The Kingdom of God Will Come Like a Thief in the Night

Michael Conquers Satan by Guido Reni, in Santa Maria della Concezione, Rome, 1636

I have recently finished reading the New Testament again, primarily to prove a point to a friend who says that the Devil is barely mentioned and Hell is never mentioned at all in the New Testament, save in Revelations. To all of which I said, “Bullshit!” To add to that, he says that demonic possession was only treated in the New Testament as a metaphor for diseases (bullshit!)—because Jesus cast the flu out into the swine… yeah, that’s what he meant. No, sad to say, no matter how much modern Christians and New Agers think of the reality of (or lack thereof) evil, demons, the Devil, and eternal damnation, it was very real to the writers of the Gospels and epistles, and a thorough read of the New Testament will yield such an understanding.

But while I was rereading the Gospels and epistles a few passages and parables struck me as being quite peculiar, especially for Jesus to say. No, I do not mean things like “He who does not hate his mother and father cannot follow me” or “resist not evil” or even when he calls Peter “Satan” or when he starts flipping tables in the Temple. Rather the passages that strike me belong to the parable of tying up a strong man to plunder his property, found in Matthew 12:29, Mark 3:27, and Luke 11:21-22:

“But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.”

—Mark 3:27

In each instance of this parable Jesus uses it as a conclusion to how he can cast out demons. The Pharisees accuse Jesus of being able to cast our demons with the assistance of Beelzebub, the ruler of demons (i.e. Satan). To which Jesus retorts that Satan cannot cast out himself, for then he would stand as a house divided, and a divided house cannot stand. Jesus claims that through the power of Spirit of God he can cast out demons.

But it does not follow well that in order to steal from a strong man (i.e. Satan) Jesus must tie up Satan to steal his property… what property? Not the demons. The demons are cast out, not pilfered. Nor does it seem reasonable that Satan must be tied up to exorcise demons from human victims, for Jesus does not ever seem to need to do this when performing an exorcism. Rather it seems another parable of thieves gives us better insight into what Jesus meant: that the Kingdom of God will come like a thief in the night:

“Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

—Matthew 24:42-44

“For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.”

—I Thessalonians 5:2

The notion here is that the Kingdom of God (i.e the new eon of righteousness and holiness) will come at an unspecified time and date, but it was presumed two-thousand years ago that it was going to be very soon. It comes and cast down the wicked, and holiness will finally reign supreme. It is abundantly clear that writers of the New Testament regarded their time as an age of evil. Even Jesus calls the people of his time an “evil generation” (Matthew 12:39, 16:4; Luke 11:29). Thus this world is the Kingdom of Satan. Satan is referred to in The Gospel of John as being the “ruler of this world” (12:31, 14:30), and that he will be driven out of this world. Paul also took up this notion that Satan is the Lord of this World in II Corinthians 4:4 (“god of this world”). The basic notion implied here that since the world is sinful, the Pharisees are corrupt, government officials are wicked, and many are possessed by demons, then this is Satan’s world. But Jesus’s promise is that when he returns he will put down the power of Satan and bring the Kingdom of God.

It seems that Jesus’s primary occupation was to exorcise demons in the efforts to put down the rule of Satan in this world, for he even gave his apostles the same power. Along with demonstrating the power of the Holy Spirit, cleansing people of their sins with baptism, and preaching the Word of God, it seems that just in his life time Jesus made a huge dent in Satan’s power. Then by his own sacrifice he offered the way to salvation from death and sin (i.e. eternal life and forgiveness of sins), both of which assisted Satan’s dominion over people and were now taken from him.

Even though Satan’s power has been crippled, he still holds some power in this world. Why Christ’s sacrifice did not total destroy the Devil and why the Devil still wields his wickedness has been a problem for Christian theologians since 1^st Century AD. And why does Christ have to return to completely annihilate the Lord of this World has been equally troublesome. And when the Kingdom of God will come became a point of anxiety for many of the early Church fathers. Perhaps this is why John says that Satan will be put down for a thousand years, and then return with full might so that he may finally be put away forever (Revelations 20), and Death and Hell may, too, finally die. Then everyone waited a thousand years and still the world was corrupt and wicked, and even waiting another thousand years has yielded little. So when will the Kingdom of God come? Since we do not know and cannot know, it is not our concern, at least for this discussion.

What is curious in Revelations 20 is that Death and Hell will give up their dead and the righteous (those found in the Book of Life) will have eternal life (20:13-15). A similar notion of the righteous being raised from the dead is to be found in The Gospel of Matthew: after Jesus perishes on the cross the saints (i.e. the righteous) come out of their tombs as if they had only been asleep (27:52).

In the early years of Christianity there was hardly any consistency between groups of Christians, much less orthodoxy. There were a variety of books floating around, many of which were never canonized into The Bible. These other non-canonical books became known as the “Apocrypha.” Among the Christian Apocrypha (for there is also Judaic and Christian-Judaic Apocrypha) is The Gospel of Nicodemus (or The Acts of Pilates), which was a very popular work among early Christians (it was not canonized because of its controversial subject matter, and if Revelations is the dividing line of what is acceptable, one can only imagine what The Gospel of Nicodemus holds in store).  In Part II of Nicodemus (not originally a part of Nicodemus, but added sometime later) a few of those saved from Hell attest that Christ came down to Hell, commanded the gates to be opened, and Satan and his demons grew fearful. After some contention with Satan and his demons Christ takes the righteous, including Adam and David, out of Hell with him and leaves Satan confused and destitute. This scene is best known as the “Harrowing of Hell.”

While Nicodemus was not canonized, the Harrowing of Hell became accepted into orthodox Christianity, and found favor with many early Church fathers, such as Irenaeus and Augustine.

And though Nicodemus had not been written for almost three centuries after the composing of the Gospels, the idea that Christ descended into Hell was a prevalent idea, even in canonical New Testment writings. Matthew 12:40 says, “… for three days and three nights the Son of Man will be in the heart of the earth.” And Romans 10:7 says, “or ‘Who will descent into the abyss?’ (this is, to bring Christ up from the dead).” And in Ephesians 4:9, “When it says, ‘He ascended,’ what does it mean but that he had also descended into the lower parts of the earth?”

The idea at hand here is that the Devil rules the underworld and the dead, for it is by the sin of Adam and Eve that death came into this world, and so through sin and death Satan reigns over the dead regardless of anyone’s righteousness or wickedness. Christ is God in the flesh, so upon his death he must enter the realm of the dead, Satan’s rule. But Satan cannot keep him, for Jesus was without sin, and death could not hold him. I suppose the idea amongst early Christians was that while Christ was in Hell he figured he would bring the righteous back with him. At the same time there are several references in the New Testament to Jesus being a “ransom” for sin and death (Mark 10:45 and I Timothy 2:6), which we might assume would mean he ransomed himself to the Devil for salvation of people from sin and death, but, of course, Death cannot keep someone who is without sin, and so Christ was released from Hell (this was thought of as God’s trick on the Devil by Rufinus and Aquileia in the 4^th Century, and the idea of it being a trick was perpetuated by Gregory the Great; but it was not a favored notion among many early Christian theologians, for it implied that God was petty and had to play tricks).

With the notions of Christ’s descent into Hell, binding Satan in darkness and fire forever, and freeing the righteous from death we might begin to be able to make sense of Jesus’s parable of how to rob a strong man’s house. Perhaps, though it is with some conjecture, what was meant was that in order to save the righteous from death one must bind Satan (i.e. the strong man) and plunder his house (i.e. Hell) for his property (i.e. those who were condemned to death for original sin, but where righteous nonetheless).

I personally do not like to interpret something in one Gospel with other works, such as another Gospel or an epistle or an Apocryphal text (such as trying to interpret the beloved disciple in John by using texts outside of John, for that is a notion and term that can only be understood through John). However, this parable is one of those few instances in which I feel one must look outside of a single Gospel to attempt comprehension of its meaning. This is why I hesitate to assert completely that Christ is robbing Satan of his souls in Hell as being the precise interpretation, though I do feel it is closest.

Further Reading:

Irenaeus. Against the Heretics.

Jeffery Burton Russell. Satan: The Early Christian Tradition. 1981.

The New Testament

The Gospel of Nicodemus. 

Sleeping on a Drunken Boat: Darden and Rimbaud

Clinic for Sleep Disorders by Douglas Darden

Of Darden's projects Clinic for Sleep Disorders stands out as a particularly significant one for today: October 20th, which was both Douglas Darden's and Arthur Rimbaud's birthday.

Clinic for Sleep Disorders was designed in 1987, and was designed in Liberty State Park, New Jersey. This is the same year Darden taught architectural design at the New Jersey Institute of Technology. He was the recipient of the Fellowship of the New Jersey Counsel of the Arts for this project, so the idea for it must have been on his mind for a couple of years, but drawings were executed for it in 1987. The NJCA usually awards  $1000 for this fellowship, but Darden received $4000; indicating that they regarded him and his work particularly promising.

I have addressed in a previous post (Dating Douglas Darden) Darden's use of deliberate dates in his designs and writings to add a little more significance and meaning into his work. When I first wrote that post I had not yet realized the deeper significance Darden put into the date October 20th provided in the doctor-patient interview in Condemned Building (pg. 56), nor some of the other aspects of that bit of text.

The date given is 20 October 1954. This is Darden's third birthday. It is also Rimbaud's 100th birthday.

The name of the doctor in the interview is Jean Nicholas, and the name of the patient is Arthur. Rimbaud's full name is Jean Nicholas Arthur Rimbaud.

The name of the clinic where the interview is held is at the Charlesville Sleep Clinic in Marseilles, France. Rimbaud was born in Charleville, France, and died at the age of 37 in Marseilles, France.

The image provided on the same page with this interview is one of a young Rimbaud done by Pablo Picasso. Darden even writes that this is Rimbaud, though he conceals the name "Arthur" by simply writing "A. Rimbaud."

"Dreamed client profile: schematic representation of neurophysiological mechanisms of sleep states with Picasso lithograph of A. Rimbaud laid down to rest." —Condemned Building, pg. 56

Picasso's drawing of Rimbaud & portrait of 17-year-old Rimbaud.

Most of the patient's words in the interview are derived or taken completely from Rimbaud's poem, "The Drunken Boat." Without quoting the length of both texts, I will provide some examples (in parentheses will be the stanza followed by the line from that quartet):

Arthur: I have wept too much! (23:1)
This is a cold puddle (24:2). The sun is bitter and the moon atrocious (23:2).
I run (3:3), I am lighter than a cork (4:1).
Unbelievable Floridas! (12:1)
Immobile and blue (21:3).
I was on a boat hauling cotton (2:1-2).

Et cetera.

Ultimately, "The Drunken Boat" is the Archi-text for Clinic for Sleep Disorders—the piece of literature that in-forms and in-spires the project. It would have inspired the "ciphers" for the building elements and programs and the "stages" of a patient's progress through the clinic—from the bridges to the walls to the ferry boat that takes the patient out of the clinic.

Happy birthday Douglas Darden and Arthur Rimbaud.

Further reading:
Douglas Darden. Condemned Building. 1993.
Arthur Rimbaud. Complete Works.
Ben Ledbetter. Condemned Building (a book review), GSD News, Fall 1993. Pg. 42.

Sexy Sadie and Sadism: Douglas Darden's Sex Shop

Sex Shop by Douglas Darden

From MoMA Collection

One of the last (more or less) completed works of Douglas Darden was called Sex Shop, which was excluded from his 1993 book, Condemned Building, due to the controversial nature of the project. Prior to publication of Condemned Building Darden had not really worked on the project very much—though there was a completed Dis/continuous Genealogy with an ideogram, but not much else. He did not actually start working on the design and drawings until two years after publishing Condemned Building. After his death several finished drawings on yellow trace paper were found in portfolio boxes. Peter Schneider has written quite extensive on the project ("Douglas Darden's Sex Shop: An Immodest Proposal" is considerably the most informative of his writings on Sex Shop, of which I will reiterate some things). 

Darden construed the project to be an exploration of concepts of sin, shame, nakedness, pervertedness, and also redemption. In his Dis/continuous Genealogy he uses certainly images that have the potential of being perverted with a sort of middle school level mentality: the sex/tant, the fann(e)y coupler, the glass blow-ers, and the Marquis de Sade's Theater of Lubricity. He even dates the project by writing "Twenty-Sex June '95".

The client for the project is a woman named "Sexy Sadie", which Schneider discusses as a play on "Sade" for the Marquis de Sade—the man we name sadism after. Two of Darden's "Archi-text" he used for inspiration to the project are de Sade's Juliette and Justine (two books that make Fifty Shades of Grey look like a Disney story).

But in all I have read on Sex Shop I am amazed at how no one has put together that Sexy Sadie was also the name of a Beatles' song on The White Album—with lyrics like:

Sexy Sadie, what have you done
You made a fool of everyone
...
Sexy Sadie, you broke the rules
You laid it down for all to see

Further, the name "Sexy Sadie" was given to Susan Atkins by Charles Manson after the song was released (prior to The White Album her nickname was Sadie Mae Glutz). She is the infamous vampiress of the Tate-LaBianca murders, as she claimed to have tasted the actress Sharon Tate's blood after she stabbed her sixteen times (Tate was eight months pregnant). She participated in the killing of the others in house, as well as the Leno and Rosemary LaBianca murders the following night. Susan Atkins showed no remorse, and even boasted about the murders. 

Susan Atkins (AKA Sexy Sadie) on the stand for the Mason trials

Susan Atkins, the Sexy Sadie, was sexually wild and cute, but cruel and vicious. If Manson knew about the Marquis de Sade (which I doubt), he must have thought it clever to call this cute vampire "Sexy Sad(i)e."

I suppose Darden must have thought the same thing, at least somewhere in the back of his mind. Certainly Helter Skelter (or at the very least The White Album) must have been in his collection of books (and vinyls). Darden was seventeen when the Tate-LaBianca murders occurred, and I doubt he did not hear about them (my mother was only nine and living in Germany and she remembered hearing about the murders)... much less not read Vincent Bugliosi's famous book.

So it is that Sexy Sadie in Sex Shop probably has a further allusion in addition to the Marquis de Sade: that of Susan Atkins, that sadistic Manson girl, who murdered Sharon Tate and tasted her blood.

Further reading:

Douglas Darden. Condemned Building. Princeton Architectural Press. 1993.

Peter Schneider. "Douglas Darden's Sex Shop: An Immodest Proposal," Journal of Architectural Education, Volume 58, Number 2. November 2004.

Vincent Bugliosi. Helter Skelter. 1974.

The Laughing Girls from Troy, New York: Douglas Darden's Unfinished Work

The Delivery of Helen by Castor and Pollux
by Jean-Bruno Gassies, Prix de Rome 1817

Before Douglas Darden died one of the last projects he was working on was called The Laughing Girls from Troy, New York, or simply Laughing Girls. I have run across mentionings of this project several times: LaMarche's article "The Life and Work of Douglas Darden: A Brief Ecomium" mentions the project as an example of how not all of Darden's works were morbid; the obituary in The Rocky Mountain News said he was working on it for the three years before his death; and it comes up in his curriculum vitae 1995 as being published in Chora (publication never occurred, probably because of his illness).

Recently I was able to find a fairly obscure and hard-to-find student-run publication from the School of Architecture and Planning at the University of Colorado at Denver, Installation, Volume 2, Fall 1993. In it is an article called "In/n Conversation", which is a three-track conversation between Darden and himself, Darden and a former student of his James Trewitt, and Darden and Keith Loftin III. It is in the second track between Darden and Trewitt that we find some information on Laughing Girls.

It was an "architectural novel" (Darden's widow told me is was a graphic novel of sorts): "What we are attempting is to design and make sites, spaces, forms, objects, details, etc. as the narrative itself." The project centers around three characters, i.e. "clients", who are two fourteen year-old sisters named Cass and Polly, and their nineteen year-old friend, Helen.

These names easily ring a bell: Cass and Polly are feminine versions of the heavenly twins of Greek mythology: Castor and Pollux (better known for being the constellation of Gemini), and their sister, the infamous Helen of Troy.

The idea of the project was to make laughter into buildings—the laughter of these three girls and how that may inform space and produce architecture. As Darden puts it in his part of the conversation with Trewitt: "How could we make an architecture that would not simply represent laughing, but would itself laugh?" It is an unfamiliar approach to architecture. Trewitt discusses in the conversation that architecture often times honors something: values, the site, the client, construction traditions, aesthetic principles, et cetera; so why not honor laughter? Another way the process of this project was stated was that it was not so much about "whether we have made the girls' laughs but whether we have found a way of laughing in approaching their laughs." They continue: "Process is really about finding a set of actions that then become part of the building." In this case, the process is laughter.

In this day and age in which the design of a building is more generated by process of design rather than design principles and elements (i.e. the Classical approach, program, tectonics, et cetera)—how it is designed is more important than the building itself—it is interesting to read about a project that was very much driven by process, but in an extraordinarily different manner: a laughing novel.

I don't know why laughing in particular was significant: perhaps it is a sort of reversa of Oxygen House, or perhaps Darden decided to do something less morbid or controversial.

Ultimately the project was never complete due to Darden's untimely death, and its contents have never been published in any form. I was told by Marc Neveu that about three banker's boxes worth of material for Laughing Girls exists, and that he intends to publish an essay on Laughing Girls in the 2015 Chora issue (the same journal Darden had intended Laughing Girls to be published in).

Further reading:
Douglas Darden and James Trewitt. "In/n Conversation", Installation, Volume 2, Fall 1993.

Dating Douglas Darden

Study for Oxygen House
From the collection at MoMA

I have written previously on some of the references to works of literature, art, architecture, and visionaries in Douglas Darden’s book, Condemned Building: Moby-Dick in the title image, Lequeu and Duchamp in thefrontispiece, quotes from Hamlet scattered throughout the book, et cetera. These demonstrate how deliberate and the extent to which he references and contrives meaning in every aspect of his work, not just in his drawings, but also in his writings, which are very playful in their own right—even in the dates he gives in the projects: for instance, in the sketches and notes of the project file for Sex Shop there was found the title, signature, and date for the project: "Twenty Sex, June '95."

Upon actually reading Condemned Building, and not just looking at the pretty pictures (for they certainly are magnificent), one will notice how much narrative and story Darden puts into his works. Darden regarded literature as his patron, and sees works of literature as clients—hence projects like Melvilla, which is inspired on Herman Melville's Moby-Dick, or Oxygen House, which is inspired by William Faulkner's As I Lay Dying, Sex Shop inspired by the writings of the Marquis de Sade, et cetera. Darden called the pieces of writing and literature that inspired his architectural designs "archi-texts." So it is that Darden would, as part of the narrative of his designs, contrive his own stories and writings to accompany the designs (like Eisenman's essays on each of his houses, which are as much a part of the house as the house is of the essays). 

Peter Schneider quotes and notes in his "House at the End of Time" (2001) how Darden borrows and is inspired by the first chapter of As I Lay Dying in the letter Abraham Burnden (an anagram of Bundren, and sounds like "burden", and perhaps burn-den, i.e. destroy the living room) writes to the architect. So it is that the date of this letter, too, has some significance. The date Darden gives is "6 July 1979". Originally, in an early iteration of this letter Darden uses "6 July 1962"—which just so happens to be the day William Faulkner died.

Taken from Schneider's "House at the End of Time"

Why Darden switched it to 1979 is somewhat of mystery to me; though, most likely, it was something significant in Darden's life...perhaps it was because that was the year he was accepted into Harvard...I digress.

[EDIT: I have recently found in a fairly obscure and hard to find journal, Installation, Volume 1, Fall 1992 (a student run publication from the School of Architecture and Planning at the University of Colorado at Denver—only 500 copies printed), a publication of Darden's on Oxygen House called: "Oxygen House: As I Lay Drawing", in which Darden uses the date "February 12, 1990." This is nearly two years after he finished designing and drawing Oxygen House (from his sketches the earliest date I can find is 20 March 1988). I am speculating here, but Darden had leukemia for five and half years before dying; having died 3 April 1996, this would place his diagnosis sometime in early- to mid-1990; it is possible that this was the date or roughly the time of his diagnosis—but this is pure conjecture.]

Even more thoughtful about this letter from Abraham Burnden is that it is written from Byhalia, Mississippi—the place where Faulkner died.

There is another playful date, and certainly one that has personal significance to Darden, in Clinic for Sleep Disorders. Darden writes a fictitious dialogue between a fictitious Doctor Jean Nicholas (perhaps the physician Jean Nicholas Corvisart, or the pathologist Jean Nicholas Marjolin) and a patient named Arthur, in the absurdly named clinic, Charlesville Sleep Clinic, in Marseilles. The date Darden gives for this interview is "20 October 1954." Why, I do not know, but this was Darden's third birthday—he being born 20 October 1951. [EDIT: see my post Sleeping on a Drunken Boat].

There is perhaps one other thoughtful date in Condemned Building, that of the architect's letter for Saloon for Jesse James. The date Darden writes is "1 April 1986." As best as I can tell this is probably when he began the project.

Douglas Darden was certainly an intense and thoughtful in every detail of his work and writings. Upon close examination of some of his drawings, one will notice that the exact direction his screwheads are turned. So it is that the dates he gives in his narratives for his projects have some meaning as well.

Further reading:

-Darden, Douglas. Condemned Building. Princeton Architectural Press. 1993.

-Schneider, Peter. "House at the End of Time: Douglas Darden's Oxygen House," Part 7. CUNY. 2001.

-Schneider, Peter. "Sex Shop: An Immodest Proposal," Journal of Architectural Education, V.58, N.2, Nov. 2004.

Douglas Darden: Two Resumes

For the last year I have been intensively researching the late Douglas Darden, that visionary architectural designer, architecture instructor, and author of the book Condemned Building. I have written on Darden and his work before in several previous blog postings. As I continue to dig deeper into his work and his life I find that a great deal of published information on him is speculative, poorly founded, or entirely false—and I, too, have been guilty of perpetuating faulty information. I would like to put together some factual information on this brilliant and visionary man to "set the record straight." This blog is probably a poor platform to undertake such a task, but it is nonetheless a starting point.

To begin "setting the record straight" I would like to present two of Darden's curricula vitae: the first one, typed on a typewriter, dates to 1987-1988; the second was written on a computer and dates to 1995. Both of these were given to me by Peter Schneider, Professor Emeritus at University of Colorado at Denver, former professor of mine at UCD, and friend and colleague of Darden's. The pages of these curricula vitae are posted with permission from Darden's widow, Allison.

I have supplied notes to some of the information in these curricula vitae, and links to online versions (if available) of his publications at the bottom.


Darden's 1987-1988 CV:

Darden's 1995 CV:

1995 CV:
Page 2:
- "Confidences of Spec-writer," OZ, Volume 14 (1992), pg. 53-62.
- "Three Letters to an Architect Dissolving," Places: M.I.T. Journal of Architecture, Volume 4, Number 2 (July 1987), pg. 16-20.
- "Architecture in the Age of Spatial Dissolution," OZ, Volume 9 (June 1987), pg. 20-23.

Page 3:
- "The Laughing Girls from Troy, New York," Chora, Volume 2 (1995) was actually never published—I assume there was some complications in finalizing publication for Laughing Girls due to Darden's illness.
- "Melvilla: An Architect's Reading of Moby-Dick," A+U (Japan) [May 1993, #272, 93:05], pg. 54-71.

Page 4:
- "Building Against the Grain," A+U (Japan) [February 1991, #245, 91:02], pg. 40-56.

Thanks to Peter Schneider for supplying me with these, and to Allison Darden for permission to post these.

I Am Forever Ahab: The Faustian Bargain and Other Infernal Themes in Moby-Dick

Destroying the Leviathan by Gustav Dore

Moby-Dick, that magnum opus of Herman Melville—often regarded by those who have never read it, or have not read it save an excerpt or two in high school, as the most boring book ever written—, is a work that is simultaneously comical (to the point of actual outburst of laughter at many points), witty, vulgar, seriously philosophical, allegorical, symbolic, and deeply complex—though, a level symbolism and complexity that is not out of reach for the layman. Throughout the book there are numerous allusions to Hell, demons, the Devil, and the Faustian pact with Satan—in fact, infernal themes and symbolisms pervade the text quite consistently.

For instance, the sea is often metaphorically represented as the classical Underworld: it contains monsters and demons (Moby-Dick himself is construed as a demon of sorts—possibly even the Devil himself), desolate and torturous (especially to human life) and totally unforgiving and harsh; and, yet, at the same time the sea possesses many riches: most notably the treasured spermaceti found in the heads of sperm whales, from whence we render candles, lamp oils, perfumes, cosmetics, and the likes.

Given the numerous infernal references and overtones throughout the book, it should come as little of a surprise that the Faustian bargain makes its way into the tale. There are several subtle Faustian themes throughout Moby-Dick—namely: Chapter XXXVI: The Quarter-Deck, in which Ahab raises a competition to whoever first spots the white whale gets the ounce of gold (loosely similar to Faust’s wager with Mephistopheles); Chapter LXI: Moby-Dick, which construes the white whale as a devil of sorts, possessing a deformed lower jaw (like Mephistopheles’ deformed leg), his ubiquity (like a demon who can quickly transport himself anywhere in the world at will—something Mephistopheles would do, and often take Faust on adventures by magical means of travel and arrive supernaturally quick), a reference to Ahab “chasing with curses a Job’s whale round the world” (i.e. the Leviathan in Job 41:1); Chapter CXIII: The Forge, which is reminiscent of Faustus the alchemist or his assistant, Wagner, in his laboratory with crucibles and forge; et cetera.

But the chapter of most critical concern here is Chapter LXXIII: The Right Whale Killed, in which Flask and Stubb gossip as to what is so madly driving Captain Ahab to the White Whale. The supposition is put forth that Ahab sold himself to the Devil in exchange for the deliverance of Moby-Dick to Ahab’s harpoon:

“Why, do ye see, the old man is hard bent after that White Whale, and the devil there is trying to come round him, and get him to swap away his silver watch, or his soul, or something of that sort, and then he’ll surrender Moby-Dick.”

Throughout Moby-Dick every person’s name has been thought out to some degree, if not totally appropriate to their character, as most of the characters’ names are taken from The Bible. Captain Ahab takes his name from King Ahab in I Kings 19-22. It is completely appropriate that Captain Ahab should have the Faustian bargain wrapped around his mythology (for he certainly is a man of mystery), for even King Ahab of the Old Testament is said to have made a Faustian pact of sorts:

“And Ahab said to Elijah, Hast thou found me, O mine enemy? And he answered, I have found thee: because thou hast sold thyself to work evil in the sight of the Lord.”

—I Kings 21:20

Furthermore, this is not out of league with the Faustus legends either, for certainly Goethe saw King Ahab’s “selling himself to evil” as something aligned with Faust; in fact, Goethe makes an allusion to this very same scene in I Kings in Part II of Faust: Faust has acquired a track of land that was once underwater, but through magic and demonic aid has pushed back the sea and built for himself a great palace. On this track of land, what was once along the seashore, is a small cottage and chapel owned by an old couple, Philemon and Baucis (the same couple that offered hospitality to Zeus and Hermes in Book VIII of Ovid’s Metamorphoses). Faust desires that they be removed from his land, and has offered them money and new land and house at his expense, but they refuse. Faust complains to Mephistopheles, who says [to the audience], “The same old story, no doubt you / Have heard of Naboth’s vineyard too” (Faust, II:V.XIX.11286-7). This is a direct reference to King Ahab’s desire to remove Naboth from his lands so that Ahab can build on his lands. King Ahab complains to his wife, who then forges in the name of the king a letter than conspires to have Naboth put to death and his lands bequeathed to Ahab. This is done, and Ahab, like Faust, feels remorse for the wicked means by which he acquired the lands—this is the way in which Ahab is accused of selling himself to evil. And so Philemon and Baucis are murdered by Mephistopheles and his minions, and Faust despises the means to which he acquired their land.

Another point in which Moby-Dick appears to have some relations to Goethe’s Faust is in CXIX: The Candles, in which corpusant, or the phenomenon known as Saint Elmo’s Fire, is seen atop the masts. This is a phenomenon in which electrical charges build up at the tips of the masts on ships (or anything raised into the air) during storms, and thus begins to glow. Saint Elmo was the patron saint of sailors, and so to see this electrical burning on the ship’s masts is thought to be a sign of Saint Elmo’s guidance and good luck. Saint Elmo’s Fire also makes an appearance in Faust II:IV.XV.10693-10602, in which the tips of the soldiers’ spears begin to glow, which would be an indication of fortune for the Emperor’s soldiers, who will win the battle against the rival emperor; of course, with Faust’s magical assistance. Goethe, who uses Catholic saints and angels capriciously at his whims to suit poetic allegory, does not attribute this phenomenon to Saint Elmo, but to the heavenly twins, Castor and Pollux (commonly known as Gemini), who were the brothers of Helen of Troy (the subject of Faust’s amorous infatuation). Faust, however, does recognize that this electrical phenomenon has long been thought by sailors to be good luck and protection by the heavenly twins.

One might mark a few other similarities between Ahab and Faust, namely that both are wanders. Ahab wanders the seas in search of the monster (or is it only an animal?) that took his leg. Faust wanders with Mephistopheles throughout the world and takes on many adventures (both Goethe’s Faust, who is very different from any other Faustian figure by far, and the historical Doctor Faustus, and the Faustus that legends were built up around between the historical necromancer and Goethe’s telling of the tale).

One may also note that Ahab is marked by scars (Chapter XXVIII), which were caused by lightning striking his person. Cain, too, was marked by God and forced to wander and never settle in the Land of Nod (the “Land of Wandering”) for murdering his brother (Genesis 4:15). A parallel may be loosely drawn (with a great deal of conjecture and speculation) between Ahab and Cain through variations of the Faustus tradition. Matthew Lewis’ The Monk features several overtones to the Faustus tradition, namely Ambrosio’s dealings with the Devil’s minion, Matilda, and Ambrosio’s ultimately signing his soul over to Satan. In The Monk we encounter a tale featuring the Wandering Jew, who has the mark of the cross burning on his forehead (The Monk II:I). The Wandering Jew is a sort of contrivance in Biblical tradition: no such person in particular exists, but references to wanderers may be found in both the Old and New Testaments: “…and they shall be wanderers among the nations” (Hosea 9:17); “Verily I say unto you, there be some standing here, which shall not taste of death, till they see the Son of Man coming in his Kingdom” (Matthew 16:28); “…if I will that he remain till I come, what is that to thee? Follow thou Me. Then this saying went forth among the brethren, that that disciple would not die; yet Jesus had not said to him that he would not die; but, if I will that he tarry till I come what is that to thee?” (John 21:20-23); et cetera. Like Cain, the Wandering Jew is a person who is not allowed to die nor settle until Christ comes back. For many the Wandering Jew was cursed by Christ for some offence he committed against Jesus; many have long speculated that it is the guard who slaps Christ before the High Priest (John 18:22); it may also be a disciple who has betrayed Jesus, though clearly Judas is able to commit suicide, so it is not Judas. Whoever is specifically the Wandering Jew is a matter of debate, but there is nonetheless an archetype between the Wandering Jew (who is cursed and wanders), Cain (who is marked—though certainly cursed too—and wanders), and Faustus (who has cursed himself—either by selling his soul to the Devil or literally cursing himself and the world as he does in Goethe’s Faust I:7.1591-1607—and wanders).

So, back to Lewis’ The Monk: it possesses Faustian themes and the Wandering Jew. Then we come to Maturin’s Melmoth the Wanderer, which melds Faust with the Wandering Jew: Melmoth perpetually wanders, and is ubiquitous—capable of being anywhere at any time at will, even places heavily guarded and locked—and he has sold his soul to the Devil for longevity and superhuman powers and intellect. Clearly Maturin saw something in the Wandering Jew that resonated with the Faustus legend in some way—certainly both being wanderers and cursed—, and sought to unite the two.

Whether or not Melville was thinking of Lewis and Maturin and Goethe and this strange Satanic tradition is a matter of great speculation; nonetheless, he must have seen something in the archetypes that are Cain, the Wandering Jew, and Faustus when he constructed the character of Ahab. Certainly Melville was a very well educated man, and undoubtedly he was familiar with the Faustus legend and probably Goethe’s Faust. The extent to which Goethe’s Faust was an influence on Melville’s Moby-Dick is up to conjecture, but one cannot deny the several striking similarities.

Further Reading:

Melville, Herman. Moby-Dick.

Goethe, Wolfgang von. Faust, Part I & I.

Lewis, Matthew. The Monk.

Maturin, Charles. Melmoth the Wanderer.