Dr. Faustus, I Presume?

To kick off my new blog, I am writing up a quick review for one of my latest readings, "Dr. Faustus," by Christopher Marlowe. Marlowe himself was a very interesting fellow, who had a prolific writing career before being murdered at the age of 29, when he was stabbed in an altercation that remains shrouded in mystery to this day. Rumours swirl about drunken arguments, subversive writings, and even espionage for the crown. Whatever the secrets of his life and death, Marlowe is widely regarded as perhaps second only to Shakespeare as the guiding light of English playwriting tradition.

Dr. Faustus itself is a play based on the traditional German tale of a brilliant scholar who delved too deeply into the dark arts of necromancy, and in exchange for unlimited power struck a bargain with the devil. What does Dr. Faustus use his powers for? Well, we get a few snapshots of his next twenty-four years, which range from impressing Dukes with his wisdom and power to boxing the Pope's ears whilst invisible. In truth, it is spent frivolously, as is fitting for a man who would undergo such a bargain.

Of course, what Faustus gains from the devil isn't really the point of the story, and much of the emphasis is placed on the fall of Faustus at the beginning and the final struggles within Faustus when his contract is set to expire. Indicative of Faustus' mindset after the twenty four years have passed is the line, "...the serpent that tempted Eve may be sav'd, but not Faustus," in which Faustus himself claims to be so degenerate as to be unredeemable.

Theologically, I felt that this play showed some interesting points that are very helpful. The entire idea that Faustus is unsavable is only the idea of Faustus himself, as Marlowe shows nicely. There is a struggle at the end in which a godly old man strives to argue with Faustus about the power of salvation that can overcome even the basest, most blasphemous acts, but it is the doctor's own conscience and mind that cannot allow him to accept these truths. It is a tragedy that highlights our inability to understand the true magnanimity of God.

Having read this, I am now very anxious to read Goethe's variation, "Faust", to see how the centuries between the two writings helped shape this myth. I will take my cue from Marlowe now, and end in a similar vein: Terminat hora diem, terminat author opus (The hour ends the day, the author ends his work).