Requiem, Op.48 (1893 version)

You don’t have to be a great believer to write a great Requiem – or, indeed, to be moved by listening to one. Fauré was by no means as sceptical as Verdi, the composer of the other of the two most popular of all Requiems, but – in spite of a long-term appointment as organist at the Église de la Madeleine in Paris – he was not a practising Roman Catholic. He wasn’t even, in the strict sense that his clerical colleagues at the Madeleine would have understood the word, a Christian. If he believed in an after-life it was in one that would be achieved without passing through the purgatory so dear to orthodox theology. Death he regarded as “a happy deliverance, an aspiration towards the happiness of the beyond, rather than a painful transition.”

The will to express that characteristically compassionate belief was the inspiration of the Requiem. It was not commissioned for any particular occasion but written, as the composer said, “for nothing… for the pleasure of it, if I dare say so!” It cannot have been coincidental, however, that he began work on it after the death of his father in 1885 and had a preliminary version of it ready in time for a performance at the Madeleine two weeks after the death of his mother at the beginning of 1888.

At that point the Requiem consisted of only five movements and was scored for strings without violins, harp, timpani and organ. Two horns and two trumpets were added for a second performance at the Madeleine four months later. The complete work, scored for the same modest forces but now including the Offertoire and the Libera me, was first heard at the Madeleine in January 1893. The definitive scoring for full orchestra – which adds two each of flutes, clarinets and bassoons, three trombones, two more horns and violins to the 1893 ensemble - was prepared for a large-scale performance at the Palais du Trocadéro during the Exposition universelle in Paris in 1900.

Whatever the orchestration, the Fauré Requiem is essentially church music, its harmonies much influenced by the old Gregorian modes. Above all, it is an intimate conception with nothing in the least sensational about it. The Dies Irae sequence, which forms both the infrastructure and the most spectacular feature of the superstructure of the Verdi Requiem, is simply left out in this case. Fauré’s score, which the composer declared to be “as gentle as I am,” is symmetrically structured round the Pie Jesu for solo soprano, a lyrical inspiration which is the fundamental source of both the thematic identity and the aspirational character of the work.

The work begins in grief with pangs of anguish on strings and brass. But in the Kyrie, although it is too soon for the light to show through the gloom, there are consoling rocking rhythms in the accompanying strings and anticipations of something of the melodic shape of the Pie Jesu in the main themes. The Offertoire marks a significant stage in progress towards the light both in the baritone solo in the middle and in the luminous last chord. Up to this point the orchestration, without violins but with violas and cellos both divided into two parts, has been much as Fauré wrote it for the Madeleine. The violins make their first entry in the Sanctus, where there was originally a solo violin, weaving a diaphanous line round the melodious exchanges between sopranos on the one hand and tenors and basses on the other. The third and fourth horns, also added for the large-scale performance in the Trocadéro in1900, are first put to use in the short but impressive central “Hosanna.”

Having anticipated its main theme several times, Fauré now offers up his personal prayer for compassion. Originally written for a boy soprano (female voices were excluded from the Madeleine choir) the Pie Jesu is simply structured and, although flutes and clarinets are at last admitted, intimately scored. It is, however, in every sense the turning point of the whole work. The Agnus Dei begins with gentle rocking rhythms on the strings and its serenity survives several anxieties. Before its lustrous conclusion can be confirmed, it is put to the test of the Libera me, introduced here as a musically and spiritually necessary episode of adversity. The In Paradisum is Fauré’s sublimely blissful vision of life after death – a paradise of heavenly radiant harmonies on organ and harp radiating round a soprano line carrying the melodic answer to the aspirations of the Pie Jesu.

You don’t have to be a great believer to write a great Requiem - or, indeed, to be moved by listening to one. Fauré was by no means as sceptical as Verdi, the composer of the other of the two most popular of all Requiems, but - in spite of a long-term appointment as organist at the Église de la Madeleine in Paris - he was not a practising Roman Catholic. He wasn’t even, in the strict sense that his clerical colleagues at the Madeleine would have understood the word, a Christian. If he believed in an after-life it was in one that would be achieved without passing through the purgatory so dear to orthodox theology. Death he regarded as “a happy deliverance, an aspiration towards the happiness of the beyond, rather than a painful transition.”

The will to express that characteristically compassionate belief was the inspiration of the Requiem. It was not commissioned for any particular occasion but written, as the composer said, “for nothing… for the pleasure of it, if I dare say so!” It cannot have been coincidental, however, that he began work on it after the death of his father in 1885 and had a preliminary version of it ready in time for a performance at the Madeleine two weeks after the death of his mother at the beginning of 1888.

At that point the Requiem consisted of only five movements - Introït et Kyrie, Sanctus, Pie Jesu, Agnus Dei and In Paradisum - and was scored for strings without violins (apart from a solo violin in the Sanctus), harp, timpani and organ. Two horns and two trumpets were added for a second performance at the Madeleine four months later. The complete work, scored for the same modest forces but now including the Offertoire and the Libera me, was first heard at the Madeleine in January 1893. The definitive scoring for full orchestra - which adds two each of flutes, clarinets and bassoons, three trombones, two more horns and violins to the 1893 ensemble - was prepared (possibly not by Fauré himself) for a large-scale performance at the Palais du Trocadéro during the Exposition universelle in Paris in 1900.

Whatever the orchestration, the Fauré Requiem is essentially church music, its harmonies much influenced by the old Gregorian modes. Above all, it is an intimate conception with nothing in the least sensational about it. The Dies Irae sequence, which forms both the infrastructure and the most spectacular feature of the superstructure of the Verdi Requiem, is simply left out in this case. Fauré’s score, which the composer declared to be “as gentle as I am,” is symmetrically structured round the Pie Jesu for solo soprano, a lyrical inspiration which is the fundamental source of both the thematic identity and the aspirational character of the work.

The work begins in grief with pangs of anguish in stark octaves on strings and brass and with hushed D minor harmonies in the chorus. But at a stage as early as the end of the short Introït there is a faint glimmer of light in the A major chord on the last syllable of “luceat eis.” In the Kyrie, although it is too soon for the light to show through the gloom, there are consoling rocking rhythms in the accompanying strings and anticipations of something of the melodic shape of the Pie Jesu in the main themes of both the opening section (“Requiem aeternam” introduced by tenors) and the middle section (“Te decet hymnus” introduced by sopranos).

The Offertoire marks a significant stage in progress towards the light. It begins with comparatively severe orchestral counterpoint and a choral canon in B minor but the baritone solo in the middle, a prayer for transition “from death to life,” is in a persuasive D major. Although he duly resumes the canonic chorus, Fauré cannot resist adding an “Amen” in a luminous if unreal A major at the end.

Up to this point the orchestration, without violins but with violas and cellos both divided into two parts, has been much as Fauré wrote it for the Madeleine. The violins make their first entry in the Sanctus, where there was originally a solo violin, weaving a diaphanous line round the melodious exchanges between sopranos on the one hand and tenors and basses on the other. The third and fourth horns also added for the large-scale performance in 1900 are first put to use in the short but impressive central “Hosanna.”

Having anticipated its main theme several times - most clearly of all to the words “Pleni sunt coeli” in the Sanctus - Fauré now offers up his personal prayer for compassion. Originally written for a boy soprano (female voices were excluded from the Madeleine choir) the Pie Jesu is simply structured and, although flutes and clarinets are at last admitted, intimately scored. It is, however, in every sense the turning point of the whole work.

The Agnus Dei begins with gentle rocking rhythms on the strings (including violins) in F major and its serenity survives several anxieties, not least a memory of the initial anguish as the Introït is recalled in its original D minor harmonies - which, however, resolve with the concluding “luceat eis” onto the long-awaited D major of the closing bars.

Before that lustrous conclusion can be confirmed, it is put to the test of the Libera me, the text of which properly belongs to the Order of Burial rather than the Requiem Mass but which is introduced here as a musically and spiritually necessary episode of adversity. Framed by eloquent baritone solos in D minor, it includes the most dramatic music in the score when, on a brief reference to “Dies illa, Dies irae” the three trombones intervene for the very first time.

The In Paradisum (which also belongs to the Order of Burial rather than the Requiem Mass) is Fauré’s sublimely blissful vision of life after death - a paradise of mainly D major harmonies sweetly radiating in organ and harp arpeggios round a soprano line carrying the melodic answer to the aspirations of the Pie Jesu.

Gerald Larner©

You don’t have to be a great believer to write a great Requiem - or, indeed, to be moved by listening to one. Fauré was by no means as sceptical as Verdi, the composer of the other of the two most popular of all Requiems, but - in spite of a long-term appointment as organist at the Église de la Madeleine in Paris - he was not a practising Roman Catholic. He wasn’t even, in the strict sense that his clerical colleagues at the Madeleine would have understood the word, a Christian. If he believed in an after-life it was in one that would be achieved without passing through the purgatory so dear to orthodox theology. Death he regarded as “a happy deliverance, an aspiration towards the happiness of the beyond, rather than a painful transition.”

The will to express that characteristically compassionate belief was the inspiration of the Requiem. It was not commissioned for any particular occasion but written, as the composer said, “for nothing… for the pleasure of it, if I dare say so!” It cannot have been coincidental, however, that he began work on it after the death of his father in 1885 and had a preliminary version of it ready in time for a performance at the Madeleine two weeks after the death of his mother at the beginning of 1888.

At that point the Requiem consisted of only five movements - Introït et Kyrie, Sanctus, Pie Jesu, Agnus Dei and In Paradisum - and was scored for strings without violins (apart from a solo violin in the Sanctus), harp, timpani and organ. Two horns and two trumpets were added for a second performance at the Madeleine four months later. The complete work, scored for the same modest forces but now including the Offertoire and the Libera me, was first heard at the Madeleine in January 1893. The definitive scoring for full orchestra - which adds two each of flutes, clarinets and bassoons, three trombones, two more horns and violins to the 1893 ensemble - was prepared (possibly not by Fauré himself) for a large-scale performance at the Palais du Trocadéro during the Exposition universelle in Paris in 1900.

Whatever the orchestration, the Fauré Requiem is essentially church music, its harmonies much influenced by the old Gregorian modes. Above all, it is an intimate conception with nothing in the least sensational about it. The Dies Irae sequence, which forms both the infrastructure and the most spectacular feature of the superstructure of the Verdi Requiem, is simply left out in this case. Fauré’s score, which the composer declared to be “as gentle as I am,” is symmetrically structured round the Pie Jesu for solo soprano, a lyrical inspiration which is the fundamental source of both the thematic identity and the aspirational character of the work.

The work begins in grief with pangs of anguish in stark octaves on strings and horns and with hushed D minor harmonies in the chorus. But at a stage as early as the end of the short Introït there is a faint glimmer of light in the A major chord on the last syllable of “luceat eis.” In the Kyrie, although it is too soon for the light to show through the gloom, there are consoling rocking rhythms in the accompanying strings and anticipations of something of the melodic shape of the Pie Jesu in the main themes of both the opening section (“Requiem aeternam” introduced by tenors) and the middle section (“Te decet hymnus” introduced by sopranos).

The Offertoire marks a significant stage in progress towards the light. It begins with comparatively severe orchestral counterpoint and a choral canon in B minor but the baritone solo in the middle, a prayer for transition “from death to life,” is in a persuasive D major. Although he duly resumes the canonic chorus, Fauré cannot resist adding an “Amen” in a luminous if unreal A major at the end.

Up to this point there is little variance in orchestration between the 1893 and 1900 versions. The 1893 Sanctus, however, with just one violin weaving its line round the melodious exchanges between sopranos on the one hand and tenors and basses on the other, sounds quite different from the later version with its full body of violins. Those familiar with large-scale version, which is the one used in most performances, might welcome the radiance of the solo violin but miss the enlarged horn section in the central “Hosanna.”

Having anticipated its main theme several times - most clearly of all to the words “Pleni sunt coeli” in the Sanctus - Fauré now offers up his personal prayer for compassion. Originally written for a boy soprano (female voices were excluded from the Madeleine choir) the Pie Jesu is simply structured and intimately scored. It is, however, in every sense the turning point of the whole work.

The Agnus Dei begins with gentle rocking rhythms on the strings in F major and its serenity survives several anxieties, not least a memory of the initial anguish as the Introït is recalled in its original D minor harmonies - which, however, resolve with the concluding “luceat eis” onto the long-awaited D major of the closing bars.

Before that lustrous conclusion can be confirmed, it is put to the test of the Libera me, the text of which properly belongs to the Order of Burial rather than the Requiem Mass but which is introduced here as a musically and spiritually necessary episode of adversity. Framed by eloquent baritone solos in D minor, it includes the most dramatic music in the score: the reference to “Dies illa, Dies irae” is highly effective even without the intervention of the three trombones which, in the large-scale version, make their first entry at this point.

The In Paradisum (which also belongs to the Order of Burial rather than the Requiem Mass) is Fauré’s sublimely blissful vision of life after death - a paradise of mainly D major harmonies sweetly radiating in organ and harp arpeggios round a soprano line carrying the melodic answer to the aspirations of the Pie Jesu.

Gerald Larner©