FAUSTUS: Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a spirit ? Yea, God will pity me, if I repent. EVIL ANGEL: Ay, but Faustus never will repent. Act ii. sc. 2. This touches a line of argument which Faustus feels is based upon truth. FAUSTUS: My heart is hardened: I cannot repent. He cannot think of spiritual things without hearing the voices of despair louder than those of hope. He will give up, he will summon to his aid invincible resolution Faustus never shall repent. Yet with the natural inconsistency of those who are proud of their own resolution, Faustus throws the blame of his fate upon Mephistopheles. 'Tis thou hast damn'd distresséd Faustus' soul. Act ii. sc. 2. The evil angel is at hand to echo his thought, and speaks the fateful word, "Too late." But it is not too late: the good angel has not forsaken Faustus, and speaks the higher truth. GOOD ANGEL: Never too late, if Faustus will repent. In answer the evil angel seeks to rouse terror in Faustus' soul: EVIL ANGEL: If thou repent, devils will tear thee to pieces. It is the last effort: the good angel parts from him, and he goes through his course of the reckless enjoyment of power, till the hour of doom comes; and then alone, as one who stands at the foot of an unscaleable precipice facing the inexorable sea, Faustus counts the fast passing minutes, which like the incoming waves bring near the moment of doom. FAUSTUS: Oh, Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, Act v. sc. 4. He But the midnight draws near fast. The relentless clock tells the swift flight of time. shrinks from the thought of the interminable hell before him. If torment could but be measured by time, he would be content, or if he could surrender the priceless and awful inheritance of the soul and be as the soulless beasts that perish! He envies the dumb creatures that know not the awful horrors of which spiritual beings are capable. If he could but be transformed to such, it would be joy. Ah! Pythagoras' metempsychosis, Were that (but) true, this soul should fly from me, All beasts are happy. Act v. sc. 4. Then as the hand creeps over the dial towards the midnight hour he curses the day of his birth, his parents, and yet realises that the blame of his doom is not with them. No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer, That hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven. Act. v. sc. 4. The clock strikes and in the midst of thunder and lightning Faustus is borne away by the infernal powers. The changeless principles of moral order find vigorous and inevitable expression in the play. The poet makes us realise the sanctity of the individual, the mysterious power of the human will, the inward wrestling between the good and evil impulses which form part of the soul's experience. The sin of Faustus is not merely the sin of the adventurous soul, which like Prometheus would seize upon knowledge so as to pluck from heaven new benefits for men: the sin is the selfish sin of the man who longs for power that he may please and glorify himself; who plays with unlawful forces and sacrifices the best spiritual capacities of his nature for the sake of present power. Character is offered upon the altar of selfish ambitions; and in aggravation of this sin, the tender voice of the restraining and guiding spirit of all good is silenced. He sins, but he sins against light and knowledge: he sins most of all in that he quenches the spirit of God within his heart. Thus the writer who perhaps more than any other had imbibed the spirit of the godless Renaissance shows himself a child of Teutonic thought, and bears witness in his greatest play to the moral and spiritual forces which are in constant operation in the souls of men and are indispensable for the preservation of society and civilisation. CHAPTER VI SHAKESPEARE'S “TEMPEST" THERE is one of Shakespeare's plays which exerts a unique fascination over certain minds. It is hardly true to say that it is quite unlike the other plays, but in a way it stands alone. It is "The Tempest." It is printed first in most editions of Shakespeare; but it would be nearer chronological accuracy to print it last. It was not published till 1623; it can hardly have been written before 1610. It was probably written for the Princess Elizabeth's wedding in 1613. Looked at from the standpoint of Shakespeare's own experience, it is a poem produced when the stress and excitement of life's work is over. Shakespeare was then a man of means, he did not need to write for bread, or for necessity, or to supply plays to keep the theatre going. He was about to move away from London. Faith |