Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe

1/ This is my first play by Christopher Marlowe, and also the first play I’ve read from the Elizabethan period that isn’t by Shakespeare. You probably don’t need to be told that it’s based on the German legend of Faust and his pact with the devil (in case you’re wondering, no, I haven’t read Goethe).

It’s an exciting play. See Fautus’s speech in front of the devils.   

“FAUSTUS Now that the gloomy shadow of the night,

Longing to view Origon’s rizzling look,

Leaps from th’ antartic world unto the sky

And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath,

Faustus, begin thine incantations,

And try if devils will obey thy hest,

Seeing thou hast pray’d and sacrific’d to them. 

Within this circle is Jehovah’s name

Forward and backward anagrammatiz’d,

The breviated names of holy saints,

Figures of every adjunct to the heavens,

And characters of signs and erring stars,

By which the spirits are enforc’d to rise:

Then fear not, Faustus, to be resolute

And try the uttermost magic can perform.”

(Act 1 scene 3) 

What fun. 

I note that Faustus speaks to himself in the soliloquies, addressing himself as thou and Faustus, which is different from Shakespeare’s soliloquies. 

As we see in the soliloquies, Faustus does waver and struggle with himself. Marlowe also adds to it by creating a good angel and a bad angel, as the 2 sides in Faustus. Here’s the man arguing with himself: 

“FAUSTUS Now, Faustus, must thou needs be damn’d

And canst thou not be sav’d?

What boots it then to think of God or heaven?

Away with such vain fancies, and despair;

Despair in God, and trust in Beelzebub.

Now go not backward; no, Faustus, be resolute:

Why waver’st thou? O, something soundeth in mine ears,

‘Abjure this magic, turn to God again!’ 

Ay, and Faustus will turn to God again.

To God? He loves thee not; 

The god thou serv’st is thine own appetite,

Wherein is fix’d the love of Beelzebub:

To him I’ll build an altar and a church

And offer lukewarm blood of new-born babes.” 

(Act 2 scene 1) 

But look at this speech from Lucifer’s agent: 

“MEPHOSTOPHILIS […] Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib’d

In one self place, but where we are is hell,

And where hell is, there must be ever be; 

And, to be short, when all the world dissolves

And every creature shall be purify’d, 

All places shall be hell that is not heaven.” 

(ibid.) 

Earlier, he makes a similar point: 

“MEPHOSTOPHILIS Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it.

Think’st thou that I, who saw the face of God 

And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,

Am not tormented with ten thousand hells

In being depriv’d of everlasting bliss? 

O Faustus, leave these frivolous demands,

Which strike a terror to my fainting soul.” 

(Act 1 scene 3) 

Is that not a curious speech? “Fainting soul”? “Eternal joys of heaven”? “Everlasting bliss”? Mephostophilis is meant to tempt Faustus and recruit souls for Lucifer, is he not? Faustus isn’t tempted by the devils—he walks into it himself. 

But why 24 years?

2/ I know it’s not Marlowe’s fault, but I couldn’t help laughing when reading the scene of Faustus and Mephostophilis talking about planets, or Faustus talking to the Duke about the hemispheres—Faustus sells his soul for higher knowledge, and that’s the kind of knowledge he gets? HAHAHAHA.  

3/ Faustus doesn’t only use his power for knowledge, he also uses it to play pranks on others, such as the Pope, a nobleman called Benvolio, or a horse courser (horse dealer)—in some sense, he’s not much better than Robin the clown after all. 

Generally however, he’s portrayed sympathetically—who would think the horse courser is not at fault? Who would think the punishment of Benvolio and other noblemen is underserved? 

4/ I note that there’s a lot more Latin in Doctor Faustus than in Shakespeare’s plays. Is it the same for other plays by Marlowe, or just this one? There are rhymes occasionally, rarer than in Shakespeare. 

It would be wiser to compare the two writers when I’ve read all or at least most of Marlowe’s works, but my first impression is that if we leave out Shakespeare’s mature plays (as we should) and only compare Doctor Faustus and Shakespeare’s plays from around the same time such as The Taming of the Shrew or The Comedy of Errors (not the collaborations), Doctor Faustus may be more ambitious in terms of form, scope, and ideas, but I still think the early Shakespeare plays are superior in terms of language and characterisation. 

The characters here still seem crude, only the titular character seems to have an inner life, and there’s some trace of the old morality plays such as the good angel and the bad angel and the impersonations of the 7 Deadly Sins. 

However, it’s undeniably an exciting and ambitious play with big ideas, and the final act is wonderful. I’ve read that Shakespeare broke some rules and conventions of classical drama (such as the 3 unities: unity of action, unity of time, and unity of place), and he certainly did, but a few innovations could be found in Marlowe’s play already: Doctor Faustus spans 24 years, there are many locations, and there is comic relief. There is a clown, called Robin. 

5/ The greatest scene in Doctor Faustus is Act 5 scene 2, especially the last hour before Faustus’s damnation. What a scene. 

Look at the way Christopher Marlowe uses words to paint a picture of hell. 

“BAD ANGEL Now Faustus, let thine eyes with horror stare

Into that vast perpetual torture-house. 

These are the furies, tossing damned souls 

On burning forks; their bodies boil in lead: 

There are live quarters broiling on the coals, 

That ne’er can die: this ever-burning chair 

Is for o’er-tortur’d souls to rest them in:

These that are fed with sops of flaming fire

Were gluttons and lov’d only delicates

And laugh’d to see the poor starve at their gates.

But yet all these are nothing; thou shalt see 

Ten thousand tortures that more horrid be.” 

Marlowe’s power of language is best seen in Faustus’s final speech. 

“FAUSTUS Ah, Faustus,

Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,

And then thou must be damn'd perpetually!

Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven,

That time may cease, and midnight never come;

Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make

Perpetual day; or let this hour be but

A year, a month, a week, a natural day,

That Faustus may repent and save his soul!

O lente, lente currite, noctis equi!

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike,

The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd.

O, I'll leap up to my God! Who pulls me down?

See, see, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament!

One drop would save my soul, half a drop: Ah, my Christ!—

Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ;

Yet will I call on him. O, spare me, Lucifer!—

Where is it now? 'tis gone:  and see, where God

Stretcheth out his arm, and bends his ireful brows.

Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me,

And hide me from the heavy wrath of God!

No, no!

Then will I headlong run into the earth:.

Earth, gape! O, no, it will not harbour me!

You stars that reign'd at my nativity,

Whose influence hath allotted death and hell,

Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist.

Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud,

That, when you vomit forth into the air,

My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths,

So that my soul may but ascend to heaven!

[The clock strikes].

Ah, half the hour is past! 'twill all be pass’d anon

O God,

If thou wilt not have mercy on my soul,

Yet for Christ's sake, whose blood hath ransom'd me,

Impose some end to my incessant pain;

Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years,

A hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd!

O, no end is limited to damned souls!

Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?

Or why is this immortal that thou hast?

Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true,

This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd

Unto some brutish beast: all beasts are happy,

For when they die

Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements;

But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell.

Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me!

No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer

That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven.

[The clock striketh twelve.]

O, it strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air,

Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell!

[Thunder and lightning.]

O soul, be chang'd into little water drops,

And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found!

[Enter DEVILS]

My God, my god, look not so fierce on me!

Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while!

Ugly hell, gape not! Come not, Lucifer!

I'll burn my books!—Ah, Mephostophilis!

(Act 5 scene 2) 

This is longer than all of Faustus’s previous soliloquies in the play—I put up the entire speech because it’s utterly brilliant. 

I should read more Marlowe.