, once again draw near
To ask how things are going down with us,
And since You used to like to see me, here
Am I where all Your household helpers fuss.
Please pardon, but I can't work high-worded styles,
Though all this circle mock and scoff.
I'm sure, my pathos would just make You laugh,
Had You not sworn off laughing this long while.
I've nothing grand to spout of sun and worlds,
I only see that humans plague themselves.
The world's small god is still the same, old way-
As deeply strange as on the dawn of its first day.
They'd lead a somewhat better life
If you'd withheld a seeming sheen of heaven's light.
They call it reason, merely using this
To be more bestial than any beast.
It seems, please pardon if it's impolite,
That his is that long-legged grasshopper's plight,
That tries to fly yet springs along
And in the grasses sings the same, old song.
Yet would he only lie within the grasses!
He pokes his nose in any poo he passes.
THE LORD
You've nothing further but this strain?
Come you but ever to complain?
Is nothing on the earth now ever right by you?
MEPHISTOPHELES
No, Lord! I find it there, as ever, bad right through.
I feel so saddened by the wretched lives of men
That even I am loath to torment them.
THE LORD
Do you know Faust?
MEPHISTOPHELES
The doctor?
THE LORD
My servant.
MEPHISTOPHELES
In truth, his way of serving's strange enough!
That madcap's drink and food's not earthly stuff.
His ferment urges him afar.
He's half-aware of his own craziness.
From heaven he demands the highest stars
And from the earth all highest happiness.
Yet nothing, from both near and far,
Can calm deep trouble brewing in his breast.
THE LORD
If He but serves Me in confusion's night,
Soon I shall lead him into greater light.
The gardener knows, although the sapling's green,
In coming years the flower and fruit are seen.
MEPHISTOPHELES
What will you bet? You'll still lose him I say
As long as I may have your leave
To lead him gently down my way.
THE LORD
As long as he's on earth alive
You're not forbidden to go ahead.
The human errs while yet it strives.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Thanks there. For never towards the dead
Have I a bias, so to speak.
For most of all I love the full, fresh cheek.
If corpses call, I'm not at home that day.
A cat upon a mouse, that's how I play.
THE LORD
Very well. Then you may have your day.
So drag his spirit from its ancient spring
And lead, if you can seize and cling,
Off there upon your downward way.
Then stand ashamed when finally you say,
A good man, with a dim, impulsive force,
Is well aware of rightly-rising course.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Good. Fine. And little time I'll take,
No fear I'll lose this bet. And for my sake,
When I attain my aim, my stake,
You'll let my heart fill with triumphant might.
Dust he'll devour and with delight,
Just like my cousin, the famous snake.
THE LORD
There too you may appear as free.
Your type has never had My hate.
Of all the spirits that deny, for Me
The roguish knave is least of weight.
The human's doing all too lightly slips to dream
And soon loves unconditional rest. Therefore
I'm pleased to partner them with one who's sure
To work and goad, with active devil-scheme.
But you, true sons of God, delight
In rich and vibrant beauty's sight.
May-Coming-To-Being, that ever works and lives,
Encompass you with gracious bounds of love.
And what's afloat in shimmering sheen-creation
Hold fast with lasting contemplation.
THE HEAVENS CLOSE, THE ARCHANGELS SEPARATE
MEPHISTOPHELES (ALONE)
I like to see the Old One from time to time;
And take pains not to break with Him. From the level
Of such a Great Lord, it is rather fine
To speak so humanly with the very devil.
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