READING FAUST
Arnold Böcklin, Self-Portrait (1872)
Faust: a chronology of publications
1587 Anonymous chapbook, Historia von D. Johann Fausten
1588 Translated into English by ‘P.F. Gent’ as The Historie of the Damnable Life,
and Deserved Death of Doctor Iohn Faustus
http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus:text:1999.03.0001
1604
Christopher Marlowe, The Tragicall History of D. Faustus A-Text
http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus:text:1999.03.0010
1616 Christopher Marlowe, The Tragicall History of D. Faustus B-Text
http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus:text:1999.03.0011
1808 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Eine Tragödie Erster Teil
1833
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Eine Tragödie Zweiter Teil
1854 Franz Liszt, A Faust Symphony
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ZUQ7yZTFco [conducted by Georg Solti]
1856 Ivan Turgenev, Faust
1918, 1923 Oswald Spengler, Der Untergang des Abendslandes
1922 Nikolai Berdiaev, The Pre-Death Thoughts of Faust
http://www.berdyaev.com/berdiaev/berd_lib/1922_059.html
1945 Paul Valéry, Mon Faust
1950 Thomas Mann, Doktor Faustus
Some Faustian Variations
Lord Byron, Manfred
Nathaniel Hawthorne, Young Goodman Brown
Henrik Ibsen, Peer Gynt
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mikhail Bulgakov, Master and Margarita
Texts
1. Anon, English Nursery Rhyme
Doctor Faustus was a good man,
He whipt his scholars now and then;
When he whipp'd them he made them dance
Out of Scotland into France,
Out of France into Spain,
And then he whipp'd them back again!
2. Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus, Scene XIII
[A room in Faustus’ House.]
Enter WAGNER
Wag. I think my master shortly means to die,
For he hath given to me all his goods;
And yet, methinks, if that death were so near,
He would not banquet and carouse and swill
Amongst the students, as even now he doth,
Who are at supper with such belly-cheer
As Wagner ne’er beheld in all his life.
See where they come! Belike the feast is ended.
Enter FAUSTUS, with two or three SCHOLARS [and MEPHISTOPHILIS]
1st Schol. Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was
the beautifullest in all the world, we have determined with ourselves that Helen of
Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived: therefore, Master Doctor, if you will
do us that favour, as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom all the world
admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much beholding unto you.
Faust. Gentlemen,
For that I know your friendship is unfeigned,
And Faustus’ custom is not to deny
The just requests of those that wish him well,
You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece,
No otherways for pomp and majesty
Than when Sir Paris cross’d the seas with her,
And brought the spoils to rich Dardania.
Be silent, then, for danger is in words.
Music sounds, and HELEN passeth over the stage.
2nd Schol. Too simple is my wit to tell her praise,
Whom all the world admires for majesty.
3rd Schol. No marvel though the angry Greeks pursued
With ten years’ war the rape of such a queen,
Whose heavenly beauty passeth all compare.
1st Schol. Since we have seen the pride of Nature’s works,
And only paragon of excellence,
Let us depart; and for this glorious deed
Happy and blest be Faustus evermore.
Faustus. Gentlemen, farewell—the same I wish to you.
Exeunt SCHOLARS [and WAGNER].
Enter an OLD MAN
Old Man. Ah, Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail
To guide thy steps unto the way of life,
By which sweet path thou may’st attain the goal
That shall conduct thee to celestial rest!
Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears,
Tears falling from repentant heaviness
Of thy most vile and loathsome filthiness,
The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul
With such flagitious crimes of heinous sins
As no commiseration may expel,
But mercy, Faustus, of thy Saviour sweet,
Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt.
Faust. Where art thou, Faustus? Wretch, what hast thou done?
Damn’d art thou, Faustus, damn’d; despair and die!
Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice
Says “Faustus! come! thine hour is [almost] come!”
And Faustus [now] will come to do the right.
MEPHISTOPHILIS gives him a dagger.
Old Man. Ah stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps!
I see an angel hovers o’er thy head,
And, with a vial full of precious grace,
Offers to pour the same into thy soul:
Then call for mercy, and avoid despair.
Faust. Ah, my sweet friend, I feel
Thy words do comfort my distressed soul.
Leave me a while to ponder on my sins.
Old Man. I go, sweet Faustus, but with heavy cheer,
Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul. [Exit.]
Faust. Accursed Faustus, where is mercy now?
I do repent; and yet I do despair;
Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast:
What shall I do to shun the snares of death?
Meph. Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul
For disobedience to my sovereign lord;
Revolt, or I’ll in piecemeal tear thy flesh.
Faust. Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord
To pardon my unjust presumption.
And with my blood again I will confirm
My former vow I made to Lucifer.
Meph. Do it then quickly, with unfeigned heart,
Lest greater danger do attend thy drift.
[FAUSTUS stabs his arm and writes on a paper with his blood.]
Faust. Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age, 1
That durst dissuade me from my Lucifer,
With greatest torments that our hell affords.
Meph. His faith is great, I cannot touch his soul;
But what I may afflict his body with
I will attempt, which is but little worth.
Faust. One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee,
To glut the longing of my heart’s desire,—
That I might have unto my paramour
That heavenly Helen, Which I saw of late,
Whose sweet embracings may extinguish clean
These thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow,
And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer.
Meph. Faustus, this or what else thou shalt desire
Shall be perform’d in twinkling of an eye.
Re-enter HELEN
Faust. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. [Kisses her.]
Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies!—
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
Enter OLD MAN.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sack’d;
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colours on my plumed crest;
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appear’d to hapless Semele:
More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa’s azured arms:
And none but thou shalt be my paramour. Exeunt.
Old Man. Accursed Faustus, miserable man,
That from thy soul exclud’st the grace of Heaven,
And fly’st the throne of his tribunal seat!
Enter DEVILS
Satan begins to sift me with his pride:
As in this furnace God shall try my faith,
My faith, vile hell, shall triumph over thee.
Ambitious fiends! see how the heavens smiles
At your repulse, and laughs your state to scorn!
Hence, hell! for hence I fly unto my God.
Exeunt [on one side DEVILS, on the other, OLD MAN].
3. Ivan Turgenev, Faust; trans. Hugh Aplin [from Letter Four]
… In my last letter I forgot to tell you that when I got home from the Priyimkov’s I
repented of having specified Faust; Schiller would have suited much better for the
first occasion, if we were to be dealing with the Germans. I was particularly worried
about the first scenes before the meeting with Gretchen; I wasn’t happy as regards
Mephistopheles either. But I was under the influence of Faust and could not willingly
have read anything else. When it had already grown completely dark, we set off for
the Chinese summer house; it had been put in order the day before. Directly opposite
the door, in front of a small sofa, stood a circular table covered with a rug; armchairs
and chairs were set out all around; on the table a lamp was burning. I sat down on the
sofa and took out the book. Vera Nikolayevna took a seat in an armchair some
distance away, not far from the door. Beyond the door, in the midst of the darkness, a
green acacia branch stood out, rocking slightly, lit up by the lamp; a current of night
air would occasionally flow into the room. Priyimkov sat down near me by the table,
the German next to him. The governess had stayed in the house with Natasha. I made
a short introductory speech: I mentioned the ancient legend of Dr Faustus, the
significance of Mephistopheles, Goethe himself, and I asked to be stopped if anything
should seem obscure. Then I cleared my throat… Priyimkov asked me whether I
needed some sugared water, and all the signs were that he was very pleased with
himself for putting this question to me. I refused. A deep silence fell. I began to read,
without raising my eyes; I felt uncomfortable, my heart was pounding and my voice
was shaking. The first exclamation of sympathy came from the German, and while the
reading continued, he alone would break the silence… “Astonishing! Sublime!” he
repeated, occasionally adding: “Now that is profound.” Priyimkov, as far as I could
make out, was bored: he did not understand German very well, and he himself
confessed that he did not like poetry!... Well, that was up to him! While sitting at the
table, I had almost tried to hint that the reading could manage without him, but had
felt ashamed to do so. Vera Nikolayevna did not stir; I stole a couple of glances at her:
her eyes were fixed directly and attentively on me; her face seemed to me pale. After
Faust’s first meeting with Gretchen she moved forward from the back of her armchair,
folded her arms and remained motionless in that position until the end. I sensed that
Priyimkov was having a wretched time of it, and this at first turned me cold, but little
by little I forgot about him, became excited and read with fervour, with passion… I
was reading for Vera Nikolayevna alone: an inner voice told me that Faust was
having an effect on her. When I finished (I omitted the Intermezzo: that bit already
belongs in manner to the second part; and I tossed out part of ‘The Night upon the
Brocken’ too)… when I finished, when the last “Heinrich!” had rung out, the German
pronounced with emotion: “God! How beautiful!” Priyimkov, as if gladdened (the
poor man!), jumped up, sighed and began thanking me for the pleasure I had given…
But I did not reply to him: I was gazing at Vera Nikolayevna… I wanted to hear what
she would say. She got up, took some indecisive steps towards the door, stood for a
while on the threshold and went quietly into the garden. I rushed after her. She had
already managed to move several steps away; the whiteness of her dress could just be
seen in the dense shadow.
“Well, the,” I cried, “didn’t you enjoy it?”
She stopped.
“Can you leave that book with me?” her voice rang out.
4. Nikolai Berdiaev, The Pre-Death Thoughts of Faust [Opening paragraphs]
The fate of Faust -- is the fate of European culture. The soul of Faust -- is the soul of
Western Europe. This soul was full of stormy, of endless strivings. In it there was an
exceptional dynamism, unknown to the soul of antiquity, to the Greek soul. In its
youth, in the era of the Renaissance, and still earlier, in the Renaissance of the Middle
Ages, the soul of Faust sought passionately for truth, they fell in love with Gretchen
and for the realisation of his endless human aspirations it entered into a pact with
Mephistopheles, with the evil spirit of the earth. And the Faustian soul was gradually
corroded by the Mephistophelean principle. Its powers began to wane. What ended
the endless strivings of the Faustian soul, to what did they lead? The Faustian soul led
to the draining of swamps, to the engineering art, to a material arranging of the earth
and to a material mastery over the world.
[…]
And draining the swamp is but a symbol of the spiritual path of Faust, merely a sign
of spiritual activity. Upon his path, Faust passes from a religious culture over to an
irreligious civilisation. And in this irreligious civilisation the creative energy of Faust
becomes drained, his endless aspirations die. Goethe gave expression to the soul of
Western European culture and its fate. Spengler, in his challenging book, "Der
Untergang des Abendslandes" ["The Decline of the West"], announces the end of
European culture, its ultimate transition over into civilisation, which is the beginning
of the death-process. "Civilisation -- is the irreversible fate of a culture". The book of
Spengler bears within it an enormous symptomatic significance. It conveys the feeling
of crisis, of sudden impending change, that of the end of an entire historical era. It
speaks about the great sorry affair of things in Western Europe.
Select Bibliography
Faust Legends; ed. and trans. D.L. Ashliman http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/faust.html
In Our Time BBC Radio 4 broadcast http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p004y2bt
Michael Haldane, Faust: Man, Myth, or Legend?
http://www.michaelhaldane.com/Faust.htm
David Hawkes, The Faust Myth: Religion and the Rise of Representation (2007)
Elizabeth Butler, The Fortunes of Faust
Elizabeth Butler, The Myth of the Magus
Elizabeth Butler, Ritual Magic