Doctor Faustus

The Faust legend-topos is one of our really old and deeply rooted ones, allied to those of Raven and Icarus and Frankenstein and Babel (esp. as seen by early modern Faustian scholar-mystics like Jakob Böhme and Athanasius Kircher*) and the tragical history of the Germans (as seen by Thomas Mann); and in the darkest and smokiest irony, also that of Lucifer. And it is more relevant every day, and indeed may prove in this age of moneymancers entering a kind of posthuman state and technomagi melting icecaps to chase the singularity to be humanity's fittest epitaph. (It is of course also at some level the motivation for just about everyone still studying the humanities in our age. What profit a man if he gain forbidden knowledge but lose show more his job prospects? That's hubris!)

So I really want Marlowe's version to be the definitive one, not only because it's for the stage and that's where all our deepest folk-warnings should play themselves out, not only because Marlowe himself stands as such a vivid and brilliant transgressor of norms in the literary mythic unconscious, but also because of when it was: English Renaissance, kicking off a modernity that was already making whole new types of human, whole new types of self-creation, possible. The Romantics would famously rediscover Faust (and cf. to Goethe's probably more definitive Faust the Prometheus of Shelley or the Hyperion of Keats), but the Romantics also show that transgressive knowing becomes mere self-improvement if everyone's doing it; the Elizabethans still burned witches at the stake.

But expecting a magnificent light-bringer here turns out to be expecting just a bit too much--Marlowe is too canny a player of both sides against the middle to make of Faust an antihero for the present's version of the forward(-thinking) edge of the past and risk getting burned. Instead of Galileo-as-a-smouldering-leading-man, sapere aude, we get something more akin to a dangers-of-excess tale, where everyone is clucking their tongues about Faust and he is using his devilish servant, after a few initial sallies at the kind of music-of-the-spheres, number-of-the-birds-of-the-air deep lore deftly turned aside by Mephistophilis with pseudo-answers, to cuddle up to the HREmperor and take Helen of Troy as concubine and do the kind of groundling-oriented stage business like slapping the Pope and giving horns to hapless dickhead knights that might have gone over when everybody still half-wanted (and official culture and state religion explicitly wanted) Faust to fall on his arse for thinking he was a smart fucker with his books. You thrill a little bit at his initial daring in rejecting God, no matter how guided and groomed by the devils—the effortlessness with which he assumes that he’s forced Mephistophilis to take on corporeal form and he’s not just being manipulated, the flaming human pride with which he meets Lucifer as a kind of equal, though the imposing figure he cuts will prove insubstantial once they have his soul and he’s left with an eschatological credit card debt no honest man can pay. This, again, makes him a hero for our times (I too drape myself in nicer rags than I can afford! Pleasantly, capitalism in this metaphor is Satan), but it is disappointing in a larger sense if we see the truest tragedy as the tale of nobility brought low. Crucially, Faustus does not merely gamble his soul: he gambles on the existence of his soul, because if there is no such superstitious thing, what punishment can he face? And that kind of radically enlightening Do-As-Thou-Wiltism promises us a kind of paragon in Faust, but as he indulges his appetites we learn to our chagrin that what he’s really about is a (with apologies to Nietzsche’s Zarathustra) less principled “nothing is true; everything is permitted.” He never learns a thing … but then it turns out he never really wanted to anyway, which transmutes a bit too much of the pathos into satire for me.

Two particular notes on all this. The first on religion and meritocracy: We today are used to thinking of Protestantism, liberal capitalism, and science as mutually reinforcing threads in the early modern period, and the Catholic Church as essentially medieval in its hierarchies, attitudes, and practices, but this here was not so long before the Thirty Years’ War set Faustus’s Germany on fire and the situation is entirely more complicated. Marlowe went to Cambridge during the period of the great debates there on the Calvinist idea of absolute predestination, which was actually adopted as official doctrine by the Church of England in this period, and which of course sees Faust as tragic because he is destined to be great but not good, full of supernatural mojo borrowed from Lucifer, who takes back with interest, rather than truly Elect. This play has been read both as a substantiation and a critique of that view, an ambiguity of course by authorial design. But it’s interesting the way the Catholic Church as “worldly” (and “demonic”) is aligned somewhat with Faust’s knowledge-quest and certainly with his brilliant career (the Pope gets sooooo mad when Faust steals his lunch) and not with the backward ignorance we’re comfortable ascribing to the historical Church in the Anglo-American, post-Protestant present; Protestantism here is still a rude young fundamentalist movement with a lot of its own transgressives still to burn. In this sense it’s almost too cute when Marlowe gestures back to the Faust story’s roots as a medieval morality tale by conducting a Parade of the Sins only instead of scaring us they are being held out by Lucifer to Faustus as baubles, as instances of the kind of knowledge (and, implicitly, indulgence) he can expect.

The second on books: we fetishize them plenty today, of course, rise of the ereader notwithstanding, but it’s fascinating to see what a monopoly book-learnin’ had on knowledge transmission and people’s ideas about what had meaning and where it was located in this pre–scientific method, vernacular-Bible era. Books lubricate the plot and embody the choice between good and evil—the Good Angel** enjoins Faustus to “lay that damnéd book [that he uses to summon the devil] aside […] Read the Scriptures:—that is blasphemy”; and it is deeply adorable when Mephistophilis asks Faust what’s his command and Faust takes the most literal-minded interpretation of the “Book of Nature” that he could and wants a book about the secrets of the Earth and one about the firmament and one about Hell so that he can go back to his room and read them like a bookworm. (It makes me laugh to think about the Hollywood film version, where instead of a Master and Margarita-style effects-laden flight to the source of the rainbow and the dark side of the moon we get Faust sitting in his study with a candle rubbing his chin like “I see, I see” and pushing the cat off his lap.) And these same “conjuring-books” then stand as knowledge-talismans or fetishes (most people still couldn’t read, of course), appropriated in various ways by other characters and leading to much hijinx. (The only other motif of comparable complexity to books in the play, barring perhaps the planets, is fire, and, well, we know what you get when you put fire and books together, literally and symbolically.)

You can’t always get what you want, so don’t try or you’ll be damned, damned, damned, seems to be the message; but this is salvaged and made darkly majestic by its author’s wisdom about the evil in the hearts of men: he knows what we are and that we’ll never listen to that old saw, and that certainly makes this a powerful tragedy, albeit simply one of the appetites, not the “tragedy of the scholarly mind” or the “tragedy of the creation of the self” that the Faust-legend can be at its best.

*Whaaaa I was just reading about these mystics and found out Faust was a real dude! A cabalist, astrologer, etc., just like those others. The real guy is distinct from and preceded by the legend-topos, of course, whether it took his name or not.

**Is the angel-and-devil-on-the-shoulders thing beloved of Looney Tunes animators original with Marlowe? show less

Most people will have heard of Doctor Faustus. There have been plays, novels, films, operas all based on a folk legend of a man who sold his soul to the Devil to enjoy power on earth. Christopher Marlowe is credited with the first play probably written in 1588/9. His play was an adaption of a story in a chapbook "The History of the Damnable Life and Deserved Death of Doctor John Faustus" which was probably available in an English translation a couple of years before Marlowe wrote his play. The title from the chapbook gives the game away immediately it was a morality story and Doctor John Faustus brought it all on himself. Marlowe's Doctor Faustus pretty much follows the storyline to the extent that some early critics have called it just show more a theatrical treatment of a popular legend. It is not considered that today to the extent that the ambiguity of Marlowe's treatment of the legend has led it to be considered a cultural work of art. I would also add that that some great lines of poetical drama have ensured it continues to be read today:

"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships
And burned the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss."

The play has come down to us in two main versions: the A text and the B text both published some time after Marlowe's death: the A text in 1604 and the B text in 1616. The A text is quite a short play of 1517 lines while the B text is an extended version running to 2121 lines. It is known that two playwrights were commissioned to write some additions to the play in 1602 which probably were included in the B text, but as playwrights in the Elizabethan theatrical world often collaborated or patched plays there is no real evidence of how much of Marlowe's hand is in either of the texts. However most of the thrilling lines of poetry are contained in both versions. I read the two versions one after another and found the shorter A text much more to my liking. It seemed to me that many of the additions in the B text were aimed at drawing out the comedy which I thought was merely padding. The B text also aims to make the drama more clear in its interpretation and provides more in the way of instructions to actors/producers to aid the flow. I think the extended B text seriously undermines the drama of the A text. Of course producers/directors of a live performance are able to combine the two.

With the existence of the two published texts there have been reams of study by academics and others on the subject of how much of the texts did Christopher Marlowe actually write. It is always going to be an open ended question because we do not know what Marlowe's handwriting looked like and there is no artistic work in existence with his signature. This debate in my opinion is futile, what matters is the text that has come down to us with the knowledge that Marlowe probably wrote some of it. That is enough for me, because obsession with authorial identity can lead to a failure of enjoyment in the work, almost like not seeing the wood for the trees.

The play was an immediate hit. It was performed pretty much continuously (when the theatres were open) from the early 1590's until the closing of the theatres in 1642 and played again after the restoration. With hindsight it is not difficult to account for its popularity with the Elizabethan audiences, because it would have probably pushed some of their buttons: the power of the magician, the threat of the devil and the admonition to repent. The plays opening scene shows Doctor Faustus in his study and a chorus has already informed the audience that:

his waxen wings did mount above his reach
And melting heavens conspired his overthrow.

Faustus tells us that he has achieved all he can by study and he is now going to turn to magic to get more power and change the world, he invites two conjurers Valdes and Cornelius to teach him the art of conjuration. It is not long before Faustus has summoned a devil: Mephistopheles with whom he negotiates a contract for ultimate power on earth in return for his soul on his death. While this may appear far fetched to modern audiences it would not have been to many levels of Elizabethan society. Magic and natural science was of great interest to the intellectual free thinker group led by Sir Walter Raleigh which included John Dee (Queen Elizabeths favourite) and Marlowe. Lower down the pecking order spells, conjuration, black magic was part and parcel of many peoples lives and so the act of summoning devils from hell would have an horrific resonance to theatre goers. The drama in the play is whether Faustus will be able to save his soul: can he have his cake and get to eat it too. Repentance for protestants as well as catholics was a powerful tool of the clergy and playgoers would have this in mind when at various points in the play Faustus wonders how he can get free of his contract. He is visited by a good angel who encourages him to repent, to throw himself on the mercy of God, however along with the good angel appears an evil angel who has no trouble in appealing to Faustus baser instincts. In a powerful final act the clock is ticking down on Faustus contract and when he attempts to turn to God for salvation Mephistopheles says he will rip him to pieces. The appearance of the devils on stage makes for tremendous visual theatre and would no doubt have frightened some play goers.

Todays readers and theatre audiences will know the story, the surprise element would be diminished, but there is still much to enjoy. Crucially some of the text is ambiguous and different interpretations can be placed on it: for example how much free will does Faustus really have, could he have saved himself? For readers at home and directors of the stage play there are plenty of talking points, it is a play that does invite debate; for example assuming that Marlowe wrote a substantial amount of the text how much could it be considered to be autobiographical. How much of Marlowe is in Doctor Faustus.

The play could be considered a cultural milestone in the early modern theatre. It was dramatic, it was popular and it contained some great writing. It has held up through the intervening years and there have been modern successful productions. However it was not completely new, it still shows a debt to the old morality plays, it goes back further by incorporating a Greek style chorus at the beginning of the first four acts and there is still room for pageantry when the severn deadly sins are paraded across the stage. The character of Faustus and his relationship to Mephistopheles holds our interest, but there is nothing much else. There are no female characters to speak of, only the Duchess of Vanholt gets to say a few words; even Helen of Troy is just paraded around the stage. Then there are the comic interludes. In the A text the scenes with Wagner (Faustus servant) serve to provide some light relief by mirroring some of the actions of his master. Wagner steals one of Faustus magic books and sets out to summon some devils. It is however in Act 4 where the comedy comes into its own when an invisible Faustus creates some havoc at a banquet thrown by the Pope. I think the play of the A text just about survives these comic interludes and Faustus dealing with the Pope and the Horse-courser throws some additional light onto his character, however the bulk of the extended B text is a rewriting of the comic scenes and while they might have served a demand for more entertainment at the theatre they do not in my opinion enhance the play.

I read the Norton Critical edition of the play which has all you need as a student or interested reader. It has both the A text and the B text. It has substantial extracts from the chapbook that provided Marlowe with his story. It sketches in the religious context and Marlowe's wranglings with Richard Baines who accused him of atheism. There is some early criticism, some modern criticism, articles on ideas and ideologies and performance. Altogether an excellent book that should enhance your enjoyment of the play and so 5 stars. show less

"FAUSTUS: I think hell's a fable.
MEPHOSTOPHILIS: Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind." (pg. 91)

One of the most enduring story tropes of Christian civilization – that of selling one's eternal soul to the devil in exchange for earthly delights – is given a strong and conservative telling in Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus. Written in 1592, it is perhaps the earliest dramatic rendition of the legend.

Marlowe's reading, as I understand it, is rather conventional: an indulgence of earthly knowledge – science, scholarship – and earthly delights – women, food – leads one to be damned to Hell, whereas to Accept Jesus Christ As Your Lord And Saviour is to be rewarded in the afterlife. Of course, in the modern day, show more this seems a bit simplistic (though that viewpoint of the world is still up for debate and, given the apparent excesses of modern society, might even make a comeback). The play remains enjoyable, despite this: whilst Marlowe doesn't have the same consistency of inspiration that fired the lines of Shakespeare, his contemporary, Doctor Faustus remains surprisingly readable despite its age. Whilst the middle act of the play is rather middling, the first and third acts are great. Marlowe gets his points across well, delivers some choice lines, and the ending in which Faustus is dragged by the demons into Hell is quite terrifying.

The saving grace of the play – despite its ambivalence towards earthly learning and science – is the complexity you can read into it. I opened my review with the quote that 'hell is a fable' because it got me thinking about the modern theological/philosophical conception of 'hell', which is the metaphorical place (on earth) you find yourself when you make consistently bad decisions. In this interpretation, Faustus' sin is not so much that he gives himself over to earthly learning and pleasure, but that he misuses it. He makes the sacrifice of his soul but does not follow through on it: he does not use his expanded capacity for knowledge to develop new scholarly achievements for the good of mankind. He instead starts performing practical jokes on the Pope (funny) and summons a facsimile demon representing Helen of Troy so he can bang her. He doesn't use his decisions effectively, does not follow through on his great potential, and this is why he ends up in the metaphorical 'hell'. By recasting the play in this way (which is, after all, one of the joys of experiencing drama), I find it much more palatable.

This, perhaps, is why the concept of selling one's soul was so appealing in Marlowe's time and why it continues to be so today. Everyone feels like they are not living up to their potential, and that they are often stuck between a rock and a hard place. No one knows with certainty whether to stick or twist, and there are often competing demands – faith vs. reason, present sacrifice vs. future gain, progressivism vs. conservatism – which one can choose to place on the enduring symbol of the Faustian pact.

I was further interested by the plight of Benvolio, who sees Faustus for what he is – when everyone else is entranced by the doctor's magicks – and for this he is punished and mocked by his society. He is seen as a devil himself, for daring to doubt Faustus. With our outrage culture, our Twitter mobs and our moral relativism, there is a modern lesson in this. And I was intrigued more than I expected to be by the demon Mephostophilis, who betrays some regrets at his role as a demon (he is denied Heaven and expresses a yearning for its delights) and yet still acquiesces whole-heartedly in damning Faustus.

It is complexities like these which ensures Marlowe's play has survived as more than just a morality play about sin and materialism, and why characters will still be making 'Faustian pacts' in dramas for many years yet. show less

This is one of those books that both eye rolling, but intriguing. Per the introduction, Marlowe changed how drama was done in Elizabethan England. His plays set the stage for Shakespeare a few years later. As for the story - its strange. The first 3/4 quarters were basically Faustus talking to demons about the morality of his soul, if God actually exists, etc etc. Its rather dry. The last quarter is about what Faustus does with his powers, and than he's taken down to Hell.

I could go on about why didn't Faustus repent at the very end, having his cake and eating it too, but this is a book written in 1588 or so, and I suspect it was written for an academic audience, or as a morality play - so I'm going to give it a pass on some of the show more strangeness of it, including Wagner, the servant who plays a part as comic relief.

I will say, I didn't like the story. However, its one that stuck with me. So, I'll probably give a reread sometime in the future. show less

Dr. Faustus sells his soul to the Devil in exchange for 24 years of high living.
Though his hellish fate is early determined, theatre audiences and readers
will look forward to seeing what fascinating choices he makes.

At first, these are wildly good fun, as he and Mephsto fly through the universe on dragons,
then they veer into cruelty as the Doctor continues to refuse to repent.

Does he deserve his horrible fate?

The comic interludes were hard to follow and not amusing.

It is recognisable for its influence, and the "don't aspire beyond the human limits of knowledge" is a tale as old as time itself, but this still holds up magnificently, which I wasn't expecting.
A play written in blank verse with the theme of a repentant God, an unrepentant Devil, and a human having sold his soul to the latter in exchange for knowledge and relief from boredom sounds (and is) exciting. It helps that Marlowe keeps it simple, doesn't get too preachy, and fills up the gaps nicely even with a foregone conclusion.
TL;DR - don't sell your soul to the Devil, with a capital D - who would have guessed?

For all Faustus’ plans, dreams and schemes of political influence and power, to be “a mighty god,” as the play progresses he becomes baser and more ridiculous until he is on the level of a clown and a jester, performing parlor tricks for the scholars and locals and using his unfathomable powers to play pranks on the unsuspecting.

Marlowe wrote Doctor Faustus toward the end of the Renaissance, a period of time that valued the pursuits of knowledge and self over relationship with God, and meant for the play to be both cautionary and commentary. Through Faustus’ questions put to Mephistophilis (his personal assistant from Hell… literally), Marlowe shows that all things have their origins in God. As the kingdom of Hell is set show more against Heaven, it because an exercise in futility and vanity for Faustus to pursue all the hidden knowledges because he can not follow them to their ultimate ends, God Himself.

Several times in the play (which covers a 24 year period as that is part of Faustus’ contract) Faustus shows signs that repentance is weighing heavy on his heart. Faustus is caught between the Good Angel’s council to repent and that God will forgive him, and the Evil Angel, who first tries to entice Faustus to follow Hell, and ultimately threatens him that if he repents devils will viciously tear him apart. All the way to the last few days, God continues to call to Faustus and tries to turn his heart to repent and return, but Faustus refuses every time. With the final call, Faustus shows how cruel and vulgar he has become by sending devils to torment and kill the old man who had tried to inspire him to turn back.

Click for full review (including a vid clip of SNL's skit taken from the play): http://thekoolaidmom.wordpress.com/2009/03/25/doctor-faustus-by-christopher-marl... show less