The Witches' Sabbath -- or is it?

In the Romantic era, there was a tremendous and ongoing fascination in all the fine arts with the whole mythos of "black magic", of evil forces, demonic powers, and the like.  The musical world in particular is thickly covered with works which -- in whole or in part -- deal with this subject matter.

 

Of course, the best-known examples are the numerous works inspired by Goethe's poetic drama Faust -- works whose composers read like a roll-call of musical Romanticism: Schumann, Schubert, Wagner, Liszt, Gounod, and more besides.

 

And then there's the long-standing tradition of the "Witches' Sabbath", a black rite taking place by night in which the demonic powers hold complete sway over the world until daylight returns.  Where else but in this tradition lie the origins of the Anglo-Saxon world's beloved Hallowe'en?  Two very famous works here are the "Dream of a Witches' Sabbath" movement from the Symphonie Fantastique of Hector Berlioz, and the tone poem St. John's Night on the Bare Mountain by Mussorgsky.  

 

I picked the work I'm discussing today precisely because tonight is the night on which the story is set.  The piece in question is Mendelssohn's dramatic cantata Die Erste Walpurgisnacht, and today, April 30, is the feast day of St. Walpurga.  There's a long-standing mythic tradition in German folklore that tonight is the night when all the witches and demons make their revels on top of the mountain called the Brocken in the Harz mountains of northern Germany. 

 

The poem set by Mendelssohn was, interestingly enough, written by Goethe with a musical setting in mind.  It's an intriguingly modern take on the old legend.  Goethe cites the Brocken as one of the final hideouts of the Druids as early Christianity sweeps across Europe.  In the text, the Druids have gathered to celebrate their spring festivals on the first of May.  When they hear that the Christians are coming to attack them, a Druid proposes that they dress as demons and witches and make loud noises to frighten the superstitious Christians away.  In this clever stratagem, Goethe implies, we find the origins of the traditional belief in a witches' Sabbath on the Brocken.

 

The composer Goethe had in mind, Mendelssohn's teacher Zelter, never succeeded in getting the project off the ground, but Mendelssohn certainly did and the resulting 35-minute work is one of the tautest, most incisive choral works he ever composed.  It's been a favourite of mine ever since I first heard an early recording when I was a teenager.  Just once, I've had the privilege of hearing it sung live -- and I hope I will again in the future.

 

The cantata begins with a dramatic overture which is -- for my money -- one of Mendelssohn's most powerful and forceful orchestral movements.  It depicts the winter storms, followed by the slow unfolding of spring over the mountains.  The storm music, which forms the bulk of the overture, transcends the fussy agitation sometimes found in the composer's music, and the fury of the wintry tempest can clearly be felt.  The storm slowly dies away as spring comes over the land, and the music flows directly into the opening recitative and lyrical spring chorus.

 

There's a warning solo sung by an elder Druid woman (mezzo-soprano) with women's chorus, and then a baritone solo (a Druid priest) sings an appropriately solemn and stately invocation.  A light-footed chorus of Druid watchmen take up their places, to an orchestral accompaniment reminiscent of the Midsummer Night's Dream fairy music.

 

This brings us to the centrepiece of the work, and its most hair-raising section.  The bass soloist proposes the deceptive plot, and the people take up their disguises.  To a lively dance accompaniment the chorus sing gleefully of their depiction of the evil forces.  This "demonic" choral movement sweeps us forward in a moto perpetuo of great musical skill and mighty dramatic force for five minutes before dying away.  It makes vivid use of cymbals, bass drum and piccolo -- three instruments that are otherwise very rare in Mendelssohn's output.

 

The priest and chorus of druids then join in their solemn C major chorus of invocation to the Divine Light.  The last dramatic masterstroke of the work is the interruption of the ritual hymn by the agitated tenor solo and male chorus of the terrified Christian guards, imagining that they see hell let loose all around them.  It ends with the various voices singing alternately "Lasst uns fliehn!" ("Let us flee!").  As their voices die away in the distance, the hymn of praise to the Light resumes, bringing the cantata to an elevated and majestic close.  Note, though, that it is not the intruding Christians who sound the final note of triumph but the Druids, voicing their strength in the face of persecution.  Perhaps it was, after all, no coincidence that this poem appealed so strongly to Mendelssohn, baptized a Christian but surely not unaware of his Jewish heritage and ancestry.