By Alex O’Neill
Northrop Frye, in reference to the raison d’être of the classic hero, describes identity formation as “the antithetical quest for a return to an integrated being” (Lecker 285). For Doctor Faustus, this quest is irrevocably linked to the soul: the immaterial content of his character, which allows him to determine his fate. The soul, however, is an ever-changing construct; while intrinsically internal, it is perpetually affected by externalities, ir/rational choice, and an ultimate desire to establish a stable emotional centre from which to engage in authentic self-expression. Lecker continues to describe Frye’s conception of the hero as mythopoeic—insofar as it is “Protestant, male-centric, and overwhelmingly English” (286). While this definition may appear rigid, the critical framework that Frye has formulated sympathises with the tragic persona constructed by Marlowe. Frye’s four archetypal phases in the hero’s journey—“dawn, spring and birth,” “comedy, pastoral, and idyll,” “sunset, autumn and death,” and “darkness, winter, and dissolution,” respectively—can be used to analyse the raison d’être of “learned Faustus, fame of Wittenberg, the wonder of the world for magic art” (Marlowe, xi.11). The aforementioned phases are chronological by nature of their seasonal representations, thereby engaging a cycle like the seasons they embody. As this tragic hero faces shortcomings in his pursuit of endless knowledge, and progresses through these phases, his soul transmigrates into subversive, carnivalesque parodies of his former self. Unable to meet the criteria for success as a learned scholar, this pursuit leads to his ultimate demise. Seen through Frye’s model, this analysis will elucidate how Faustus’ soul has adopted an ever-changing status relative to interactions with malicious characters, such as Cornelius, Valdes, and Mephistopheles, that surround him and determine his fate. Evidently, Faustus’ radical dichotomy with the material world leads to a discord between his external awareness and his emotional homeostasis. In an effort to balance these two spheres, his soul ultimately succumbs to the depths of Hell in his noble quest for knowledge.
Phase I: A Doctor-Prescribed Predicament
The “dawn, spring and birth” phase necessitates a construction of Faustus’ soul as fundamentally tragic in nature (Frye 104)—insofar as Faustus’ internal, pious struggle is exposed to the audience through “Good” and “Evil” Angels who adjudicate his predicaments. Entering the stage together, the Good Angel tempts Faustus to “lay that damnèd book aside and not gaze on it” (Marlowe, i.72–74). In the interest of safeguarding his sanity, Faustus is then referred to the didactic work of the scriptures instead. On the contrary, these parables are interpreted by Faustus as providing “nothing but external trash,” and serve as merely one alternative mode of truth-seeking to the “necromantic books [and] metaphysics of magicians” (i.35-36). Faustus ultimately bids “divinity, adieu!” by choosing reason over piety, and attempts to settle his predicament of conviction as a member of the scientific class (i.49). Yet, he eventually abandons all rhetoric supplanted by reason, as it guides his modus operandi with nothing more than aphorisms and maxims. Furthermore, societal critiques paint the clinical obsession with bodily aesthetics and function as a low-class expression between the High Renaissance and the Jacobean period. For example, in Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi, Bosola, who has recently returned from a sentence of hard labour, equates Antonio’s “study of physiognomy” to “a sick man’s urine” (I.ii.150-152). Faustus casts these same perspectives of the body onto the medical profession as a whole. In doing so, he exposes how the honour conferred onto him as a doctor is largely devoid of meaning, thereby leaving Faustus without a stable, moral centre.
Marlowe communicates Faustus’ feelings on the syntactic level of language through the passionate nature of rhapsodic prose, and the dithyramb’s disjointed form. The former refers to an emotional, yet fragmented proclamation. On this matter, Alcidimas proclaimed that when “speeches are fashioned precisely with respect to their words” the “minds of listeners [are] filled with disbelief and resentment”—which, when delivered to an audience, are passionately rhapsodic (Graff 311). Wagner offers a textbook example of a dithyramb, whose roots lie in Dionysian celebration. Whilst dining with two unnamed scholars, Wagner declares that Faustus “is […] with Valdes and Cornelius, as this wine, if it could speak, would inform your worship” (Marlowe, iii.24). Whereas Wagner frames Faustus in a Dionysian light, Valdes is ideated as a sort of blocking agent; he sets up Faustus’ heroic quest for failure by introducing him to the practice of necromancy, thus depriving him of a moral platform on which to ground himself. To this end, the transformation of Faustus’ soul is Dionysian in two ways. The first, by way of the dithyramb, is in Marlowe’s personification of wine as a mediator between Faustus and two malicious characters, Valdes and Cornelius, who shape his identity. The second, with reference to Dionysus’ function as the God of passion and madness, is in Marlowe’s inference that Faustus must undergo an emotional collapse in order to complete his heroic quest. This proclamation positions Wagner in an identical light to Valdes and Cornelius, insofar as he acknowledges that this wine has an externalising and transformative effect on Faustus’ soul. Despite this knowledge, Wagner does nothing to stop the wine from intoxicating and spiritually possessing his master. Marlowe, therefore, scraps Wagner’s code of honourable allegiance towards Faustus as Wagner facilitates the latter’s departure into the depths of Hell. This occurs in lieu of a supernatural cure, akin to one that Dionysus receives from Cybele, in order to continue his ritualistic existence. Faustus’ mythical identity is thus presented to the audience as compromised from the outset; something that indicates that the devil is, in fact, in the details.
Phase II: A Gift of Blood & Flesh
Elements of the carnivalesque have seeped into Faustus’ initial conceptions of Frye’s next archetype, which centres on “comedy, [the] pastoral, and idyll” (104). For one, digressive depictions of the pastoral highlight Faustus’ irrational choices, which make way for Mephistophiles’ claim to his soul. This is followed by a ritualistic act of gift-giving. Appearing to follow a moral code, this occurrence becomes used instead as a modicum of exchange between Faustus and Mephistopheles. Both of these comedic instances are inherently subversive and occur by way of the audience projecting their own insecurities onto Faustus through laughter. Given that the subject matter at play subverts conventional understandings of salvation, this process is inherently Bakhtinian.
Broadly speaking, Christianity as a religious practice is effectively as tragic as it is comedic: tragic, considering how Christ took upon himself the sins of the population and was crucified, and comedic, because a new society is formed on the back of this supposed “eternal harmony.” Hammill frames this irony as a “heterodoxical” reappropriation of “orthodoxical” practices, which in turn elicit a subversion of conventional theatrical expectations, therefore leading to a shocked audience response (316). In other words, by framing this process as a gift-giving exercise with the devil, Marlowe elicits widespread laughter. This comedic occurrence is mimicked by Mephistophiles. In an act of selflessness, Faustus proclaims that, “had I as many souls as there be stars, I’d give them all for Mephistophiles”—an act that mimics Christ’s altruistic acts of self-sacrifice (Marlowe iii.106-107). In an instance of grotesque bodily imagery evoking the crucifixion, Faustus then stabs his own arm, so as to bleed enough sanguine ink to sign his soul away to the devil. While his blood “congeals,” Mephistophiles declares that the act is necessary to “assure his soul to be great Lucifer’s […] in manner of a deed of gift” (v.62; v.35). This ascribes a noble connotation to bloodletting, insofar as Marlowe has established a divine practice of “soul-gifting” in the diabolical realm.
The process of gift-giving is a form of ritual. It entails a corruption of the propitiation of God’s wrath against sin: a willing soul sacrifice as an act of dedication to Satan. For Faustus, his perpetually shifting identity becomes a cyclic exchange between himself and Mephistophiles. This unstable process of identity formation is effectively “ritualesque”—a concept interpreted by audience members as comical (Santino 62). In this vein, Mephistopheles commands Faustus to engage in taboo acts that are underlined by the language of Billingsgate, which has a quasi-liberating function for Faustus’ soul. One of these acts of profanity involves the Pope and Cardinals’ presence at a lavish feast referred to as a “solemn festival” (Marlowe ix.32). In the midst of the dinner, Faustus snatches a piece of meat from the Pope—the consumption of which is a direct, carnivalesque affront to the doctrine of Lent, providing its association with the body of Christ. Soon after, Faustus steals a glass of wine from the table, even after he proclaims that he “is adry” (ix.74). Wine has been previously coded as a vehicle of soul transformation through Faustus’ involvement with Valdes and Cornelius. This subversive transformation is further denounced by the pontificate, who repeatedly chants “CURSED BE HE THAT TOOK AWAY HIS HOLINESS’ WINE!” in a ritualistic fashion (ix.110). The denouncement ultimately attempts to provide a moral blockage to wine’s ability to shape the expression of the soul. Lachmann notes how such acts of absurdity have an externalising function; the audience’s recognition of Faustus’ carnivalesque acts as improbable deems them inherently comical. In other words, his inner thoughts are projected into the physical realm (Frye 144). Even so, Faustus’ soul is still bound to Mephistophiles, hence why Billingsgate has a quasi-liberating function. In sum, Faustus’ carnivalesque behaviour is proof that his soul’s externalisation has been codified in the contract signed with Mephistophiles. Faustus’ digressive, verbal interactions with his surroundings, which Hammill would refer to as “danger of words,” marks the beginning of a “ritualesque” treatment, which ultimately shapes the tragic trajectory of his soul (317).
Phase III: The Undoing of Body, But Not Mind or Soul
The “sunset, autumn and death” phase shifts from comical and pastoral conceptions of the soul (Frye 104). Most importantly, for both Faustus and Frye, the third archetypal phase involves a further “isolation of the hero” by way of “sacrifice” (104). This tenet sets up the complete dissociation of Faustus’ soul from his body; a process which occurs in two different circumstances: first, through a play-within-a-play, Marlowe resurrects and satirises Faustus’ conundrum between rational scientific thought and Christian doctrine. Next, through personifying the Seven Deadly Sins, Marlowe ideates an externalisation between Faustus’ soul. Faustus then uses this dichotomy between metaphysical and physical for didactic ends.
The Seven Deadly Sins continue the externalisation of Faustus’ soul by assigning soulful language to earthly representations of the devil. For Faustus, the very sight of the Sins “doth delight [his] soul!” (Marlowe vi.170). The trope of the bastard child lacking in moral conscience is echoed by Gluttony, whose “parents are all dead” (vi.145). Envy also “cannot read, and therefore wishes all books burned”: an academic renunciation akin to Faustus’ strife with science and his desire to leave his scientific past behind him as part of his soul-searching quest (vi.131). Despite their physical representation on stage, they operate in an inherently psychological manner, and serve the purpose of ensuring the separation of Faustus’ soul from his physical self. He calls upon the forces of evil to “come fetch thy soul,” a statement evocative of kenosis, whereby Faustus appropriates transformative processes of the soul of Christ in an iconoclastic fashion (vi.92). In other words, he “empties” his physical body in order for the devil to repossess it. This act also serves a didactic function for the audience. Through the personification of the Seven Deadly Sins, Marlowe frames familiar canonical themes as dysfunctional. More importantly, by showcasing that Faustus has a warped idea of what knowledge can do for him, Marlowe posits to the audience that a choice between rational scientific thought and theological devotion is necessary to maintain social order. Humour, therefore, comes from Faustus’ resistance to social order. He further uses the transmigration of Faustus’ soul into Hell to underscore that a choice within this binary is necessary for the well-being of the “collective soul.”
Meanwhile, a group of mechanicals enact a metatheatrical play-within-a-play that applies previously established comic tropes to parody the lavish feast where Faustus disparages the Pope. In the play, Benvolio plays the role of the Pope; this character had been previously slain by Faustus, who has been told that his “soul [be damn’d] for ever for this deed!” (ix.95). Faustus then disrupts the play-within-a-play; he enters the scene wearing a false head with horns, after which Benvolio stabs him. Exclaiming that “this blow ends all! Hell take his soul,” this parody of events reveals that Faustus’ soul has been subsumed by externalities posed by his affiliation with the depths of Hell (xiii.36-37). Benvolio further deconstructs him in a carnivalesque fashion, piece by piece, in an act of disparagement put on public display. This marks the beginning of the proverbial disassembly of Faustus’ physical body and its separation from his soul as a form of digressive punishment. The disassembly ranges from sabotaging Faustus’ “huge forked horns,” which refers to Faustus’ infidelity to the medical profession, to his eyes, which Frederick wants to “pull out” of his skull (xiii.56; xiii.64). All that he is proverbially left with after this passage are his “heads and hands” (xiii.59). Bakhtin refers to this “all-annihilating” act of physical disparagement as “profanation,” in reference to the mistreatment of the sacred (Lachmann 142). In this carnivalesque subversion, the mechanicals act in favour of advancing Faustus’ descent into the depths of Hell, providing the further “obscene inversion” of the Eucharist that serves as a metaphor for the corruption of Faustus’ own soul. Whereby this act entails Jesus, in an act of thanksgiving, allowing God to “take this body” as the ultimate offer for presuming the sins of the masses, Faustus’ soul eschews challenge, for “in a minute my spirit return’d” (Mark 12:44; xiii.75). In this sense, Faustus acknowledges his soul’s resilience against external forces, and as the only remaining line of defence against doctrine and the malicious intent of characters around him; the same cannot be said for his physical body, which has been visibly mutilated in multiple ways.
Phase IV: The Undoing of Mind & Soul
The “darkness, winter, and dissolution phase” described by Frye employs chaos to effectively defeat the hero, which is precisely how Faustus meets his fate (105). Metempsychosis isa transmigration of the soul from one corpus to another by way of death, and provides guidance for Faustus’ final descent into Hell. Through this process, Faustus’ salvation—which is conventionally understood as permanent and internal—occurs ephemerally and externally.
Faustus’ final earthly act before transmigrating through metempsychosis is to plead with his paramour, Helen, for forgiveness. Although this is Faustus’ last exhibited instance of human reason, it is convoluted, and largely devoid of meaning. While he wishes to be left “awhile to ponder on my sins,” those around him, such as an Old Man, claim to “fear the enemy of [Faustus’] hapless soul” in a brief interjection of clarity (xvii.67-69). While this appears to mark a key narrative shift in the text, the malicious unanimity of the characters surrounding Faustus damages any remaining potential for his soul to reach heaven. In order to recover from his naïveté, Faustus expresses his feelings through a superficial and wholly physical erotic drive. Rather than using sexual desire as a unifying force in the midst of social disorder, Marlowe frames it as a substitution for a true, soulful connection. As such, Faustus claims that Helen’s “lips suck forth [his] soul” and then asks her to “come, give me my soul again!” (xviii.104). This is Faustus’ final attempt to reverse the divorce between his soul and the physical realm, insofar as he believes that his soul can be absorbed into a heaven-bound vessel—in this case, Helen’s body—as a means of reaching salvation. He engages in these acts even if Mephistophiles will prevent his soul from ever reaching heaven. This exemplifies the physiological response to delusion described by Frye, whereby in the darkness of nature, the “libido or conquering heroic self awakes” in a prideful manner (106). The methods in which Faustus attempts to preserve his honour have been previously imitated by a personified embodiment of Pride, who, referring to a hypothetical woman, wants to “kiss her lips […] and then, do what I list” (vi.119). This frames Faustus’ engagement in soul searching as paradoxical: in attempting to backtrack on his role within the Mephistophelian apparatus, Faustus showcases that his soul embodies the sin that once tempted him.
As a result of Faustus’ inability to supplant his soul into a heaven-bound vessel by way of erotic transference towards Helen, a total sacrifice of both physical and spiritual states of his being occurs. Faustus’ soul, once and for all, completes its transmigration into Hell. In this respect, the metempsychosis of Faustus’ soul occurs at the end of the play in a purely temporal manner. As the drama draws to a rapid and climactic close through an anamorphosis of time, Faustus develops a disbelief that the transformative process he is undertaking is both true and eternal. Such is the case in Volpone, whereby the title character’s illegitimate son Nano claims to have “enclo’ed the soul of Pythagoras,” which “came first from Apollo, and was breathed into Aethalides” (Jonson, I.i.267). An identical reference to “Pythagoras’ metempsychosis” occurs in Doctor Faustus, only instead, this conflict is presented from a first-person perspective by the individual undergoing the process of soul transmigration (Marlowe, xix.175). Faustus understands that his diabolical actions are necessary to initiate this process, which is in turn defined by time constraints. As “the clock striketh twelve,” Faustus wishes his “body [to] turn to air!” (Marlowe, xix.183-184). This declaration enables a fusion of the body and soul as a last-ditch effort to exonerate Faustus of his sins.
Concluding Remarks
All Souls’ Day is held annually in honour of those stuck in purgatory. The chorus in the play’s prologue describes a paradox, in that Faustus’ blood “surfeits upon cursed necromancy” as an indicator of his “sweet, magical” romance with death and the macabre. It can therefore be surmised that Faustus’ body and soul are predestined for the depths of Hell from the very beginning; he has committed far more than a few forgivable sins that would leave his soul in a state of limbo between Earth and Heaven. Insofar as Mephistopheles tells Faustus to “therefore despair [and to] think only upon hell” (xix.88), the archetypal phases outlined by Frye through which Faustus circulates showcase the nuances of the soul’s transmigration—even if Faustus is in constant disbelief of the actual occurrence of this process (Frye 104). From the affair with Valdes and Cornelius, to interactions with the Seven Deadly Sins, the journey of Faustus’ soul maintains a didactic purpose, which in turn serves as a cautionary tale to the audience to ensure that they believe in something, as long as it is of this earth.
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