Faustian Eidôlons

Have you desired something so desperately, that for just a moment of bliss, you would gladly give up your soul?  Such was the conclusion which was met by our unfortunate Doctor Faustus, for how valuable is a soul?  Now with such a title, you may think him a man of science; and indeed, there have been those by this name who have dabbled in the arts of alchemy and sciences which transcend human understanding.  But our Doctor Faustus is not to be confused with these men, for he sought something much more raw, something which seemed simpler to obtain than a Philosopher’s Stone, but which had evaded him his whole life all the same.  Doctor Faustus was a painter who had dedicated his whole life to the brush, pursuing a doctorate in the subject despite its impracticality and the scorn of all those who knew him.  While some men seem naturally capable of painting out their soul, Doctor Faustus was not one of these men.  Yet all the same, he wanted nothing else in life, or even the next, but to see it for a single moment--his soul before him.  But with each stroke of the brush, he was left with an image completely devoid of that which he sought; and despite the praise which he had garnished with his work, his every waking hour had become a hell of torment and internal struggle.  Was it really so much to ask?

 

Doctor Faustus had come to despise the heavens which had given him an insatiable lust to create, and yet had deprived him the ability to make anything truly unique--to simply understand himself--eternally constrained to mimic the creations of THE creator.  He had once been a man of god, desperately pouring out his every fibre of being, desperately offering anything for just one chance to contribute to creation.  He would serve his fellow men, he would never paint thereafter, and he would offer up his very life-blood; or perhaps his first-born would suffice as of Abraham, father of nations?  But his desperate pleas went unanswered; for God is not one to be bargained with.  So Doctor Faustus came to cultivate a dark hatred for the divine trinity which had now culminated to this moment, in which his brush had but a dark design which drove it.  

 

Upon palette, lay his blood, mixed with sulphur and ash steeped with his unseen passion and devotion to something which could not be understood.  Surely all those who had once scorned his academic pursuit would now pity him, for frenzied and wild desire is a tragic thing to behold.  But these people had never truly desired something, for if you would not throw your very soul away to simply behold it, could your wanton needs compare?

 

Doctor Faustus looked upon the amaranthine pentacle which he had crafted on canvas, it was the closest he had ever come to beholding his own soul.  It was dark and twisted, filled with a blood-borne hatred, and yet… it was pure; surely this was progress.  Imagining what was to come filled the Doctor with a rapture which mere acrylic had never sated--this is the power of blood.  Placing his passion-filled painting upon the ground in the middle of the ashen Trigon of Evocation which was likewise laced with his blood, Doctor Faustus with but a moment’s hesitation stood upon his most prized creation--still but a shadow of the great creator--and readied himself to incant the dark summoning for the lord of bargains, the distributor of corruption.  Clearing his throat, and with a slow and deliberate tone Doctor Faustus intoned the vile chant in a dead language he did not understand, how else could one call upon ancient powers?

 

Sint mihi Dei Acherontis propitii!
Valeat numen triplex Jehovae!
Ignei aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete!
Orientis princeps Beelzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demigorgon,
propitiamus vos, ut appareat, et surgat Mephistophilis
Dragon, quod tumeraris; per Luciferi, gehennam, et inconsecratam
aquam, quam nunc spargo; signumque; cornuto quod nunc facio, et per
vota nostra, ipse nunc surgat nobis dicatus…
Mephistophilis!

 

Final words dripping from his tongue, Doctor Faustus could feel the world twist as the Trigon erupted with a ghostly blue light, the color which encompasses the essence of flame.  With this came a fierce hurricane which whipped about him, trying to scatter his animus between planes.  Through the raging tempest came the crack of lightning which illuminated with stark clarity the recesses of the dark room which even the flames obscured; and Doctor Faustus felt fear which he had never known.  But with even greater resolve he stifled even the greatest terrors, which exist only in dreams, and firmly rooted to his Pentacle of crusted blood he remained resolute.  From the unearthly chthonic flames rose a grey form, as if the earth had exhumed its last breath, a man in robes, a corrupted mockery of the pious Dominican; Doctor Faustus knew that the ritual had succeeded.

 

The man stood there for a moment, and with his hood drawn up he bowed ever so slightly and inquired, “Now Faustus, What would’st thou have me to do?”

 

Doctor Faustus had thought deeply before what demands he desired.  He had even hired a lawyer to go over his 'pact', for if anyone understood the ways of the devil it was surely those who understood the ways of law.  Of course the man had been skeptical about the contents of this pact, but all it takes is money, and such concerns are pushed aside.  Lawyers deal every day with the selling of souls, even if their clients lack the ambition to call upon the forces of nature and hell.  So it stands that our Doctor Faustus had not taken this matter of offering up his soul lightly; but even with all this preparation, to see Mephistopheles in the flesh was quite different than inscribed upon paper. Through raging tempest our Doctor Faustus found himself stripped of his eloquent speech which he had so carefully committed to memory.  Yet one did not summon denizens of hell and offer up nothing but silence, and so the Doctor hesitantly spoke, “I charge thee, to grant unto me a full understanding of the mysteries of earth and soul, in so much that I may put them upon canvas for all the world to see.”

 

The Friar squirmed, replying tentatively, “Such a thing is not so easily granted, it is far more difficult than to drop the moon from her sphere, or for the Ocean to overwhelm the world.”

 

Was such a request so difficult?  The ocean to overwhelm the world?  Such a feat had been performed but once within the Epic of Gilgamesh, carried out by omnipotent gods.  This made no sense, and so Doctor Faustus came to the logical conclusion that this distributor of lies was doing just this--spreading his deception.  Perhaps this Mephistopheles thought that he might obtain something more than a soul; but there was nothing else which Doctor Faustus would not offer--such a ploy was without meaning.  Contempt lacing his words, and with a commanding voice which was not interested in playing a game of biddings, Doctor Faustus replied with absolute confidence, “I care not if the world shall be cast off its foundations, and all within destroyed.  Just give unto me this simple request!”

 

With these words, it seemed as if the world HAD been cast off the back of mighty Atlas, and so fierce was the shaking that even Mephistopheles stumbled to his knees; before, in a pained voice he complied, “I am a servant of Great Lucifer.  And may not follow thee without his leave.  No more than he commands may we perform.”

 

But such was Doctor Faustus’s desire, that this reply did not even phase him, “Did not your Lord Lucifer send you here to attend upon me?  Did I not invoke you forth?”

 

Mephistopheles glared at our dear Doctor before conceding, “No, I came hither of mine own accord.  That was the cause, but yet per accident; for when we hear one rack the name of God, abjure the scriptures, and his Savior Christ, we fly in hope to get his glorious soul.  Nor will we come, unless he use such means, whereby he is in danger to be damned. Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring is stoutly to abjure all godliness and pray devoutly to the Prince of Hell.”

 

These words stirred a curiosity in Doctor Faustus, “Do you then imply that my soul is already damned and without bargain, and you do not through your own machinations seek to lead me astray?  Do not bother, I have turned my back to an indifferent God which would cast this fate upon me.  I care little for your intentions, or your flowery diversions, I wish only to have that which I desire!  The very nature of your kind is but deception; how is one confined to hell here before me?”

 

Mephistopheles, while a servant of Lucifer, was likewise held under the constraints of God.  For although Man cannot serve two masters; the damned are forced eternally under a yoke of contradictions and duality.  While men may think those Servants of Lucifer to be only deceivers, the greatest lies are also the greatest truths.  Those who make pacts with the fallen have only themselves to blame, for even the servants of Lucifer serve a God unwilling.  So did Mephistopheles offer up his plea, even as he knew it to be futile, “Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.  Think’st thou that I that saw the face of God, and tasted the eternal joys of heaven am not tormented with ten thousand hells, in being deprived of everlasting bliss?  O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands, which strike a terror to my fainting soul.”

 

Just as all those who came before him, likewise did our Doctor Faustus scorn the warning given unto him, and with hubris in his heart only surpassed by a life-time’s seething desire, he callously replied, “I care little for the promises of a next life, I seek only the most fundamental understanding!  You think a soul is something of value?  This plea of mine, to rival the creations of god, if only on canvas, is not granted unto me by God.  Yet all that wanders this earth is granted a soul by this very God?  Would it not be the crux of foolishness to not seize a chance to give up one’s soul?  Bear these tidings to your master, and say unto him that “I, Doctor Faustus do offer up my soul in exchange for a full understanding of the mysteries of earth and soul, in so much that I may put them upon canvas.  That I care not the price, even such that the world should be torn asunder!””

 

With regret tinging his voice, Mephistopheles bowed and bluntly vowed, “I will.”  For it is the souls which are the least valued by their holders, which in turn hold the most value. 

 

As suddenly as they had raged to life, the tempest and flames were gone, and Doctor Faustus was left alone once more in his workshop with but the rattle of hail upon the roof to fill his mind.  Despite all of this, our Doctor Faustus could not move from the pentacle; as much as he might try, his feet were firmly wedded to the canvas.  A pentacle’s binding is powerful, and cannot be broken until a pact is formed and fulfilled; he had no choice but to await the return of the evoked demon.

 

It is fortunate then that realms which deal with eternity can often pass in a mere moment, for before the flames heat had faded from the air, they were once more rekindled with all the more fervor.  Again, rose the familiar form of that malfeasant friar; clenched tightly within his arms was a decrepit scroll which seemed older than time itself.  Bowing deeply, as a servant to his god, the friar stated without ceremony, “My master accepts.”  Noticing Doctor Faustus’s hesitation, Mephistopheles continued, holding out the scroll delicately, “You need only sign.”  Gesturing to the palette which, while unnoticed, had been clenched in the doctor’s hand all along, Mephistopheles suggested, “As you may assume, such things must be forged with blood--for it is the currency of the soul.”

 

Without a word our Doctor Faustus gingerly received the contract and, marveling at how such a fragile thing could exist, held it up so that he could read it.  Some contracts cannot be defined with words; these are the strongest and most eternal of pacts, without loopholes by which those who delight in the twisting of words may find release.  This was one of these very contracts.  The parchment was empty.  Or rather, it was devoid of words, but that doesn’t mean that it contained nothing.  Indeed Doctor Faustus felt that he could see something, something powerful and ancient with subtle profundity which defied constraint to the mere clauses of men.  But such a thing danced upon the edges of his understanding; the moment he tried to focus his gaze on the page, he could only see empty parchment.  While Doctor Faustus had consulted a lawyer prior, he now understood that no word-craft or wit could release one from these bindings.  

 

Now any normal person, incapable of even understanding what they were agreeing to, especially something so fiercely defiant in its own enigma, would become infuriated by such a contract.  But our dear Doctor had long since lost any interest in his own soul, which had never truly been his.  So without a moment of hesitation he viciously tore into his flesh with his teeth, ripping away the skin, drawing out the pulsing flow of blood to his palette.  Drawing his sanguine brush across the contract he proudly left his mark as though this contract was by nature a painting of his own; so the pact was forged as the blue flames once more licked about the edges of the pentacle.  As the blood quickly faded Doctor Faustus couldn’t help but ponder how long it had been since the last signing, for the parchment seemed starved for fresh blood.  Then the contract was gone, once again in Mephistopheles grasp; who quickly and without regard, rolled it up and stowed it away in an unseen void.

 

With a sigh, the Demon then asked, “What would you have Mephistopheles do?  What wish ye to create?”

 

In his youth, Doctor Faustus had been so engrossed in his pursuit of art, that he had admittedly neglected other passions.  Some might call him lonely, and while he would deny it, such a claim was not without merit.  His art had only brought him pain, and without satisfaction, could it replace a lover?  If only he could find love in his art, perhaps he could happily give up his soul?  It seemed as good a place to start as any; after all, there was no better emotion for a man.  With confidence, Doctor Faustus replied, “Love, I want to understand Love.”

 

While Mephistopheles would have normally attempted to explain that such a thing was not something so easily fulfilled, that rendering the heavens apart and making the stars fall from the firmament would be a more feasible task, the pact had been made, and the blood had set--accepted by both Heaven and Hell.  It was no longer his place to warn, or to give excuses, but simply to obey.  Bowing slightly and rippling his robes about like a maelstrom, Mephistopheles wholeheartedly complied, “It shall be so!”  Gone was the monk, as if he had never been; for the only thing a monk of celibacy could show would be a love for God and his grace.  In his place, was Love in its purest and most primordial state.  Something which could never be described, much like the contents of the pact which had been made.  It was absolute, and while the earth quivered from its core Mephistopheles did not hesitate, for this was what the contract demanded; and the contract was every bit as absolute.

 

Love is comprised of things such as tender caring, passion in or out of the bed, or perhaps that profound impact upon your heart from a soft breeze?  We all have our own experiences, our own perceptions of what ‘Love’ is.  Pull out a dictionary, and look up the word ‘Love’, look at the definition.  Does it seem to do it justice?  Can you feel it, those words, do they fill you with love?  This is what your perception of Love is like before its absolute primordial form; just an empty shell without meaning, a mere definition of but a facet of an infinite whole.  While you might try and imagine what it might be like to be shown 'Love' it is no simple myriad of lovely images and moments; it is not comprised of Venus borne by the surf’s foam.  It is not a collection of those moments which you feel are as significant as they are intimate; but rather the collective force of the extremes of the exoteric and esoteric in a state of duality.  In fact, Love in its purest form would be more comparable to the damned state of Mephistopheles than anything you have ever experienced; for agape is not unlike serving many masters.  Man so quickly scorns the fallen, never seeking to find reason within them.  But it is for this very reason that Mephistopheles, despite, or rather because, he was damned, was capable of sharing such an 'emotion'.

 

As many may imagine, such a powerful force which threatened to destroy the veil between worlds was, to say the least, overwhelming for our dear Doctor Faustus.  Who consumed in the rapture lost himself, quite literally becoming unaware of his own existence.  As the rumbling ceased, he was left breathless, shaken to his core, with dripping brush in hand.  Before him, upon a canvas which lay outside his memory was the most incredible thing he had ever painted; so breath-taking that he couldn’t believe that he could have painted it.  The paint was that very blood dripping down, bleeding through the canvas, until it dripped to the ground below; and the image?  Love, just those words in all their simplicity. While to many people, this may not mean much; Love is stronger without definition. With shaking hands, Doctor Faustus traced the letters which adorned the canvas and wondered how he had ever questioned himself, how he couldn’t see this passion before?  With a voice which trembled as much as his hands, Doctor Faustus quietly whispered, unable to fully understand his own words, “I am ready, you may collect your due Dæmon…”

 

Then before our Doctor, stood Mephistopheles, once again in the form of a Dominican Friar; and he spoke nothing for a long while, before solemnly breaking the silence which hung between them, “The contract has yet to be honored.  What wish ye to create?”

 

These very words were silently whispered back on reverent lips, as the Doctor Faustus couldn’t believe what he had heard.  It seemed impossible, that after such magnificence which exceeded his wildest expectations, that this pact had not yet been completed.  To give away his soul for such a thing, a man would be foolish not to.  And now?  He had a chance to do this again?  And so, with awe-laced words, Doctor Faustus murmured, “Awe, Show me Awe.”

 

With a bow, Mephistopheles replied, “So it shall be.”

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

Petrichor… it is an odd word; few know it, but those who do, hold it dear.  It isn’t even really an emotion, or at least not as it is defined; rather it is a scent--the scent of the earth after a fresh rain.  It quite literally means the blood of the stone, or at least as far as one could define ambrosia as 'food'.  But there are a certain few scents and odors in this world which are so powerful that they are, in all actuality, emotions as well.  For every time the dry earth receives its rain, it is as though a part of the human soul which had gone unnoticed begins to unfurl.  

 

It had been a powerful emotion for Doctor Faustus, but then and again, every word he had said had been so powerful that he didn’t even know how to compare them.  The fact that he had begun to use words like petrichor should illustrate that our doctor was running out of human emotions to examine; the room seemed filled with hundreds, no thousands, of canvases, each painted in an array of sanguine words which seemed ready to burst from canvas into mind.  Yet still, the contract had not been fulfilled, even as the earth seemed exhausted and ready to give way before the raw power which Mephistopheles wielded.  It seemed absurd that all that had been promised had yet to be fulfilled.  

 

Fulfilled… he had yet to see this.  Between ragged breaths, Doctor Faustus rasped, “Mephisto, show me… fulfillment.”

 

With an unsettling smile which manifests itself only in those impatient ones who see the end draw near, Mephistopheles bowed with a flourish, “It SHALL be DONE!”  With the burst of an æthereal crescendo, the world finally sundered beneath its absolution.  

 

Just as the sensation of a world finally breaking was unfamiliar and terrifying, Doctor Faustus felt something he had never felt before, a shift into non-existence; which of course might leave one wondering how he could even be aware of such a thing.  If there is something to be said about these emotional revelations it’s that all emotions, when expressed in their absolute form, express a nature of duality.  As such, even as Doctor Faustus became aware of his own non-existence, he simultaneously became proportionally more aware until it seemed as though he was observing all that ever could be within a single point, a pure singularity.  While it may seem contradictory, this is the nature of the purest things; but a step away from damnation.  Imagine a river, which runs through the land.  This river pursues a destination--the oceans--which is in many ways its fulfillment; that is, if the cycle ended here.  But the ultimate fulfillment of this path is one in which, just as a river is indistinguishable in an ocean, both water, land, air, and all existence become both one and none in an ebbing eddy.  Finally as the eddy ceases, and all stands still in complete solidarity, only then has the river reached its fulfillment.

 

You may wonder why the concept of 'fulfillment' was such a powerful force when held beside emotions such as love; after all, the emotions prior seemed to pale before it.  But these emotions themselves are but another component in the melting pot; eventually, much like that river, they all become one as absolute 'fulfillment' is realized.    The very idea of fulfillment is absolute through its base nature; for it is the ideal of carrying something out to its full completion.  In essence, our Doctor Faustus, was being shown the absolute form of all things absolved.

 

What is your idea of fulfillment?  Well it really depends on what a person values.  Perhaps you enjoy writing, and to you fulfillment would be writing that one book which you finally felt was perfect.  Perhaps it is that moment on your death-bed where you are surrounded by those whose lives you have profoundly impacted, and you realize that you have left behind a legacy which you could be proud of.  Or perhaps you have always wanted to eat a ten pound Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich?  You may find that last one to be a bit absurd, that someone could consider their life purpose fulfilled by consuming an unhealthy and gluttonous amount of food; however, and I do not mean to be condescending in this, everything you consider fulfilling in life is even more absurd and petty before true fulfillment.  Would you go to the same lengths as our Doctor Faustus to find his fulfillment?  Would you throw away your soul for but a glimpse of it?  And yet this same Doctor Faustus was now shaken as he realized that his own overwhelming pursuit of fulfillment was nothing before the majesty of the idea.  For much as agape is a love for all things, likewise is true fulfillment a completion of all things, not just the few things which you have valued.  It is extreme on all levels; otherwise, it is but obsession.  

 

So Doctor Faustus finally realized just how futile and petty his desires had been.  As he felt his soul rebound and reconnect with a world which had been stripped of its raptured absolution, he became overwhelmed with how impossible fulfillment was.  So quietly, weakly, for our dear Doctor had been stripped of his prior ambition, Doctor Faustus begged, “Dæmon, please… leave me be.  Just go.”

 

Without a word Mephistopheles faded from this world, leaving the poor Doctor alone with only his realization of how empty every word upon his canvases had become, and to all who would look upon the lone man in front of a pallid canvas, it was as though the Doctor Faustus had been stripped of that soul which he had so scorned… Forever damned in an understanding which transcended his own. 

Continue to Part II - Faustian Iconoclast

Reviews

[AprilRN1210]

I like how you added life lessons within this intricately detailed story. I laughed when he explained about consulting a lawyer, that was a nice touch. It reminds me of when I was younger how I would wish for such trivial things, wanting them more than anything, begging, praying, thinking that everything would be perfect if I could just have this one thing. Of course that isn't the case. I had to learn that knowledge, attitude, and actions are the way to that happiness. I enjoyed this write as well.

[Mister_Sir]

Well, after over a month of wanting to read this I finally did. I only have a superficial understanding of Faust, as I haven't read the story yet, so I really wouldn't be able to get an adequate comparison of the two. Although, I know enough to spot just a few. Anyway, I can say that this passage, at least, is great. The concept of trying to picture emotions in an absolute manifestation definitely appeals to me, because of my obsession with archetypes. And, as a lover of tragedy, the end also put a smile on my face. Also the fact that I have a similar outlook on life in regards to worldly desires. My favorite part: "For much as agape is a love for all things, likewise is true fulfillment a completion of all things, not just the few things which you have valued. It is extreme on all levels; otherwise, it is but obsession." I also love how fulfillment appeared as though it were nothing. That excited and frightened me altogether. Anyway, I completely envy your skills with such narratives.

Neurotically yours,
Mister Splitbrain

[Sharmake Abdi Bouraleh]

I genuinely enjoyed this piece. Where to begin?

Right off the bat, I was interested in the story because of Faust. I'm familiar with the mythology of German legend, and all about his deal with Mephistopheles. I like the twist where instead of being a scientist, he's an artist this time around. It's done very well, even better I'd say -- a new, fresh take on things.

I enjoyed how the narrator was interacting with the audience and provoking thought while describing the events. Those are my favourite type of narrators, and you've pulled it off very well here. Despite the grimness of the subject, and the universality of it (even if given via demons and deals with the devil, etc.), I also found great humour in it. In particular, I liked this line:

>Doctor Faustus had thought deeply before what demands he desired. He had even hired a lawyer to go over his ‘pact’, for if anyone understood the ways of the devil it was surely those who understood the ways of law.

I genuinely burst out laughing, as well as at the follow-up jab at lawyers. The "Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich" line also garnered a chuckle.

All in all, a great read! I'll read Part II when I'm able! :)

[Taylor_McCutcheon]

I really enjoyed this story. I thought it was very clever and well written. I think my only complaint it I felt like it read a litle awkwardly. I know you were going for the intelligent feel for the story but I thought sometimes it read as a bit of a mouthful. Try having someone else read it out loud for oyu and see if they stumble or have troubles reading anything. I did enjoy this and will read part two once Im able :)

[Dai Hanshou]

I like how you added extra literality to the word 'petrichor' by comparing it with emotions. You painted the concept of fullfilment on the canvas of damnation quite well. How realization struck the Doctor leaves a powerful impact; for a while there I thought this had incapacitated me.
I shall move on to part II.

[♔ CrownedDevil &#..]

Brilliant write, nicely written.

Kaze~ :-D

[Delmar Cooper]

N.E.
I'm in the middle of reading your epic now and I will get to you with some comments if old age does not overtake me. I had a teacher who once advised me that if I did lose my mind and decide to write there were two things to scrupliously avoid: Tine travel stories and deal with the devil stories. I fell into both traps and see you are at least half way there also.
Cooper

[Jennie Baron]

Brilliant indeed, you do have a rare talent, and I do want to see part II. I absolutely stand in Awe. I hadn't thought about the Marlowe play and the legends he drew upon to write it in a long time. This is an entirely new twist with Faustus being an artist, which is quite imaginative. The old-fashioned dialogue reflects an Elizabethan play, yet you include the reader in a conversation at times in modern language, which really spoke to me. Extremely well done.

[Tinkerbellje]

Brilliant writing. You really have a talent here. Look forward to part 2. :-)