The Dyers Hand and Other Essays

Had man not fallen, the wish of his ego for freedom would be simply a wish not to find its telos in a false or inferior good, and its wish for a telos simply a longing for the true good, and both wishes would be granted. In his fallen state, he oscillates between a wish for absolute autonomy, to be as God, and a wish for an idol who will take over the whole responsibility for his existence, to be an irresponsible slave. The consequence of indulging the first is a sense of loneliness and lack of mean­ing; the consequence of indulging the second, a masochistic insistence on being made to suffer. John falls in love with Anne who returns his love, is always faithful and anxious to please. Proud and self-satisfied, he thinks of my Anne, pres- endy of my -wife and finally of my well-being. Anne as a real other has ceased to exist for him. He does not suffer in any way that he can put his finger on, nevertheless he begins to feel bored and lonely.

George falls in love with Alice who does not return his love, is unfaithful and treats him badly. To George she remains

Alice, cruel but real. He suffers but be is not lonely or bored, for his suffering is the proof that another exists to cause it.

The futility of trying to combine both wishes into one, of trying, that is, to have a telos, but to find it within oneself not without, is expressed in the myth of Narcissus. Narcissus falls in love with his reflection; he wishes to become its servant, but instead his reflection insists upon being his slave.

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Das verfluchte Hier —goethe, Faust

Goethe's Faust is full of great poetry and wise sayings but it is not dramatically exciting; like a variety show, it gives us a succession of scenes interesting in themselves but without a real continuity; one could remove a scene or add a new one without causing any radical change in the play. Further, once the Marguerite episode is over, it is surprising how litde Faust himself actually does. Mephisto creates a new situation and Faust tells us what he feels about it. I can well imagine that every actor would like to play Mephisto, who is always enter­taining, but the actor who plays Faust has to put up with being ignored whenever Mephisto is on stage. Moreover, from a histrionic point of view, is there ever any reason why Faust should move instead of standing still and just delivering his lines? Is not any movement the actor may think up arbitrary?

These defects are not, of course, due to any lack of dramatic talent in Goethe but to the nature of the Faust myth itself, for the story of Faust is precisely the story of a man who refuses to be anyone and only wishes to become someone else. Once he has summoned Mephisto, the manifestation of possibility without actuality, there is nothing left for Faust to represent but the passive consciousness of possibilities. When the Spirit of Fire appears to Faust, it says:

Du gleichst dem Geist, den du loegreifst, Nicht mir

and in an ideal production, Faust and Mephisto should be played by identical twins.

Near the beginning of the play Faust describes his condi­tion:

Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach! in meiner Brust Die eine will sich von der andern trennen; Die eine halt, in derher Lieheslust Sich an die Welt mit klammernden Organen; Die andre heht gewaltsam sich vom Dust Zu den Gefilden hoher Ahnen.

This has nothing to do, though he may think it has, with the conflict between pleasure and goodness, the kingdom of this world and the kingdom of Heaven. Faust's Welt is the im­mediate actual moment, the actual concrete world now, and his hohe Ahnen the same world seen by memory and imag­ination as possible, as what might have been once and may be yet. All value belongs to possibility, the actual here and now is valueless, or rather the value it has is the feeling of discon­tent it provokes. When Faust signs his contract with the latter says:

Ich will mich hier zu deinem Dienst verhinden, Auf deinen Wink nicht rasten and nicht ruhn; wenn wir uns driihen wieder fmden So sollst du mir das Gleiche tun

to which Faust replies airily:

Das Driihen kann mich wenig kiimmern Schlagst du erst diese Welt zu Trummern, Die andre mag danach entstehen

Mephisto,