" Nothing could be more mistaken
than such a judgment. In the _Walpurgis-Night_ we have the play ending
in that sheer paganism which is the counterpart to Easter Day at the
beginning. Walpurgis has a strange history in German folklore. It is
said that Charlemagne, conquering the German forests for the Christian
faith, drove before him a horde of recalcitrant pagans, who took a last
shelter among the trees of the Brocken. There, on the pagan May-day, in
order to celebrate their ancient rites unmolested, they dressed
themselves in all manner of fantastic and bestial masks, so as to
frighten off the Christianising invaders from the revels. The Walpurgis
of _Faust_ exhibits paganism at its lowest depths. Sir Mammon is the
host who invites his boisterous guests to the riot of his festive night.
The witches arrive on broomsticks and pitchforks; singing, not without
significance, the warning of woe to all climbers--for here aspiration of
any sort is a dangerous crime. The Crane's song reveals the fact that
pious men are here, in the Blocksberg, united with devils; introducing
the same cynical and desperate disbelief in goodness which Nathaniel
Hawthorne has told in similar fashion in his tale of _Young Goodman
Brown_; and the most horrible touch of all is introduced when Faust in
disgust leaves the revel, because out of the mouth of the witch with
whom he had been dancing there had sprung a small red mouse.
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