Gabriel Fauré and Gustav Mahler were exact contemporaries, each feeling and responding to some of the same cultural and musical trends of fin-de-siecle Europe. Yet in many ways they were polar opposites and existed in two totally different worlds. I can find no evidence that they ever met nor that they ever much occupied each other’s thoughts. They are seldom mentioned together in the same context. Examining the stark differences between them can yield insights into their work, their era, and their place in music history..
Fauré was born in the agriculturally rich south of France, about 72 miles from the Spanish border, in the smallish city of Pamier. His father was a school administrator and there was no musical influence in the family except for the presence of a small organ in the school, which he took to eagerly. Far to the northeast, beyond the opposite end of the Alps, in a small village in the Bohemian region of the Austrian Empire, Mahler was born to humbler circumstances. The family was of double minority: German-speaking and Jewish. His father, the son of a street peddler, built up a tavern business and achieved middle-class status. The sounds of street music, dances and marches entered Gustav’s consciousness early in life and never left it. He readily took to the piano and was considered especially gifted, which prompted his father to support his musical training.
Fauré was sent to the l’Ecole de Musique Classique et Religiuese in Paris, often referred to as the “Niedermeyer School”, where he spent 11 years in a rigorous curriculum of plainchant, 16th-century polyphony, and organ playing rooted in Bach. This foundation played a profound role in his creative development. From 1861, Camille Saint-Saens took over his piano instruction, expanded his exposure to 19th century music, and became a long-time friend and supporter. (Saint-Saens withdrew his support in later years as Fauré’s music became more advanced.) Fauré was a very good pianist and often accompanied his songs in public concerts. His playing was described as sober but expressive; he abhorred exaggerated emotionalism.
Mahler also excelled as a pianist and was accepted at the Vienna Conservatory where he studied piano and composition. Apparently the director of the conservatory considered Mahler’s natural skills in counterpoint to be sufficient such that the requirement for its study was waived. Gustav also informally attended lectures by Anton Bruckner, exposing him to an enthusiasm for Wagner as well as to the idea of the increasingly important role of the romantic orchestral conductor.
Throughout their lives, both Fauré and Mahler did nearly all of their composing during summer vacations, earning their living with other music-related work. Fauré held posts as organist, taught piano and composition privately, served as national inspector of music conservatories, wrote music reviews, taught composition at the Paris Conservatory, and in his last years, held the post of director of the Conservatory. Mahler was energetically active as a conductor of opera in various cities throughout Germany and Austria, notably for productions of Mozart and Wagner. Fauré’s professional life became associated with a conservative, divided Paris, where he thrived primarily in the salon circuit. Mahler became most associated with conservative Vienna, a city whose populations of ethnic minorities had been growing for some time, alongside a growing bigotry. Viennese culture was particularly infused with a vague sense that well-established cultural traditions were crumbling. Alex Ross considers Mahler’s music to be a perfect reflection of the strange Viennese ambience, “the supreme musical expression of this luxurious, ambiguous moment” (Ross 18).
The two composers stand apart in their relationship to the music of Wagner. There was a period during which Fauré traveled extensively to attend concerts of Wagner’s operas but he remained only an admirer, not a follower. Fauré’s chromaticism followed a different path growing from different roots. On the other hand, Mahler absorbed Wagner’s musical language thoroughly as well as his belief in music’s ability to convey grand philosophical visions.
Fauré’s personality was described as charming, easy-going and sentimental, with a keen sense of humor. He was adept at making and maintaining friendships with both musicians and rich patrons. He was sometimes accused of being a social butterfly. He was modest, even-tempered, “a real gentleman”. He tended to be insecure about his own talents and sometimes even asked his students to give him feedback on his work. He had no interest in delving into the psyche (his own or others’); it is said that “psychology bored him”.
Mahler’s personality could not have been more different. Musicians considered him abrasive and demanding. He consistently clashed with or offended almost everyone he ever worked with. Of course, the source of some of those frictions was anti-semitism and no fault of his own. Throughout his life he felt like an outsider. Neuroses displayed themselves in dances that were “demonic” and marches that were “ghostly”. Cheerful music is tainted with anxiety and tragic passages are interrupted with euphoria. He had conversations with Dr. Freud in an attempt to understand his own motivations. He had a deep love for his wife Alma, at first not well demonstrated but later intensely so. In fact, he became driven by his desire to prove his love, even while she continued her affair with Walter Gropius. Notes in the autograph manuscript for the 10th Symphony indicated that it was all for her: “To live for you! To die for you! Almschi!”.
Both composers wrote songs. Fauré’s more substantial output was produced over the course of his whole life, earning a revered place in the repertory of French art song. He cultivated the salon network as a way (at times the only way) of keeping his songs and chamber music before the public. Three early orchestral pieces have been mostly destroyed or lost. After these he “gradually came to realize that his talents lay elsewhere” (Orledge 71), that is, for songs and chamber music. “He had a horror of vivid colours and effects and showed little interest in combinations of tone-colors, which he thought were too commonly a form of self-indulgence and a disguise for the absence of ideas” (Nectoux Grove 6). However he was not lacking in orchestration skills; there is much beautiful writing for the full orchestra by his own hand in the opera Penelope, while a few parts were given to composer and violinist Fernand Pecoud for orchestration. The instrumental forces of the earlier versions of the Requiem are modest but effective. “He intended his Requiem to be intimate, peaceful and loving, with none of the horrors of death he so detested in Berlioz’s 1834 Requiem“ (Orledge 113). Fauré also found success with incidental music for plays; his music for Pelléas et Mélisande is highly regarded. In any case, he was indeed capable of writing for the orchestra but was either too pressed for time or lacked sufficient interest to make orchestration a priority, and so handing the task to a student or colleague was not uncommon. Perhaps it is unsurprising that two of his students - Ravel and Koechlin - became celebrated for their skill in orchestration.
Mahler’s songs came mostly in the early and middle parts of his career, with the symphonies growing out of them. Unlike Fauré, he was actively engaged with the orchestra professionally from early in his career and channeled his creative efforts primarily into the symphony. He used his practical knowledge of instrumental color as a means to musical ends that were both original and powerful. He was a highly acclaimed opera conductor in seven different cities before landing at the Vienna Court Opera (1897-1907) and Vienna Philharmonic (1898-1901). His symphonies showcase what he is best known for: fully exploiting orchestral color. “If we want thousands to hear us in the huge auditoriums of our concert halls and opera houses, we simply have to make a lot of noise” (Mahler, quoted in Ross). He knew how to score instruments in ranges and in combinations that made them sound the best and most effectively for the context. He was known to meticulously pour over orchestration decisions right up to the moment of publication. Theodor Adorno commented on the astonishing range of moods evoked through instrumental color, even in a single section of a single movement: “from the brighter-than-major to gloomy shadows” (Floros 194).
The two composers differed markedly in their approach to the details of melody and harmony. Fauré’s practice was rooted in elements of early music and in the principles of the Neidermeyer school. Two treatises on plainchant and harmony by Neidermeyer and Gustave Lefévre formed the core of the curriculum. While there is some scholarly debate as to the extent of the influence of these treatises on Fauré’s development, it is certain that from them he cultivated an instinct for linear conception, a free approach to harmony, and smooth voice-leading. But his mature practice went beyond them. For example, he would construct melodies (or fragments of melodies) from a Lydian or Mixolydian scale and then harmonize them tonally, modally, or in a stream of chromaticism. In all cases, melody and chord were kept in perfect harmony. (The whole-tone scale was used only fleetingly but effectively in some instances; the Fifth Impromptu is a remarkable example of an extended use.) He fused tonality and modality in such a way that any diatonic pitch could be re-interpreted within a different mode or key, and chromatic inflections allowed either short-term embellishments of a harmony (departing and returning within a few measures) or modulation to any key, quickly and smoothly. Jean-Michel Nectoux has written insightfully about Fauré’s harmonic practice and speaks of his “sliding action by which each tonal or modal coloring irresistibly leads to another, then another, in a game of mirrors comparable to a kaleidoscope.” (Nectoux Gabriel Fauré: A Musical Life 231). These chordal motions are unpredictable but satisfying. Taylor Greer has shown that a modal inflection such as the flat mediant was used structurally to form a linear motion at the middle ground level. Fauré did not invent any new harmonies, but through the use of a variety of subtle and ambiguous chords, he created connections that were flexible and original, constituting the unmistakable “Fauréan harmony”.
Mahler was not so concerned with the details of harmonic motion. In much of his music he leaned toward the diatonic, reserving chromaticism for fleeting modalisms, unusual embellishments, or for modulation to a new key. The tunes of songs - borrowed from himself and others - formed the raw material for much of his symphonic writing. Starting with the 7th Symphony, chromaticism began to accelerate and condense. His counterpoint was free, some would say to the point of recklessness; the simultaneous sounding of two themes sometimes resulted in clashes. Recalling the exemption from contrapuntal studies at the Conservatory, “Weakness in counterpoint studies hampered Mahler throughout his career” (Salazar 54). But it was simply a matter of priorities: his focus was not on small-scale structural perfection but on extra-musical meanings. The constant shifts between major and minor express happiness/sadness, optimism/pessimism, triumph/despair, etc.
With regard to form, both composers started out using traditional approaches such as sonata-allegro form, from which they later departed in some way. For example, in the first movement of the Violin Sonata #2, Fauré invented a kind of 4-section form in which three themes appear in each section, in the same order, but are developed in different ways. Mahler tended to multiply sections within a movement to expand its length to enormous proportions while retaining a traditional overall plan. It should also be noted that Mahler was strongly opposed to repeating material verbatim; everything had to be varied or developed. This resulted in some remarkable and creative transformations, and every movement of every symphony was unique. In contrast, Fauré would sometimes repeat short passages exactly but always with attention to balance and proportion.
The two composers had important but different relationships to literary texts. Fauré had an extreme sensitivity to poetry and strong opinions about how a poem should be set in terms of its general feeling and mood (not always in sync with the natural rhythm and phrasing). He is most associated with the poems of Verlaine. Mahler set German folk poems in several collections of songs for voice and orchestra and incorporated melodies from these songs into Symphonies #2, #3 and #4. The Kindertotenlieder were settings of Ruckert poems. In Symphony #8 he set an odd combination of a Medieval religious poem (including his own additions) and the final scene from Goethe’s Faust. Even in symphonies where there is no vocal music, poetry provided inspiration. For example, he confided that during the writing of Symphony #7 images from the poems of German romantic Joseph Eichendorff filled his head.
To what extent were the instrumental works of these two composers programmatic? How did extra-musical ideas shape their composition and are we to understand them in terms of those ideas? As for Fauré, the answer is not at all. The chamber works were absolute music; they communicate purely through their language, form and internal relationships. Even the Requiem was not in memory of anyone in particular, but written purely for the beauty of it. Experiences, events and politics had little effect on his work; he wanted to create music that transcends everyday life.
Mahler at various points in his career gave ambiguous and contradictory statements about how he wanted his symphonies to be understood. For the first three he provided a specific program; at other times he confided to friends that there was an “emotional program” but it was not to be communicated to audiences. In 1900 he announced to the public that all his symphonies, previous and forthcoming, were to be considered absolute music, without a program. In reality all of Mahler’s symphonies were to some extent connected to extra-musical ideas. Symphony #2 depicts a grand spiritual cosmos; #3 was originally conceived as a vast philosophical manifesto. #8 is a hymn to the power of love and the triumph of the human spirit. For Mahler, motives, chords, keys, genres, and instruments all had extra-musical meanings: biographical, poetic or philosophical. #6 is interpreted as an omen of personal tragedy to come and #7 a reaction to personal tragedy that had just occured. Copious letters and transcribed conversations reveal some of the many “hermeneutical” suggestions embedded in the symphonies. Since these have been exhaustively excavated by musicologists and since audiences are eager to see personal connections between composer and music, Mahler’s symphonies have come to be understood and appreciated mostly through a biographical / philosophical lens, regardless of Mahler’s intentions.
It is not so easy to tease out musical influences in the music from 1900 to 1920. Trends seem to appear across Europe and America and their relationships are not so easily traced. Further, both composers transcended their influences. Fauré’s romantic piano textures and some formal elements find their roots in Berlioz, Schumann, Liszt, and Chopin. He worshiped Saint Saens as a hero even though Saint Saens’s music was more Germanic. Fauré’s style has been described as “refined”, “expressive”, “restrained”, “pure”, “sensual”, “Gallic”, “Hellenic”, and “classical”. I would disagree with the adjective “restrained”. His moods were wide-ranging, from the calm serenity of the 2nd movement of the 2nd Violin Sonata to the boisterous energy of the third movement of the same work to the wild, jagged rhythms of the first movement of the 1st Cello Sonata to the grand triumphalism of the finale of Penelope. Yet everything is structured with clear goals within clear forms. Aaron Copland described the slow movement of Piano Quartet #2 as “classic if we define classicism as intensity on a background of calm.” (quoted in Orledge 105) He was known to have “a horror of rhetoric, sentimentality, and the superficial and the showy” (Orledge 229). So we may accurately say his music displays clarity, continuity, balance, and expressiveness.
Clarity was not Mahler’s aim; as a result, audiences are sometimes left wondering “Where am I and where am I going?” Mahler’s music has been described as romantic, Germanic, all-encompassing, varied, and ambitious. It finds some of its roots in Beethoven, Bruckner, and Wagner, and at times shows an awareness of his contemporary and rival Strauss. Beethovenian elements include expansive slow movements, the addition of voices to the symphony, scherzos with multiple trios, the “juxtaposition of the ecstatic and the mundane”, and bringing back first movement themes in final movements (Floros 144). And yet Mahler’s music transcends its influences, too. There is a kind of universalism, drawing inspiration from sources ranging from the ideas of Nietchze to the poetry of Eichendorff to the sound of an oar splashing in the water. All are magically translated into music.
What influences did they exert on other composers? Audiences were charmed by Fauré’s early music but found his late works too modern. The Paris premiere of Penelope was a big success but it was given only 6 performances. Days after its closing, in the same theater, Stravinsky’s Le Sacre virtually wiped out its memory in the public consciousness. Penelope was successful in other cities, but enthusiasm quickly dried up and it was largely neglected after that. Complete recordings of the opera did not appear until 1981. Already from the 1910’s, Stravinsky and Schoenberg were racing past him toward radical new goals and garnering more public attention, both positive and negative. At the end of his life Fauré was celebrated as a national hero but his music had little influence on other composers.
It is sometimes said that Mahler was a significant influence on the Second Viennese School but this requires closer examination. Schoenberg heard the Vienna premiere of Mahler’s 7th Symphony in December of 1909 and wrote that this was the first of Mahler’s works that really impressed him. And yet the more advanced features of the 7th - extremes of orchestral color, melodies constructed in intervals of the 4th, tonal instability, dissonance - had already been far exceeded by Schoenberg in his own compositions of 1906-1909. Webern was enthusiastic about Mahler in his early years and conducted Mahler symphonies quite admirably ("Webern is the greatest conductor since Mahler himself", wrote Berg after Webern led Mahler's Third in 1922” - quoted in “Webern”, Wikipedia) The wide melodic leaps and extremes of orchestral color in Webern’s Op. 6 could have derived from Mahler or Schoenberg, or could have simply developed out of his own musical experience. His contrapuntal rigor, strict formal schemes, concision and rationality are as far from Mahler as one can possibly get. Berg could be just as mathematical as Webern but at least on the surface he maintained elements of a romantic style and never gave it up. He prioritized dominant-sounding harmonies over the dissonant semi-tones of Schoenberg and Webern. So Berg’s music at least superficially retains a connection to Mahler.
We may conclude that Mahler’s actual influence on the 2nd Viennese School was real but limited. Similar to Fauré, his music was neglected for a time. It was banned by the Nazis and its revival came only in the 1960s. However, it is possible to see one aspect of Mahler’s music as an indirect influence on music that came after him: the prioritization of instrumental timbre. This has become a fundamental feature of new music to this day, from Cage to Crumb to IRCAM to spectralism.
By now the music of both composers has entered the standard repertory. Each made his own original achievements and neither is to everyone’s taste. Both are seen more as endings than as beginnings. Both are open to criticism. To some, Fauré’s music might seem “too ingenious, an endless patchwork of keys, the product of an unhealthy obsession with subtlety”, and “the art of deviation”, like “the convoluted phrases of Proust” (Nectoux Gabriel Fauré: A Musical Life 239). Likewise, Adolfo Salazar eloquently skewers Mahler as “a German dreamer…whose imagination traveled faster than his hand could build” and his music as “diffuse”, ”restless” and “incoherent”, “like a flood where float the wrecks of many a proud hope and where great gifts are lost in a vast disorder” (Salazar 57).
Fauré was the only composer of his time to have created his own unique language of consistent, flexible, comprehensible pitch relationships. Scriabin’s innovations were focused more on the “mystic harmony”, a chord that was still recognizable as a decorated dominant chord in the tonal system. Through Fauré’s synthesis, he created a personal, innovative language that was never adopted by any other composer. In polarized fin de siecle Paris, he pleased few, shocking the conservatives and boring the radicals. But he “revitalized the tonal system from within by fusing it with modality, and in doing so he stretched enharmonic change to its farthest limits without making his music feel tortured or contrived” (Orledge 1-2). Albert Roussel honored him at his death: “without noise or fuss or meaningless gestures, he pointed the way towards marvelous horizons overflowing with freshness and light” (Orledge 31).
Fauré’s classicism was neither that of the 1780’s nor the “neo-” variety of the 1920’s. It was more of a general expression of classical aesthetics: clear outlines, rich details, expressiveness, balance, proportion, and an aim for beauty. These timeless aesthetics, if coupled with a controlled, perceptible post-tonal framework, could even form a fruitful path for composers in the 21st century.
References:
Floros, Constantin. Gustav Mahler: The Symphonies. Translated by Vernon and Jutta Wicker. Amadeus Press, 1993.
Greer, Taylor. “Modal Sensibility in Gabriel Fauré's Harmonic Language”. Theory and Practice, Vol. 16, pp. 127-142, 1991.
Nectoux, Jean-Michel. “Gabriel Fauré” in New Grove Twentieth Century French Masters ed Stanley Sadie, W.W. Norton, 1986.
Nectoux, Jean-Michel. Gabriel Fauré: A Musical Life. Translated by Roger Nichols. Cambridge University Press, 2004.
Orledge, Robert. Gabriel Fauré revised edition, Eulenberg Books, 1983.
Ross, Alex. The Rest Is Noise. Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2007.
Salazar, Adolfo. Music in Our Time. translated by Isabel Pope. W.W. Norton, 1946.
Simms, Bryan. Music of the Twentieth Century. Schirmer Books, 1986.