Mephisto:
What would you wager? Will you challenge me
To win him from you? Give me your permission
To lead him down my path to his perdition?
God:
While he’s on earth, while he is still alive
Then you may tempt him – that is my condition
For man will err as long as he can strive
How I was struck by this base and sordid wager – such a dirty business it was! To think they could so lightly place bets on the faith of a Man’s soul - so little their opinion of us. It all seemed so naughty and shamefaced! (I believe that Goethe is having fun here. He was after all a member of Spinoza’s pantheist school of thought)
Anyway, what happens next in the play once the wager has been made, is that we get our first scene on earth, in Faust’s study. But before that there is a little soliloquy from the devil:
Mephisto:
I like to drop in on him if I can
Just to keep things between us on the level
It’s really decent of the Grand Old Man
To be so civil to the very devil
I love these lines. I love them for their sheer bravado and how they encapsulate what it means to be a Devil. He describes the almighty as the ‘Grand Old Man’. These lines are dripping with disdain and contempt. Such audacity! I remember thinking what a fine creature the Devil is. Far more interesting in the flesh than the moody-goody-two-shoes that is his polar opposite. But it is precisely because of his faults that he is so intriguing eh? And like a contemporary bad guy he gets all the best lines too. Take John Milton’s epic poem ‘Paradise Lost’ for example. Here the Devil has the best line in all English poetry: ‘Better to reign in hell, than serve in Heaven’.
And how true! So there I was thinking these very thoughts, when that girl (the one alluded to in the beginning), interrupted me in my thoughts, by asking me what I was reading.
‘Faust’ I said.
‘Ah, OK’ she nodded.
Then I told her how much I admired the Devil and she baulked and looked at me askance (perhaps she thought I was going to go for her jugular)
‘He’s so more interesting! The Devil is’ and then I read her some lines to prove my point. She was receptive. But not convinced. So I went back to reading Faust. A few moments later she asked me a whole bunch of questions about where I was from, where I was staying and how long I planned to stay etc (the usual travellers liturgy). That’s when I noticed her properly. She wanted to talk and I had no choice but to oblige. She was from one of the former USSR States; Azerbaijan, she was blond, slim, with glazed eyes that betrayed her feelings. She was wearing light blue jeans and was pretty.
‘I’m from London. I’m staying at the Paradise Guest House near the Ghat and I’ll be staying for another two more days’ was my succinct reply. Though she was no doubt pretty this was no excuse for me to drag myself away from Faust. I’d had plenty of such generic encounters on my travels and they always covered the same bases. So I dived back into my reading:
Faust:
I’ll know what makes the world revolve
Its inner mysteries resolve
No more in empty words I’ll deal
Creations wellsprings I’ll reveal
I recall being enraptured here. The lines echoed a burning desire in my heart, a promise. It was a glorious thought - a wonderful idyll. Noble even: to dedicate one’s life to seeking knowledge and understanding. I remember closing the page between my thumb (so I wouldn’t loose the page) and whilst holding those lines in my mind, casting a gaze across the station concourse. Allowing my eyes to wander freely without hindrance upon eddies of swirling humanity. The people were in knotted clumps and surrounded the information boards and ticket booths. The whole scene was lit by slanting rays from outside that stirred the dust motes above their heads. I saw them whole. A feeling of happiness swelled from deep inside my heart and took over me. My whole body loosened, my troubles vanished, and I relaxed. Suddenly I found myself willing to embrace all. I felt like reaching out. To everyone and all! To the whole world! I was overcome by a feeling of cosmic empathy. She must have been watching me because she suddenly said:
‘Can I come with you?’
I snapped out of my reverie.
‘What?’ I said almost annoyed
‘Your hotel’ and then she added ‘Please’
I looked at her. How could I refuse?
‘OK, when we’re finished we’ll go together. OK?’
She was adrift on her own and had been for a while and was lonely and she found my company strangely comforting (a lone traveller reading ‘Faust’ and talking about how much he likes the devil is always an intriguing proposition!). Later we sat in the back of the rickshaw with her big rucksack on her lap. She was unfazed by the squalor. If anything she enjoyed the chaos swirling about her and the attention she got when we walked along the Ghats that evening. We had a meal together in a place called ‘The German Bakery’ – more a restaurant than a bakery and they served good pizzas and pastas and a fine selection of tea’s and coffee. The bread I recall was fresh and the fruit jam delicious.
Invigorated, we strolled through the muddling bazaar, along cobbled lanes smelling of steaming cow-pat, pass a yoga club, a herbal dispensary and a fishmongers – the catch of the day displayed in all its stinking glory. We peered into alleys, took wrong turns, stepped into people’s homes and stuck our noses into the cubby-holes that were the shop fronts - all to a monotonous background drawl that followed us everywhere like the plague:
‘Meester! Meester! Come! Come! Please come! Only looking no buying. Come! Come!’
There was something visceral about walking down ancient well-trodden ways with solemn pilgrims by your side; dodging the imperious cows that mulched along the path, their mouths frothy with foamy spittle, and the skidding children chasing you for alms. It was a rawness of life, without pretence, devoid of fakery, an honesty that makes honest people out of you and makes you want to chop your heart into little pieces and hand them out as tokens of gratitude. And here I quote Faust:
From narrow hovel and dismal room
Out of the shadow of roofs and gables
Out of the church’s pious gloom
Out from the squash of the streets they swarm
All streaming out into the light
Into the open countryside
How eagerly they take their flight
See, on the river far and wide
You could see the ‘swarms’ from where we were - ‘streaming out’ near the ‘river far and wide’. The ‘river’ of course being the Ganges. It was a beguiling sight set in an enchanted evening. The sky was a deep-blue pricked with stars that squinted and strained. The people were sombre and reverential and you felt safe amongst them. There was a sprightly breeze that rustled the leaves and twisted the flags and decorations, and somewhere in the distance, wafting on the air, bobbed the sonorous chants of ‘Ohm Ohm’. We let the evening roll ahead of us and allowed ourselves the pleasure of surrendering to its caprices and vices. Carried along by the crowds and our thoughts we ended up spending all of it, the evening that is, together.
I still remember that line from Faust:
And when she smiles
At me, what bliss,
To feel her hand-
And ah, this kiss!
****
