The French master, Paul Dukas, was born in Paris on October 1, 1865 and died there on May 17,1935. His symphonic scherzo, L’apprenti sorcier (The Sorcerer’s Apprentice) is by far his best known work. It is symphonic poem in all but name. Based upon Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s 14-stanza poetic ballad written in 1797, Der Zauberlehrling, Dukas created his musical interpretation that has gained a popularity that far outstrips its original source.  Its first performance took place in Paris on May 18, 1897, with the Société Nationale de Paris conducted by the composer.   It is scored for piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, bass clarinet, 3 bassoons, contrabassoon (or contrabass sarrusophone), 4 horns, 2 trumpets in C, 2 cornets in B flat, 3 trombones, timpani, percussion, harp, and strings.

            In the case of Dukas’ delightful score, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, we need not set aside the image from Walt Disney’s famous film, Fantasia (1940), in which Mickey Mouse plays the title role in this episode. For those who know neither the film nor Goethe’s ballad, Der Zauberlehrling, that provided the inspiration for Dukas’s scherzo, the scenario is as follows:

In the absence of the old wizard, his foolish and inexperienced young apprentice casts a magical spell upon a broom and orders it to clean the house. The broom promptly sprouts a head and two legs and goes to the stream to fetch water. Running amok, the broom proceeds to inundate the premises with water as the apprentice is unable to recant the spell. Only the skillful wizard’s return can stop the broom, turn the flood aside, and set things aright.

            Dukas’ tremendous skill as an orchestrator and marvelous sense of timing brings the events vividly to life in sound. From the droll sounds of flutter-tounging flutes and eerie harmonics in the violas, cellos, and harp, the introduction sets the magical mood right from the start. The work’s most memorable timbre, however, emanates from the contrabassoon (Dukas indicated that a relatively obscure instrument, the contrabass sarrusophone, could be used as an alternative) and the entire bassoon section. No doubt this score did nothing to detract from the nickname of the bassoon as the “clown of the orchestra.” Colorful at every turn, Dukas reflects the growing magical catastrophe by building several exciting climaxes.

Notes by David B. Levy © 2006/2025