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Justin Chen Faust Essay #1—Topic 10 Stephen Dedalus, the protagonist of James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, finds himself torn by two opposing impulses that also plague Goethe’s character, Faust. On the one hand, Dedalus’ unremitting desire to create some “living thing, new and soaring and beautiful, impalpable, imperishable” (Joyce, 171) alienates him from the company of men who entertain perhaps more mundane sentiments. Dedalus cannot help but feel that “his mind seemed older than theirs: it shone coldly on their strifes and happiness and regrets like a moon upon a younger earth” (Joyce, 95). (i) Similarly, Faust’s quest for experience and knowledge isolates him from those who, like Wagner, believe the path to knowledge lies within the written word, as well as from the greater proportion of the society to which he belongs. At the same time, however, both Dedalus and Faust feel a curious attraction for those very same earthly surroundings. During the occasional periods in which he is not preoccupied with loftier pursuits, Dedalus is “glad to find himself still in the midst of common lives, passing on his way amid the squalor and noise and sloth of the city fearlessly and with a light heart” (Joyce, 177). Similarly, Faust acknowledges that while he is motivated by a desire to reach grandiose heights of human experience, a large part of him nevertheless wishes to cling fast to solid ground. Unfortunately for Faust, however, his very propensity to strive for pinnacles of knowledge beyond most others’ grasp prevents him from ever fully joining the society of his fellow man, just as Dedalus will never “know…the pleasure of companionship with others” (Joyce, 96). Faust’s essential impetus, that feeling which “ever upward, forward presses” (Goethe, 1093) (ii) is partly a manifestation of his distaste for scholarship as a means to knowledge. In fact, the drama begins with a scene in which Faust expresses his impatience with the trappings of academia and arrives at the emphatic conclusion that his entire professorial endeavor has been for naught, for “there is nothing we can know!” (364). His frustration with the artificiality of his profession is, however, somehow overshadowed by a deeper and more meaningful desire to commune with Nature, which Faust verbalizes by stating, “And rid of learning’s fetid fume, / Bathe whole my spirit in your spume!” (396-7: German—“Von allem Wissensqualm entladen, / In deinem Tau gesund mich baden!”). Whether or not one chooses to accept Arndt’s translation of the word “Tau” to “spume,” Faust’s underlying sentiment remains unmistakable. Clearly, some further desire other than simple discontent motivates Faust to “resort to Magic’s art” (377) at the opening of the drama. That desire is best describes as a sort of yearning for renewal of his spirit by Nature’s powers. Faust's attraction to Nature is demonstrated by his use of metaphors drawn from the natural world to describe his driving force, the feeling that “is innate in us all” and that “ever upward, forward presses.” He makes analogies to three different kinds of birds, each of which represents a different idea that Faust desires for himself. The skylark who “trills his jubilant call” (1095) represents unadulterated joy for life—that is, an extremely pure celebration of nature that is virtually the antithesis of Faust’s dusty, man-made prison of books and learning. The eagle, who “over craggy fir-clad highlands / On outspread wings… rides” (1096-7) seems to symbolize the experience of which Faust is so envious. Just as the eagle can, from his lofty position, survey the entire earth beneath him, so too does Faust wish to command knowledge of the very essence of life, as though the limits of human experience were laid out below him, to be captured in a single searching glance. Finally, the crane who “striving over plains and islands… / toward his homeland glides” (1098-9) seems to represent that surety of purpose which Faust desires most of all. Faust cannot content himself with a life without meaning (sinnlos). After being rejected by the Earth Spirit in Nacht, he looks despairingly about his study and concludes that “never/ Will Nature be defrauded of her veil” (672-3); subsequently, he decides to take his own life in a desperate attempt to avoid an existence with no clear objective. Thus, Faust seems to desire an allegorical “homeland” that can give meaning and direction to his existence. Faust’s expression of longing in terms of Nature is appropriate given his belief that the man-made construct of learning is a “sea of aberration” (1065) and that everything he knows “lacks applications” (1067). Yet his fellow humans certainly are not about to join him in his quest for experience. Wagner refers to Faust’s sentiments as “moody crotchets” (1100) and states, “I never shall begrudge the bird its soaring. / Compare the mind’s delights which wing us poring / From book to book, from leaf to leaf!” (1103-5). This statement is representative of exactly the type of life against which Faust’s very soul rebels so fervently. Nor is the company of members of society outside academic circles any more of a comfort to the troubled scholar. After an old peasant offers Faust a drink and the townspeople praise him as a “man of worth” (1007) during the Easter celebration outside the city gates, Faust admits to Wagner, “Now people’s cheers to me ring jeering fun” (1030). His inability to graciously accept their praise is a result of the guilt he feels due to the deception perpetrated by his father and himself on the innocent townspeople during a pestilence years ago. Thus, although Faust could potentially occupy a revered position in society, memories of past misfortunes prevent him from ever realizing this possibility. Faust is therefore unable to find solace or companionship in either his peers at the university or in the common townspeople over which he looms, an intellectual giant filled with moral despair. The last earthly community to which Faust feels he can turn for a sense of belonging is the Church or religion. In fact, it is the chorus of the Angels at the end of the Nacht scene that rescues Faust from the brink of self-annihilation. Yet even then, Faust is reminded not so much of Christianity or God, but rather of “the merry games of youth” (779), a recollection that “rouses childlike feeling” (781) within him. Faust’s renewed sense of purpose must necessarily then be short-lived, because happy memories of an irretrievable childhood clearly cannot sustain his more deep-seated frustration with the desultory nature of his existence. In fact, after his walk through the countryside and his glorification of nature, Faust returns to his study only to lament, “But oh! though my resolve grows even stronger, / I feel contentment welling from my soul no longer” (1210-1). His memory-induced euphoria has subsided and he wallows once again in his initial discontentment. At this second point of depression, Faust turns once again to religion as a means of “revelation / Which nowhere burns so finely, so unflawed, / As in the Gospel of our Lord” (1217-9). Yet this appears once again to be an unsatisfactory solution, for Faust soon finds himself troubled by the various translations of the Greek word logos. Just as Faust rejects academia as artificial and stifling, it is not altogether astonishing that he is frustrated by the Scripture, for to Faust, a medium of expression can never authentically represent the fundamental Truth or experience that lies at its core. This theme of mediation versus expression is common throughout the drama, and is exemplified by the difference between the Sign of the Macrocosm and the conjuring of the Earth Spirit (although this is a different topic altogether!). Faust comes upon a similar dilemma later in an argument with Mephistopheles when he curses, “Search for a name and cannot find it, / Then through the world send all my senses casting, / For most sublime expression grasping” (3061-3). Faust’s dissatisfaction with the medium of the written word precludes any satisfaction he might obtain from turning to the Bible for inspiration or meaning. Thus, it is clear that Faust cannot turn to religion for a sense of belonging. The starkest instance of Faust’s isolation from society is the scene in Auerbachs Keller in Leipzig. His one spoken line of interest is, “I’d like to quit their playing-field” (2296), a statement that conveys only distaste for his surroundings. Given the fact that the characters of Frosch, Brander, Siebel, and Altmayer must represent a fairly typical group that might ordinarily be found in a sociable tavern setting, Faust’s purposeful self-exclusion from the revelry in which they partake further contrasts him from the society of his fellow men. Given these instances of Faust’s exclusion from most forms of community, one must wonder whether he truly does value any aspect of the earthly world. Faust clarifies this point when he describes the “two souls…dwelling in [his] breast” (1112). He laments, “The one holds fast with joyous earthly lust / Onto the world of man with organs clinging; / The other soars impassioned from the dust, / To realms of lofty forebears winging” (1114-7). The latter represents Faust’s drive that “ever upward, forward presses.” The former, however, represents that aspect of both Faust and Joyce’s character Stephen Dedalus that seems so counterintuitive—that is, an unavoidable attachment to the “world of man.” Faust truly does value some aspect of the earthly world just as much as he yearns for something greater and purer. Unfortunately, however, he cannot find a place within that world in an academic, social, or religious sense, and his isolation is typified by the Auerbachs Keller in Leipzig scene. Faust’s exclusion from society explains his inevitable decision to surrender himself wholly to “splendored Nature” (3220) by any means possible. His attempts at conjuring the Earth Spirit are an example of an overly zealous attempt for which he is neither prepared nor competent, but that he somehow believes will unite him the force of Nature. Later, Faust’s infamous pact with Mephistopheles stems directly from his desire to “conquer mankind’s loftiest plane, / The crown toward which all senses strain” (1804-5) by means of a sort of inundation of experience. The character of Faust is a dichotomy of lofty and earthly impulses. While driven by that unnamed force which “ever upward, forward presses,” he is at the same time unmistakably tethered to the “world of man” by a “joyous earthly lust.” Although each of these aspects of Faust’s essence can be seen as separate but equal, it is Faust’s inability to be accepted into any community that cause him to inevitably pursue the former and abandon the remainder of mankind. i) Joyce, James. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Penguin Books Ltd., New York, NY: 1976. Citations are page numbers. ii) von Goethe, Johann Wolfgang. Faust (Ed. Cyrus Hamlin). W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., New York, NY: 2001. Citations are line numbers. |