The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 97

If Lethe's murky flood not yet hath pa.s.sed, Old Sir, through your bald pate, that sideways bends, The scholar recognize, who hither wends, Outgrown your academic rods at last.

The same I find you, as of yore; But I am now the same no more.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Glad am I that I've rung you here.

I prized you then not slightingly; In grub and chrysalis appear The future brilliant b.u.t.terfly.

A childish pleasure then you drew From collar, lace, and curls.--A queue You probably have never worn?-- Now to a crop I see you shorn.

All resolute and bold your air-- But from the _absolute_ forbear!

BACCALAUREUS

We're in the ancient place, mine ancient Sir, But think upon time's onward flow, And words of double-meaning spare!

Quite otherwise we hearken now.

You fooled the simple, honest youth; It cost but little art in sooth, To do what none today will dare.

MEPHISTOPHELES

If to the young the naked truth one speaks, It pleases in no wise the yellow beaks; But afterward, when in their turn On their own skin the painful truth they learn, They think, forsooth, from their own head it came; "The master was a fool," they straight proclaim.

BACCALAUREUS

A rogue perchance!--For where's the teacher found Who to our face, direct, will Truth expound?

Children to edify, each knows the way, To add or to subtract, now grave, now gay.

MEPHISTOPHELES

For learning there's in very truth a time; For teaching, I perceive, you now are prime.

While a few suns and many moons have waned, A rich experience you have doubtless gained!

BACCALAUREUS

Experience! Froth and sc.u.m alone, Not with the mind of equal birth!

Confess! what men have always known, As knowledge now is nothing worth.

MEPHISTOPHELES (_after a pause_)

I long have thought myself a fool; Now shallow to myself I seem, and dull.

BACCALAUREUS

That pleases me! Like reason that doth sound; The first old man of sense I yet have found!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I sought for hidden treasures, genuine gold-- And naught but hideous ashes forth I bore!

BACCALAUREUS

Confess that pate of yours, though bare and old, Than yonder hollow skull is worth no more!

MEPHISTOPHELES (_good-naturedly_)

Thou know'st not, friend, how rude is thy reply.

BACCALAUREUS

In German to be courteous is to lie.

MEPHISTOPHELES (_still moving his wheel-chair ever nearer to the proscenium, to the pit_)

Up here I am bereft of light and air; I perhaps shall find a refuge with you there?

BACCALAUREUS

When at their worst, that men would something be, When they are naught, presumptuous seems to me.

Man's life is in the blood, and where, in sooth, Pulses the blood so strongly as in youth?

That's living blood, which with fresh vigor rife, The newer life createth out of life.

There all is movement, something there is done; Falleth the weak, the able presses on!

While half the world we 'neath our sway have brought, What have ye done? Slept, nodded, dream'd, and thought, Plan after plan rejected;--nothing won.

Age is, in sooth, a fever cold, With frost of whims and peevish need: When more than thirty years are told, As good as dead one is indeed: You it were best, methinks, betimes to slay.

MEPHISTOPHELES

The devil here has nothing more to say.

BACCALAUREUS

Save through my will, no devil dares to be.

MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)

The devil now prepares a fall for thee!

BACCALAUREUS

The n.o.blest mission this of youth's estate.

The world was not, till it I did create; The radiant Sun I led from out the sea; Her changeful course the Moon began with me; The Day arrayed herself my steps to meet, The Earth grew green, and blossom'd me to greet: At my command, upon yon primal Night, The starry hosts unveiled their glorious light.

Who, beside me, the galling chains unbound, Which cramping thought had cast your spirits round?

But I am free, as speaks my spirit-voice, My inward light I follow, and rejoice; Swift I advance, enraptur'd, void of fear, Brightness before me, darkness in the rear. [_Exit._]

MEPHISTOPHELES

Go, in thy pride, Original, thy way!-- True insight would, in truth, thy spirit grieve!

What wise or stupid thoughts can man conceive, Unponder'd in the ages pa.s.sed away?-- Yet we for him need no misgiving have; Changed will he be, when a few years are past; Howe'er absurdly may the must behave, Nathless it yields a wine at last.--

(_To the younger part of the audience, who do not applaud._)

Though to my words you're somewhat cold, Good children, me you don't offend; Reflect! The devil, he is old; Grow old then, him to comprehend!