Ever since I read it in high school, Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe has been my favorite play. I’ve never seen a production—I mentioned this to someone the other day and she asked if Faust was ever performed. Maybe it is unperformable! Maybe the only way to see it is through versions better designed for public performance, like Guonod’s opera version of Faust (which I have seen). But it turns out that Faust is occasionally performed. Wikipedia lists two productions from the last 40 years both in Italy for some reason. So it is not impossible to stage.
Two of the weirdest scenes in Faust take place on Walpurgisnacht—imaginatively portrayed in this poster for a 19th century performance. Walpurgisnacht is an ancient saints day festival dating from the 9th century. The saint is Saint Walpurga, and on this night German Christians light bonfires to ward off witches and evil spirits. In Faust, Mephistopheles and Faust take a stroll through the haunted night to witness the supernatural antics. They meet a Will-o’-the-wisp (Irrlicht in German) who addresses Mephistopheles,
You are the master of the house, no doubt,
And I shall try to serve you nicely.
But don’t forget, the mountain is magic-mad today,
And if Will-o’-the-wisp must guide you on your way,
You must not take things too precisely.
(Translation by Walter Kaufmann—his translation was the first I read, over forty years ago.) The duo go forth from these into a series of weird, supernatural occurences, including a witches’ chorus:
The witches ride to Blockberg’s top,
The stubble is yellow, and green the crop.
They gather on the mountainside,
Sir Urian comes to preside,
We are riding over crag and brink,
The witches fart, the billy goats stink.
None of what happens to the pair on Walpurgisnacht is important to the plot. But it deepens the supernatural weirdness of Faust. Goethe found this old folk festival inspirational. In 1799 he wrote a poem in which the druids of the Harz mountains decide to try to scare away the unwelcome Christians. who were moving into their pagan neighborhood. This poem was written to be set to music, and in 1839, Felix Mendelssohn did so.
Be safe lighting your bonfires tonight!
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