Mefistofele by Arrigo Boito

What do you want from your life, and what would you do to get it? Would you lie, cheat, steal, even kill to get that promotion, or make love to that certain person, or possess that special knowledge? What if we told you all you had to do was say “yes,” - and then sign this simple little contract. “What’s the catch,” you ask? Oh, not to worry; it’s just a small thing, something you won’t even miss. So, just prick your finger, sign by the “x” and ... What, the blood? Oh, it’s just a little formality, sort of a tradition, you know. You just sign here x_______________, and all your cares and worries are history.

Hmmm. Sounds like kind of dicey deal, doesn’t it? Well, maybe. But history, and literature, tell us that people will risk a lot - including their physical and spriritual well-being - for things they think they’ll never get just by working for them. For example, if you believe literature, there ought to be a glut of available souls by now, what with the number of people willing to put theirs up for sale for the right price.

Early American settlers were sold the image of comely, not-so-Puritan young women dancing naked around a fire and, well, that’s still the classic “come on” - unlimited sensual pleasure; human nature hasn’t changed much over the years. But there have been other pitches. If you were black and southern during the early part of this century, the power the devil was said to offer was a talent for the blues.

The Blues marked the beginnings of realism in American music and, as such, was condemned almost immediately by self-appointed guardians of public morals. They claimed that the best practitioners of this new music had sold their souls in exchange for their abilities. The most famous of these pre-war virtuosos was a handsome, dark-skinned man named Robert Johnson. Johnson did nothing to discourage a story, spread by fellow musicians, about how how he had bargained with the devil to acquire the astounding guitar technique that has inspired musicians for 6 decades now. When he was asked about that, Johnson would smile and start up another song.

But, while bluesmen and women may have bragged about making a pact with the devil, it took rock n’ roll to really put the fear of God into the protectors of public morals. The Beatles were accused of everything from devil worship to Communism. But it was the Rolling Stones who found that a slightly satanic image could result in a larger bank balance. Of course, the Stones weren’t any more serious about allying with the devil than Robert Johnson was. Both were more interested in Mammon than Moloch, and both knew a good selling point when they saw it.

No, it took heavy metal and gothic rock to bring real, unabashed devil worship to rock and roll. And while a number of bands have used Satanic symbolism as a gimmick, to empty the pockets of disaffected young record buyers, groups like King Diamond and Marilyn Manson have pridefully gone on public record as TRUE followers of his infernal majesty.

But you don’t have to be seeking fame, fortune, or heavy metal thunder to give in to the devil’s own deal. Actually, the original soul-seller was an elderly doctor, a man named Faust, who sold his soul in a quest for knowledge and power. What he makes of the deal, and how it changes him, are the subjects of a monumental play by the 19th century dramatist Goethe, and an equally impressive opera by Boito called “Mefistofole,” and that’s the work featured this week on At the Opera, with Lou Santacroce. We’ll talk with Professor Elaine Pagels of Princeton University, an expert on devilish literature, and with a scholarly authority on Goethe, who’s FAUST inspired the opera. But, while all that is pretty interesting, why not tune in At the Opera just for grins. After all, when’s the next time you’ll get to hear Robert Johnson, the Stones, and Marilyn Manson on an opera show!

Then, stay tuned for the opera itself, on NPR World of Opera with Steve Curwood, in a production from HOUSTON GRAND OPERA.

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