Mahler's Seventh Symphony 0190491116, 9780190491116

Table of contents :
Cover
Series
Mahler’s Seventh Symphony
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Series Editor’s Foreword
Acknowledgments
Note on Sources
About the Companion Website
List of Abbreviations
Introduction
1. Premiere and Reception
Premiere
Reception
The “Problems” of the Seventh
2. Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis
Structure
Main Interpretive Leads
Genesis
3. Compositional History
Autobiographical and Biographical Evidence
Musical Evidence
4. Rondo-​Finale
Form and Content
Interpretive Views
5. Genesis of the Rondo-​Finale
The Vienna Sketchbook and the Moldenhauer Sketches
The Paris Sketchbook Leaves and the Moldenhauer  Sketches
Other Sketches and Drafts for the Finale
6. Nachtmusiken
The First Nachtmusik
The Second Nachtmusik
7. Scherzo
Dancing Death (“Der Teufel tantz es mit mir”)
Structure
Sketches and Drafts
Walpurgis Night
8. First Movement
Beginning of the Seventh
Form and Content
Sketches and Drafts
(Auto)biography, Genesis, and Interpretation
9. Die Meistersinger in the Seventh Symphony
The Meistersinger References in the Finale
Quartal Harmony in the Seventh and Meistersinger
Preliminary Sketches in the Vienna Sketchbook
E minor to C major: From Night to Day
Mahler and Beckmesser
Conclusion
What the Genesis Tells Us
“Problems” of the Seventh
From Tragedy to Comedy
Beginnings and Ends
Appendices
A: Manuscripts and Editions of the Seventh Symphony
B: Mahler Discography
F: Formal Tables
M: Motivic Tables
CSk: Correspondences between the Sketches
MSk: Motivic Table for the Sketches
Synopsis of Richard Wagner’s Die Meistersinger  von Nürnberg
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

S t u d i e s i n   M u s i c a l G e n e s i s, S t ru c t u re , a n d I n t e r p retat i o n Terry Riley’s In C Robert Carl Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations William Kinderman Beethoven’s “Appassionata” Sonata Martha Frohlich Richard Strauss’s Elektra Bryan Gilliam Wagner’s Das Rheingold Warren Darcy Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in E, Op. 109 Nicholas Marston Mahler’s Fourth Symphony James L. Zychowicz Vaughan Williams’s Ninth Symphony Alain Frogley Debussy’s Ibéria Matthew Brown Bartok’s Viola Concerto Donald Maurice Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony John Michael Cooper Berg’s Wozzeck Patricia Hall Wagner’s Parsifal William Kinderman Webern and the Lyric Impulse Anne C. Shreffler Mahler’s Seventh Symphony Anna Stoll Knecht

ANNA STOLL KNECHT

MAHLER’S SEVENTH SYMPHONY

1

1 Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America. © Oxford University Press 2019 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Stoll Knecht, Anna, 1979– author. | Mahler, Gustav, 1860–1911. Symphonies, no. 7. Title: Mahler’s Seventh symphony / Anna Stoll Knecht. Description: New York, NY : Oxford University Press, 2019. | Series: Studies in musical genesis, structure, and interpretation | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018045906 | ISBN 9780190491116 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780190050573 (epub) Classification: LCC ML410 .M23 K64 2019 | DDC 784.2/184—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018045906 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America This volume is published with the generous support of the AMS 75 PAYS Endowment of the American Musicological Society, funded in part by the National Endowment for the Humanities and the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

À mon père

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

CONTENTS

Series Editor’s Foreword Acknowledgments Note on Sources About the Companion Website List of Abbreviations Introduction

ix xi xiii xv xvii 1

1. Premiere and Reception Premiere Reception The “Problems” of the Seventh

6 7 15 25

2. Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis Structure Main Interpretive Leads Genesis

36 36 44 56

3. Compositional History Autobiographical and Biographical Evidence Musical Evidence

64 65 75

4. Rondo-​Finale Form and Content Interpretive Views

89 90 113

5. Genesis of the Rondo-​Finale 123 The Vienna Sketchbook and the Moldenhauer Sketches 124 The Paris Sketchbook Leaves and the Moldenhauer  Sketches 140 Other Sketches and Drafts for the Finale 153 6. Nachtmusiken The First Nachtmusik The Second Nachtmusik

7. Scherzo Dancing Death (“Der Teufel tantz es mit mir”)

160 161 183 209 209

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

viii :  Contents

Structure Sketches and Drafts Walpurgis Night

212 216 229

8. First Movement Beginning of the Seventh Form and Content Sketches and Drafts (Auto)biography, Genesis, and Interpretation

232 232 241 252 257

9. Die Meistersinger in the Seventh Symphony The Meistersinger References in the Finale Quartal Harmony in the Seventh and Meistersinger Preliminary Sketches in the Vienna Sketchbook E minor to C major: From Night to Day Mahler and Beckmesser

266 268 278 281 284 290

Conclusion What the Genesis Tells Us “Problems” of the Seventh From Tragedy to Comedy Beginnings and Ends

294 294 298 301 304

Appendices A: Manuscripts and Editions of the Seventh Symphony B: Mahler Discography F: Formal Tables M: Motivic Tables CSk: Correspondences between the Sketches MSk: Motivic Table for the Sketches Synopsis of Richard Wagner’s Die Meistersinger   von Nürnberg Bibliography Index

309 309 313 315 329 341 343 345 349 361

SERIES EDITOR’S FOREWORD

The Oxford series Studies in Musical Genesis, Structure, and Interpretation extends back to 1985, when Philip Gossett’s landmark volume on Donizetti’s Anna Bolena was published. Since then, each volume in the series has sought to elucidate the detail of musical creation in a single work by a major composer. Originally, this activity was more concentrated on the relationship between genesis and the final structure of the work. From around the turn of the millennium, however, the series expanded its purpose to include issues of interpretation, with a view to placing individual works within a continuum not just from sketch to score but also on to premiere and subsequent reception. Under Lewis Lockwood’s founding editorship, the Genesis series looked primarily to Romantic-​era works, while since then it has embraced many key compositions of the twentieth century, and looks forward soon to embrace questions of genesis, structure, and interpretation within the digital world of the twenty-​first century. In this book Anna Stoll Knecht’s subject is Mahler’s “Cinderella” symphony, his “jubilant” Seventh, often considered a poor cousin to the “tragic” Sixth. Stoll Knecht provides a powerful addition to all aspects of the Genesis series’s purposes. To the study of musical genesis she brings a strong focus on “discarded” materials. While so many sketch studies are mainly concerned with showing how early ideas developed into the content of the ultimate piece, Stoll Knecht shows how materials that were discarded between sketch and final score often play a crucial role in explaining Mahler’s compositional process. In her analyses she draws particular attention to the relevance of the world of theater and circus to this symphony, and thereby asserts the “profound nature of theater, using fiction and humor, to expose truths.” She warns, in her Conclusion, that “a reconstruction of a work’s genesis . . . [offers] a picture that does not necessarily correspond to an assessment of the finished work.” Her study is, as well, a major contribution to vexed questions of interpretation: what does the Seventh tell about Mahler’s reception of Wagner, and not just in the Symphony’s triumphalist Finale? Is the Seventh Symphony a sequel to, or rather a companion of, the Sixth? Stoll Knecht’s volume is the first in this series to turn the series template so thoroughly on its chronological head. Most Genesis studies begin with a dutiful chronicling of genetic materials, and over time relate this genetic account to their analyses of the published work; they then go on to Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

x : Series Editor’s Foreword

address some aspects of interpretation, whether in performance, publication, recording, legalities, or audience reception. Stoll Knecht begins her chapter roll-​call, however, with the work’s premiere and reception (Chapter 1), and the first movement she subjects to detailed investigation is the work’s Rondo-​ Finale (Chapters  4 and 5), while the last (and last completed) movement she accounts for is the first (Chapter 8). Hence, my suggestion that a reader of this volume might well follow suit, and choose first to read her concise Conclusion, which begins with the enticing quotation:  “Mahler is a Shakespearean clown” (William Ritter). There, in a few pages, she explains what she sees as this book’s contributions to Mahlerian knowledge, as well as to the essential purposes of the Genesis series. Then, with this summary tutorial in beginnings and endings firmly in mind, it is time for your reading to begin, at the book’s beginning. No study of musical genesis can exist today without sustained reference to materials held in archives and libraries across the world. A small portion of those relevant materials can appear in the volume itself, with appropriate acknowledgment, but many more materials cannot be made available within the confines of this single book. They are, however, still very important in understanding the wider context of its contents, hence, the occasional footnote references to external repository websites, as well as to the many materials that are placed upon Oxford University Press’s web pages that accompany this book. Malcolm Gillies Australian National University King’s College London

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A great number of individuals and institutions provided support during the writing process. Postdoctoral fellowships from the Swiss National Science Foundation (2014–​2015) and the British Academy (2015–​ 2018) allowed me to complete the book. Along with a non-​stipendiary Junior Research Fellowship (2015–​2018), Jesus College in Oxford offered the best working conditions I could ever dream of. My thanks also go to the Claire and Barry Brook Endowment of the American Musicological Society (partly funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities and the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation) for the AMS Publication Subvention 2016 that covered the costs of facsimiles reproduction. I am particularly grateful to Suzanne Ryan at Oxford University Press, who provided invaluable advice and feedback along the road, to Victoria Kouznetsov for her editorial work; and to the series editor Malcolm Gillies, who had the patience to work with me all the way to help me improve the manuscript, and whose steady support was critical in moments of discouragement. My anonymous reviewers offered insightful comments, which proved useful at each stage of the “compositional process.” Special thanks are due to my successive PhD advisors and postdoctoral mentors, in New  York and Oxford:  the late Robert Bailey, Michael Beckerman, Laurence Dreyfus, and Laura Tunbridge. They all helped more than they know, by accompanying me through the difficult task of beginning and finishing a book. Stanley Boorman has been another mentor during my years of apprenticeship at New York University. Other friends and colleagues generously took time to read and comment on selected chapters:  Barry Millington, Peter Davison, Peter Franklin, Stephen Hefling, Julian Johnson, William Kinderman, Seth Monhanan, Marilyn McCoy, Vera Micznik, Thomas Peattie, Friedemann Sallis, Lola San Martin, and Merel van Tilburg. My thanks to Lukas Beck, Katinka Urbanovici, and Yasha Knecht for their editing work. Peter Poltun opened the secret door of the music archive in Vienna, always ready to talk about Mahler, Wagner, and manuscripts, and making me feel at home at the Staatsoper. Christiane Mühlegger-​Henhapel and Lydia Groebl at the Theatermuseum, Thomas Leibnitz at the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Thomas Aigner at the Wienbibliothek im Rathaus, Renate Stark-​Voit and Severin Matiasovits at the Internationale Gustav Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

xii : Acknowledgments

Mahler Gesellschaft, and Robert Kaldy-​Karo at the Circus & Clown Museum Vienna granted me access to their material and offered advice when needed. Special thanks to Stefan Buchon and Renate for helping me read Mahler’s handwriting and sharing Viennese beer. In Paris, the team of the Médiathèque Musicale Mahler have been welcoming and wonderful for many years, and my heartfelt thanks go particularly to Alena Parthonnaud, who encouraged me through each stage of the writing process. The soul of the place is deeply missed today: Henry-​Louis de La Grange passed away on January 27, 2017, leaving a great void, and I owe him more than I can say. Other libraries in Munich and in New York granted me access to their collections and offered ideal working conditions, particularly Dr. Schaumberg at the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Maria Molestina and Fran Barulich at the Morgan Library & Museum, Barbara Haws at the New York Philharmonic Archives, and Robert Kosovsky at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. I feel very privileged to be surrounded by so many colleagues and friends, Mahlerians and non-​Mahlerians. The fellows of Jesus College know when to ask the right question (at port time)—​particularly the principal Sir Nigel Shadbolt, Ash Asudeh, Philip Burrows, Andrew Dancer, Paulina Kewes, Tosca Lynch, Jean-​Alexandre Perras, and Dominic Wilkinson. The Faculty of Music at Oxford provided another stimulating environment and much appreciated conversations, particularly with Roger Allen, Eric Clarke, Jonathan Cross, Daniel Grimley, Jason Stanyek, and Laura Tunbridge. The MahlerFest in Boulder, Colorado, gave me the opportunity to talk about Mahler for days in a stunning landscape with other “fanatics”—​particularly Peter Davison, who was the first to listen and encourage me on the circus track, David Auerbach, Steven Bruns, and Marilyn McCoy. Other inspiring scholars whose support has proved indispensable include Jeremy Barham, Scott Burnham, Warren Darcy, Walter Frisch, Thomas Grey, Kevin Karnes, Richard Kramer, Karen Painter, and Morten Solvik. I  am grateful to the friends who graciously hosted me during my research trips: Katinka in Paris, Walter and Marilyn in New York, Didier and Chantal in Vienna, and Pierre, Françoise, and William Stonborough who became my Viennese family. To my friends Aloïse Fiala-​Murphy, Bobby Grampp, Christophe Imperiali, Inspector Morse, Ned O’Gorman, Marlyse and Maxime Pietri, Mathilde Reichler, and Merel Van Tilburg: thank you for being there. Last but not least, my loving thanks to our families, the Knechts and the Stolls, particularly to our parents, Nina and my late father Pierre, Giovanna and Ueli, and to my godmother Silvia, who all provided limitless support and comfort over the years. My husband Luca and our sons Arturo, César, and Teodoro are at the heart of this book, as in everything else in my life. Oxford, September 2018 (Liber primus finitus!)

NOTE ON SOURCES

The author thanks the following institutions for permission to reproduce source materials:  the Theatermuseum, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, and Internationale Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft in Vienna; the Médiathèque Musicale Mahler in Paris; the Morgan Library & Museum and the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts in New York; and the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek in Munich. Excerpts from Chapters  1, 3, 5, and 6 appeared in Naturlauf:  Scholarly Journeys Toward Gustav Mahler. Essays in Honour of Henry-​Louis de La Grange for His 90th Birthday, ed. Paul-​André Bempéchat (Peter Lang, 2016); excerpts from Chapter 8 appeared in Texts and Beyond: The Process of Music Composition from the 19th to the 20th Century, ed. Jonathan Goldman (Ut Orpheus, 2016); and an earlier version of Chapter 9 appeared in Rethinking Mahler, ed. Jeremy Barham (Oxford University Press, 2017). Translations of quotations are mine, unless otherwise indicated. Original versions are not systematically given in footnotes, only when the original text is particularly difficult to translate. References to scores are made with measure numbers, but some rehearsal numbers are provided as additional clues. I use Roman numerals for Mahler’s symphonies and Arabic numerals for the movements (VII/​1 = first movement of the Seventh Symphony). I refer to specific passages in Meistersinger Acts I, II, and III with the page number in the Peters/​Dover orchestral score, followed by the measure number on that page (651/​1 = p. 651 Dover score, measure 1). In musical examples, I  refer to specific locations on the sketches by indicating the staff number followed by the measure number on the staff (4/​3 = staff 4, measure 3). Transposing instruments are all noted in C. Cells and motives are indicated in small bold letters in the text, to distinguish them from themes indicated in capital letters. However, selected motives (like Motive B in VII/​4) are also indicated in capital letters because of their structural importance. Transcriptions of sketches in musical examples are not always exhaustive, as I only transcribe what I seek to highlight. Readers should consult facsimiles hosted on the companion website for a complete vision of the document.

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

ABOUT THE COMPANION WEBSITE

www.oup.com/us/mahlersseventhsymphony Music3 Book3234 Oxford has created a password-​protected website to accompany Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Material that cannot be made available in a book, namely a large number of facsimiles and source descriptions, is provided here. The reader is encouraged to consult this resource in conjunction to the chapters. Material available online is indicated in the text with Oxford’s symbol  .

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

ABBREVIATIONS

ACA AM AME BSM GMB GMF HLG1 HLG2 HLG3 HLG4 IGMG KGA

LPA MMM NBL

Amsterdam Concertgebouw Archives. Mahler, Alma. Gustav Mahler: Erinnerungen und Briefe. Amsterdam: Allert De Lange, 1940. Mahler, Alma. Gustav Mahler: Memories and Letters. 4th ed. Eds. Donald Mitchell and Knud Martner, trans. Basil Creighton. London: Cardinal, 1990. Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Munich. Gustav Mahler Briefe. Rev. ed. Herta Blaukopf. Vienna: Zsolnay, 1996. Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde Library, Vienna. La Grange, Henry Louis de. Mahler. Volume One. New York: Doubleday, 1973. La Grange, Henry Louis de. Gustav Mahler. Vienna: The Years of Challenge. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1995. La Grange, Henry Louis de. Gustav Mahler. Vienna: Triumph and Disillusion. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1999. La Grange, Henry Louis de. Gustav Mahler. A New Life Cut Short. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. Internationale Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft, Vienna. Symphonie Nr. 7 in fünf Sätzen für grosses Orchester. Partitur. Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Band VII. Ed. Erwin Ratz for the Internationale Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft. Vienna: Bote & Bock, 1960. New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. Médiathèque Musicale Mahler, Paris. Bauer-​Lechner, Natalie. Gustav Mahler, Erinnerungen von Natalie Bauer-​Lechner. Ed. Herbert Killian, annotated and

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

xviii :  Abbreviations

NBLE NKG

ÖNB ÖTM PML SBW

commented by Knud Martner. Hamburg: Karl Dieter Wagner, 1984. Bauer-​Lechner, Natalie. Recollections of Gustav Mahler. Ed. and annotated by Peter Franklin, trans. Dika Newlin. London, Faber and Faber, 2013 (1980). Symphonie Nr. 7 in fünf Sätzen für grosses Orchester. Partitur. Neue Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Ed. Reinhold Kubik for the Internationalen Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft. Vienna: Boosey & Hawkes—​Bote & Bock, 2012. Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna. Österreichisches Theatermuseum, Vienna. Morgan Library & Museum, New York. Wienbibliothek im Rathaus, Vienna.

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Introduction This book aims at fulfilling the purposes of the series Studies in Musical Genesis, Structure, and Interpretation: to offer an interpretation of a major work based on a close reading of the score combined with a reconstruction of its genetic history, and to show how these perspectives interact with each other. In investigating how the Seventh Symphony was conceived and what kinds of experiences led Gustav Mahler to make his compositional choices, it offers a reassessment of one of his most controversial works. Far from being limited to providing information on the chronology of the compositional process, genetic studies can generate a new hearing of the work and allow us to raise broader interpretive issues. In the case of the Seventh Symphony, analyzing the sketches leads us to ponder the question of Mahler’s reception of Richard Wagner, and therefore to rethink much-​debated questions concerning Mahler’s cultural identity. In showing how these questions can be addressed through an examination of the preliminary sketches, my study encourages us to grant more attention to the so-​ called discarded material and to consider it as an integral part of the compositional history and identity of an artwork. Mahler’s compositional materials for the Seventh have been only partially published so far, and existing analyses tend to focus on the material that has been “used” in the finished version. This book provides the first thorough analysis of the sketches and drafts for the Seventh, and sheds new light on its complex compositional history. While all of the sources are considered, my exploration concentrates on the early phase of the composition, documented by a large number of preliminary sketches, thus placing less emphasis on the later evolution of the work.1 Mahler’s Seventh Symphony, completed in 1905, stands out as one of the most provocative symphonic statements of the early twentieth century.   Edward Reilly’s contribution in the Facsimile of the Seventh provides an account of the main differences between the fair copy, the copyist’s score, and the final version. See “The Manuscripts of the Seventh Symphony,” in Gustav Mahler: Facsimile of 1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

2  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Mahler’s musical past is summoned in a particular way in this work, weaving a complex web of associations that provide multiple hermeneutic leads. At the time of its first performance in 1908, the reception of the Seventh was rather positive. But when Mahler’s music began to be performed, recorded, and discussed more broadly in the 1960s, the Seventh was left behind and progressively acquired the status of “Cinderella” in the Mahlerian canon. Even though interest for the Seventh has increased in the last decades, it is still generally considered as an “enigma” or a “puzzle,” which implies that there is a key to find that would unravel its mystery. I isolate two main factors in the reception of the Seventh as “problematic.” First, it has been often perceived as “existing in the shadow” of the Sixth Symphony. The common assessment of the Seventh as a fragmented, disengaged, and even bombastic work appears to stem from comparison with the Sixth, considered to be fundamentally unified, sincere, and tragic. When Mahler’s music is discussed in close connection with his biography, the Sixth is used as a crucial point in a linear narrative, seen as foreshadowing sorrowful events in the composer’s life. In turn, the Seventh has been characterized merely as what comes after—​“music after the catastrophe,” as Hans-​Klaus Jungheinrich put it.2 According to some commentators, not a single trace of Mahler’s spiritual struggle is to be found in this puzzling work, concluding as it does with an apparently happy ending in C major, which would inappropriately follow the fatal hammer blows of the Sixth. This happy ending constitutes the second “problem” of the Seventh. It has been heard as too noisy, too jubilant; and, most of all, “too reminiscent” of Wagner’s opera Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg.3 In a way, the first movements of the Sixth and Seventh would be too similar and their last movements too different. Close examination of the sketches shows that, in fact, the composition of the Seventh was deeply entangled with that of the Sixth, even more than previously thought. It suggests that besides composing the two Nachtmusiken in the summer of 1904, Mahler was also at work on the Finale of the Seventh while he was completing the outer movements of the Sixth. This challenges the usual chronological division between the Nachtmusiken completed first in 1904, and the first, third, and fifth movements that were previously assumed the Seventh Symphony, eds. Donald Mitchell and Edward Reilly (Amsterdam: Rosbeek Publishers, 1995), 75–​95.  Hans-​Klaus Jungheinrich, “Nach der Katastrophe:  Anmerkungen zu einer aktuellen Rezeption der Siebten Symphonie,” in Mahler—​eine Herausforderung:  Ein Symposion, ed. Peter Ruzicka (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1977), 197. 3   Deryck Cooke, Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to His Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 91. 2

Introduction : 3

to have mostly been composed in 1905. Thus, large parts of the Sixth and Seventh were composed around the same period of time and were drawn from a common reservoir of compositional materials. This brings them even closer to each other, like twins. But it necessarily challenges the view of the Seventh as a consequence of the Sixth and pleads for a hearing of the work in its own terms, as revealing another aspect of Mahler’s world, complementary to the one presented in the Sixth. The sketches for the Seventh also provide insight into the Meistersinger question. Mahler’s open allusions to Wagner’s Meistersinger in the Finale are, I  argue, merely the audible remainder of a deeper compositional interpretation of Wagner’s music. Indeed, Meistersinger references can be traced throughout the whole symphony and concentrate on the character of Beckmesser.4 Mahler’s treatment of Wagner parallels Beckmesser’s onstage performance, in that both “borrow” musical material from another composer and radically transform its original meaning. Mahler’s musical allusions have been often cited by his detractors to demonstrate a supposed lack of originality; and this critique, implicitly addressed to Beckmesser in Meistersinger, relates to anti-​Semitic stereotypes such as those conveyed in Wagner’s Das Judentum in der Musik. By using Beckmesser’s own music as a structural element in his symphony, Mahler casts new light on that character’s artistic potential and presents him as an unsuspected kind of innovator, whose art contains the germs of future developments in twentieth-​century music. The fact that Beckmesserian references are more explicit in the preliminary sketches than in the final version suggests that Mahler, while openly alluding to the Mastersingers Guild theme in the Finale, sought to obscure his interest in Beckmesser’s music. Therefore, what has been considered as “problematic” about the Seventh—​its relationship to the Sixth Symphony and to Wagner’s Meistersinger—​lies at the core of Mahler’s compositional project and can be taken as a key to interpreting the work. My analysis of the finished work adds another dimension to this reading that does not emerge from my study of the compositional materials:  the relevance of the world of theater and circus for the Seventh. If the Sixth Symphony ends with destruction, the Seventh concludes on a nose-​thumbing gesture defying death. Mahler’s “happy endings” raise unique interpretive problems. Theodor Adorno condemned Mahler’s affirmative movements as too “theatrical.” He acknowledged Mahler’s close affinities with opera but reserved his praise for tragic endings, criticizing the composer’s “vainly

  For references to Wagner’s Meistersinger, see the synopsis of the opera in the Appendix. 4

4  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

jubilant” finales as insincere and triumphalist.5 The circus offers a powerful metaphor to rethink Mahler’s theatricality, particularly in terms of humor. This form of “slapstick” comedy, based on gesture and sound, throws new light on Mahler’s affirmative music: excessive and noisy joy does not necessarily imply artificiality and irony. Rather, we might see it as expressing the profound nature of theater, using fiction and humor to expose truths. I stumbled across Mahler’s Seventh Symphony by chance in 2007. Wandering about the New  York Public Library for the Performing Arts, I  was looking for a topic for my “Introduction to Musicology” archival report. The Bruno Walter papers caught my attention, and I  picked the “Sketches for the Scherzo of the Seventh Symphony by Gustav Mahler.” I pondered how to persuade the curator of the music manuscripts to let a first-​year graduate student look at a Mahler autograph, thinking that if my plan did not work out, I could try with Ernest Chausson (sketches for the Symphony in B♭ Major in the Rose Bampton collection). Miraculously, my plan succeeded. This was my first close contact with a music sketch and my first serious encounter with Mahler. I thus entered into the Seventh through Mahler’s handwriting, studying a written trace of his compositional process for a work I knew very little about. Ten years ago, I was far from imagining that the sketches for the Scherzo of the Seventh would lead me to discuss Mahler’s relationship to Wagner’s anti-​Semitism, or the arrival of the “Greatest Show on Earth” in Vienna in 1900. In fact, the origins of the circus topic seem as coincidental as my first encounter with the Seventh in New York. It is to the late Henry-​Louis de La Grange that I owe this recent development in my approach to the Seventh. (One could say that the circus is a late thought, added in my own “orchestral draft.”) The last time we met, in June 2015, La Grange caught me by surprise, asking me abruptly about the Finale of the Seventh:  “I don’t understand this movement. Can you give me one word, just one word to describe it?” Without thinking, I answered, “The circus.” He seemed happy with my answer, even if it came out of nowhere. A year later, having forgotten all about this conversation, I began exploring the circus lead in the Finale, and since then the topic began to expand in unexpected ways. In this book, each movement of the Seventh Symphony is considered through a double perspective, genetic and analytic, with the intent to show how sketch studies and analytical approaches complement each other. To avoid disruption in my argument, a description of each manuscript source, with an analysis of its contents, is found in the Appendix. Some Appendices  Theodor Adorno, Mahler:  A Musical Physiognomy, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 137. 5

Introduction : 5

are located in the book, others on the companion website. The book includes the following:  Manuscripts and Editions of the Seventh Symphony (A), Mahler Discography (B), Formal Tables for each movement (F), Motivic Tables for each movement (M), Correspondences between the Sketches (CSk), Motivic Table for the Sketches (MSk), and a synopsis of Wagner’s Meistersinger. On the companion website, the reader will find descriptions and selected facsimiles of the manuscripts for the Seventh (MS), as well as Alban Berg’s comments on selected sketches (BC). Some facsimiles and transcriptions are included in the book when necessary to follow my arguments. The first three chapters provide a background for the analyses unfolding in Chapters 4 to 9. Chapter 1 begins with the premiere of the Seventh and retraces the history of its reception. Chapter 2 examines the overall structure of the work, outlines my main interpretive leads, and raises questions on the relationships between genesis, structure, and interpretation. In Chapter 3 I  present biographical and musical evidence used to reconstruct the genesis of the Seventh. Chapters  4 to 8 discuss each movement of the work separately, beginning with the finished version before turning to the compositional materials (though, at times, consideration of a specific sketch is inserted in my analysis of the movement). Two factors led me to begin with the end: first, the Finale plays a crucial role in the perception of the Seventh as a “problematic” work; second, most of the extant compositional materials relate to the Finale. Due to the high volume of preliminary sketches connected to the Finale, I discuss the movement in its final version and its genesis in two separate chapters (Chapters 4 and 5). The following chapters examine the other movements in their order of composition: the Nachtmusiken (Chapter 6), the Scherzo (Chapter 7), and the first movement, which was completed last (Chapter 8). The last chapter offers a reading of the Seventh from the perspective of its association with Wagner’s Meistersinger, which sounds loud and clear in the Finale, and in a more subtle way in other movements. Replacing the movements in the right order, the conclusion offers a broader picture of the Seventh, presenting it as moving away from the tragedy of the Sixth toward comedy. This symphony shows, in a unique way within Mahler’s output, that humor can be taken as a form of sublimation. The relevance of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony for our polarized times is clear: it reminds us that we need to cultivate and transmit a comical spirit, for it feeds on contradictions and allows them to coexist, in ourselves and in the world.

Chapter 1

Premiere and Reception

One should go at once to listen to this Seventh, his masterpiece, and maybe the masterpiece of the masterpieces in the world of pure symphony after Beethoven. Yes, the tear, the fracture, the collapse is not the law but the mode of the work, and most of all, its great unity. —​William Ritter1

William Ritter’s exuberant enthusiasm for Mahler’s Seventh Symphony has not been shared by the majority of critics throughout its reception history. “Unquestionably,” wrote Henry-​Louis de La Grange thirty years ago, “the Seventh is the most enigmatic and also the most unpopular work. It puzzles, it worries, it disconcerts, it shocks, it disturbs.”2 These words reflect well the discomfort often felt with this piece. Indeed, it has become a tradition to begin discussing Mahler’s Seventh with an acknowledgment that it is enigmatic, unpopular, and controversial.3

 William Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” Revue Musicale de la Société Internationale de Musique, Paris, November 15, 1908; and “Septième Symphonie,” unpublished book chapter, August 1912. See William Ritter chevalier de Gustav Mahler: Ecrits, correspondance, documents, ed. Claude Meylan (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000), 122 and 144. 2   Henry-​Louis de La Grange, “L’Énigme de la Septième,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler:  A Symposium, ed. James Zychowicz (Cincinnati:  University of Cincinnati, 1990), 13. 3   See, for example: James Zychowicz, “Ein schlechter Jasager: Considerations on the Finale to Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler: A Symposium, 99; Peter Revers, “The Seventh Symphony,” in The Mahler Companion, eds. Donald Mitchell and Andrew Nicholson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 376; or Jens Malte Fischer, Gustav Mahler (Yale: Yale University Press, 2011), 458. 1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

Premiere and Reception  :  7

Despite a rather positive response at the time of its first performance in 1908, the Seventh has progressively acquired the status of “problem child” in the Mahlerian canon.4 Most critiques meet on the following point: the work is puzzling and needs to be decoded. Some have also described it as the least unified and most disparate of Mahler’s symphonies, questioning the coherence of the work.5 Even if the Seventh is more often performed, researched, and discussed today than it was in the last decades of the twentieth century, it is still generally perceived as a puzzling work that “refuses to behave like a Mahler Symphony,” as Stephen Hefling once put it.6 First, I examine the Seventh’s reception from its premiere in 1908 in order to determine when the work began to be considered as “problematic,” since early accounts report that the Seventh had been initially rather well received. I then focus on two aspects that are central in the negative perception of the work: the Seventh’s close relationship to the Sixth Symphony; and the noisy Finale, clearly alluding to Wagner’s opera Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg.

Premiere Mahler attempted to have his Seventh published and premiered soon after the completion of the copyist’s score in 1906. Just before leaving Vienna for New York in December 1907, the composer wrote to Peters in Leipzig to inquire if they would publish his Seventh, “predominantly of cheerful, humorous nature,” and to ask permission for organizing the premiere in America.7 Peters was not interested and after other unsuccessful attempts in 1908, Mahler approached Lauterbach & Kuhn in Leipzig, a small publishing house which eventually was bought out by Bote & Bock at the end of that

  This is Donald Mitchell’s expression. See “Mahler on the Move: His Seventh Symphony,” in Discovering Mahler: Writings on Mahler, 1955–​2005, ed. Gastón Fournier-​ Facio (Rochester: Boydell & Brewer, 2007), 394. 5   See, for example, Hans Redlich, Bruckner and Mahler (London: J. M. Dent, 1955), 204–​205, who refers to the “heterogeneous assortment of movements he chose to call his Seventh Symphony”; or Henry-​Louis de La Grange, “L’Énigme de la Septième,” 13. 6   Stephen Hefling, “Techniques of Irony in Mahler’s Œuvre,” in Gustav Mahler et l’ironie dans la culture viennoise au tournant du siècle. Actes du colloque de Montpellier, 16–​18 juillet 1996, eds. André Castagné, Michel Chalon, and Patrick Forençon (Castelnau-​le-​ Lez: Editions Climats, 2001), 125. 7   See NKG, xx. 4

8  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Fig. 1.1  Concert Pavilion, Prague. Fonds de La Grange, collection Mahler, Fondation de France. Deposited at the Médiathèque Musicale Mahler, Paris year.8 This development caused a delay in the publication of the Seventh, which appeared only in 1909. Thus, at the time of the work’s premiere in 1908, Mahler still had no publisher. The Seventh Symphony was premiered on September 19, 1908, in Prague, under Mahler’s baton, with the “Exhibition Orchestra,” formed of members of the Czech Philharmonic joined by musicians from the Neues Deutsches Theater.9 The concert took place in a Concert Pavilion now demolished,

  According to La Grange, German publishers did not want to take the risk to publish a Mahler symphony after the relative lack of success of the Fifth and Sixth. See HLG4, 184; and Gustav Mahler: Letters to His Wife, eds. Henry-​Louis de La Grange and Günther Weiss in collaboration with Knud Martner, rev. and trans. Anthony Beaumont (London: Faber and Faber, 2005), 307. 9   See HLG4, 177 and 227; and Knud Martner, Mahler’s Concerts (New York: Kaplan Foundation, 2010), 231. This Exhibition Orchestra (Ausstellungsorchester) was made of about a hundred musicians, while for Mahler’s concert in May it only included sixty-​ six musicians. See Jitka Ludvová, “Gustav Mahler in Prag im Mai 1908,” Hudební Věda, 23 (1986): 255–​62. 8

Premiere and Reception  :  9

built especially for the Exhibition marking the Jubilee of the Emperor Franz Joseph I (Fig. 1.1).10 Twenty-​five years ago, the facsimile edition of the Seventh described this picture as the interior of the concert hall of the Municipal House in Prague, “Obecní dum,” explaining that it was taken when Mahler was rehearsing his Seventh in September 1908.11 However, Donald Mitchell later corrected this double mistake:  the picture was taken in the Concert Pavilion, not in the Municipal House; and most probably in May 1908, when Mahler was rehearsing the first of the two Philharmonic concerts he conducted in Prague that year.12 Mahler conducted the first and the last of the Exhibition concert series, beginning on May 23 and ending on September 19 with the premiere of the Seventh. The May program initially consisted of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony, the Coriolan Overture, and Wagner’s Tristan and Meistersinger Preludes. However, at the request of the Exhibition Committee to include a Czech composition in the program, in order to balance the predominance of German music, Smetana’s Bartered Bride Overture was added at the last minute.13 Both concerts conducted by Mahler during the Exhibition in 1908 took place in a context of great tension between Czech-​and German-​ speaking populations in Bohemia. The emergence of Czech nationalism in the second half of the nineteenth century contributed to fuel the rise of German nationalism, and the conflict became critical particularly after 1879,

 It was the sixtieth anniversary of Franz Joseph’s accession to the throne (1848). For more details about the Exhibition, see Donald Mitchell, “Mahler in Prague,” in The Mahler Companion, eds. Mitchell and Andrew Nicholson (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 400–​406. All of the exhibition buildings, except for the Concert Pavilion where the Seventh was performed, are still standing. 11   Donald Mitchell, “Reception,” in Gustav Mahler: Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, eds. Donald Mitchell and Edward Reilly (Amsterdam: Rosbeek Publishers, 1995), 35 and 41. 12   Mitchell, “Mahler in Prague.” See also NKG, xxi, note 18. In the French edition of his Mahler biography, La Grange had correctly identified the location of the Seventh’s premiere as the demolished Concert Pavilion (Gustav Mahler: chronique d’une vie, vol. iii [Paris: Fayard, 1979–​1984], 341 and 353). As Mitchell notes, the number of musicians on that picture is closer to sixty than to a hundred, which suggests that the picture was taken in May and not in September (“Mahler in Prague,” 401, note 3). For a picture of the Concert Pavilion’s exterior, see “Mahler in Prague,” 402. 13   HLG4, 177. On Mahler’s stay in Prague in May 1908, see HLG4, 176–​82; and Ludvová, “Gustav Mahler in Prag im Mai 1908.” 10

10  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

when Eduard von Taaffe formed a new governing coalition favoring Czech interests.14

Rehearsals

Mahler came back to Prague in September 1908 to rehearse the Seventh two weeks in advance (on September 5).15 Several young musicians were present for the occasion, including Otto Klemperer, who provides an account of these days with Mahler: He had about two dozen rehearsals. His technique was remarkable. Each day after rehearsal he used to take the entire orchestral score home with him for revision, polishing, and retouching. We younger musicians, Bruno Walter, Bodanzky, Keussler, and I, would gladly have helped him, but he would not hear of it and did it all on his own. We usually spent the evenings with him at his hotel. He was relaxed and extremely amusing. . . .16

Bruno Walter’s testimony runs along similar lines, mentioning expeditions into the countryside, conversations with friends, in sum, “cordial harmony.”17 These accounts differ from Alma Mahler’s recollections of the same period.

 About the Czech-​German tension within the Austrian Empire, see David Brodbeck, Defining Deutschtum: Political Ideology, German Identity, and Music-​Critical Discourse in Liberal Vienna, The New Cultural History of Music (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), especially 10–​11, and ­chapters 5 and 7. 15   According to La Grange, the rehearsal period was unusually long for Mahler, because he knew that he would be working with a “relatively inexperienced orchestra” and still needed to make changes in the score. Mahler made many corrections in the handwritten orchestral parts in Prague, and later in Munich. See HLG4, 221 and 225. These handwritten parts are unfortunately lost ([St-​UA] in NKG, 313 and 319). A  letter from Mahler to Mengelberg indicates that these parts were also used in Holland in 1909 (see NKG, 320). 16  Otto Klemperer, Minor Recollections, trans. J. Maxwell Brownjohn (London:  Dobson, 1964), 18. This account contradicts Alma Mahler’s claim that many of Mahler’s friends helped him correct the orchestral parts (AME, 142). Arthur Bodanzky was a conductor who worked with Mahler in Vienna, as Korrepetitor (1902–​1906). Gerhard von Keussler was a conductor and composer, much appreciated by Mahler. Richard Specht reports half of the rehearsal number stated by Klemperer. According to Kubik, twelve is more plausible than twenty-​four (NKG xxi, note 19). 17   Bruno Walter, Mahler (Vienna: Reichner, 1936), 44; quoted in HLG4, 226, and in NKG, xxi. 14

Premiere and Reception  :  11

She recounts finding Mahler in bed at her arrival in Prague, “nervous and unwell,” his room littered with orchestral parts, for his alterations were incessant in those days, not of course in the composition, but in the instrumentation. From the Fifth onwards he found it impossible to satisfy himself; . . . the Sixth and Seventh were continually in process of revision. It was a phase. His self-​assurance returned with the Eighth. . . . But now he was torn by doubts. He avoided the society of his fellow-​ musicians, which as a rule he eagerly sought, and went to bed immediately after dinner so as to save his energy for the rehearsals.18

The depiction of an anxious Mahler going straight to bed after dinner is at odds with Klemperer’s and Walter’s accounts. William Ritter throws some light on this discrepancy, reporting the tensions between Mahler and his wife during the rehearsals in Prague, even suggesting that Mahler’s “worried and grave” mood had “nothing to do with his symphony,” but everything with his wife.19 This could explain Mahler’s change of attitude after her arrival.20 Mahler’s constant work on the instrumentation of the Seventh during rehearsals, however, is common to all testimonies. “Even at the final rehearsal he was aware of a lack of balance,” writes Alma Mahler, “and never ceased making alterations in the proofs as long as any possibility of doing so remained.”21 While Klemperer considers Mahler’s retouching of the score as a mark of perfectionism, Alma Mahler presents these revisions in a negative light, implying that the composer did not fully resolve this “lack of balance.” The image of Mahler’s own dissatisfaction conveyed by his spouse may have contributed to the negative aura surrounding the work, at least from the 1960s.   AME, 143. Alma Mahler arrived in Prague on September 15.   Ritter, “Quelques souvenirs sur Gustave Mahler,” Vie Art Cité, Lausanne, 1946. See William Ritter chevalier, 34. La Grange and Weiss note that “Ritter was practically the only commentator who at this early stage observed the growing rift between Mahler and his wife, which eventually was to lead to the marital crisis of 1910.” Mahler: Letters to his Wife, 308. 20   Mahler was apparently looking forward to his wife’s arrival, as is shown by a telegram sent to her on September 14: “spent all day correcting parts /​no time to write /​greatly looking forward to your arrival Tuesday afternoon at the hotel /​room ready for you next to mine /​very cold here /​dress warmly & bring my winter coat /​fond greetings gustav /​berliner has just arrived.” See Mahler: Letters to His Wife, 307. 21   AME, 142. Bruno Walter, however, reports that Mahler was pleased with his orchestration. Gustav Mahler, 44. 18

19

12  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ritter depicts the atmosphere of the rehearsals as follows: In Prague, the rehearsals were very bumpy, in this hall that was also a banqueting hall. Here, while the Master and the orchestra made every effort [to rehearse] on a very steep stage, the waiters were laying the tables. Some of them were no more than very young rascals, insensitive to any music or discipline, and for whom music was just another form of excitement. The restaurant manager, meanwhile, a very coarse type of Czech industrialist, very rich, evidently regarded himself more the master of the house than the wretched conductor.22

The Exhibition Concert Pavilion fulfilled the double function of concert and banqueting hall, which rendered the rehearsal process chaotic. “I have orchestral materials to correct, and meanwhile I’m wondering how I  can transform sausage cauldrons into timpani, rusty watering-​cans into trumpets, and a public bar into a concert-​hall,” wrote Mahler to his wife shortly before her arrival in Prague.23 Ritter’s comment about the restaurant manager brings us back to the issue of the Czech-​German conflict. The Czech Philharmonic was “not exactly unanimously well-​disposed towards the [ex] Director of the Vienna Opera,” continues the writer, “and however authoritarian Mahler may have been with an orchestra that whole-​heartedly supported him, he was also—​ especially in such a place—​enough of a diplomat to be well aware of the difficulty of the situation.”24 The Seventh is the only Mahler symphony to have been premiered in his birth region, thus making an association between the composer’s Czech background and his attachment to German culture. Mahler was clearly aware of this context of political tensions, writing to   Ritter, “Quelques souvenirs sur Gustave Mahler,” in William Ritter chevalier, 32: “A Prague, les répétitions étaient très cahoteuses, dans cette salle des fêtes qui était aussi salle de banquet et où, tandis que le Maître et l’orchestre s’évertuaient sur l’estrade très verticale, les serveurs—​dont quelques uns n’étaient que de très jeunes polissons, bien insensibles à toute musique comme à toute discipline, et ici la musique n’était pour eux qu’un excitant de plus à batifoler—​, les serveurs donc mettaient les tables, et où l’entrepreneur du restaurant, un très grossier type d’industriel tchèque, très enrichi, se croyait évidemment plus maître de céans, lui, qu’un misérable chef d’orchestre.” Translation emended from Mitchell, “Reception,” 34. For pictures of the hall laid out for dining, see Mitchell, “Mahler in Prague,” 405. 23   Gustav Mahler: Letters to His Wife, 254; Ein Glück ohne Ruh’: Die Briefe Gustav Mahlers an Alma, ed. Henry-​Louis de La Grange and Günther Weiss (Münich: btb Verlag, 1997), 363. Ritter also reports that rehearsals sometimes had to be displaced to another hall in town, because of a banquet. See William Ritter chevalier, 33. 24   Ritter, “Quelques souvenirs sur Gustave Mahler,” in William Ritter chevalier, 33. Translation from HLG4, 228. 22

Premiere and Reception  :  13

Bruno Walter in July 1908: “My symphony is now to be introduced on 19 September in Prague—​provided that the Czechs and the Germans haven’t started a quarrel by then.”25

A “Bilingual” Concert

Thus Gustav Mahler, a “Germanized Jew from the Czech crown lands,” as David Brodbeck describes him,26 premiered his Seventh Symphony in Prague with an orchestra constituted of Czech and German musicians. The Czech press claimed this event as a their own: On Saturday Prague witnessed an artistic occasion whose significance goes far beyond the topical. This was a historic event. Gustav Mahler, a master of modern music who is as fervently admired as he is hated and derided, came to us to conduct the first performance of the Seventh. . . . It is a long time since Prague has boasted a premiere of such importance. . . . Saturday’s concert would then be a historic date for us, too. To be fair, Mahler’s concert at the Exhibition was “bilingual,” and the Germans were perhaps also in the majority in the audience; but as things stand in Prague we are justified in speaking of this as a Czech concert. The musicians were almost all Czechs, and in the audience every important figure of our musical life was present. And it was just this that constituted the importance of Mahler’s concert, that he gave his work its world premiere here, with us, and for us. . . .27

A predominantly Czech orchestra, conducted by a “Germanized” Czech playing for a mostly German audience—​the “bilingual” quality of the performance seems to have created a bridge between both sides. In fact, Mahler was considered to be the perfect candidate to foster Czech music in Vienna, heart of German music-​making: It was a really festive day for the Prague musical world. . . . This master of the modern German symphony after all belongs a little to Czech music. Mahler has always been an enthusiastic admirer of Smetana’s music and performed a great service in Vienna by contributing to its understanding. In view of these connections with our musical development the first conductor of the Exhibition Concerts deserves a special welcome.28

  GMB, 368.  Brodbeck, Defining Deutschtum, 313. 27  Zdeněk Nejedly, review of the premiere published in Den, November 22, 1908. See Mahler: A Documentary Study, ed. Kurt Blaukopf (New York and Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1976), 257. 28   Právo lidu, May 26, 1908, quoted in Arnošt Mahler, “Gustav Mahler und seine Heimat,” Musikforschung, 25 (1972), 437. See also Mahler: A Documentary Study, 256. After 25

26

14  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

For Ritter, the performance of the Seventh was the occasion for a reconciliation between the two sides of the conflict: “This time, however inflexibly Czech the orchestra was towards the German director, they were conquered! Thrilled!”29 “I have never seen an orchestra adore its tormenter and sovereign like the augmented Czech Philharmonic during the eight days I spent in Prague,” wrote Ritter elsewhere. “By the end of it there were neither Czechs nor Germans, neither Jews nor Christians. We were all brothers in music and in Mahler’s art.”30 Richard Batka attributed a similar function to Mahler’s performance of the Seventh: In this exhibition concert, as well, Mahler was perceived and accepted as a representative of modern German art. As the best German musician from Bohemia and as someone whose expert judgment has long since led to be appointed the general music director of Austria, he makes a political statement without even wanting to do so. And yet the force of his personality is so compelling that it breaks down the great barriers between nations and finds followers in the Czech musical world.31

The event of a new Mahler symphony thus brought together Czechs and Germans. Ritter reports that on the day before the concert, “the world of Czech music was there . . ., and everyone who counted for anything in German music had arrived from the neighboring capitals.”32 Friends and musicians came en masse to Prague for the concert: besides Bruno Walter and Otto Klemperer, Alban Berg, Oskar Fried, Guido Adler, and Oscar Straus were present, as well as the writers Paul Stefan and Richard Specht.33

the Smetana Overture, Mahler received a palm branch decorated with the colors of Bohemia (HLG4, 181).   Ritter, “Quelques souvenirs sur Gustave Mahler,” in William Ritter chevalier, 33. The complete passage is discussed in Chapter 4, “Interpretive Views.” 30   Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” Lugdunum, Lyon, November 1908, in William Ritter chevalier, 130. Translated by La Grange in HLG4, 231 (slightly emended). 31  Richard Batka, Prager Tagblatt, September 20, 1908. Quoted in “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics: The Seventh Symphony,” eds. and trans. Karen Painter and Bettina Varwig, in Mahler and His World, ed. Karen Painter (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002), 322. 32   Ritter, “Quelques souvenirs sur Gustave Mahler,” in William Ritter chevalier, 34. 33   Arnold Schoenberg had been unable to attend the Seventh’s premiere. The Mahlers, Alban Berg, and others sent him a postcard on September 20. Schoenberg heard the work in November 1909, when it was first performed in Vienna under Ferdinand Löwe. 29

Premiere and Reception  :  15

Reception According to Alma Mahler, the Seventh was “scarcely understood by the public. It had a succès d’estime.”34 Klemperer went further, arguing that the work was “not a success.”35 The critic Felix Adler, however, begins his review with the following observation: A surprise: yesterday, after the final notes of the Seventh had faded, Gustav Mahler was celebrated with all imaginable signs of sincere, honest, and unfeigned admiration. Frankly, not even his greatest supporters and friends expected this.36

Indeed, the performance was applauded for more than fifteen minutes, “whether the audience’s enthusiasm was meant for the work, or whether it was simply Prague’s homage to an artist born on Bohemian soil and now internationally famous,” notes La Grange.37

Early Reception

The mass of critical accounts shows that the Seventh was well received at the time of its premiere, better than the Sixth had been.38 William Ritter was one of Mahler’s most passionate advocates, and the only French-​speaking critic in Mahler’s entourage at the time of the Seventh’s premiere. He did not speak German very well, and his conversations with Mahler often resulted in misunderstandings that forced him, as it were, to listen more carefully to the music he wanted to describe. Ritter’s writings on Mahler constitute a major source for the study of his contemporary reception, and his stunning and difficult prose in French reveals an acute ear, as well as an original perspective on this music. Indeed, the Seventh was Ritter’s favorite Mahler symphony (“his masterpiece”), which already shows something of an original taste.

  AME, 143.  Klemperer, Minor Recollections, 19. 36   Felix Adler, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” Bohemia, September 20, 1908. Quoted in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 318. Adler was one of Mahler’s supporters in Prague. 37   HLG4, 238. See also Gustav Mahler: Letters to His Wife, 308; and NKG, xxii. 38   See HLG4, 239. According to Painter and Varwig, the Seventh had a “resounding endorsement in Prague from local critics as well as those traveling from Vienna” and brought “immediate and complete success at a critical point in Mahler’s career.” “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 269 and 328. Donald Mitchell is less enthusiastic in his assessment of the Seventh’s reception, referring to a “relative warmth” of contemporary accounts (Mitchell, “Reception,” 72). 34 35

16  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

His most substantial essay on the Seventh, which was probably intended as a chapter for his projected monograph on the composer,39 begins with an exalted description of his first impressions of the work: A little frightened by the really frenzied intrusion in some places—​in this heartbreaking orchestration—​of an oriental hyperbolic ornamentation, of contorted nightmarish figures, of tenebrous arches swarming with Rembrandtesque drills, of humid crudeness where indistinct larvae are crawling, sensitive to a sudden viscous clarity of their invertebrate spine, I thought about something that I have not completely rejected yet: a vermicular state in this prodigious mind, of germs settled during the year and through his conducting activity, by this heterogeneous music that Mahler was forced to conduct.40

Driven by his troubled feelings about this music, but hampered by his limited knowledge of the German language, Ritter asked Mahler the following question during the rehearsals for the Seventh’s first performance in Munich in October 1908: “Do you ever find yourself composing while you are conducting?” “You have to be completely insane to ask such a question,” exploded Mahler, “and not have the faintest idea what it is like to conduct.”41 Ritter later reformulated this “wrongly asked” question, as he qualified it, asking Mahler more directly on what basis he would usually start composing (a “general thought,” a plan, or a “novel-​like” conception).42   See Meylan’s comments in William Ritter chevalier, 134. Ritter began writing this essay after a performance of the Seventh in Munich in 1912. 40   Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” unpublished book chapter, August 1912, in William Ritter chevalier, 135. “Un peu effarouché de l’intrusion vraiment forcenée à certaines minutes dans cette orchestration déchirante, d’une ornementation hyperbolique orientale, de figures grimaçantes de cauchemar, d’arches de ténèbres grouillantes de drilles rembranesques, de crudité humide où traînent incertaines des larves sensibles à une subite clarté visqueuse de leur échine invertébrée, j’avais pensé à ceci que je n’ai pas encore complètement rejeté:  un état de vermiculation dans ce cerveau prodigieux, de germes déposés au cours de l’année et de l’activité directoriale, par toutes ces musiques hétéroclites que Mahler était obligé de diriger.” Meylan comments that this manuscript is difficult to decipher, but does not indicate in the text where his readings are uncertain. Copies of Ritter’s manuscript are available at the Médiathèque Musicale Mahler in Paris (MAH-​CR-​53/​4). 41  Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 135. The Seventh was performed in Munich on October 27, 1908, under Mahler. 42  Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 139 (“cette question mal posée”). “Genius does not proceed like that, methodically,” answered Mahler. “The plan establishes itself as creation moves forward.  .  .  .  Therefore, the symphony I started goes as it wants.” 39

Premiere and Reception  :  17

While this questioning provoked strong reactions on the composer’s side, it recalls Natalie Bauer-​Lechner’s incessant demands to Mahler and has the merit of raising a fascinating issue, that of the relationship between Mahler’s conducting practice and his compositional activity. Later in his essay, Ritter acknowledges that this idea was “not entirely wrong”: Mahler did not take anything from to anyone, Mahler used everything that fell into his hands. We have the most obvious example in the Finale of this symphony: what became, in his hands, two or three measures of the Meistersinger overture.43

Musical allusions in Mahler, according to Ritter, are connected to his conducting practice, and Theodor Adorno reached the same conclusion when he boldly stated that Mahler’s music, “after that of Wagner’s, is conductor’s music of the highest rank, one that performs itself.”44 Ritter’s assessment of the Seventh was highly positive: “nothing shows better than this Seventh the audacity with which Mahler reconciles the most unexpected innovations and strict classical forms.”45 To someone who was commenting, after a performance of the work under Ferdinand Löwe in Munich (August 1912), that the Seventh was “poorly squared off [mal équarrie], with an axe,” Ritter responded, foreshadowing Adorno’s later reading of Mahler: Yes, the tear, the fracture, the collapse is not the law but the mode of the work, and most of all, its great unity. A unity made of constant vertical escarpment. A symphony in luminous crests and shadowy depths.46

Arnold Schoenberg shared Ritter’s enthusiasm for the Seventh. “I am now really wholly yours,” he wrote to Mahler in December 1909 after having heard the Viennese premiere of the work: This is a certainty. . . . What I felt this time was a perfect repose based on artistic harmony. Something that moves me without just ruthlessly shifting my center of gravity; something that draws me tranquilly and pleasantly to itself—​an attraction

  Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 136.  Theodor Adorno, Mahler:  A Musical Physiognomy, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 30. 45   Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” Lugdunum, Lyon, November 1908, in William Ritter chevalier, 128. 46  Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 144. “Oui, la déchirure, la fracture, l’écroulement en est, non pas la loi mais le mode, et surtout la grande unité. Une unité faite de continuels escarpements verticaux. Une symphonie toute en crêtes lumineuses et ombreuses profondeurs.” See Adorno, Mahler, 33: “Mahler’s music knows, and expresses the knowledge, that unity is attained not in spite of disjunction, but only through it.” 43

44

18  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony such as guides the planets, letting them travel along their own courses, influencing these, yes, but so evenly, so entirely according to plan, that there is no longer any jarring, any violence. Perhaps this may sound rather like a purple patch. However, it seems to me to express very clearly one thing that I principally felt: I reacted to you as a classic. But one who is still a model to me. I mean—​and this is surely a difference—​: Without any outward excitement at all! In tranquility and calm, as one does, after all, enjoy a thing of beauty! . . .So this time it was quite without preparation, almost at the very first hearing, that I had this great, entirely clear impression. . . . From minute to minute I felt happier and warmer. And it did not let go of me for a single moment. In the mood right to the end. And everything struck me as pellucid. Finally, at the first hearing I perceived so many formal subtleties, while always able to follow a main line.47

Schoenberg’s wording is striking here:  he felt “perfect repose,” “artistic harmony,” and balance, or cosmic order (“an attraction such as guides the planets”). He felt peace, beauty, transparence, clarity, and happiness. But most of all, this work inspired in him the comment that Mahler was a “classic,” on some level. Schoenberg perceived the Seventh in a radically different way from Ritter, who heard the “frenzied intrusion of a hyperbolic ornamentation,” “contorted nightmarish figures,” even mentioning “humid crudeness” where “larvae” are crawling.48 Ritter and Schoenberg both greatly admired the Seventh, but for diametrically opposed reasons; and this reveals something of the complexity of the work.49 Much later in New  York, Schoenberg had the opportunity to reaffirm his allegiance to Mahler when the American critic Olin Downes, reviewing Dimitri Mitropoulos’s performance of the Seventh with the New York Philharmonic (November 1948), quickly dismissed the work as “bad art, bad esthetic; bad, presumptuous, and blatantly vulgar music.”50 Schoenberg responded with a letter that was printed in the New York Times a month later:

If you would study the orchestral score you could not overlook the beauty of this writing. . . . If you only had noticed a few of these wonderful melodies. I do not

  Letter dated December 29, 1909, Vienna. See Arnold Schoenberg: Letters, selected and edited by Erwin Stein, trans. Eithne Wilkins and Ernst Kaiser (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1965), 293–​95. 48   Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 135. 49  Thomas Peattie also remarks that “in part because of its remarkable diversity of expression, the Seventh Symphony has long provoked an unusually wide range of conflicting interpretations.” Gustav Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 149. 50   Quoted in Glenda Dawn Goss, Jean Sibelius and Olin Downes:  Music, Friendship, Criticism (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1995), 133. 47

Premiere and Reception  :  19 know whether your enthusiasm would have matched Webern’s (my dear old friend), who could play and sing it many times and would never stop admiring it. [There follows quotations of themes from the second Nachtmusik, and the second theme from the Finale.] In these melodies the creative power cannot be ignored. A master of this degree need not borrow from other people—​he splendidly spends from his own riches.51

In another letter to Downes, Schoenberg admitted that his “fury” against the critic was partly due to the fact that “between 1898 and 1908 I had spoken about Mahler in the same manner as you do today. For that I made good subsequently by adoration.”52 Julius Korngold, writing for the Neue Freie Presse, was an early supporter of Mahler but did not write particularly warmly about the Seventh. Comparing it with the composer’s previous symphonies, Korngold concludes that in this new work we encounter the same brutal accumulation of devices, immoderation in expression, boundless individualization, and democratization of voices that are starkly juxtaposed and superimposed, lavish motivic and melodic play of transformation, insatiable developments, and sharp contrasts that grate on nerves.53

This assessment corresponds closely to what would be said about the Finale in later critical writings. What is striking here is that, as opposed to later critics, Korngold does not use such a description to isolate the Seventh from Mahler’s others symphonies. For him, all of the composer’s works show a similar fragmented aspect that “grates on nerves.” Writing specifically about the Finale, Korngold found that it “roars too much, and runs the risk of fading out.”54 Also writing after the Viennese premiere in 1909, Elsa Bienenfeld perceived a similar disproportion in the work: [The first movement] is still too broad and not tightly enough constructed to make every sound seem necessary, every connection organic, and every climax gripping—​ the way Beethoven and Brahms knew to hammer the content into the form. The Mahlerian form can hardly contain its content. The piece therefore stretches out to

  December 1948. See Arnold Schoenberg: Letters, 261–​62.   Letter dated December 21, 1948, Los Angeles; answering Downes’s response to his previous letter. See Arnold Schoenberg: Letters, 264. 53   Julius Korngold, “Feuilleton:  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” Neue Freie Presse, November 6, 1909. Quoted in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 329. Julius was the father of the composer Erich Wolfgang Korngold. Korngold later revised his assessment of the Seventh (1930). See Karen Painter, Symphonic Aspirations: German Music and Politics 1900–​1945 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 1–​2. 54   Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 331–​32. 51

52

20  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony lengths and sounds that are oversized, as if a sublime work were overemphasized or recited with too grand a gesture. I sense the same disproportion in the last movement. . . . In this movement Mahler submits to a stricter form than before. But it is as though he cannot do enough to depict joy: as he places climax after climax the piece founders in its sheer breadth.55

Several elements in Bienenfeld’s critique need to be highlighted here. In her view, Mahlerian form “can hardly contain its content,” as if the material was overflowing its container. This idea resonates with Ritter’s comments on the work’s excesses (the “hyperbolic” ornamentation is associated with an incessant brain activity, crawling like a cohort of insects). This quality of “excess” is not only visible in the uncontainable nature of the material, but also in its expression: “as if a sublime work were overemphasized or recited with too grand a gesture.” As will be discussed in the following chapters, theatrical gestures of announcement are prominent in the Seventh as a whole. The Finale, in particular, is theatrical in an excessively joyous way, as though Mahler could not “do enough to depict joy,” in Bienenfeld’s words. As she reminds us, this accumulation of climactic moments often leads to collapse. These significant features of Bienenfeld’s review prefigure, in a striking way, Adorno’s seminal critique of Mahler’s Seventh.

Cinderella

Besides an overview of the tonal trajectory of the Seventh and some remarks on the first and third movements, the core of Adorno’s critique concerns the Finale.56 In a section debating “weak pieces by Mahler,” the author begins with a definitive evaluation of the last movement: The Finale of the Seventh embarrasses even those who concede everything to Mahler. . . . Even on the most strenuous immersion in the work, one will scarcely be able to deny an impotent disproportion between the splendid exterior and the meager content of the whole. . . . The movement is theatrical: only the stage sky over the too-​adjacent fairground meadow is as blue as this. The positivity of the per aspera ad astra movement of the Fifth, which surpasses even this Finale, can manifest

  Elsa Bienenfeld, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” Neues Wiener Journal, November 10, 1909. Quoted in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 325–​ 26. The authors recall that Bienenfeld was the only female music critic at a major newspaper in Vienna before World War I. Beginning with the Seventh, she covered all first Viennese performances of Mahler’s works. 56   For the tonal trajectory of the Seventh, see Adorno, Mahler, 27–​28; on the first movement, 100–​101 and 110; on the Scherzo, 9, 22, and 104. 55

Premiere and Reception  :  21 itself only as a tableau. . . .The claim that the goal has been reached, the fear of aberrations après fortune faite, are answered depressingly by endless repetitions, particularly of the minuet-​like theme. The tone of strained gaiety no more actualizes joy than the word gaudeamus; the thematic fulfillments announced too eagerly by the gestures of fulfilling do not materialize. Mahler was a poor yea-​sayer. His voice cracks, like Nietzsche’s, when he proclaims values, speaks from mere conviction, when he himself puts into practice the abhorrent notion of overcoming on which the thematic analyses capitalize, and makes music as if joy were already in the world. His vainly jubilant movements unmask jubilation, his subjective incapacity for the happy end denounces itself.57

The “disproportion” between form and content recalls Bienenfeld’s comment on Mahlerian form, but with one important difference: while Adorno’s content is “meager” compared to the “splendid exterior,” for Bienenfeld the content is greater than the form that can no more contain it.58 Adorno also develops the idea of the Finale as theatrical, only evoked in Bienenfeld’s review, as well as the movement’s “strained gaiety”—​in other words, a pretended play that would not convey true feelings. This pessimistic reading (“his voice cracks when he makes music as if joy were already in the world”) partly originates in his intimate conviction that Mahler could not write a convincingly positive ending, as will be discussed later. If Adorno was not the first to criticize the Finale of the Seventh, his condemnation of the movement as a resolutely “weak” piece had, and still has, to some extent, a lasting influence on later scholarship.59 Deryck Cooke’s critique of the Seventh became equally paradigmatic in Mahler studies: The Seventh is undoubtedly the Cinderella among Mahler’s symphonies. It is probably the least well known, and of those who know it well, hardly anyone is prepared to praise it wholeheartedly—​though there is general agreement as to the unique fascination of the three central movements. The truth is that No. 7, coming between two shattering masterpieces—​the descent-​into-​hell of No. 6 and the heaven-​ storming No. 8—​presents an enigmatic, inscrutable face to the world:  a most unusual attitude for a Mahler symphony and one which arouses suspicions as to its quality. . . . There is something irreducibly problematic about this symphony.60

 Adorno, Mahler, 137.   Further discussion on form and content will be found in Chapter 9. 59   Peattie also notes that “in the wake of Adorno’s harsh critique, enthusiasm for the symphony as a whole was severely tempered.” Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 149. 60   Deryck Cooke, Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to His Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 88–​89. 57 58

22  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Indeed, the Seventh suffered from the comparison with the Sixth (and Eighth here): its meaning would be as obscure as that of its predecessor and successor seemed clearly defined. In the late 1990s, Peter Franklin made a similar assessment of the work, acknowledging that while it “makes use of as wide a range of allusive musical imagery as any of his works,” the Seventh remained “mysteriously canny about its cumulative meaning.”61 As James Zychowicz has noted, “the Seventh stands out [among Mahler’s works] for the various ways in which it has been received within the century since its premiere.”62 In other words, the work has been isolated by a conflictual reception history, as the odd member that does not “behave” like the others in the group. One of the reasons explaining this persistent lack of popularity lies, for Mitchell, in the programmatic issue: There is no doubt that the absence of a “programme” or beginning-​to-​end narrative contributed to the slow progresses made by the Seventh in winning over audiences and critics, all of whom posed the same insistent, nagging question: What was this music about?63

Paradoxically, Mitchell suggests that early critics who praised the work were precisely seduced by what he believes to be the Seventh’s program—​the path from night to day, to which I return later. In brief, the work was either praised for its programmatic progression from darkness to light, or dismissed for its lack of a clear program. This shows that the programmatic issue is crucial for the reception of the Seventh and, as we shall see, it may have something to do with the frequent association of the Seventh with the Sixth Symphony. This issue of program is raised in several early reviews of the Seventh. For Korngold, the fact that Mahler did not include an explanatory program “proves unmistakably that no program guided him as he composed,” implying that we should not, therefore, search for a programmatic explanation.64 “Even less does Mahler depict objects,” he adds, “rather, he always only expresses himself and his emotional life.” He continues, dismissively: “His strong and, unfortunately, also violent self barks at us in every measure.” Adler reached a similar conclusion, pointing out that “the value and significance of this symphony lies in the purely musical”:

 Peter Franklin, The Life of Mahler (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1997), 158–​59. 62   James Zychowicz, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony Revisited,” in Naturlaut 2/​3 (2004): 2–​6. 63   Mitchell, “Reception,” 73. 64   Korngold, “Feuilleton,” in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 329. 61

Premiere and Reception  :  23 The work does not describe, narrate, or illustrate. . . . Rather, it harkens back to the original purpose of music—​to express moods, feelings, and emotions for which there are no words.65

Adler and Korngold both heard the Seventh as a non-​narrative work, where Mahler “only expresses himself ”; and since he expresses emotions “for which they are no words,” searching for a verbal program would be useless. Bienenfeld, however, chose to answer the programmatic question from another perspective: It is not the task of criticism to explain whether the composer each time had a program in mind or to uncover what this program may have been. One could hardly state precisely what is meant in Beethoven’s symphonies. Life and death, life on earth and life in heaven, mankind and nature, power and light—​these are empty words for one person but the heart of the matter for another. It is Mahler’s style to seek to express emotions in great expansion and serious pathos yet at the same time—​in their opposites, in the bizarre play of satyrs, in tender and quiet moods.66

For Bienenfeld, critics should not attempt to uncover the program of the Seventh because it is not relevant.

Post-​Adornian Reception

The Seventh’s negative reputation began to be questioned in the late 1970s, when the work was presented as resolutely modern—​and even post-​modern, according to some.67 More nuanced assessment of the work and new hermeneutic leads did not, however, fully erase the general feeling that the Seventh stands apart in the Mahlerian canon: “If no longer the Cinderella among

  Adler, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​ Language Critics,” 318. 66   Bienenfeld, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 325. 67  See, for example, Mahler—​eine Herausforderung:  Ein Symposion, ed. Peter Ruzicka (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1977); John Williamson, “Deceptive Cadences in the Last Movement of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” Soundings: A Music Journal 9 (1982): 87–​ 96; Peter Davison, “The Nachtmusiken from Mahler’s Seventh Symphony: Analysis and Re-​appraisal” (MPhil thesis, Cambridge University, 1985); The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler: A Symposium, ed. James Zychowicz (Cincinnati: University of Cincinnati, 1990); Jonathan Kramer, “Postmodern Concepts of Musical Time,” Indiana Theory Review 17, no. 2 (1996): 21–​62; and Martin Scherzinger, “The Finale of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony: A Deconstructive Reading,” Music Analysis 14, no. 1 (1995): 69–​88. 65

24  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Mahler’s symphonies,” concluded Stephen Hefling ten years ago, “it remains his most perplexing work.”68 The performance and recording history confirm that the Seventh is less popular than the other symphonies.69 It was performed only a few times during Mahler’s lifetime after its premiere in Prague: in Munich (October 1908), The Hague and Amsterdam (October 1909)  under Mahler; then in Vienna with Ferdinand Löwe (November 1909), on tour with Willem Mengelberg in 1910 and, finally, in Berlin with Oskar Fried (January 1911).70 A year after his death, Mahler concerts were flourishing in Europe to honor his memory, but Löwe was the only one to pick the Seventh for that purpose.71 After a diminution of the number of performances during World War I, Mengelberg organized the first Mahler Festival in Amsterdam in May 1920, conducting a complete cycle of his works for the first time. Vienna also offered a Mahler cycle that same year, later in the Fall, conducted by Oskar Fried. Even if Mahler’s music was still received with reservations, it became part of the symphonic repertoire of several European countries by the 1920s, as well as in the United States. The first Mahler Festival in America, which took place during World War II in New York (1942), featured performances of all symphonies except the Sixth and Seventh. As it is well known, Mahler’s works began to be more frequently performed in the 1950s and especially 1960s, on the occasion of commemorative concerts and cycles to celebrate the centenary of his birth in 1960, and with the publication of the first volume of the critical edition of the Seventh Symphony.72 It seems fair to say  Stephen Hefling, “From Wunderhorn to Rückert and the Middle-​ Period Symphonies,” in The Cambridge Companion to Mahler, ed. Jeremy Barham (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 124–​27. 69   See Sybille Werner, “The Performance History of Mahler’s Orchestra Works between His Death in 1911 and the Anniversary Years of 1960/​61,” in After Mahler’s Death, eds. Gerold Gruber, Morten Solvik, and Jan Vičar (Vienna: Belmont Music Publishers, 2013), 117–​31. Werner notes that it is particularly difficult to establish the performance history of the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh symphonies because they were not published by Universal Edition, who keeps track of the rental of their orchestral scores. See also La Grange’s Appendix 3Ad, “A Performance History of Mahler’s Works,” mostly written by Sybille Werner (HLG4, 1657–​69); and Lewis Smoley, “Mahler Conducted and Recorded: From the Concert Hall to DVD,” in The Cambridge Companion to Mahler, 243–​61. Smoley also included a selected discography in the appendix (275–​93). 70   For a total of twelve performances. See NKG, xxxiv. 71   Munich, January 1912. See HLG4, 1658. 72   On the publication of the Seventh, see also Chapter 3, “Musical Evidence.” 68

Premiere and Reception  :  25

that the Seventh has not been a favorite among several of the early Mahlerian conductors: Bruno Walter performed it only once (Vienna, May 1920); Otto Klemperer twice (in 1922 and 1968);73 Willem Mengelberg performed the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh less often than the others; Carl Schuricht conducted all symphonies except the Seventh and the Ninth; and Wilhelm Furtwängler conducted mainly the first four symphonies and Das Lied von der Erde.74 The Seventh Symphony was first recorded in 1950 under Hermann Scherchen with the Vienna Symphony Orchestra.75 Compared to the other symphonies recorded between 1924 and 1947, except for the Sixth and Tenth (both in 1952), it was relatively late.76 The Seventh remains today one of the least recorded Mahler symphonies after the Eighth (the latter for obvious practical reasons): the latest update counts about 98 recordings (68 for the Eighth), followed by the Tenth (114), Das Lied von der Erde (115), the Third (127), Sixth (147), Ninth (152), Second (192), Fourth (194), Fifth (197) and, largely above the others, the First (253) which is still the most recorded of all.

The “Problems” of the Seventh As will be shown in what follows, the critical reception of the Seventh concentrates on two main aspects: its kinship with the Sixth Symphony on the one side, and the references to Wagner’s Meistersinger on the other, loudly expressed in the Rondo-​Finale.

  However, this number is not very meaningful for Klemperer who never programmed the Third, Fifth, Sixth, or Eighth, and the First only once (HLG4, 1664). He recorded the Seventh in 1968 with the New Philharmonia Orchestra. 74   Fritz Reiner, however, conducted more often the First, Second, Fourth, and Seventh, along with Das Lied; he started a guest performance in Chicago with the Seventh in 1931 (HLG4, 1669). 75   Live recording on June 22, 1950, Orfeo. The first studio recording of the Seventh was also made by Scherchen with the Vienna Staatsoper Orchestra in 1953. Scherchen heard Oskar Fried conduct the Nachtmusiken of the Seventh in Berlin in 1910. 76   See Appendix B, based on Peter Fülöp, Mahler Discography (New York: Kaplan Foundation, 2010) and the website gustavmahler.net.free.fr, created by Vincent Mouret (last updated in 2014). The first Mahler symphony to have been recorded is the Second, under Oskar Fried with the Berlin Staatsoper in 1924. The Fourth (1930), Das Lied (1936), the Ninth (1938) and the First (1939) had all been recorded by World War II. The Third and Fifth followed in 1947, then the Eighth and Seventh in 1950, and finally the Sixth and Tenth in 1952. 73

26  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

The Sixth and Seventh

The Seventh Symphony relates to the Sixth on several levels. First, they share numerous thematic connections. As has often been noted, the melodic contours of the main themes of the outer movements of the Sixth and Seventh are strikingly close (Ex. 1.1). Ex. 1.1  Main themes of VI/​1, VII/​1, and  VII/​5

Moreover, the main theme of the Sixth’s Finale (mm. 30–​34) is quoted in the first movement of the Seventh (mm. 13–​15, then 340–​42), as if to draw a continuous line between the end of the Sixth and the beginning of the Seventh.77 Second, two important sonic features of the Sixth, the major-​minor “motto” and the cowbells, reappear in the Seventh.78 Finally, the first movement of the Seventh has often been interpreted in relation to the Sixth. Adorno goes as far as suggesting that the movement “exists in the shadow of the Sixth”:   See Exs. 5.4 and 5.5. In addition, a descending arpeggio much heard in the Finale of the Sixth plays a significant motivic role in the Seventh’s second Nachtmusik and briefly appears in the first movement as well. See Ex. 6.15 and discussion of Motive B in the second Nachtmusik. 78   In the Sixth, the major-​minor motto appears in the first movement, Scherzo, and Finale; the cowbells are heard in the first movement, Andante, and Finale. 77

Premiere and Reception  :  27 The first movement of the Seventh is closely related to the outer movements of the Sixth. . . .Through a changed illumination the whole movement becomes a variant. . . . The shadow of the Sixth, in which the movement exists, then becomes the realm of shadows of the three middle movements. Vanished is the tragic aspiration of the Sixth.79

Following Adorno’s interpretation of a shadow floating on the first movement of the Seventh, La Grange describes the piece as a “great dramatic movement inhabited by reminiscences of the preceding symphony.”80 The connections between the Sixth and the Seventh are particularly evident when comparing their initial movements, both sharing, as they do, a march theme contrasted with a lyrical secondary theme. Richard Specht and later Bernd Sponheuer both reduced the Seventh’s first movement to a “variant” of the Sixth’s first movement.81 Ritter noted the kinship, but was more sensitive to their differences: A contrast, despite the kinship, with the preceding Sixth Symphony is strongly marked. In each of them, however, it is a forward march. But in the Sixth it is an ascent, a conquest, a thirst for domination; it is a will of power that is exerted, an excessive ambition that is fulfilled. Here, on the contrary, in open plain, but in the cracks of hostility . . ., man walks straight in front of him and rushes towards the horizon.82

In Ritter’s comparison, the Seventh would play with the idea of a march on the ground—​an earthly procession—​while the Sixth rather evokes a desire to move upward, an “aspiration” for a greater destiny. In spite of their close

 Adorno, Mahler, 100–​101.   La Grange, “L’Énigme de la Septième,” 14. 81  Specht, Gustav Mahler, 299: “The first movement of the Seventh and that of the Sixth, the Finale of the Seventh and that of the Fifth, have so many analogies that—​ is it really necessary to clarify that—​they are rough transcriptions of each other.” See also Bernd Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls: Untersuchungen zum Finalproblem in den Symphonien Gustav Mahlers (Tutzing: Schneider, 1978), 363. 82  Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” in William Ritter chevalier, 116. “Un contraste, malgré la parenté, avec la 6ème précédente Symphonie, est très marqué. Dans l’une et dans l’autre toutefois, il s’agit d’une marche en avant, mais dans la 6ème, c’est une ascension, une conquête, une soif de domination; c’est une volonté de puissance qui s’exerce, une ambition démesurée qui se satisfait. Ici, au contraire, en rase plaine, mais dans les fondrières de l’hostilité et le maquis des haines, l’homme marche droit devant lui et fonce sur l’horizon.” 79 80

28  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

affinities, the Sixth and Seventh can be seen as two opposite journeys; the first descending into darkness, and the second ascending into the light. Compared to its predecessor, the Seventh has been perceived as lacking a tragic dimension, as well as the thematic unity which characterizes the Sixth and Eighth symphonies.83 Hefling, for example, begins his discussion of the Seventh with such a comparison: The seeming lack of overall relation or progression among the five movements and its uproariously “cheerful” conclusion are a world apart from the Sixth’s tight construction and black conclusion.84

The greatest contrast lies in their Finales, in the way both works end: the Sixth on a tragic note, and the Seventh in a Meistersinger-​like jubilation that failed to convince many critics, particularly in the last decades of the twentieth century. Early critics, however, did not always perceive the Finale as excessively positive.85 For Paul Bekker, the move from the Sixth to the Seventh is a passage from darkness to light: The soul is stirred in its depth; it has proclaimed its joy and pain; and now it simply wants to sing again. The lonely one returns to nature, to the world, to man. This is the origin of the Seventh Symphony.86

Bekker interprets the Seventh as a return to the world, to the earth, before the transcendental journey of the Eighth. Hans-​Klaus Jungheinrich later qualified the Seventh as “music after the catastrophe”: The Seventh as a whole, particularly its Finale, is music after the catastrophe. In the Sixth, the hammer blows break the subjective and expressive strength of the individual; in the C major jubilation of the Seventh’s Finale, pervaded by the timpani, the empty strength is at work—​and the victorious gesture is even more insisting and definitive.87

  See La Grange, “L’Énigme de la Septième,” 21.   Hefling, “From Wunderhorn to Rückert,” 124. 85   See Chapter 4, “Interpretive Views.” 86  Paul Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien (Berlin:  Schuster & Loeffler, 1921), 233. Translated by Peter Revers, “The Seventh Symphony,” in The Mahler Companion, eds. Donald Mitchell and Andrew Nicholson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 384, note 16. 87  Hans-​Klaus Jungheinrich, “Nach der Katastrophe:  Anmerkungen zu einer aktuellen Rezeption der Siebten Symphonie,” in Mahler—​eine Herausforderung, ed. Peter Ruzicka (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1977), 197. 83

84

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According to this assessment, the Sixth is the main event, a tragedy draining our expressive strength, and the Seventh is merely what comes after. Whether interpreted as a postlude or as a “bridge” between the Sixth and the Eighth, as Paul Bekker did,88 the Seventh is mainly defined in relation to other works, not in itself. The Sixth Symphony was interpreted as a pessimistic and an autobiographical work.89 The Finale, especially, can be read as a monumental struggle ending in failure, which some heard as apocalyptic, nihilistic, or hopeless.90 According to Seth Monahan, the idea that Mahler was expressing his deepest feelings in the Sixth gave an aura of “authenticity” to the work. “The Sixth has enjoyed special privileges,” he writes, because the work’s musical character resonates more keenly with the Mahler that postwar audiences have constructed in their own image: cynical, knowing, internally conflicted, and immune to the untenable promises of fast-​fading Romantic ideologies.91

In this light, it becomes easier to understand how the Seventh was often perceived as a problem: it could be heard only as a backward glance, too jubilant, and, in a way, it would cancel the tragic effect of the Sixth. This could explain the strength of some critiques of the Seventh, as if this work had disappointed high expectations set up by the Sixth. If the Sixth was associated with Mahler’s inner conflicts, with a metaphysical struggle, the Seventh appeared as superficial or artificial. In his review of the Seventh’s premiere in Prague, Richard Batka commented that the work “appears to be made up of impressions and musical reflex responses to external sensations and does not reveal much of the composer’s inner life.”92

 Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien, 237.   See Seth Monahan, “‘Inescapable’ Coherence and the Failure of the Novel-​ Symphony in the Finale of Mahler’s Sixth,” 19th-​Century Music 31, no. 1 (2007): 53–​ 95; and Mahler’s Symphonic Sonatas, Oxford Studies in Music Theory (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), ch. 7. 90   See Richard Specht, Gustav Mahler (Berlin: Schuster & Loeffler, 1913), 245; and Warren Darcy, “Rotational Form, Teleological Genesis, and Fantasy-​Projection in the Slow Movement of Mahler’s Sixth Symphony,” in 19th-​Century Music 25, no. 1 (2001): 50. 91   Monahan, “ ‘Inescapable’ Coherence,” 54. 92   Richard Batka, “Gustav Mahler’s Seventh,” Prager Tageblatt, September 20, 1908. Quoted in Painter, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 323. Batka was an important figure in the Czech musical world, and he was editor of Der Merker with Richard Specht from 1909. 88

89

30  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Colin Matthews specifically associates the “failure” of the Seventh with its relationship to the Sixth: One of the reasons that the Seventh Symphony is, it must be admitted, the nearest that Mahler came to writing a failure (and then only a partial failure) must lie in its relationship to its immediate predecessor. For the first movement, though brilliantly original in its own right, is so close in concept to the first movement of the Sixth that it can only be seen as an attempt, conscious or otherwise, to rewrite that movement.93

Therefore, the first movements of the Sixth and Seventh would be too close and their last movements too different. These two beginnings would be too similar to lead to two contradictory conclusions. In this view, the Seventh cannot be understood in its own terms, but only in relationship to its predecessor.

The Finale

As I  have suggested, the profound difference between the Sixth and the Seventh takes shape in the contrast between their Finales, in their endings—​ tragic in the Sixth, and excessively loud and assertive in the Seventh. The more the Sixth appears as internal, subjective, and authentic, the more the Seventh seems external, objective, and contrived. “If the [first] movement succeeds in ‘reworking’ the Sixth,” concludes Matthews, the attempt to write a happy ending in order to counterbalance the desolation of the earlier symphony is a disaster: Mahler’s forced attempt at gaiety and C major grandeur in the Seventh Symphony’s finale fall completely flat.94

He goes further: not only must the Seventh be interpreted in relationship to the Sixth, but Mahler composed it in order to “counterbalance the desolation of the earlier symphony.” The Seventh would have been (re)born in the ashes of the Sixth. Therefore, the Seventh’s jubilant Finale would not necessarily be heard as forced and calculated if it was not following the tragic Sixth. My analysis of the compositional materials, as we shall see, questions the idea of the Seventh as a consequence of the Sixth, showing that the composition of both works was more entangled than previously thought. Matthews’s assessment of the Finale as a “forced attempt at gaiety” echoes Adorno’s critique:

  Colin Matthews, Mahler at Work:  Aspects of the Creative Process (New  York and London: Garland Publishing, 1989), 56. 94  Matthews, Mahler at Work, 56. 93

Premiere and Reception  :  31 [The tragic aspiration of the Sixth] has been banished probably less by that ominously positive element that, to be sure, ruins the Finale, than by a half-​ consciousness that the category of the tragic cannot be reconciled with the epic ideal of a music open in time. Having mastered totality, the composition turns its thoughts to the opposite, a meaning that arises from fragments.95

Here, the Sixth is a totality, and the Seventh merely a collection of fragments. The successor has no chance to win over its predecessor, especially since the Finale is ruined by an “ominous positivity.” Jungheinrich reaches a similar conclusion, writing about the Finale’s “irritating” positivity and “anachronistic diversion towards Wagnerian festivity (“anachronistische Verirrung auf Wagnersche Festwiesentümelei”).96 Adorno was not only critical of the Seventh’s Finale, but condemned Mahler’s “affirmative movements” in general: The affirmative movements may not, in the interests of balance, fall short of the first ones if they are to appear as the result of a process. Bekker called works of this type finale-​symphonies. They refuse the last dance, the less binding residue of the suite. But at the same time they cannot deliver what they postulate. . . . the problem of the finale, which Mahler was the first to tackle radically, is at the same moment no longer soluble. His successful final movements are those that ignore the radiant path ad astra. That of the Sixth Symphony heightens its first movement and negates it; Das Lied von der Erde and the Ninth Symphony circumvent the difficulty with sublime instinct by no more feigning homeostasis than they enact a positive outcome free of conflict, but by looking questioningly into uncertainty. The end here is that no end is any longer possible, that music cannot by hypostatized as a unity of actually present meaning.97

Affirmative endings, for Adorno, promise closure and resolution but “cannot deliver what they postulate,” behaving as if they could solve a problem that is “no longer soluble.”98 As Peter Franklin notes, Adorno “sought out complicating dialectical contradictions in Mahler’s grand and triumphant finales,”  Adorno, Mahler, 101.   Jungheinrich, “Nach der Katastrophe,” 189–​90. 97  Adorno, Mahler, 137–​38. 98   On the “Finale problem,” see Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien, ch. 1 (esp. p. 20); Kelly Dean Hansen, Gustav Mahler’s Symphonies by Paul Bekker (1921):  A Translation with Commentary (PhD diss., University of Colorado at Boulder, 2012), 9 and 28; Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, esp. ch. 1 and 2; Michael Talbot, The Finale in Western Instrumental Music (Oxford and New  York:  Oxford University Press, 2001); Mark Evan Bonds, After Beethoven:  Imperatives of Originality in the Symphony (Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1996), 21–​23. 95

96

32  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

as in the endings of the First, Second, Seventh, and Eighth symphonies. These are “so problematic,” according to Franklin, “so much in need of a specific effort of interpretation if they are to be saved from the accusation of empty capitulation to the demands of triumphalism.”99 Thus establishing the self-​negating Finale of the Sixth as a model—​“the movement is the center of Mahler’s entire œuvre”100—​Adorno grants it the seal of “authenticity” because, “more monumentally composed than all the rest, it shatters the spell of affirmative illusion.”101 As we shall see in Chapter 4, Adorno was not the only one to perceive the Seventh’s Finale as triumphalist. Early critics such as William Ritter, Paul Bekker, and Richard Specht all used metaphors of war and victory to describe the movement—​victory of a German conductor over the Czech orchestra, or of a composer over his work—​which reveals something of the violence perceived in this music.102 Too Much Wagner Mahler’s reference to Meistersinger in the Finale, discussed in Chapter 9, is the most salient feature of the movement. Julian Johnson notes that this reference implies a double “act of historicism”: The festive character of the Finale to the Seventh is underlined by a curiously self-​ conscious reference to Wagner’s Overture to Meistersinger, itself an act of historicism in its evocation of the collectivity of an archaic festival. Mahler’s quotation is thus of another historical citation.103

Alluding to a work referring itself to past, or archaic, musical conventions entails a greater distance, as if Mahler’s music were placed in double quotation marks. Jungheinrich also remarks that the Finale’s C major sounds like a quotation—​even if, we may add, one would not be sufficiently acquainted with Meistersinger as to recognize the allusion.104 For Deryck Cooke, the Finale is “too reminiscent” of Meistersinger, and here “Mahler has written for once  Peter Franklin, “‘.  .  . His Fractures Are the Script of Truth.’—​Adorno’s Mahler,” in Mahler Studies, ed. Stephen Hefling (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 280. The Fifth Symphony could have been added to this list of triumphant Finales. 100  Adorno, Mahler, 97. 101  Adorno, Mahler, 135. 102   See Chapter 4, “Interpretive Views.” 103  Julian Johnson, Mahler’s Voices:  Expression and Irony in the Songs and Symphonies (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 118–​19. 104   Jungheinrich, “Nach der Katastrophe,” 198. For him, the Meistersinger-​like gesture of Mahler’s Finale is a step backward (190). 99

Premiere and Reception  :  33

the thing he most detested—​Kapellmeistermusik.”105 This comment will ultimately bring us to Beckmesser, whose formalism and concern with rhetorical conventions in Meistersinger find an echo in Mahler’s Finale. To be sure, Cooke concludes that “there can be no question that the Finale is largely a failure.”106 Significantly, this negative reception is related to the movement’s association with Meistersinger. The critic Robert Hirschfeld, writing after the Viennese premiere of the Seventh in 1909, clearly makes the connection: In spite of all this, the opening movement is a masterpiece when compared to the wretchedly scatter-​brained finale, a frightful mockery of the overture to the Meistersinger, which infuriates even admirers of Mahler’s symphonies.107

This last comment foreshadows Adorno’s remark quoted earlier (the Finale “embarrasses even those who concede everything to Mahler”).108 Interestingly, Adorno’s evaluation concerns the whole movement; whereas for Hirschfeld, what is really “infuriating” is the Meistersinger-​like quality of the movement. The critic heard the reference as a “mockery,” interpreting Mahler’s attitude toward Wagner’s opera as ironic. Adorno was also bothered by Mahler’s allusion to Meistersinger, but for different reasons. Comparing the Finale of the Seventh with the Eighth Symphony (both alluding to Wagner’s opera), he considered them an “identification with the attacker. It takes refuge in the power and glory of what it dreads; its official posture is fear deformed as affirmation.”109 If we read this comment in the context of Adorno’s critique of Wagner,110 Mahler’s allusion to the “most German of all German operas,” as Joseph Goebbels would qualify Meistersinger later, could be read as an identification of the Jewish Bohemian with the German anti-​Semitic oppressor; and I return to this question in the Conclusion.111 For the moment, let us focus on  Cooke, Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to His Music,  90–​91.  Cooke, Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to His Music, 90. 107   Robert Hirschfeld, Wiener Abendpost, no. 254, November 5, 1909, 1–​3. Quoted and translated in Mitchell, “Reception,” 61–​62. 108  Adorno, Mahler, 136. 109  Adorno, Mahler, 139. In the Eighth, Mahler makes a fugitive allusion to the Meistersinger Overture at Fig. 24. More on this in the Conclusion. 110   This is also Stephen McClatchie’s idea: “It could be argued that Adorno’s discomfort with [the Eighth], as well as with the finale of the Seventh, is connected to his critique of Wagner.” See “The Wagnerian Roots of Mahler’s Eighth Symphony,” in The Total Work of Art: Mahler’s Eighth Symphony in Context, ed. Elisabeth Kappel (Vienna: Universal Edition, 2011), 161. 111  Joseph Goebbels, “Richard Wagner und das Kunstempfinden unserer Zeit:  Rundfunkrede von Reichminister Dr.  Goebbels,” Völkischer Beobachter, August 8, 1933. Quoted in David Dennis, “‘The Most German of All German Operas’: Die 105

106

34  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

the connection between Adorno’s critique of Mahler’s optimistic finales and Meistersinger. The Seventh and Eighth symphonies not only allude to Wagner’s opera, but also share with it, in Adorno’s view, the “glorification of the collective” and the “confusion of art and religion.” Both symphonies carry a strong sense of solemnity, triumphant processions, and pomp that bring to mind the theatricality of Meistersinger; but this solemn aspect is not always conveyed with irony in Mahler, which seems to be part of the problem for Adorno.112 The Cuckoo and the Nightingale The kinship between the Rondo-​Finale of the Seventh and that of the Fifth has been often noted;113 but what is more significant, and less discussed, is the fact that the only two light Finales in Mahler’s output relate to Wagner’s Meistersinger. The Rondo of the Fifth begins with a short quotation from Mahler’s Wunderhorn song “Lob des hohen Verstandes” (“Praise of the Lofty Judgement”), which forms a significant part of the movement’s motivic material.114 In “Lob des hohen Verstandes,” the donkey is appointed as a judge in the singing contest between the cuckoo and the nightingale:  “Since he has two large ears, he can hear all the better and recognize what is right!”115 Despite his large ears, the donkey is confused by the nightingale’s song (“Du machst mir’s kraus!” “You muddle me up!”) and votes for the cuckoo, who can sing a “good chorale and hold the beat precisely.” Beckmesser-​the-​Critic behaves like the donkey in Meistersinger, dismissing Walther’s song because he does not understand it. In fact, as if Mahler had wanted to highlight the

Meistersinger through the Lens of the Third Reich,” in Wagner’s Meistersinger: Performance, History, Representation, ed. Nicholas Vaszonyi (Rochester:  University of Rochester Press, 2003), 109.   On a lighter note, Adorno also comments on Mahler’s association of counterpoint with “humor and play,” as Wagner does in Meistersinger (Mahler, 114). 113   See Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien, 240; or Karl Weigl, “Gustav Mahler. VII. Symphonie in E moll,” in Mahlers Symphonien, ed. Edgar Istel (Berlin:  Schlesinger, 1910), 136. 114   “Lob des hohen Verstandes” (1896), from Des Knaben Wunderhorn, was originally entitled “Lob des Kritik,” “Praise of Criticism.” See HLG2, 750 (and 821 for the quotation in the Fifth). The motive comes back several times in the Finale of the Fifth (7 after Fig. 3, Fig. 10, 11, 5 after Fig. 20, 5 after Fig. 24), and the four descending notes ending it (over the span of a fourth) are omnipresent in the movement. 115   La Grange notes that there is a sixteenth-​century setting of the poem by a Nuremberg Mastersinger, which raises the question of a potential influence on Wagner (HLG2, 751). 112

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link between Wagner’s opera and his Wunderhorn song, the cuckoo sings in fourths like Beckmesser does in his serenade. The Finale of the Seventh directly refers to Meistersinger, while that of the Fifth only points toward it via Mahler’s own song. In both cases, highly contrapuntal movements evoke the topic of the song contest with humor, casting a narrow-​minded critic who cannot distinguish between sophisticated and simple art forms. According to La Grange, the “failure” of the Finale rebounds on the whole work.116 In other words, the negative reception of the Finale is at least partly responsible for the perception of the whole symphony as problematic. It seems that, for some listeners, the Seventh does not end the way it should. Indeed, the negative or positive characterization of a work is largely connected to its outcome; and the view of the Sixth as a tragic work, and that of the Seventh as “cheerful”—​this is Mahler’s own characterization—​ mainly stems from their endings.117 In other words, the “meaning” of a symphony can be largely extracted from its Finale. This focus on endings places Mahler’s reference to Meistersinger at the core of its negative reception. Thus, the view of the Seventh as a problematic work is strongly connected to its highly intertextual character, and as we shall see in the following chapters, Mahler’s preliminary sketches throw new light on the referential aspect of the work.

  La Grange, “L’Énigme de la Septième,” 14.   Letter to Emil Gutmann, undated (beginning of 1908, from the Hotel Majestic in New York): “Es ist mein bestes Werk und vorwiegend heiteren Charakters.” GMB, 360; Selected Letters of Gustav Mahler, ed. Knud Martner (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1979), 312. 116

117

Chapter 2

Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis

[Mahler’s] self-​awareness that music, like theater, is acting and make-​believe. —​Julian Johnson1

How do genesis, structure, and interpretation relate to each other? I first approach the structure of the Seventh, beginning with an overview of its tonal trajectory, before outlining its inner connections and my main external associations (Richard Wagner and Mahler’s Sixth Symphony). Second, I present a web of the interpretive leads pursued in this study. I conclude with some reflections about what constitutes the genesis of a work, and how genetic history relates to issues of interpretation.

Structure The Seventh presents a symmetrical structure in five movements, with a Scherzo at its center, framed by two Nachtmusiken. Each movement oscillates between two main tonal centers; except the first movement, which is also balanced by the key of the introduction (B minor), and the second Nachtmusik, predominantly in F major (Fig. 2.1).2 The global trajectory of the work, from E minor to C major, is reflected on a smaller scale in the outer movements: the primary theme of the first

  Julian Johnson, Mahler’s Voices: Expression and Irony in the Songs and Symphonies (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 264. 2   The second Trio of the first Nachtmusik is in F minor, but it only appears once (mm. 161–​78, see Appendix F2). 1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis  :  37 4: FM 1: Bm-EmM/CM 3: Dm/DM 2: CmM/A M

5: CM/A M

Fig. 2.1  Tonal trajectory of Mahler’s Seventh movement (Em) is contrasted by a secondary theme in C major, and the introduction of the Finale (Em, not in Fig. 2.1 because of its shortness) leads to the ritornello theme in C major. C major/​minor proves to be the structural center of the work, functioning as the second pole in the first movement (Em/​CM) and as the first pole in the second and last movements (both oscillating between C and A♭M). The augmented triad A♭–​C–​E thus highlighted in the global structure is heard at the end of the symphony as the outcome of the authentic cadence in C major, taking the place of the expected tonic chord.3 Adorno noted the weight of C major in the Seventh: In the Seventh the first movement, after an introduction reaching far ahead tonally, is in E minor. The three middle movements—​all, including the Scherzo, night pieces—​then descend to the subdominant region. The first Nachtmusik is at home in C major, the subdominant tonality of the relative major of E minor; the Scherzo falls further into D minor, the relative minor of the subdominant of C; the second Nachtmusik, finally, remains on the same harmonic level, but brightens it by replacing the D minor by its relative major, F. The Finale restores the balance between the first and middle movements. These, however, exert a weight that the Finale cannot quite compensate. It must remain a dominant within the relative tonality of the first movement, and so be in the C major of the first Nachtmusik. The harmonic homeostasis of the whole symphony, the principal key, would accordingly be centered on C major, making the Seventh a C major symphony.4

Taking E minor as a starting point, Adorno interprets the keys of the middle movement as “subdominants”: • C major of the first Nachtmusik as the subdominant of G major, relative of E minor; • D minor of the Scherzo as the relative minor of F, subdominant of  C; • F major as the relative of D minor.

  The chord is spelled C–​E–​G♯. More on this cadence in Chapter 9.  Theodor Adorno, Mahler:  A Musical Physiognomy, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 27–​28. 3

4

38  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Each new key is thus defined in relationship to the preceding one: C as the subdominant of G (Em), F as the subdominant of C (which would make F major the subdominant of the subdominant of the relative major of E minor). We may object that the first Nachtmusik is no more “at home” in C major than it is in C minor, as the constant play between major and minor makes it difficult to establish a prevailing mode. Second, viewing this tonal path in terms of third relationships seems to be more to the point: counting the initial B minor, we would have a diminished triad B–​D–​F, contrasting with the augmented triad A♭–​C–​E (see Fig. 2.1). Finally, the Finale is supposed to “restore the balance between the first and middle movements,” which ignores the strong similarities between the key pairing of the second and last movements (C/​A♭).

Inner Connections

As mentioned in Chapter 1, during the critical phase of its reception history the Seventh was perceived as a heterogeneous collection of movements lacking the coherence traditionally needed to cement a large-​scale symphony. A closer look at the matter and structure of each movement, however, reveals a web of relationships that helps to hold these five pieces together as a whole (Fig. 2.2).5 Each of the middle movements points toward the outer movements, themselves linked together in several respects. Motivically, the primary themes of the outer movements clearly relate to each other (see Ex. 1.1), and their synthesis is revealed at the end of the Finale (m. 581). This kinship is reinforced by the reappearance of the first movement’s main theme in the Finale (m. 455). On another level, both movements relate to Wagner’s Meistersinger. The middle movements relate to the first movement in subtle ways. While the latter was programmatically associated with the idea of nature by Mahler himself (“here nature roars”6), the second movement contains sonic markers clearly referring to it (bird songs, horn calls, cowbells). The first Nachtmusik also brings back the major-​minor motto from the Sixth Symphony, which was already heard in the Seventh’s first movement, as well as a common insistence on the triad (minor or major) reaching toward the sixth (m/​M+6). The first melodic cell heard in the Seventh, the tenor horn’s descending seventh on a dotted rhythm, reappears in all themes of the Scherzo, transformed into a waltz theme (E) that was already anticipated in the first movement (in the theme Transition A, TA in Fig. 2.2). Finally, the first and fourth

5

  See Appendix F for formal analyses, and Appendix M for motivic tables.   See Chapter 8, “Beginning of the Seventh.”

6

3: Dm

Dance

4: FM

Collapse)

5: CM/A M

VII/1: 4ths cf. Meistersinger (Overture in VII/5) Em to CM (in VII/1 and VII/5, and from VII/1 to VII/5): cf. Meistersinger, St. John’s Night to St. John’s Day

Beginning-endings Intro-Cadence

Rondo, refrain repeated notes

Collapse (3 times)

Theme A in VII/1 closely related to A1 in VII/5 (synthesis at m. 581 ), cf. VI Theme A in VII/1 returns in VII/5

Dream chords (cf. Siegfried Idyll and Meistersinger) m+6 (TR)

VII/1: “Nature roar”- TA cf. VII/3: Waltz Trio (E) and other themes

Nature M-m motto (cf. VI)

m/M+6

2: CmM/A M

Fig. 2.2  Inner and external connections

1: EmM/CM

3 Collapses (VII/2: Intro

Rondo, refrain cowbells (cf. VI) Circus music 6–5, V– vi

40  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

movements are connected through the recurrence of the minor triad with an added sixth (positioned as the “Tristan chord” in the fourth movement, marked as “TR”), and through a sequence of “dream chords” that allows a passage to another space-​time dimension.7 The first Nachtmusik and the Finale share particular affinities, in terms of structure, motivic material, and gestures. The cowbells from the Sixth Symphony reappear in both movements, curiously blended in the first Nachtmusik with the circus music that also plays an important role in the Finale. The melodic motion ♭6–​5, omnipresent in the contour of several themes in the first Nachtmusik, could be taken as a counterpart to the deceptive cadence V–​♭vi so frequent in the Finale. In terms of structure, both movements collapse three times.8 In the first Nachtmusik the collapse is modal, since it is the expression of the major-​minor motto: we fall from the major to the minor mode. In the Finale, however, the collapse first occurs after the disintegration of the motive alla turca (twice), and the third time after a “Grazioso” minuet. This pattern of a collapsing dance is also structurally fundamental in the Scherzo, where the heavy waltz inevitably falls apart in a kreischend (“screeching”) gesture. Like the Finale, the second Nachtmusik is based on a refrain, makes an extensive use of repeated notes, and, most importantly, plays with gestures that function both as introductions and conclusions.9 The pattern “introduction leading to collapse,” occurring in the first Nachtmusik, reappears in the second Nachtmusik disguised in a charming gesture expressing the same idea—​an opening full of promises falling down too soon (“Intro-​Cadence”). The five movements of the Seventh are not unified by a program or obvious thematic connections; however, the subtle links that relate these movements to each other challenge the idea that the work lacks coherence.

  See VII/​1, the “dream chords” introduce the pastoral episode (m. 263), and VII/​4, m. 253. More on this later. 8  These similarities are discussed in further detail in Chapter  6, “The First Nachtmusik.” 9   Repeated notes are a recurring feature in VII/​1 (the opening chord repeated on a slow dactylic rhythm), VII/​2 (Introduction, T1), VII/​4 (A1, B, C), and VII/​5 (Intro, TA, C, In-​betweens, Inserts, Cancan). The broken-​scale motive is another recurring pattern, particularly in VII/​2 (B2), VII/​3 (B, C, D1, E, D2), VII/​4 (C), and VII/​5 (Intro, TA, In-​betweens, Cancan). For gestures that are both introductive and concluding, see the Intro-​Cadence of the second Nachtmusik (discussed in Chapter 6) and the In-​betweens in the Finale (Chapter 4). 7

Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis  :  41

External Connections

The inner connections of the Seventh are counterbalanced by a centrifugal force, pointing toward other works, inside and outside the Mahlerian corpus. As suggested earlier, external references concentrate on two main axes: Mahler’s Sixth Symphony and Wagner’s Meistersinger. In fact, the Finale not only suggests an external association with Meistersinger, but, through this very association, also relates to the first movement of the Seventh (see Fig. 2.2). As discussed in Chapter 9, the outer movements each refer to a different aspect of Wagner’s opera. If the Finale clearly alludes to the Mastersingers’ march in C major—​consonant, rhythmically stable—​the first movement presents a particular treatment of melodic and harmonic fourths that can be traced back to Beckmesser’s serenade, and to the chaotic riot scene at the end of Act II. The move from E minor to C major in the Seventh, reflecting the progression from the first to the last movement on a large scale and the contrast between two thematic elements within each of the outer movements on a smaller scale,10 evokes the passage from St. John’s Night to St. John’s Day in Meistersinger, as well as the contrast between Beckmesser’s and Walther’s songs at the end of the opera (in E minor and C major, respectively; see also Fig. 2.3). The “dream chords” sequence present in the first and fourth movements recalls a similar progression in Meistersinger, associated with Walther’s dream song, as well as a theme in the Siegfried Idyll.11 Meistersinger functions as the main Wagnerian pole in Mahler’s Seventh, but I also suggest associations with Parsifal. The pairing of A♭ major and C (minor and major), on which the Seventh’s second and last movements are built, functions as the two main tonal poles of the Parsifal Prelude, reflected in a smaller scale in the Communion theme (highlighting successively A♭ major–​C minor–​A♭ major). This pairing also marks the path from the beginning of the Prelude (A♭ major) to the end of Act I (the first Grail scene in C major).12 Parsifal’s opening theme first outlines a major triad reaching toward

  In VII/​1, the primary theme (A) is in Em and the secondary in CM (B); in VII/​5, the introduction is in Em and the ritornello theme in CM. See earlier in this chapter, “Inner Connections”; and Chapter 9, “E minor to C major: From Night to Day.” 11   See Ex. 6.14; Chapter 8, “Form and Content”; and Chapter 9, “E minor to C major: From Night to Day.” 12   Communion theme:  Parsifal Prelude, mm. 1–​5. On the A♭ and C pairing in Parsifal, see William Kinderman, Wagner’s Parsifal (Oxford and New  York:  Oxford University Press, 2013), 200–​202. As Kinderman notes, the Communion theme 10

Creation

March VII/1

Magic Klingsor, Bm, m+6 (Parsifal)

Creation

Funeral march

Procession

Meistersinger march

Circus march (VII/5)

Dance with Death (VII/3)

Art

Theatrical announcement (VII), cf. 3 strokes before curtain raises

Humor

Dream chords (VII/1, Vll/4, Meistersinger, Siegfried Idyll)

Baptisms (Parsifal, Meistersinger)

Good Friday Spell, BM (Parsifal)

Durchbruch moment, BM (VII/1)

Collapse

Death

Goethe, Faust: Walpurgis Night, dancing witches Mephisopheles: cf. Prater in Vienna Walpurgis Night’s dream: theater cf. St. John’s Eve in Meistersinger

3 Hammer blows (VI)

M-m motto (VI, VII/1, Vll/2)

Overtures and Finales (VII/5) lntro-Cadence (VII/4) Collapse (VII/2 and Vll/4) lntro

Death playing the Fiddle (solo vl., cf. Vll/4)

Goethe and Dukas, Sorcerer’s Apprentice, cf. Vll/3

Fig. 2.3  Interpretive leads

Circus (VII)

Galop (Cancan) (VII/5)

Dance

Rondo (VII/5)

Waltz (VII/3)

Goethe’s Faust, Pact with the Devil (Fiddle in L’ histoire du Soldat)

Nature’s roar (VII/1) Bm, m+6 animal instincts

Nature/ Mankind

Cowbells, birds, hom calls (VII/2)

Beckmesser’s serenade (lute) Walther’s song

St. John’s Day (Meistersinger) Collectivity

intimacy/collective fight (Midsummer night)

Rondo-Finale (VIl/5)

Second Nachtmusik (VII/4)

Day

St. John’s Eve (Meistersinger)

Night

Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis  :  43

the sixth, which, in its diminished form, is in turn associated with the Magic motive (Zaubermotiv).13 As previously mentioned, the triad with an added sixth is recurrent in the Seventh, from the first sound of the symphony—​a B minor triad with a major sixth G♯—​to the two Nachtmusiken.14 As discussed in Chapter 8, the initial “mystical chord” (m+6), hallmark of the Zaubermotiv, and the key of B minor both evoke the figure of Klingsor (Fig. 2.3). By contrast, the Durchbruch (Breakthrough) moment in the first movement is in B major, the key marking the beginning of the Good Friday Spell in Parsifal. If the association of B minor and the “mystical chord” with the realm of magic in Parsifal suggests meaningful associations for interpreting the first movement of the Seventh, particularly in terms of the uncontrolled side of nature, the A♭ and C major pairing of the second and last movements of the Seventh do not convincingly associate with the Grail. Indeed, the festive Meistersinger tone of the final C major has little to do with the ecstatic ending of Parsifal. By pointing out connections inside and outside the work, I do not mean to prove that this symphony is organically unified. As Peter Revers wrote, “Mahler’s Seventh is in some ways a study in the extreme diversity of what music might be—​a multiplicity of sounds which occupies a spectrum from the sublime romantic to the grotesquely deformed.”15 The diversity of expression in the Seventh cannot be compressed to fit a coherent narrative. Rather, I propose interpretive keys that can be juxtaposed, in order to account for the web of leads that can be traced in this work. These connections, outlined below, will be discussed and interpreted in the following chapters.

contains both the idea of divine love and that of Amfortas’ suffering, heard in the descending semitone A♭–​G.

  Kinderman notes that the “progression passing through the triad to the sixth degree” is the “single most prominent aspect of the thematic material of Parsifal.” Wagner’s Parsifal, 100. 14   See the melodic contours of the introduction, Themes A1, A2, B1, and B2 in VII/​2, all emphasizing scale degrees ^6–^​ 5; and the clarinet accompaniment to Theme A and Motive B in VII/​4. See Chapter 6, “The First Nachtmusik”; and Chapter 8, “Beginning of the Seventh.” 15   Peter Revers, “The Seventh Symphony,” in The Mahler Companion, eds. Donald Mitchell and Andrew Nicholson (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 377. About the Finale, Revers notes that “the principle of contrast constitutes musical coherence” (379). 13

44  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Main Interpretive Leads My outline of interpretive leads shows that my reading is neither linear nor unilateral (Fig. 2.3). I discuss here themes in pairs, beginning with two contextual elements: the opposition between night and day, and between mankind and nature (on the left-​hand side of the schema).

Night and Day

Several sources report that Mahler described the Seventh in terms of night and day. Willem Mengelberg marked the following in his conducting score: “the first four movements are images of the night—​the last, Mahler himself named it the day.”16 William Ritter’s account runs slightly differently, qualifying only the middle movements as “night pieces” and the first movement as a “basis for the whole.”17 As previously mentioned, the passage from night to day is a close point of contact between Mahler’s Seventh and Wagner’s Meistersinger, reflected in both cases by a progression from E minor to C major.18 In the opera, St. John’s Night begins with Beckmesser’s serenade and ends in a riot. St. John’s Day restores order in Act III, and Walther, the “true” artist, wins the song contest in C major, over the guardian of the rules. “Awake!” (“Wach’ auf!”), then sings the crowd to salute Hans Sachs—​the real hero of the opera—​ “night is receding in the west, the day arises in the east, the morning’s ardent red glow penetrates the gloomy clouds.”19 Here, as in the Ring when Siegfried wakes up Brünnhilde (“Wach’ auf!”) on the move from E minor to C major, daylight clears the clouds and is associated with a return to life. The night in Meistersinger unfolds as an intimate moment (Beckmesser’s serenade) ruined by the collective, which

  See NKG, 320. “Die ersten 4 Sätzen sind /​Nachtbilder /​den 5ten nannte Mahler selbst:  der Tag.” Written on the title page of the score. See also Gustav Mahler: The World Listens, ed. Donald Mitchell (Haarlem: Tema, 1995), 38. 17  William Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” Revue Musicale de la Société Internationale de Musique, Paris, November 15, 1908, in William Ritter chevalier de Gustav Mahler: Ecrits, correspondance, documents, ed. Claude Meylan (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000), 116. Further, see Chapter 8 and Chapter 9. About night and day in the Seventh, see also Floros, “Tag und Nacht in Wagners Tristan und in Mahlers Siebenter Symphonie,” Österreichische Musikzeitschrift 49, no. 1 (1994): 9–​17. 18  The riot scene in Act II is in E major, but in Act III, there is an opposition between Beckmesser’s song in E minor and Walther’s song in C major. 19   See Chapter 9, “E minor to C major: From Night to Day.” 16

Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis  :  45

conveys an idea of the night as potentially peaceful, but easily troubled by the Schopenhauerian “Wahn” (madness) at work.20 This dual aspect of the night, rest and conflict, is also represented in Mahler’s Seventh, in the contrast between the Scherzo, danse macabre or Midsummer Night celebration, where obscure forces are no longer under control, and the second Nachtmusik, a serenade in which the chamber-​music orchestration suggests an intimate setting.21 In both Mahler’s symphony and Wagner’s opera, a conflicting night is followed by a bright day, collective and festive—​even if the resolution (or regain of control) closing Meistersinger takes a different form in Mahler’s Seventh.

Mankind and Nature

As a dynamic point of departure for this schematic representation of the Seventh’s world, ruled by the succession between night and day, stands another pair: nature-​mankind. The Mahlerian representation of nature often implies a human presence: we hear not nature, but nature as experienced by us.22 For Julian Johnson, horn calls and cowbells in Mahler “evoke a pastoral space in which the boundary between the realms of man and nature is blurred.”23 The Seventh begins with a tenor horn theme qualified by Mahler (according to several reports) as “nature’s roar,” evoking the sexual aspect of nature, a time of uncontrolled instincts that can be related, also in terms of keys and harmony, to the character of Klingsor in Parsifal. By contrast, the first Nachtmusik conveys a more pastoral view of nature, with bird songs, cowbells, and horn calls, even if the picture is quickly complicated by military sounds and a Cuban rhythm, intensifying the human presence in nature.

March and Procession

When nature is represented in suspended time, as in pastoral episodes, it eventually becomes shaken by mankind moving, walking or dancing. I begin with the contrast between march and procession, before focusing on the transition from march to dance, which eventually leads to collapse. The   See Hans Sachs’s “Wahn” monologue in Act III, Scene 1.   On the topic of the night in German literature, see Peter Revers, “The Seventh Symphony,” 384. 22   Thomas Peattie emphasizes the importance of urban culture for Mahler’s relationship to nature in Gustav Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 2015), particularly in ch. 3 and ch. 4. 23  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 54. 20 21

46  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

movement accelerates and becomes more expressive (dance) until it is interrupted by death. As in other Mahler symphonies, the march is omnipresent in the Seventh, from the almost-​funeral march introduction that becomes a horse ride in the Allegro, to a bucolic-​military march in the first Nachtmusik, ending with an assemblage of solemn, circus-​like, and military marches in the Finale.24 Military and funeral marches are the two predominant types in Mahler. From march to procession the margin is thin; but the solemn, almost ritual aspect of the procession is a significant difference, and for Adorno, this is what distinguishes marches from processions: His symphonies and marches do not express a discipline which triumphantly subdues all particulars and individuals; instead, they assemble them in a procession of the liberated, which in the midst of unfreedom necessarily sounds like a procession of ghosts.25

In Adorno’s interpretation, a procession can be assembled freely, whereas a march is imposed by a superior power—​and in that sense, a funeral march would rather be a procession. Serious and festive processions constantly alternate in the Seventh, reminding us that joy and sorrow are never far away from each other.26 For William Ritter, the omnipresence of the march in the Seventh contributes to give it a certain “unity”: [In Mahler’s Seventh] we find only marches or march rhythms throughout, brave or frightened marches, triumphant and dancing at the end, and this creates a surprising unity in the work, as well as in the spirit of the listener, a sort of active habit.27

 For an overview of the topic of marches and processions in Mahler, see Constantin Floros, Gustav Mahler and the Symphony of the 19th Century, trans. Neil K. Moran (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2014), 103–​10. 25   Adorno, “Mahler” (1960), in Quasi una fantasia:  Essays on Modern Music, trans. Rodney Livingstone (London and New York: Verso, 1998), 97. See also Adorno, Mahler, 166–​67: “[H]‌is symphonies are ballads of the defeated.” 26   For Adorno, major-​minor oscillations in Mahler reflect a “disunity, the sorrow pervading even the joyful impulse.” Mahler, 23. 27   Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” in William Ritter chevalier, 129–​ 30. “D’un bout à l’autre, nous n’y trouvons que des marches ou des rythmes de marche, marche vaillante ou apeurée, marche triomphale et dansante pour finir, et cela crée à l’œuvre une étonnante unité comme dans l’esprit de l’auditeur, une sorte d’habitude de l’action.” Vera Micznik describes the first movement as a “fantastically invented idyllic march,” and the last as an exploration of the “military march genre throughout history.” See “Mahler and the ‘Power of Genre,’” in Journal of Musicology 12, no. 2 (1994): 148, note 46. 24

Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis  :  47

Other early reviewers described the Seventh in terms of mobility. Richard Specht commented that at the time of its premiere, the work was nicknamed “walk by night” (“Nachtwanderung”), while Paul Stefan referred to the Finale as a “morning walk.”28 Later, Donald Mitchell proposed to hear the Seventh as a form of “traveling music,” insisting on the image of Mahler “on the move,” a reading largely inspired by the composer’s recollections narrating the Seventh’s birth (the “boat letter” discussed in Chapter 3).29

March and Dance

As Ritter pointed out, marches can quickly turn into dances (“dancing marches”). The first movement of the Seventh remains in the realm of the march (even if the theme Transition A  foreshadows the Waltz theme in the Scherzo),30 but the second movement juxtaposes a military march with a habanera rhythm. The waltzing Scherzo is then followed by another march movement, the second Nachtmusik, until marches and dances are mixed in a joyous final chaos: the solemn Mastersingers’ procession alternates with a military march alla turca (alluding to Mozart’s Entführung aus dem Serail), French cancan, and a “Viennese” minuet.31 The association of movement with death is recurrent in Mahler. Walking is to be alive, but, at the same time, living is to be inescapably walking toward death.32 On some level, the Sixth Symphony is a gigantic march toward death, a funeral march accompanying the deceased on their final journey. Funeral marches do not abound in the Seventh, even if the opening dactylic rhythm

  See Richard Specht, “Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” Der Merker 2 (1909):  1; and Paul Stefan, Gustav Mahler: eine Studie über Personlichkeit und Werk (Munich: Piper, 1912), 127. 29  Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move:  His Seventh Symphony,” in Discovering Mahler: Writings on Mahler, 1955–​2005, ed. Gastón Fournier-​Facio (Rochester: Boydell & Brewer, 2007), 397–​98. 30   Most commentators qualify the Allegro theme (A) as a “march” theme, but its pace seems too quick for a march. 31   It might seem anachronistic to talk about a Viennese minuet, but Mahler’s marking in the score conveys the idea of a theme that wants to be associated with the minuet:  “Graziosissimo, almost Minuet” (m. 422, three before Fig.  276). See Chapter 4, “Section 2” in “Form and Content.” For a discussion of Mahler’s use of minuet, Ländler, and waltz characteristics, see Floros, Gustav Mahler and the Symphony of the 19th Century, 129–​39. 32   Thomas Peattie recently discussed the relationship between walking, composing, and dying in the context of Mahler’s late works (Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 169–​80). 28

48  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

is sometimes heard as such.33 The Scherzo, however, is a dance of death, like the Scherzo of the Fourth (“Death is fiddling away,” as Mahler commented) and that of the Tenth, described by the composer as a dance with the Devil.34 In the Seventh, death is approached through dance, music, and play; not through mourning.

Dance to Collapse

Dancing with death can be a way to deal with anxiety and fear—​the idea of a dancing skeleton may be humorous—​but it also reveals the omnipresence of death, even in music and dance. After all, the Grim Reaper is leading the dance with its fiddle, and dance ultimately leads to collapse. Elektra dies dancing in Richard Strauss’s opera: Be silent, and dance! All must come and join me! I bear the burden of happiness [“die Last des Glückes”], and dance in front of you. Those who are happy like us must do only one thing: be silent, and dance. She takes another few steps of nervous triumph and collapses.35

When happiness becomes a burden, excessive joy exhausts the dancing body. Elsa Bienenfeld made a similar comment about the Finale of the Seventh: “it is as though [Mahler] cannot do enough to depict joy: as he places climax after climax the piece founders in its sheer breadth.”36 In Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s Elektra libretto, as well as in Bienenfeld’s critique, joy is ironic, exaggerated, and forced, as if the protagonists wanted to convince themselves of their own happiness. As discussed earlier, Adorno shared this view concerning Mahler’s optimistic finales, denying them the possibility of expressing authentic joy. Collapsing moments, however, fit perfectly in Adorno’s reading of Mahler: The collapsing passages in Mahler . . . no longer merely mediate between others or conclude elaborations, but speak for themselves. While they are embedded in the overall progression of the form, at the same time they extend through it as something in their own right: negative fulfillment. If what the elaboration has promised takes place in the fulfillment fields, in the collapses there is enacted what the musical process fears. . . . They are not a transition to something else; they are themselves the goal. . . . [A collapse] dynamizes the form, yet without the traditional

  See Chapter 8, “Beginning of the Seventh.”   See the beginning of Chapter 7. 35   Richard Strauss, Elektra (1909), last scene (“Schweig, und tanze!”). “Sie tut noch einige Schritte des angespanntesten Triumphes und stürzt zusammen.” 36   See Chapter 1, “Early Reception.” 33

34

Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis  :  49 formal departments being simply abolished by elaboration; rather, the dynamics of the catastrophe section are themselves also a character, a quasi-​spatial field.37

Collapses are not, according to Adorno, collateral damage:  they occupy a function in their own right and “are themselves the goal,” as the opposite of the formal category of “fulfillment” (“Erfüllung”). “Fulfillment” satisfies promises made, while the collapse “enacts what the musical process fears.” This “dynamics of the catastrophe” is perfectly well represented in the Sixth Symphony, which can make the Seventh sound, as we have seen, like “music after the catastrophe.”38 The catastrophe of the Sixth is symbolized by the collapse from major to minor (which reappears in the second movement of the Seventh), described by Adorno as the “unifying moment in the whole work.”39 If collapses determine the outcome of the Sixth, they do not fulfill the same function in the Seventh, ending in a noisy C major. These falling gestures, however, are structurally fundamental in the Seventh as well. As shown in Fig. 2.2, collapses occur three times in the first Nachtmusik, Scherzo, and Finale; and the movement “opening-​fall” is reflected in the “Intro-​Cadence” gesture of the second Nachtmusik.40 What characterizes the Scherzo and Finale, however, is the pattern “dance leading to collapse” via the waltz in the third movement and the “Grazioso” minuet of the last. These two movements present different versions of this pattern. The Scherzo offers a pessimistic view à la Elektra: there, dance leads to disintegration and death. The Finale, on the contrary, ends with a somersault showing that any fall is not necessarily dramatic.

Theater and Circus

Mahler’s works are all theatrical on a certain level.41 For Adorno, Mahler’s sense of theater was essentially operatic:  Adorno, Mahler, 45–​46. As examples of collapses, Adorno mentions the first movements of the Second and Fifth symphonies. 38  Hans-​Klaus Jungheinrich, “Nach der Katastrophe:  Anmerkungen zu einer aktuellen Rezeption der Siebten Symphonie,” in Mahler—​eine Herausforderung:  Ein Symposion, ed. Peter Ruzicka (Wiesbaden:  Breitkopf & Härtel, 1977), 197. See Chapter 1, “The ‘Problems’ of the Seventh.” 39  Adorno, Mahler, 21. 40   These three collapses bring to mind a musical gesture at the end of Strauss’s Elektra, alternating between a low E♭ and the Agamemnon motive in C minor three times, right after the high trill on E♭ (Fig. 261a). 41   Johnson discusses the theatrical aspect of Mahler’s music the last chapter of Mahler’s Voices, “Performing Authenticity.” 37

50  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony That Mahler, who spent his life in the opera and whose symphonic impulse runs parallel to that of opera in so many ways, wrote no operas may be explained by the transfiguration of the objective into the inner world of images. His symphony is opera assoluta. Like the opera, Mahler’s novelistic symphonies rise up from passion and flow back into it; passages of fulfillment such as are found in his works are better known to opera and the novel than to otherwise absolute music.42

The notion of “absolute opera” implies a form of abstract theatricality that is useful to address Mahler’s works in general but which does not, however, fit in the Seventh.43 Indeed, the theatricality of the Seventh is expressed in a specific way, particularly in the Finale: it focuses on gestures of announcement and on spectacular endings. The movement begins with a loud announcement, with trumpets and drums, which seems to introduce the arrival of an important character on stage; and what follows is, mainly, an assemblage of musical allusions to operatic overtures and finales: the opening march from Wagner’s Meistersinger, the final French cancan from Offenbach’s Orphée aux Enfers, and the final chorus of the Janissaries from Mozart’s Entführung aus dem Serail.44 Theatrical beginnings and endings are particularly intense emotionally. Before the story begins, we are told that it is about to begin, either in an operatic Overture, or, at the theater, with trois coups frappés (three strokes) before the curtain rises. These announcements allow us to anticipate what will follow: a smell of backstage will sweep the hall and we will find ourselves transported to another world, a world of illusion and pretending. The end of the show can bring both a feeling of accomplishment and the sadness of separation, of returning to reality. Mahler’s allusions in the Finale of the Seventh converge on the world of theater and show—​they emphasize the theatrical aspect of opera. That the Seventh alludes to Wagner’s only mature comic opera is no coincidence, as ideas of play and comedy are explored in a particular way in these two works. Mahler was, like Wagner before him, a man of the theater, concerned not only with the music but also with acting, staging, lights, and costumes. Paul Bekker made an enlightening remark about Mahler’s humor: Another trait of Mahler as a composer reveals his perhaps most original side: his humor. It is a rustic and burlesque kind of humor; refined wit and irony recede into

 Adorno, Mahler, 71.  Thomas Peattie developed the idea of “abstract theater” in Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes. 44   These operatic allusions are discussed in Chapters 4 and 9. 42 43

Structure, Interpretation, and Genesis  :  51 populist coarseness. Paradoxical though it sounds, it may not be wrong to say that in Mahler an operetta composer was lost.45

I return to the question of Mahler’s humor later and in the Conclusion, but for the moment, let us focus on some features of the operetta: the quick succession of short numbers, musical quotations, and parody. These characteristics also define another kind of popular entertainment: the circus. Clowns erupting on the stage to hijack a dangerous trapeze act, lions running after the clowns—​the possibility of tragedy keeps interfering with the comic, and vice versa. The Seventh’s Finale evokes the dynamics of a circus, where clowns, lion tamers, French cancan dancers, and Turkish characters interact and share the stage. Circus music is never far away in this movement dominated by brass and percussion, and sometimes made explicit in the barrel-​organ sonorities of the Finale’s second theme, heard in a slightly different form in the first Nachtmusik.46 Circus marches, or “screamers,” are faster and comical variations on the genre of the military march. Julius Fučík’s “Entrance of the Gladiators,” for example, was composed as a military march and became only later associated with clown acts.47 Besides screamers, traditional circus music also included slow minor marches for animal acts (potentially turning into funeral marches, depending on the outcome), gallops for high energy numbers, and waltzes for flying acts—​genres that are omnipresent in Mahler’s music and particularly in the Seventh—​with pastoral cows replacing lion acts, and Offenbach’s cancan as a gallop (see Fig. 2.3).48 Announcements are crucial in the circus ritual. Screamers were used in spectacular moments, for entrances and exits—​overtures and finales—​to energize the audience. On a drum roll, the Ringmaster warns the audience that they are about to be utterly terrified, or laugh to tears, or be astonished by the most extraordinary freak show. The circus is a place of excess and extravagance, where a pretense of fear is at the root of great pleasure. Circus music, by definition, is faster and louder than most brass band repertory;   Paul Bekker, “Gustav Mahler,” Frankfurter Zeitung, May 1911 (obituary), in Mahler and His World, 351. 46   Theme B2 in VII/​2 and B in VII/​5; see Appendices M2 and M5. 47   Julius Fučík (1872–​1916), Czech composer born in Prague, composed about three hundred marches and dances. He left the army in 1894 to become second bassoonist at the German Theater. Fučík was no longer in the orchestra when Mahler premiered his Seventh in 1908. 48   See Kim Baston, “Circus Music: The Eye of the Ear,” Popular Entertainment Studies 1, no. 2 (2010): 6–​25; and Charles Conrad, “Circus Music,” in The Grove Dictionary of American Music, 2nd edition. 45

52  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

it both elicits and expresses excessive joy, or “über-​joyfulness,”49 which resonates, again, with Elsa Bienenfeld’s review of the Seventh (1909) quoted in Chapter 1. While explicit evidence of a relationship between Mahler and the circus has yet to be found, it was a highly popular form of entertainment in Europe and in America during the composer’s life and was, to some extent, part of his world. Mahler’s familiarity with marching bands and military music probably included circus music as well, and the Viennese Prater, where the composer often wandered around, had been hosting circuses from the beginning of the nineteenth century.50 What would have been hard to miss, even for the busy director of the Hofoper, was the arrival in Vienna of the “Greatest Show on Earth” in November 1900 (drum roll):  the American circus Barnum and Bailey. The press advertised a spectacular series of performances in the Rotunda of the Prater, offering to the six thousand to eight thousand audience members each night Hippodrome, Circus, Museum, Menageries, Vaudeville, Aerial, acrobatic, gymnastic, athletic, and Roman entertainment games, amusing, serious, exciting, daring, and artistic displays of Courage. Great performances of Horse Dressage. . . . Everything actually and absolutely a true Wonder and never done before. Every Country and Nationality is represented by their best artists and attractions.51

The advertisement also promised to display “30 of the cleverest elephants performing in three platforms,” “international pantomime clowns,” midgets, a long-​haired bearded lady, a dog-​headed boy, an armless Japanese girl, and   Baston, “Circus Music,” 14.   See Robert Kaldy-​Karo and Christoph Enzinger, Circus in Wien (Erfurt: Sutton Verlag, 2010); and Kaldy-​Karo and Michael Swatosch-​Doré, 250 Jahre: Wiener Prater–​ Eine zauberhafte Bilderreise (Erfurt: Sutton Verlag, 2016). For this information on the history of circus performances in Vienna, I  am indebted to Robert Kadly-​Karo, curator of the Circus Museum in Vienna. See also Gerhard Eberstaller, Zirkus und varieté in Wien (Vienna and Munich: Jugend und Volk, 1974). Several sources attest to Mahler’s walks in the Prater, including, for example: NBLE, 93. 51   Neue Freie Presse, November 25, 1900. My thanks to Peter Davison for drawing my attention to this advertisement. The Barnum and Bailey circus stayed in Vienna from Nov. 25, 1900, to February 24, 1901, performing in the Rotunda, built for the Universal Exposition of 1873 and destroyed by fire in 1937. The American circus began its European Tour in 1898. As far as I know, there is no evidence that Mahler attended a performance at this time. Several other circuses were performing in Vienna while Mahler was living there: the Grand American Circus of J. W. Myers or “Zeltcircus,” Circus Carré, Circus Renz, Hagenbeck’s reptiles collection, Circus Schumann, Circus Henry, Circus Busch and, in 1906, Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. 49 50

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a human ostrich, among other festivities. Human animals, freaks of all nationalities—​the circus is the locus of inverted values and carnivalesque humor, and as we shall see, Mahler’s Seventh belongs to this world of untamed instincts and loudly expressed pleasure.52

Mahler’s Humor

Mahler emphasized the humorous aspect of the Seventh as soon as he began searching for a publisher, describing the work as “preponderantly cheerful in character.”53 Humor in Mahler’s music is often associated with irony, and the composer himself, as Bauer-​Lechner reports, seems to have considered them as equivalent: when one looks “down upon [nature] with humor and irony from a superior vantage-​point,” this attitude “provides the basis, in the most precise sense, for the sublime, the sentimental, the tragic, and the humorously ironic styles in art.”54 For Julian Johnson, the difference between humor and irony, “in reference to Mahler’s music at least, is more a matter of degree than of substance.”55 Irony occurs when there is a gap between words and tone or thought; thus musical irony, notes Johnson, relates to the use of “borrowed” or familiar material, which is a significant feature of the Seventh.56 While irony is indeed crucial in Mahler and can take different aspects,57 it is not the only form of humor at play in his works. Thomas Mann put his finger on the difference between humor and irony: [Irony] is the artistic spirit that elicits from the reader or listener a smile, an intellectual smile, so to speak. Humor, however, engenders the laughter that wells up from the heart, which I personally value more highly as the effect of art—​and that

 Johnson makes the connection between “framing gestures” in Mahler and traveling circuses, but insists on the “down-​the-​heel” aspect of “rustic” music. See Mahler’s Voices, 264–​65. By contrast, my emphasis is here on the spectacular aspect of the circus. 53  Letter to Emil Gutmann, undated (beginning of 1908), Hotel Majestic in New York, in Selected Letters of Gustav Mahler, ed. Knud Martner (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1979), 312. See the end of Chapter 1. 54   NBLE, 97. 55  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 134. 56  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 134. 57  See Gustav Mahler et l’ironie dans la culture viennoise au tournant du siècle. Actes du colloque de Montpellier, 16–​18 juillet 1996, eds. André Castagné, Michel Chalon, and Patrick Forençon (Castelnau-​le-​Lez: Editions Climats, 2001). Stephen Hefling lists six different forms of irony in Mahler, mentioning “tragic irony” in the Sixth and “ironic ambivalence” in the Seventh (“Techniques of Irony,” 122–​23). 52

54  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony I welcome with more joy as the effect of my own works—​than the erasmic smile that is elicited through irony.58

Both humor and irony are defined by a double level of joke and seriousness, and it is precisely the juxtaposition of the two that is comical. For Johnson, humor arises from the unresolved tension between “carnivalesque” and “unitary voices” in Mahler: For Mahler himself, the plural and heterogeneous is a counterpart to the idea of a unitary voice that claims an authenticity in the face of the carnivalesque. But his œuvre as a whole demonstrates that this tension is never wholly reconciled. After the close of Mahler’s finales, when the echo of their “noble tone” has been silenced, the conjunction of carnivalesque and unitary voices projected by the symphony as a whole persists. The proposition of the symphony, an aspect kept alive in the finales of the Fourth, Fifth, and Seventh symphonies, is of the concurrence of such multiple voices and the Humor resulting from their juxtaposition.59

Humor is a way of dealing with the idea of death, and the comical arises from the tension between life and death. The fall perfectly exemplifies this tension: it can be hilarious or tragic, depending on the outcome. The problem of humor and comedy is that they can appear to be less deep than seriousness and tragedy. As discussed in Chapter 1, Adorno resisted the idea of happy endings in Mahler, feeling more at home in the tragedy of the Sixth Symphony.60 The question is, then, do humor and comedy necessarily question the seriousness of what precedes their expression? In other words, does the final circus of the Seventh cancel the transcendental Durchbruch moment of the first movement? Have we been fooled? Were promises of serious transcendence turned into farce? I return to these questions at the end; meanwhile, let us turn to the last aspect of my outline (Fig. 2.3) that still requires some preliminary remarks: the category of “creation.”

Creation

Creation and creativity are fundamental themes in Wagner’s Meistersinger. Walther conceives his contest song in a dream, during the passage from night  Thomas Mann, “Humor und Ironie,” in Mann, Gesammelte Werke, vol. 11 (Frankfurt:  S. Fischer, 1960), 802–​803. Quoted and translated in Walter Frisch, German Modernism:  Music and the Arts (Berkeley and Los Angeles:  University of California Press, 2005), 190. 59  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 133–​34. 60   Seth Monahan refers to Adorno’s “death-​fixation” in Mahler’s Symphonic Sonatas (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 147–​48. 58

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to day between Acts II and III.61 Hans Sachs then baptizes Walther’s song on a “dream chords” sequence, which brings a divine aura to the creative act. Meanwhile, Beckmesser steals the song in Sachs’s workshop, in a pantomime scene worthy of the best physical comedy films. Mahler’s Seventh does not directly allude to the transcendental side of creation in Meistersinger, but rather to its conventional side—​the Mastersingers’ Guild, world of craftsmen, rules, and laws. As shown Chapter 9, the Seventh clearly alludes to the Meistersinger Overture but the connections to Beckmesser are less evident. The Wagnerian concept of “true” artistic creation leading to transcendence, however, is omnipresent in Mahler as well, and in the Seventh such a transcendental moment is found at beginning of the work, in the first movement. The “breakthrough” moment in B major, as previously mentioned, resonates with the Good Friday Spell scene in Parsifal, beginning in the same key before modulating to D major. Creation can be sublime or comical, but also diabolical (see Fig. 2.3). As discussed in Chapter 7, the beginning of the Seventh’s Scherzo evokes Paul Dukas’s symphonic poem The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, subtitled “Scherzo” (1893). Musical motives slowly emerge as if they were sketched on the spot by an invisible hand, recalling the enchanted broom of the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Dukas based his Scherzo after Goethe’s ballad of the same name (Der Zauberlehrling, 1797). The sorcerer’s apprentice, tired of his chores, enchants a broom to work on his behalf, but quickly loses control over his enchantment. A created object can easily escape its creator, the story tells us, and become a monster. As is well known, Mahler kept amending and correcting his works long after publication, as if to keep them under control. By enchanting an inanimate object, Dukas’s sorcerer’s apprentice defies death. In a similar way, the magician Klingsor in Parsifal subverts nature by designing the Flower maidens, magic creatures that will only be defeated by Parsifal’s sign of the cross at the end of Act II. The dark side of creation is, on some level, always present in the background, as a possible path—​the Faustian pact with the devil.62 If art can allow us to transcend death, creating also implies a potential pact with the devil, depending on what an artist is ready to give up in exchange for the greatness of their work. In the Seventh, the theme of artistic creation is mostly evoked through Meistersinger, dealing with sublime and comical art; however, echoes of Dukas’s Sorcerer’s Apprentice in the Scherzo, as well as Klingsor’s shadow lurking over the first movement,

  On that topic, see Kevin Karnes, “Wagner, Klimt, and the Metaphysics of Creativity in fin-​de-​siècle Vienna,” JAMS 62, no. 3 (2009): 647–​97. 62   Incidentally, the soldier in Stravinsky’s L’Histoire du Soldat (1918) sells his violin to the devil, the same violin that death plays to make us dance in Mahler’s scherzi. 61

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also play with the idea of diabolical creation. The theme of artistic creation is present at several levels in this book: in my reading of the work, mainly through its association with Meistersinger, in Mahler’s description of his own creative process, as we shall see, and in my own approach to the Seventh, concerned by the genesis of the work.

Genesis Before discussing the extent to which the genesis of a work relates to its structure and interpretation, a question needs to be asked:  when we talk about the genesis of a work, what do we mean exactly? What does this term include, and what does it exclude?

What is “Genesis”?

The term refers to the origins, to the conception of a work. Musical genesis is commonly understood as the process allowing a work to be completed, and genetic studies attempt to retrace this process using both musical and biographical evidence. The sketches for the Seventh are filled with fragments of unidentified music, which do not seem related to any of Mahler’s works at first sight, but which, after close examination, begin to reveal fragile connections to them. The problem is, though: how can we determine the “used” or “unused” status of compositional materials? How can we establish whether a specific material has been used in the symphony, or whether it has been discarded? In some cases, the similarity between the sketch and the work is so strong that it is fair to consider the sketch as an earlier version of the finished work. At the other end of the spectrum, when the sketch has nothing to do with the music as we know it, we usually infer that we are in the presence of discarded material. That is, we assume that the composer chose not to pursue this lead, leaving the material in an unfinished state. This assumption is problematic, since sketched material can evolve and be transformed to such an extent that it would not bear any direct resemblance to its original version—​like the metamorphosis of a musical element, difficult to establish if we cannot follow the different stages of the transformation process. Sometimes, the composer left traces of these stages; but in most cases crucial pieces of the puzzle are missing. Often enough though, sketches fall between these two extremes. They might present connections with the finished work, but, in some cases, the relations are too tenuous for us to consider them as sketches for a specific passage.

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Mahler commented on the importance of what he called “unborn thoughts” (“ungeborene Gedanken”) in the creative process, ideas that came up when he was not searching for them: [They] form the material that lies latent in one; it emerges again in the course of working if one merely knocks, and it always allows one to draw freely on lavish resources. Often such thoughts occur years later, at the right time and the right place. As a result, it often seems as though one is being unoriginal, since, as things go in composing, one comes up with so much that is familiar, already one’s own.63

Even if these “unborn thoughts” end up not being used in a work, they might come back later under a new guise, and, more importantly, they might allow other thoughts to emerge. “Composing is like playing with bricks,” also said Mahler, “continually making new buildings form the same old stones.”64 Sketches of music that appear to be discarded might form a layer of old stones. Assessing what belongs to the creative process, and what does not, is challenging, as material that Mahler chose not to use in a work can turn out to have played a major role in its making. As opposed to sketches that are clearly connected to the finished work, which were probably drawn with a particular intention, this unfinished music can be the result of any kind of exploration, free from any association with a specific composition. Because it is often impossible to relate them to a known work, these sketches raise problems of their own, such as the question of continuity. A draft is, by definition, continuous; it represents the realization of a particular project. A sketch is more fragmentary, and it is uneasy to determine where it stops, and if what follows belongs to the same idea or not. This question is even more difficult to settle in the context of Mahler’s music, characterized by frequent ruptures, interruptions, and unexpected juxtapositions. Exploring Mahler’s “unborn thoughts” throws new light on the Seventh and helps us imagine the work as it could have sounded, but does not. In a certain way, this is true for sketches in general; they are, as Stephen Hefling put it, “music as it might have been, but is not.”65 For Friedemann Sallis,

 NBL, 28 (not in NBLE), trans. Stephen Hefling, “‘Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken’:  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony Sketchbook,” in Mahler Studies, ed. Stephen Hefling (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1997), 180. See Chapter  3, “Musical Evidence.” 64   NBLE, 131; NBL, 138. 65   Stephen Hefling, “Perspectives on Sketch Studies in Mahler Research,” in Das Gustav-​Mahler-​Fest Hamburg 1989, ed. Matthias Theodor Vogt (Kassel:  Bärenreiter, 1991), 455. 63

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considering these compositional experiences has the merits of questioning the notion of the self-​enclosed work: The more knowledge we gain of a composer’s failed initiatives, interrupted developments, abandoned fragments, short cuts, dead ends, the more this knowledge seems to undermine the very notion of the musical work as an isolated, self-​ enclosed aesthetic object.66

Paying close attention to these “failed initiatives” encourages us to consider the work not as the inevitable outcome of a teleological process, but as the path that Mahler eventually chose to take among others that he seriously contemplated. As we shall see, in the case of the Seventh, Mahler developed quite far some ideas that he finally decided not to include in the symphony. This perspective also reminds us to be cautious in a common tendency to evaluate the finished work as more “advanced” than the sketches. Mahler criticized this tendency in musicology, concerning Beethoven’s sketches: They say that the completed work signifies such progress beyond the sketched draft; meanwhile, they have no notion of what entirely different things could have come from such a first inkling in his hands!67

The composer rebels here against a teleological vision of the compositional process; and his own sketches precisely give us an opportunity to consider the kind of “different things” that could have been worked out from his unborn thoughts. In the case of Mahler in particular, who was known to make corrections years after publication, the notion that the finished work is necessarily a progress beyond the working materials—​as if he always made the best possible compositional choices in the final version—​is questionable. The issue of the order of the middle movements in the Sixth is a good example of Mahler’s last-​minute hesitations, and it might be more productive to think about two different versions of the Sixth Symphony coexisting with each other.68 These findings question the usual division between “used” and “discarded” materials and call for new ways to assess the status and function of sketches in

 Friedemann Sallis, “Coming to Terms with the Composer’s Working Manuscripts,” in A Handbook to Twentieth-​Century Musical Sketches eds. Patricia Hall and Friedemann Sallis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 57. 67   Bauer-​Lechner, “Mahleriana,” quoted in Hefling, “‘Variations in nuce’: A Study of Mahler Sketches, and a Comment on Sketch Studies,” in Gustav Mahler Kolloquium 1979, Beiträge der Österreichischen Gesellschaft für Musik 2 (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 181), 125, note 31. The full passage is quoted in Chapter  3, “Autobiographical and Biographical Evidence.” 68   I am indebted to Peter Franklin for this suggestion. 66

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the creative process. As will appear throughout this study, Mahler’s compositional experiences, and particularly the apparently discarded material, tell us as much about the identity of the Seventh as an analysis of its final version.

Compositional Narratives

The other important issue at stake here is the status of compositional narratives in a genetic reconstruction. As we shall see in Chapter 8, Mahler’s “boat letter” describes the birth of the Seventh Symphony as a creation myth:  the primeval chaos is shaken by a basic rhythm, which progressively shapes a whole new world.69 Like Wagner in his Rheingold vision, Mahler retrospectively interprets his creative process by reordering the story in the “right” chronological order, with a crucial moment of inspiration revealing the beginning of the work, from which a complete symphony in five movements can unfold organically. Composer’s chronologically linear stories do not, most of the time, correspond to the conclusions that can be drawn from sketch studies. In the case of the Seventh, two whole movements had already been drafted when this “trigger moment” occurred on the boat—​which shows that its composition did not, in fact, begin at the beginning of the work. What place, then, should these compositional narratives occupy in a genetic reconstruction? Should we treat them as “lies” meant to manipulate the biographies of the works, in order to show both the composer and his works in a more coherent light?70 By contrast, sketch studies can appear to be more reliable than these autofictions (as we might call compositional narratives), granting us access to a truth that composers’ words would not possess. Insight gained from sketch studies, asserts James Zychowicz, complements other approaches and offers the imprimatur of authenticity that comes with using primary materials. Closer, perhaps, than the letters and other verbal materials, like the conversations with Bauer-​Lechner, the sketches offer a view of the music from the inside.71

  See Chapter 8, “(Auto)biography, Genesis, and Interpretation”; and Chapter 3, “Autobiographical and Biographical Evidence” for the full passage. 70  This is Chris Walton’s view in Lies and Epiphanies: Composers and Their Inspiration from Wagner to Berg (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2014). 71   James Zychowicz, “‘They Only Give Rise to Misunderstandings’:  Mahler’s Sketches in Context,” in Genetic Criticism and the Creative Process: Essays from Music, Literature, and Theater, ed. William Kinderman and Joseph E. Jones (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2009), 163. Emphasis is mine. 69

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This complete trust in musical evidence, as being more authentic than biographical evidence, is also apparent in William Kinderman’s introduction to a relatively recent collection of essays entitled Genetic Criticism and the Creative Process:

The most rigorous basis for the study of artistic creativity comes not from anecdotal or autobiographical reports, but from original handwritten sketches and drafts and preliminary studies, as well as from revised manuscripts and typescripts, corrected proof sheets, and similar primary sources.72

Indeed, a musical sketch is not manipulated in the same way that autobiographical accounts are. But sketch studies, nonetheless, relay on an interpretive process; and the idea that a sketch cannot lie might lead us to believe that such documents tell a truth ready to be uncovered and revealed—​even if the contents of sketches, as scholars of the creative process are often reminded, remain “elusive and enigmatic.”73 These questions will be readdressed in the Conclusion; but for the moment, let us keep in mind that while compositional narratives do not necessarily help us write the chronological history of the creative process, they emphasize something that was significant for the composer: a “trigger moment” that allowed the work to progress. Mahler had already composed two movements of the Seventh before stepping on the boat, but he insisted, in his narrative, that this particular moment gave him the impulse to finish the work. Far from suggesting that we should take compositional narratives at face value, I propose to reevaluate their place in genetic reconstructions, granting them the function of autobiographical reinterpretations.

Genesis and Structure

The main questions pursued by sketch studies concern the relationship between genesis and finished work. How does the music in its completed form relate to the sketches? And what can compositional materials tell us about the finished work?74 As discussed earlier, the genetic approach destabilizes

 William Kinderman, “Introduction:  Genetic Criticism and the Creative Process,” in Genetic Criticism and the Creative Process, 1. 73   Kinderman, “Introduction: Genetic Criticism and the Creative Process,” 1. 74   As is well known, the question of the relationship between sketch studies and analysis or interpretation has been much debated. For a summary of this question, see Sallis, Music Sketches, Cambridge Introductions to Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), Chapter 9 (“Dangerous Liaisons: The Evolving Relationship Between Sketch Studies and Analysis”). 72

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the notion of a self-​enclosed work by focusing on the process of its becoming, challenging the idea of an “unassailable text.”75 The term “avant-​ texte” has been proposed in the field of literary genetic studies to replace “draft,” which connoted something tangled or un-​straightened. . . . It is implied that authors have a presentiment of a perfect state that they are reaching for, whereas in reality their words, at first, are potentially acceptable formulations. Only afterwards do authors discover that they are dissatisfied with their words. . . . It is too idealistic to assume that somewhere a perfect Text already exists that writers must find like a treasure.76

As Mahler reminds us about Beethoven, keeping in mind that a musical sketch can develop in different directions shows the work as a path chosen by the composer among others that could have worked as well. Genetic reconstructions consider these alternative paths and by doing so, as Kinderman notes, “seek to avoid judging preliminary working materials exclusively in relation to the finished work.”77

Genesis and Interpretation

What impact can knowledge of the genetic history have on an interpretation of the work? We may attempt to keep these two perspectives separate, but what we know of a work’s conception will affect our perception of its finished form. As will be shown in Chapter 8, Mahler’s boat story did have an impact on the reception of the Seventh. If some commentators found that Mahler’s compositional narrative was contradicting their hearing of the work, others used the boat story to confirm their interpretation. Thus, genetic reconstructions can be helpful or embarrassing; but in any case, it is difficult to ignore them.

  Kinderman, “Introduction: Genetic Criticism and the Creative Process,” 2.  Jean Bellemin-​ Noël, “Psychoanalytic Reading and the Avant-​ Texte,” in Genetic Criticism: Texts and Avant-​Textes, eds. J. Deppman, D. Ferrer, and M. Groden (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), 30. 77   Kinderman, “Introduction:  Genetic Criticism and the Creative Process,” 12. See also Sallis, quoting Nicholas Marston: “Far from appearing as ‘wrong answers’ which yield inexorably to the correct one in due course, the sketches come to seem like a collection of valid ideas, or potential compositions among which the composer must ultimately choose” (Marston in Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in E, Op.  109 [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995], 13–​14; quoted in Sallis, Music Sketches, 175). 75

76

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In a similar way, knowing that the Seventh was partly composed simultaneously with other works seems to have supported, for some, the idea that it lacks coherence. Since 1893, Mahler had become a “summer composer”; he was so busy with his duties as a conductor that he could only compose during his summer holidays. Most of the time, he needed more than one summer to complete a work, but he usually concentrated on only one piece at a time. During the summer of 1904, however, Mahler finished the Kindertotenlieder cycle (nos. 2 and 5), the Sixth Symphony, and started working on the Seventh, with the Nachtmusiken. The fact that the composition of the Seventh was entangled with other works makes it a particular case in Mahler’s compositional habits. Hans Redlich, in his preface to the Eulenburg score, comments that the two Nachtmusiken create a “stylistic incompatibility,” and this assessment seems to have been mainly determined by what he knew of the Seventh’s compositional history.78 In other words, the “problem” of the Seventh could originate in an unusual genesis, which would imply a correspondence between creative process and finished product, a fragmented conception giving birth to a heterogeneous work.79 This anthropomorphist tendency seeks to explain issues in the “behavior” of the work (it was said, indeed, that the Seventh does not “behave” like a Mahler symphony)80 by retracing its origins and childhood, as if a traumatic birth could account for “problems” in its mature form. I shall return to this idea in what follows; but this quest for the origins of the work, which probably motivates most attempts to retrace its genesis, appears to be related to a search for meaning. We search for physical traces of the composer’s creative process in order to reconstruct the genesis of the music and understand how everything began. This focus on beginnings is also apparent in Mahler’s own narrative on the compositional history of the Seventh, which tells the story of its mythical origins: how a whole symphony was born out of an initial Ur-​rhythmic idea. This preoccupation with beginnings (and endings) is also a significant issue at stake in the work itself, and Mahler’s musical treatment of introductive and concluding gestures

  Hans Redlich, Preface to the Eulenburg score of the Seventh (1962), iv. See also Redlich, Bruckner and Mahler (London: J. M. Dent, 1955), 204: “It is difficult to see a close affinity between this central portion [the Scherzo] with the two outer movements, and one cannot help feeling that Mahler here failed to weld the disjecta membra of symphonic structure into a clearly discernible unity.” Then follows a reminder that the two Nachtmusiken were composed before the other movements. 79   See Chapter 3, “Unusual Compositional History” in “Autobiographical and Biographical Evidence.” 80   See beginning of Chapter 1. 78

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in the Seventh resonates with questions of creativity addressed in Wagner’s Meistersinger. In sum, I draw connections between our search process in sketch studies, the composer’s retrospective discourse on his creative act, and interpretive issues in the finished work: at each of these three levels, there is a quest for meaning connected to the notion of beginning.

Chapter 3

Compositional History

So, you see, this Seventh Symphony. . . there was not a note composed. . . I went to the Dolomites for three days, and when I came back, crossing the lake, as soon as I stepped into the rowing boat, at this moment my mind began to work; everything I thought, saw, and felt was doing “ta–​tatata–​tatata” (and he indicated the funeral march-​like rhythm of the first movement). —​William Ritter1

Mahler’s account of the genesis of the Seventh, reported here by William Ritter, tells the story of a composer searching for inspiration in the mountains, suddenly hit by the musical idea that would allow him to compose the work in a few weeks. This narrative has a cosmogonic quality: in the beginning, there was nothing, “and the earth was without form, and void.”2 Then the creator’s mind began to work, and there was not “light,” but sound. This rhythmic cell takes over Mahler’s perceptive faculties, as the world around him—​everything he can think, see, and feel—​starts playing “ta–​tatata–​tatata.” The scenario of a “Blitz” journey allowing a composer to write a whole work from scratch after being hit by a lightning bolt is familiar and does not tell us much about the chronology of composition—​although it does

  William Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” unpublished book chapter, August 1912. See William Ritter chevalier de Gustav Mahler: Ecrits, correspondance, documents, ed. Claude Meylan (Bern:  Peter Lang, 2000), 140. Ritter began writing this essay in August 1912, a day after hearing the Seventh in Munich under Ferdinand Löwe. This conversation with Mahler took place in October 1908, when the Seventh was first performed in Munich. 2   Genesis 1:2. Here as well, water is a crucial element: “and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” 1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

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inform other aspects of the genesis, as discussed in the previous chapter. What evidence do we have, then, to reconstruct the compositional history of the Seventh? We have access to primary sources, Mahler’s compositional materials and his correspondence—​and to secondary sources, biographical accounts from others. In attempting to reconstruct the genesis of the Seventh Symphony, I consider these sources side by side and explore their similarities and contradictions. This chapter presents these different kinds of evidence, beginning with autobiographical and biographical accounts, then turning to the musical evidence (compositional and printed materials). The extant sketches and drafts for the Seventh are succinctly described here and further discussed in the following chapters, in conjunction with the music in its finished form.

Autobiographical and Biographical Evidence Autobiographical evidence includes a letter Mahler wrote to his wife Alma in 1910 and a date on the orchestral draft for the first movement, confirmed by two other letters sent to Guido Adler and Richard Strauss.

Mahler’s “Boat Letter”

Beside Ritter’s account quoted at the beginning of this chapter, the other source for Mahler’s boat story is a letter addressed to Alma Mahler, written five years after the completion of the Seventh, on June 8, 1910 (hereafter the “boat letter,” not to be confused with Ritter’s account of the boat story).3 The boat story is often quoted about the genesis of the Seventh, but the context of Mahler’s own reminiscences is seldom recalled. Responding to a letter sent by his wife shortly after she met Walter Gropius, Mahler ironically attempts to reassure her on his feelings: he has never been more fond of her.4 “You’re a little monkey [“Afferl”]! Why trouble your head with such nonsense?” Proceeding to justify something he said that offended her (a

  From Vienna to Tobelbad, June 8, 1910. Ein Glück ohne Ruh’:  Die Briefe Gustav Mahlers an Alma, ed. Henry-​Louis de La Grange and Günther Weiss (Münich: btb, 1997), 423. Translation emended from Gustav Mahler, Letters to his Wife, ed. Henry-​Louis de La Grange and Günther Weiss, coll. Knud Martner, rev. and trans. by Anthony Beaumont (London: Faber and Faber, 2005), 356. 4   The letter reproduced in Alma Mahler’s Memories and Letters is truncated: among other edits, the opening lines, stating clearly that Alma needed to be reassured on Mahler’s feelings for her, are missing. See AME, 328. 3

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compliment, apparently), Mahler settles to prove that “in life, as in art, I rely entirely on spontaneity.” This comparison allows the composer to make an incursion into his compositional process, first for the Eighth Symphony, then for the Seventh: If I were obliged or compelled to compose, I could surely not put a single note to paper. Four years ago [1906], on the first morning of our summer, I went up to my hut at Maiernigg, with the firm resolution to take it easy (I needed to so much at the time) and to gather new strength! As I entered my usual workshop, the creator spiritus took possession of me, shook me, and scourged me for eight weeks, until my greatest work was finished. One summer before that [1905] I had the intention to finish the Seventh (both Andantes of which were there in front of me). For two weeks I  plagued myself to gloom, as you must still remember—​until I  tore off to the Dolomites. There it was the same story, and at last I gave up and returned home, convinced that the whole summer was lost. You were not waiting for me at Krumpendorf, because I had not announced my arrival. I got into the boat to be ferried across. At the first stroke of the oars the theme (or rather the rhythm and character) of the introduction to the first movement came to my mind—​and in four weeks the first, third, and fifth movements were completely finished. Do you remember?

“Look, my dear,” continues Mahler, “you know enough of me and my ways to understand that I could never hurt you in any way.” It is difficult to understand how, exactly, these compositional recollections were supposed to soothe Alma and reassure her on the strength of Mahler’s feelings; but they might have been meant to emphasize the composer’s lack of control over his creativity. In short, this passage shows that things could spontaneously flow out of his mouth or pen in spite of his own will. Thus, we owe this glimpse of Mahler’s compositional process for the Seventh to a conjugal conflict. According to this letter, Mahler stayed for two weeks in Maiernigg before leaving for the Dolomites and then completed the Seventh in four weeks.5 However, other letters written at the time of these events (June 1905) show that Mahler remained only one week in Maiernigg before his trip and that when he came back, he had in fact seven weeks at work on the Seventh before returning to Vienna on August 21.6

 At the time of the composition of the Seventh (1904–​1905), Mahler was spending his summers at Maiernigg, in a house on the Wörthersee. 6  See Ein Glück ohne Ruh’, 252–​54; and Letters to his Wife, 211. Mahler arrived at Maiernigg on June 15 with the intention to “take it easy” (see postcard no. 140), and left for the Dolomites on the 21st for a few days (letter no. 141, dated June 23 from Schluderbach). 5

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This letter throws light on Mahler’s perception, in hindsight, of his own compositional process. The composer describes himself as being “at the mercy of spontaneity”: the more he seeks inspiration, the more it escapes him. Mahler’s narrative recalls a famous moment in French literature, when a spoonful of tea mixed with the crumbs of a madeleine throws the narrator into suspended time, prompting the experience of an “exquisite” pleasure, but “detached, with no suggestion of its origin.”7 Just as in Mahler’s description of inspiration, the more Proust’s narrator attempts to re-​experience this extraordinary moment, the more it seems to fade away. Rather than seeking a past memory, known and familiar, the narrator realizes that his mind must re-​create the sensation and accept being left “face to face with something which does not yet exist.”8 This “empty space” preceding the emergence of the visual image that will allow the recovery of a memory is reflected in Mahler’s narrative, and resonates with the model of a creation myth. Both for the Eighth and the Seventh symphonies, Mahler felt he had to let go and relinquish control over his creativity before something new could emerge. The “Spiritus Creator” takes him by surprise, either when he does not summon it, or when he has given up hope. In the case of the Seventh, it seems that the “Spiritus Creator” took the shape of an encounter between mankind and nature since, according to Mahler’s letter, it was the sound of the oars (a product of civilization) striking the water that provided the crucial impulse he had been desperately trying to arouse for some time.9 In the boat letter, this sound triggered Mahler’s creative process and allowed him to compose the first, third, and fifth movements of the Seventh in a few weeks, having the “two Andantes there on [his] table.” These Andantes eventually became the two Nachtmusiken, the second and fourth movements. This tempo marking only corresponds to the second Nachtmusik, the first being marked Allegro moderato; but both movements function as quieter interludes between the more energetic first, third, and last movements. This version of the Seventh’s genesis is similar to Ritter’s, with one important

  Marcel Proust, In Search for Lost Time, “Swann’s Way,” trans. C. K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin, rev. Dennis J. Enright (London: Vintage, 1996), 51. 8   “Seek? More than that:  create. It [the mind] is face to face with something which does not yet exist, which it alone can make actual, which it alone can bring into the light of the day.” (“Swann’s Way,” 52). Thomas Peattie compares the effect on the listener’s memory of the posthorn episode in Mahler’s Third Symphony with the madeleine moment in Proust in his essay “In Search of Lost Time:  Memory and Mahler’s Broken Pastoral,” in Mahler and His World, ed. Karen Painter (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002), 185–​98. 9   On mankind and nature, see Chapter 2; and Chapter 6 on the first Nachtmusik. 7

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divergence: while Mahler told Ritter that “not a note” of the Seventh was composed in the summer of 1905, we learn here that two whole movements were already completed when he undertook his excursion in the Dolomites. In Ritter’s account, the work is created ex nihilo, while in Mahler’s letter it is a matter of completing a work that is already under way. The boat letter confirms that the two Nachtmusiken were already composed in 1905; but it does not specify when they were written.

Dated Orchestral Draft

What we know, however, is the moment of the completion of the Seventh. At the end of the draft orchestral score for the first movement, Mahler wrote: “Maiernigg 15. August 1905 /​Septima finita.”10 A note sent to Guido Adler the same day, also in Latin, confirms the date on the manuscript: My Seventh is finished. I believe it has been well conceived and born under favorable auspices. Many greetings to you and yours from my wife and me. G.M.11

Four days later, Mahler also announces the completion of his Seventh to Richard Strauss, in German this time.12 We can thus infer that Mahler completed the draft orchestral score for the first movement last, after having orchestrated the other movements, although it does not necessarily mean that he began working on the first movement after the others. This date offers insight into the question of what “completion” meant for Mahler: the Seventh was said to be “finita” after it was orchestrated, and not when all the material was arranged in order in a preliminary draft, or when a fair copy was prepared. Biographical accounts informing the composition of the Seventh include Alma Mahler’s recollections and another report of a conversation between Ritter and Mahler, which also took place during the rehearsals for the Seventh’s first performance in Munich, in October 1908.

  Partitur for the first movement of the Seventh, New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Bruno Walter Collection (JOB 85-​5; Microfilm: * ZBT 673 n°6). See Appendix MS6  . 11  “Septima mea finita est. Credo hoc opus fauste natum et bene gestum. Salutationes plurimas tibi et tuis etiam meae uxoris. G.M.” See Edward Reilly, Gustav Mahler and Guido Adler: Records of a Friendship (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 103. 12   Letter from August 19, 1905, in Gustav Mahler/​Richard Strauss. Correspondence 1888–​ 1911, ed. Herta Blaukopf, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), 82. 10

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Alma Mahler’s Recollections

Let us turn first to Alma Mahler’s version of the compositional history of the Seventh in Memories and Letters: “In the summer of 1905, Mahler wrote the Seventh Symphony in one burst. The ‛architect drawings’ (Bauskizzen), as he called them, belong to mid-​summer 1904.”13 According to Alma Mahler, who does not mention the pre-​existence of the Nachtmusiken, Mahler would have had preliminary sketches at hand when he composed the symphony in 1905. A chronology established in an early draft of her Erinnerungen und Briefe confirms this timeline, except that in there she mentions “sketches” (“Skizzen”) for the Seventh in 1904, and not “Bauskizzen.”14 Stephen Hefling suggests that these sketches included a list of movements for the Seventh, which implies that Mahler would have planned the structure of the whole symphony in 1904 already.15 His study of the sketchbook containing material for the Seventh led him to conclude that little of the outer movements was sketched before 1905. Donald Mitchell, on the other hand, surmises that Mahler had extensive sketches at hand for the Seventh in the summer of  1905: Although Mahler had a clear picture of the totality of the symphony that he had embarked upon, and had already sketched a quantity of it, he felt utterly at a loss when he could not envisage how the first movement was actually to start.16

This would explain why Mahler’s creative block lifted as soon as he found the idea for the introduction of the first movement, on the famous boat ride. This theory reveals an underlying assumption that Mahler’s compositional process is supposed to follow a certain norm, that it should be linear and start at the beginning. Indeed, Mahler’s words in the boat letter extend in this direction: what unblocked the creative process was precisely the initial   AME, 89; AM, 112–​13.   Draft of Alma Mahler’s Erinnerungen und Briefe, handwritten page in ink, probably meant to be added as an appendix in the book (“Anhang”). Médiathèque Musicale Mahler, Paris. My thanks to Marilyn McCoy for sharing this information with me. 15  Stephen Hefling, “‘Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken’:  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony Sketchbook,” in Mahler Studies, ed. Stephen Hefling (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1997), 185. Such lists of movements survived for the Third, Fourth, and Eighth symphonies. 16   Donald Mitchell, “Chronology,” in Gustav Mahler: Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, eds. Donald Mitchell and Edward Reilly (Amsterdam: Rosbeek Publishers, 1995), 23–​ 24. See also his article “Mahler on the Move: His Seventh Symphony,” in Discovering Mahler: Writings on Mahler, 1955–​2005, ed. Gastón Fournier-​Facio (Rochester: Boydell & Brewer, 2007), 397–​98. 13

14

70  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

rhythm (or “character”) of the symphony. However, Natalie Bauer-​Lechner reports a comment from Mahler that speaks against this view:  “Often I begin in the middle, often at the beginning, sometimes even at the end, and the rest of it gradually falls into place until it develops into a complete whole.”17 We do not know when Mahler “began” his compositional work on the Seventh, but according to his letter to Alma Mahler, he drafted the two Nachtmusiken before the other movements, which means that he began writing the Seventh “in the middle,” so to speak. Mahler may not have composed the Nachtmusiken with the intention to include them in the Seventh, but he apparently decided to use them as middle movements in this symphony during the summer of 1904; and this decision would precede extensive sketching for the other movements. These autobiographical and biographical accounts mainly differ on one point: Mahler’s boat letter is the only source mentioning the pre-​existence of the Nachtmusiken, since neither Alma Mahler nor Ritter refer to them. Beyond this divergence, however, they share common features and contribute to the construction of the image Mahler wanted to present about his own creativity. All these sources report a “Big Bang” version of the composition (Mitchell’s expression), where the whole symphony grows from the rhythm heard on the boat.18 Moreover, in Mahler’s boat letter and in Ritter’s account, the creative process is driven by an external stimulus interacting with Mahler’s mind, and this encounter—​which can be compared to a Big Bang moment—​is at the origin of the creative process. To summarize what can be gleaned from these sources: 1. The two Nachtmusiken were composed some time before 1905 (Mahler’s boat letter); 2. The idea for the introduction of the first movement allowed Mahler to complete the first, third, and fifth movements during the summer of 1905 (Mahler’s boat letter); 3. The Seventh was completed on August 15, 1905 (orchestral draft for the first movement); 4. Mahler completed the first movement last (orchestral draft for the first movement); 5. Mahler made sketches for the Seventh in 1904 (Alma Mahler’s recollections).

These elements, in turn, leave us with several questions: 1. When did Mahler compose the Nachtmusiken? 2. How much of the Seventh did Mahler sketch in 1904?

  NBLE, 33; NBL, 29.   Mitchell, “Chronology,” 20.

17 18

Compositional History : 71 3. Assuming that the first movement was completed last, when did Mahler compose the third and fifth movements, and in which order?

The answer to the first question has often been taken for granted on the basis of Mahler’s boat letter, which would, according to La Grange, “leave no doubt” that the Nachtmusiken were composed during the summer of 1904.19 However, this letter does not give any precise chronological information about the dating of these two movements, which could have been composed at any time before the summer of 1905. Another account by William Ritter throws light on this matter.

Ritter on the Composition of the First Nachtmusik

During the rehearsals for the Seventh in Munich (October 1908), Ritter asked Mahler the following:   –​Master? Do you ever work on several symphonies at the same time?   –​What makes you believe that?    (And his face lit up with unexpected pleasure. . .)   –​I have the feeling that the Fifth, the Sixth, and this one stand to one another in this relationship:    (and I showed my hands joint backward, palms turned upside down, the claw-​like bristling of the fingers chained in the air. . .)   –​Look.  .  . (and he opened the score at the first Nachtmusik). Do you recognize this chord?    And he showed me the famous major-​minor decrescendo chord, which is . . . the seal of the Sixth Symphony.   –​This is the best proof that this piece [the first Nachtmusik] was composed while I was at work on it [on the 6th symphony]. . .20

Following this account, a motivic connection between two works is a tangible “proof ” that they were composed simultaneously. This comment recalls another one, reported by Bauer-​Lechner, expressing Mahler’s distrust of sketch studies: G[ustav] spoke of his sketchbooks and sketch sheets: “For God’s sake, that they aren’t preserved and don’t outlive me—​I will see to that, and will destroy everything

  See HLG3, 842; Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 185; Mitchell, “Chronology,” 23; or Constantin Floros, Gustav Mahler:  The Symphonies (Portland:  Amadeus Press, 1997), 189. 20   Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” unpublished book chapter (1912), in William Ritter chevalier, 142. See VII/​2, mm. 28–​29; VI/​1, mm. 59–​60; Scherzo, mm. 88–​92; VI/​4, mm.  9–​12. 19

72  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony that is unfinished. For they only give rise to misunderstandings. What have they divined from Beethoven’s! That, for instance, he supposedly worked simultaneously on compositions that are completely different from each other with regard to content and date, because there are sketches to both next to each other, in the same volume. That’s nothing! All sorts of things merely occurred to him continuously, which he jotted down and preserved for a later time, and which he then used at the right opportunity. Or they say that the completed work signifies such progress beyond the sketched draft; meanwhile, they have no notion of what entirely different things could have come from such a first inkling in his hands!”21

Mahler did not trust musicologists to draw meaningful conclusions from sketch studies, which could partly explain his eagerness to show Ritter what he considered as a real “proof ” that the first Nachtmusik was composed simultaneously with the Sixth Symphony.22 As discussed in Chapter 6, sketch evidence tends to confirm that Mahler was at work on the first Nachtmusik while he was completing the outer movements of the Sixth Symphony in 1904. But what about the second Nachtmusik? Since no sketch for this movement is known to have survived—​except a fragment—​we do not have enough evidence to date its composition more precisely. It is worth keeping in mind that while they are generally considered as a pair (“the Nachtmusiken”), they do not necessarily both date from the summer of 1904 and the second could well have been composed at an earlier time. A sketchbook page bears a puzzling indication that could question this chronology. The Médiathèque Musicale Mahler in Paris owns a few pages torn out of different sketchbooks, containing music that was entered in the Finale of the Seventh, in the Eighth Symphony, as well as music not included in any known work. One of these pages shows a sketch for the main theme of the Eighth Symphony, Part I (Ms. 012).23 At the bottom of this page, we find the beginning of a continuous sketch on four pages, entitled “Adagio VII” and framed in red pencil. This might indicate that, at some   Natalie Bauer-​Lechner, “Mahleriana,” unpublished manuscript, Médiathèque Musicale Mahler. Quoted in Hefling,“‘Variations in nuce’:  A Study of Mahler Sketches, and a Comment on Sketch Studies,” in Gustav Mahler Kolloquium 1979, Beiträge der Österreichischen Gesellschaft für Musik 2 (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1981), 125, note 31. 22   As Hefling points out, Mahler himself engaged in sketch studies when he completed Weber’s fragments for his opera Die Drei Pintos in 1887–​1888 (“Variations in nuce,” 125, note 31). Mahler may have heard from Guido Adler about Gustav Nottebohm’s work on Beethoven, published in 1865 and 1880. See Hefling, “Perspectives on Sketch Studies in Mahler Research,” in Das Gustav-​Mahler-​Fest Hamburg 1989, ed. Matthias Theodor Vogt (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1991), 445. 23  Médiathèque Musicale Mahler, Paris (MAH-​ ms2-​ 012). See later in this chapter, and Appendix MS2, for facsimiles . Alban Berg identified this material as 21

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point, Mahler planned to include this music in a slow movement of the Seventh, although we cannot be certain that this “VII” refers to the Seventh Symphony. The music labeled as such does not present any similarity with the Seventh; however, it is clearly connected with music found on the verso of two other leaves (Ms. 007), torn out of the same sketchbook, whose recto sides contain sketches for the Finale of the Seventh.24 If “Adagio VII” does relate to the Seventh, we could imagine that Mahler sketched this passage for the Finale (Ms. 007) at an early stage of composition of the Seventh, when he was thinking of including the unknown music found on Ms. 012 as an “Adagio”—​before or after he decided to use the two Nachtmusiken in the Seventh. As we shall see, other sources support the idea that preliminary sketches for the Finale date from before the summer of 1905. The extent of Mahler’s work on the first, third, and fifth movements in 1904 (my second and third questions) will be discussed in the following chapters, unfolding from my interpretation of the preliminary sketches for the Seventh.

“Unusual” Compositional History

Before turning to the manuscript sources for the Seventh, let us consider the arguments put forward by several scholars to qualify the compositional history of the Seventh as unusual. “As a rule,” writes Hefling, “Mahler concentrated upon one symphony at a time; yet evidently during the summer 1904, while still at work on the Sixth, he drafted two complete movements of the Seventh.”25 Assuming that the Nachtmusiken (or at least the first) were composed in the summer of 1904, Mahler would have worked on three different pieces at the same time: the Sixth, the Seventh, and the Kindertotenlieder. In July 1904, Mahler added two Kindertotenlieder (2 and 5) to the three already composed in 1901, and then completed the outer movements of the Sixth

being part of the Eighth Symphony (he wrote “VIII” in the upper right corner of the page). See also his comments on the cover in Appendix BC2  . 24   MAH-​ms2-​007. See Appendix MS2 . Besides sharing the same key and meter, Mss. 007 and 012 are also strongly related thematically, since the melody found on Ms. 007 (fol. 2v) is also sketched on Ms. 012 (fol. 1v, system 2), here without the bass. 25   Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 185. Mitchell, for his part, insists upon the fact that Mahler usually conceived his symphonies by starting with the frame, with the structure of the outer movements, and therefore speaks of having “two Andantes in search of a symphony” as a “chronological oddity.” Mitchell, “Chronology,” 20.

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Symphony.26 Mahler composed the second and third movements of the Sixth in the summer of 1903, and had probably also begun working on the first and last movements; but how far he was engaged in the composition of the outer movements in 1903 is unclear.27 Thus, between mid-​July and the end of August 1904, Mahler would have completed the two outer movements of the Sixth and composed the Nachtmusiken for the Seventh. As we have seen, the Sixth and Seventh share close motivic connections, and following Mahler’s comment to William Ritter, they could be read as “proofs” that he was working on these two works at the same time.28 According to La Grange, the compositional process of the Seventh was particularly difficult: Mahler “suffered one of the worst creative blocks of his career” when he tried to complete the work in the summer of 1905.29 However, he also notes that similar blocks occurred in 1900 and 1904, when Mahler was at work on the Fourth and Sixth symphonies.30 That Mahler’s compositional process often started with a period of anxiety is hardly surprising, since his conducting career forced him to interrupt his creative work at the end of each summer. The idea that the compositional history of the Seventh is unusual thus mostly relies on the pre-​existence of the two Nachtmusiken. Two facts question this view. First, the compositional histories of the Sixth and Seventh are similar: in both cases, Mahler completed the middle movements before the outer ones, and experienced a certain creative anxiety when he attempted to find a beginning and an end to them (in 1904 when finishing the Sixth, and in 1905 for the Seventh). Second, Mahler had already worked simultaneously   About the compositional chronology of Kindertotenlieder, see Christopher O. Lewis, “On the Chronology of the Kindertotenlieder,” in Revue Mahler Review 1 (1987): 21–​ 37. According to Alma Mahler, Mahler completed the draft of the first movement of the Sixth in the summer of 1904 (AME, 70). 27   In a postcard dated from July 11, 1904, Mahler asked Alma, who was in Vienna, to bring in Maiernigg the two middle movements of the Sixth Symphony, “left by mistake in the drawer of [his] desk in Vienna.” See HLG2, 710; and Ein Glück ohne Ruh’, 215. Edward Reilly concludes that “much of the first three movements of the Sixth [were written] in the summer of 1903, with the second and third closer to being finished than the first.” See “Gustav Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” in The Rosaleen Moldenhauer Memorial: Music History from Primary Sources—​A Guide to the Moldenhauer Archives, eds. Jon Newsom and Alfred Mann (Washington:  Library of Congress, 2000), 302. 28  Lewis pointed out thematic connections between Kindertotenlied no.  5 (“In diesem Wetter”) and the Finale of the Sixth Symphony (“On the chronology of the Kindertotenlieder,” 25). 29   HLG3, 842. 30   HLG2, 710. 26

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on several pieces before 1904. In 1888, for example, Mahler composed both the First Symphony and Todtenfeier (which eventually became the first movement of the Second), and in 1893, he revised the First and Das Klagende Lied and wrote three movements for the Second Symphony. When the Seventh’s genesis is considered to be unusual, this viewpoint, in turn, is used to explain the “problem” of the work, implying that its supposed lack of unity could originate from a fragmented or incoherent compositional process. One of the purposes of sketch studies is to trace the genesis of an artwork and to reconstruct its “biography.” We might be tempted to make order in this history, to make it appear as coherent as possible. Mahler himself, in his boat letter, was eager to convey a unified compositional history of the Seventh: the whole world was doing “ta–​tatata–​tatata.”31 This rhythmic cell is the first sound we hear in the symphony, and having three whole movements growing out of this Ur-​rhythm implies a strong internal unity. Therefore, even if Mahler began composing the Seventh “in the middle” in 1904, he focused, in his narrative, on the idea that he wrote three whole movements in one burst.32

Musical Evidence Mahler’s compositional materials for the Seventh offer another perspective on the work’s genesis, and we shall see, in the course of the following chapters, how they confirm or contradict these biographical accounts. The extant manuscript sources for the Seventh are far from being complete.33 However, it should be kept in mind that no full set of compositional materials survived for any of Mahler’s works. Contrary to Beethoven, who preserved many of his sketches, Mahler usually destroyed his working documents when he did not need them anymore. Still, the diversity of the compositional

  See the beginning of this chapter. William Ritter chevalier, 140.  “In einem Furor,” as Alma put it (AM, 112–​13). This myth is carried by Hans Redlich, among others, in the preface to the Eulenburg edition of the score (1962):  “The creative process takes its starting point from a funeral march–​like, sombre introduction in a minor key” (iii). 33  See Appendix A  for a synoptic table of the manuscript sources for the Seventh. Reinhold Kubik notes that the genesis of the Seventh is “rather sparsely documented” (“Foreword,” NKG, xix); and Edward Reilly writes that “the record of the creation of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony as reflected in the surviving manuscripts is woefully incomplete.” (“The Manuscripts of the Seventh Symphony,” in Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, 75). 31

32

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materials for the Seventh grants us access to various stages of Mahler’s compositional process, from the earliest sketches jotted down in a sketchbook, to the copyist’s score that served for the engraver. The remaining section of this chapter provides an overview of these sources and their contents.34

Compositional Stages

Edward Reilly and Donald Mitchell began cataloguing Mahler’s musical autographs in the 1970s—​an unfinished task now in the hands of Stephen Hefling. We do not have access to all the manuscripts and corrected proofs that might have existed, but we can still trace the following compositional stages, which constitute Mahler’s typical working methods35: 1. Sketches (Skizzen) allowed Mahler to test the potential of the musical material. These are usually found either in pocket sketchbooks, or on single leaves torn out of a bifolio sheet, written on two, three, or four staves and containing sparse orchestral indication. These sketches were often numbered by Mahler in a later stage of the composition to indicate the order in which they would appear in continuous drafts.36 2. Preliminary drafts (Vorentwürfe) show the composer’s intent to build a continuous section of a work (or a whole movement) and to combine musical ideas that may appear isolated in sketches.37 This category includes the short score (Particell), usually laid out in ink on three or four staves, that Mahler would prepare for each movement before proceeding to the orchestral draft.

  Descriptions and selected facsimiles of the sketches can be found in Appendixes MS1–​10  . 35  See Edward Reilly, “Die Erfassung der Musikalischen Quellen,” Nachrichten zur Mahler–​Forschung 2 (1977):  3–​5; Stephen Hefling, “The Composition of ‘Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,’” in Gustav Mahler, ed. Hermann Danuser (Darmstadt:  Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1992), 96–​158; Peter Andraschke, “Mahlers Schaffenprozess,” in Mahler Handbuch, eds. Bernd Sponheuer and Wolfram Steinbeck (Stuttgart:  Metzler, 2010), 129–​39; and James Zychowicz, Mahler’s Fourth Symphony (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), Introduction. 36  Mahler used both Arabic and Roman numerals to place his preliminary sketches in order. 37   The use of different terms to distinguish stages within the compositional process has not reached a general consensus. See Nicholas Marston, “Sketch,” Grove Music Online: “While some writers attempt to distinguish, principally on grounds of length and completeness, between ‘sketch’ (Skizze) and ‘draft’ (Entwurf), such distinctions cannot be rigidly maintained.” 34

Compositional History : 77 3. In the orchestral draft (Partiturentwurf), Mahler worked on the orchestration of a whole movement without necessarily including key signatures, rests, clefs, and doublings. This draft was usually written on a series of oblong bifolios (Querformat), on both sides, in ink.38 The fact that several of these draft orchestral scores are dated at the end—​including the draft for the first movement of the Seventh—​suggests that Mahler considered his compositional work to be achieved at this stage. 4. The fair copy (Reinschrift), often prepared by Mahler during the opera season, displays the scoring worked out in detail. As opposed to the orchestral draft, where Mahler would draw bar lines throughout the whole leaf without knowing in advance how many staves he needed, the fair copy has the right number of staves required. In some cases, added staves at the bottom of the page show that Mahler decided to change the scoring while preparing the fair copy. Fair copies are written on leaves in upright format (Hochformat), on paper of a higher quality. 5. The copyist’s score, with emendations from Mahler’s hand, was most of the time used by the engraver for the printed edition (Stichvorlage). 6. Corrections of proofs, printed editions. Mahler kept making revisions to the printed score long after its publication. In the case of the Seventh, there is a printed list of corrections following the first publication of the score in 1909, which contains further corrections from Mahler’s hand,39 as well as Willem Mengelberg’s conducting score, also displaying corrections in Mahler’s hand.

Manuscript Sources for the Seventh

The surviving manuscripts for the Seventh Symphony do not cover all of these compositional stages.40 In fact, we do not have access to any complete set of drafts or short scores before the stage of the orchestral score (the only extant one is for the first movement), which does not allow a full reconstruction of the genesis of the Seventh. However, a large number of preliminary

  Mahler often wrote his sketches on one side of a page.  Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, “Gedrucktes Korrekturverzeichnis zur 7. Symphonie,” L17.IGMG.17. See Appendix MS9 . This document contains two printed lists of changes to be made: the first was corrected by Mahler in pink pencil, and the second includes Mahler’s corrections. 40   The sketches and drafts for the Seventh are mostly found on paper manufactured by the Viennese firm Joseph Eberle & Co, which Mahler used while he was in Vienna (1897–​1907). This paper was sold in bifolios printed from eighteen to twenty-​four staves. Hefling points out that Mahler “made no consistent effort to employ paper with a uniform number of staves in his short scores, but used instead whatever odd sheets he happened to have at hand” (“Variations in nuce,” 107–​108). 38

39

78  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

sketches and drafts offer insight on the pre-​history of the work. In this regard, the surviving materials for the Seventh provide a unique perspective on Mahler’s early compositional experiences. My enquiry thus focuses on early sketches and drafts, placing less emphasis on the late elaboration of the Seventh.41 Sketchbooks Bauer-​Lechner reports seeing Mahler walking around with sketchbooks in 1896, when he was working on the Third Symphony.42 But according to her testimony, it is especially from the summer of 1901 that Mahler began using sketchbooks more systematically, to store up ideas for works in progress or for future potential use: Mahler is now beginning to note down many of the musical ideas that come to him. He regrets that he did not start doing it long ago, so that later on, if the flow of invention were to slacken, he could use and develop the first one, then another of these stored up treasures. “What a superhuman labor and waste of energy it is to have to create everything you need on the spot, without provision in advance, or any ‘collection’ (Sammlung) (in the true sense of the word)! If one had been sensible enough not to discard anything during the summer, but had instead gathered everything in and hoarded it carefully, one would only need to dip into it later to find just what one needed.”43

This change in his compositional habits seems to originate, at least partly, from an anxiety of losing the “Spiritus Creator.” Earlier in his life, however, the composer did not consider that his thoughts were necessarily worth being saved. In 1893, while at work on the Second Symphony, Mahler complained to Bauer-​Lechner that ideas in  came to his mind when he needed one in . “What do you do with these uninvited tones,” she asked, “do you save them up”? “No,” replied Mahler, “they are nothing, nothing but unborn thoughts (ungeborene Gedanken), expressions that were able to arise under conditions favorable to them, and therefore they arose.”44 Mahler also needed to write down ideas as soon as they came along in order not to forget them:

  A careful study of the variants between the fair copy, the copyist’s score, and the printed score was published by Reilly in the facsimile for the Seventh (“The Manuscripts of the Seventh Symphony,” 82–​95). 42   NBLE, 61 and 64–​65; NBL, 58 and 61. For Mahler’s use of sketchbooks, see also Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 172–​83. 43   NBLE, 170; NBL, 189. 44   NBL, 28. This passage does not appear in the English version. Quoted in Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 172 (his translation). See Chapter 2, “Genesis.” 41

Compositional History : 79 When an idea came to me on a walk and I glimpsed a modification to incorporate into my composition, I would tell myself that I would write it down as soon as I returned. But now, when I arrive at home, the idea has already fled and I’ve forgotten everything. It’s the same with everything else. If I’ve read something, or something has occurred to me, and I want to recount it later, I realize that I no longer know anything about it. It often seems to me that I am like someone whose digestion is too good, and whose organism immediately rejects or accepts various foods: absorbed or not, they no longer exist.45

Only two of these sketchbooks are known to have survived. One contains music used in the Ninth Symphony,46 and the other presents material used in the Sixth, Seventh, and Ninth symphonies, as well as unidentified fragments. Both sketchbooks are small oblong booklets (about 3 x 5 inches), with an original binding made of black imitation leather, manufactured by the Viennese firm Joseph Eberle & Co, with round edges and a red border. The Vienna Sketchbook The sketchbook containing material for the Seventh is held in Anna Bahr-​ Mildenburg’s estate at the Theatermuseum in Vienna.47 A  paper sleeve slipped over the cover bears an inscription written in Bahr-​Mildenburg’s hand, reading as follows:

  Unpublished portion of Bauer-​Lechner’s manuscript “Mahleriana,” quoted in Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 181 (Hefling’s translation). This recalls Beethoven’s use of sketchbooks: “During the last twelve years of his life, he regularly carried a small book along in his pocket, as if fearful that his memory might fail him before he reached his desk again.” See Douglas Johnson, The Beethoven Sketchbooks: History, Reconstruction, Inventory, eds. Douglas Johnson, Alan Tyson, and Robert Winter (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), 3. 46   Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna (Mus. Hs. 41.634). 47   Österreichisches Theatermuseum (VK 905 BaM), see Appendix MS1 for a description and selected facsimiles . I refer to this source as the “Vienna sketchbook” to distinguish it from the “Paris sketchbook leaves,” even if the other sketchbook mentioned earlier, which will not be further mentioned in this book, is also located in Vienna. For the first study of this sketchbook, see Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 169–​216. Hefling’s article concentrates on sketches that found their way into the final version of the Seventh. Reilly briefly describes a few pages of the document in his overview of the manuscript sources for the Seventh, also focusing on pages containing music used in the Seventh (“The Manuscripts of the Seventh Symphony,” 75–​77). For a concise description of the sketchbook, see HLG4, Appendix 1Eb, 1563–​65. 45

80  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony Gustav Mahler’s last sketchbook. It lay on his breast when he died. His father-​in-​ law Moll took it with him and sent it to me today, the 25th of January 1943, when he visited me. I also gave him letters from Gustav Mahler to read.48

Several elements challenge the idea that this document was Mahler’s “last sketchbook”: first, it is unlikely that Mahler, in the poor condition of his final days, would have needed a sketchbook at the hospital; second, materials found in the sketchbook suggests that it was mainly used in 1904–​1905.49 Mahler used the sketchbook on both sides, from the front and from the back. Sketches in the front section (7 pages) are more developed than those in the back section, and they exclusively contain continuous material that was entered into the first and last movements of the Seventh. Six of these seven pages have been crossed out in blue pencil, indicating that Mahler used the music in the Seventh and did not need those sketches anymore.50 The back section mostly contains material previously labeled as “unknown” (nineteen out of twenty-​five pages), aside from four pages used in the first movement of the Seventh and two that figure in the Finale of the Ninth Symphony. As we shall see, some of these “unknown” sketches may relate to the Sixth Symphony and others to the Seventh.51 This suggests that Mahler was using the two sections of the sketchbook differently: the back as a sketchbook to write down ideas that would come up, not necessarily connected to a specific work; and the front as a “drafting area.”

  “Gustav Mahlers’ letztes Skizzenbuch. Es lag als er gestorben war auf seiner Brust. Sein Schwiegervater Moll nahm es an sich u. schenkte es mir heute am 25 Jänner 1943 als er mich besuchte. Ich gab him auch Briefe von Gustav Mahler zu lesen.” 49   Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 171–​72. Hefling suggests that Carl Moll may have “acquired the Seventh Symphony notebook by less than honest means, and, not knowing what it actually contained, he himself made up the ‘last sketchbook’ story when he presented it to Mildenburg in 1943.” (172, note 6). 50   The first page on the front section (fol. 30v) has not been crossed out, probably because another sketch for the beginning of the Seventh was made on fol. 27v, therefore replacing the one on fol. 30v. Mahler ultimately used the sketch on fol. 27v and crossed out that page. See Chapter 8, “Searching for the Boat Sketch” in “(Auto)biography, Genesis, and Interpretation.” Facsimiles of fols. 30v and 27v are reproduced in Figs. 8.4 and 8.5. 51   Hefling supposes that some of this “unidentified material” could have been meant for the Scherzo and the Finale, but does not suggest any connection with the Nachtmusiken. “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 205. 48

Compositional History : 81

The Paris Sketchbook Leaves Detached sketchbook leaves located at the Médiathèque Musicale Mahler show material related to the Finale of the Seventh and to the Eighth Symphony, as well as unidentified music.52 In Chapter 5, I focus on the pages that relate to the Finale of the Seventh (Mss. 007 and 010), leaving aside the sketches that do not present any connection with this symphony.53 Mss. 007, 010, and 012 were all torn out of a sketchbook similar to the Vienna sketchbook, of the same manufacture (the pages have round edges and a red border), but larger (about 4.5 x 6 inches)—​each page containing nine staves instead of six. These sketchbook leaves are all included within the same folder at the Médiathèque Musicale Mahler, along with a cover page bearing comments in the hand of Alban Berg. In July 1924, Alma Mahler asked Berg to go over some of Mahler’s unidentified sketches, in search of material that could be related to the Tenth Symphony, as she was preparing a facsimile edition of this work.54 Several manuscripts discussed in the following chapters had been examined by Berg in 1924, and on some of them he discreetly inscribed, usually in the upper right corner, to which of Mahler’s works the sketches seemed to relate, sometimes with a question mark.55 In one case, the cover and the sketches that were contained in it were separated and ended up not being located at the same place. The cover found at the Médiathèque (App. BC1) probably concerns one of these sketchbook leaves (Ms. 010), but in his comments Berg mentions a larger leaf that is not among the manuscripts included within the cover. However, the Morgan Library & Museum in New York holds three of these covers, and one of them clearly refers to some of the sketchbook leaves located at the Médiathèque in Paris (App.

  Mediathèque Musicale Mahler, Paris, collection Henry-​Louis de La Grange (MAH-​ms2-​007, 008, 009, 010, 011, 012). See Appendix MS2 . La Grange acquired these manuscripts from Ali Rosé, the wife of Wolfgang Rosé, himself the son of Eduard Rosé and Emma Mahler (one of Gustav’s sisters). Personal communication, June 2013. Reilly only mentions one of these manuscripts in his overview of the sources for the Seventh (“The Manuscript of the Seventh Symphony,” 77). His description seems to correspond to Ms. 007, but he erroneously concludes that the sketch displays music not ultimately used in the Seventh. See Chapter 5, “The Paris Sketchbook Leaves and the Moldenhauer Sketches.” 53  Mss. 008 and 011 were torn out of a similar (possibly, the same) sketchbook: dark paper, upright format, 13 staves (no colophon is visible). 54  The facsimile of the Tenth was published in autumn 1924 by Paul Zsolnay Verlag. 55   See Appendices BC1, BC2, and BC3  . 52

82  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

BC2).56 The Paris sketchbook leaves show that Mahler was using at least two different sketchbooks while composing the Seventh, and as might be expected, he worked from these sketchbooks to compose the more elaborate sketches found on larger leaves. Sketches at the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek (Moldenhauer and Ms. 7661) A set of six single leaves, belonging to the Moldenhauer collection at the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek in Munich (here after called the “Moldenhauer sketches”), contains sketches for the second and last movements of the Seventh, material used in the first movement of the Sixth, and fragments of unidentified music.57 In general, these sketches show a more advanced stage in the compositional process than the Vienna sketchbook and Paris sketchbook pages. The first three leaves of the group present sketches that were entered into the Finale of the Seventh, as well as unknown music. The recto of the first leaf bears sketches for the first movement of the Sixth Symphony in ink, and the verso has sketches for the Finale of the Seventh in pencil. This is also the case for another manuscript located at the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, a single leaf containing a draft for the first movement of the Sixth on the recto in ink, and sketches for the Finale of the Seventh on the verso in pencil (Mus. ms. 7661).58 The music on the fourth leaf of the Moldenhauer sketches is unknown; the fifth contains material related to both Nachtmusiken; and the last one is blank.59 Berg examined these leaves in July 1924 as well, and left us a brief description of their musical contents on another of these upright bifolios used as a cover for the sketches (App. BC3). Reilly published the first analysis of these sketches in 2000.60 In his study, the musical material is divided into three groups: the sketches clearly   This cover may have ended up at the Morgan Library because it also comments on sketches for the Tenth Symphony located at the Morgan. 57   Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Munich, Music collection, Moldenhauer archives (Mus. Ms. 22741). See Appendix MS3  . 58  Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Munich, Music collection (Mus. Ms. 7661). See Appendix MS4 . There is only a short description of this document in Gustav Mahler:  Briefe und Musikautographen aus den Moldenhauer-​Archiven in der Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek, ed. Günther Weiss (Berlin: Kulturstiftung der Länder, 2003), 228. 59   The paper is of the same manufacture in most cases, except for one page: the third leaf has no colophon, and it is obviously of a different manufacture. Each leaf bears the colophon J. E. & co. The paper’s number varies in each case, along with the number of staves (20 to 24). 60   Reilly, “Gustav Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” 301–​12. Like Hefling’s study of the sketchbook, Reilly’s article concentrates on the music that ended up in the Seventh, leaving aside what appeared to be “unused” material. 56

Compositional History : 83

connected to the Sixth or Seventh symphonies; those which show some similarity with passages in the Seventh; and those which do not seem to be related to any of Mahler’s known works. Most of these sketches could be classified in the third group, which constitutes a striking feature of this document. Taking Reilly’s study as a starting point, I propose in Chapters 5 and 6 a detailed analysis of this “unused music,” revealing more connections with the Seventh than appears at first sight. Folio 3r, for example, was quickly relegated by Reilly to the group of unused sketches, even though it shows clear connections to the Finale of the Seventh.61 Preliminary Draft for the Scherzo Only one manuscript source for the third movement preceding the stage of the fair copy is available: a draft in the Bruno Walter collection located at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts.62 This draft contains most of the thematic substance of the Scherzo, except for the Trio section. It is a continuous short score in Particell format, where a whole section or movement is worked out on three or four staves. The music is continuous from folios 1r to 2r, and written indications show that Mahler was mapping out the structure of the whole movement at this point. Arabic numbers traced in blue pencil in the margins (6½, 8, 9)  indicate that these sketches were connected to other pages, possibly to show the order in which they would appear in the next compositional stage.63  Hartmut Schaefer’s contribution to the catalogue of Mahler’s manuscripts published by the Bayersiche Staatsbibliothek (2003) mostly relies on Reilly’s work (“Die Musikautographen von Gustav Mahler,” in Briefe und Musikautographen aus den Moldenhauer-​Archiven, 169–​78). 62   New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Music division, The Bruno Walter Papers (JOB 85-​6, Microfilm: *ZBT–​673 no 2). See Appendix MS5 . As discussed in Chapter  7, the Vienna sketchbook contains material that could be interpreted as preliminary sketches for the Scherzo (fols. 8v–​10r + 12v–​13r). 63   Such blue numbers are found in several of Mahler’s drafts, including in the Partitur for the Seventh’s first movement cited later in this chapter (LPA, JOB 85-​5); sketches for the Fourth Symphony, Ruhevoll (PML, M214. S986); sketches for the Scherzo of the Fifth Symphony (but here roman numerals, PML, M214. S986); an unknown Presto in F major (PML, M214. U58a); and in an unknown Scherzo and Trio (SBW , MHc 14564). They also appear on pages filled with music that Mahler eventually did not use in any of his works. In this case, Alban Berg pointed out that these blue numbers (“blauen Orientierungsziffern”) were probably added later, indicating that Mahler had tried, at some point, to structure his sketches in order to make something out of it. See Berg’s covers concerning the unknown Scherzo and Trio at SBW (MHc.14564) and the Presto in F major at the PML (M214 .U58a). 61

84  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Orchestral Draft for the First Movement After having prepared a short score for a whole movement, Mahler would proceed to the orchestral draft (Partiturentwurf). Only one of these drafts has survived for the Seventh, the Partitur for the first movement dated “August 15. 1905,” mentioned at the beginning of this chapter.64 Compared to the fair copy that exists for the Seventh, this Partitur shows an earlier stage of the scoring of the movement. While there is no extant Particell for a complete movement of the Seventh, a leaf inserted after the second page of the fourth bifolio in this Partitur is laid out in a Particell format, which provides an opportunity to compare it with the draft for the Scherzo mentioned earlier.65 This shows that even if the main function of an orchestral draft is to work out the orchestration of a whole movement, Mahler was still making important changes in the structure of the piece at this stage. Fair Copy Mahler prepared the fair copy of the Seventh during his 1905–​1906 season in Vienna.66 Alma Mahler sent the manuscript in 1917 to Willem Mengelberg, who later bequeathed it to the Concertgebouw, where it is still located today.67 On the occasion of the Mahler Festival in 1995, a facsimile of the manuscript was published, accompanied by a volume of commentaries by Reilly and Mitchell. As Reilly points out, Mahler’s fair copies do not record the work in its final version, but are merely the last autographs of the complete work. The fair copy was then transmitted to a professional copyist, and Mahler often made further revisions before turning it over to the publisher. The copyist’s score corrected by Mahler was, in many cases, the one used by the engraver (Stichvorlage).68 The differences that can be traced between the

 The score is titled “I. Satz /​Entwurf ” in blue pencil on the first page, and then “7. Symphonie /​I. Satz /​Partitur” in ink. See Appendix MS6 . New York Public Library, Digital Collections. 65   Mahler usually numbered his drafts on the first page of each bifolio (Reilly, “The Manuscripts of the Seventh,” 80). This numbering by bifolia appears on the orchestral draft for the first movement as well as on the fair copy. 66   See AME, 96, and Appendix MS7 . See NKG, 318, for the structure of the manuscript. Kubik notes that Mahler probably finished the fair copy at the end of the spring 1906. 67   See Alma Mahler, Mein Leben (Frankfurt am Main:  Fischer Bücherei, 1960), 124. As Kubik notes, the Preface of the facsimile of the Seventh Symphony wrongly states that Alma offered the fair copy to Mengelberg in 1920 on the occasion of the MahlerFest in Amsterdam (NKG, 317). See Facsimile of the Seventh, 7. 68   Mahler added blue numbers and corrections in red ink and black ink. 64

Compositional History : 85

copyist’s score and the printed text show that Mahler corrected the proofs after they were printed. The publication of the printed score was usually not Mahler’s last word, since he kept making revisions and corrections that needed to be incorporated in following editions.69 Copyist’s Score (Stichvorlage) The Stichvorlage (or Druckvorlage) for the Seventh is located at the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek in Vienna.70 The manuscript is labelled “Handschrift von Frau Mahler” (“handwritten manuscript by Frau Mahler”), which can lead to the erroneous conclusion that it was copied by Alma Mahler herself, while it was actually done by Emil Zöphel, Mahler’s main copyist during his tenure at the Vienna Court Opera.71 As Reilly noted, most of the variants that exist between the fair copy, the copyist’s score, and the published text concern the scoring and performance indications, but some of them also relate to Mahler’s treatment of the musical material.72 One of the most interesting changes that can be found in the fair copy is the later addition of the mandolin in the fourth movement, in pencil, at the bottom of the page.73 Reilly remarks that the printed score contains far more tempo markings than the fair copy, and in this context, quotes the following comment Mahler made to Bauer-​Lechner: All the most important things—​the tempo, the total conception, and structuring of a work—​are almost impossible to pin down. For here we are concerned with something living and flowing that can never be the same even twice in succession. That is why metronome markings are inadequate and almost worthless. . . . The right inter-​relationship of all the sections of the piece are much more important than the initial tempo. Whether the overall tempo is a degree faster or slower often

 Mahler’s latest revisions in the Seventh Symphony are listed in the critical edition of the work, published in 1960 by the Internationale Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft. The two sets of proofs that existed for the Seventh are missing. See Kubik, NKG, 313; and Appendix A. 70  Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna, Music Collection (Mus. Hs.29134). See Appendix MS8 . Digital access through the ÖNB online catalog. 71   See Kubik, “Foreword,” NKG, xix. According to Kubik, Zöphel also wrote the engraver’s copies for the Sixth and Eighth symphonies, as well as several Rückertlieder and Kindertotenlieder. See also Reinhold Kubik and David Pickett, “Do Not Forget that I Have the Most Sensitive, Most Reliable Copyist in Vienna . . .,” New about Mahler Research 54 (Autumn 2006), 32. 72   Reilly, “The Manuscripts of the Seventh Symphony,” 84. 73  See Facsimile fo the Seventh, 189, 196, 198, 200–​201, 204–​205, 208, 215–​17, 219–​20; and Chapter 9, “E minor to C major: From Night to Day.” 69

86  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony depends on the mood of the conductor; it may well vary slightly without detriment to the work. What matters is that the whole should be alive, and, within the bounds of this freedom, be built up with irrevocable inevitability.74

Mahler acknowledges tempo as a “living and flowing” thing “impossible to pin down,” but he still attempted to pin it down by adding numerous tempo markings in the score. That said, Mahler’s markings usually pertain to the “inter-​ relationship” of the different sections (“a bit slower,” “faster,” “no hurry”), which reveals a relative notion of tempo. Among the numerous changes of tempo markings between the fair copy and the copyist’s score, it is worth noting that several of the indications that seem significant for the characterization of the movements were lacking in the fair copy, and added only in the copyist’s score—​examples include the “Schattenhaft” of the Scherzo and the “Andante amoroso” of the second Nachtmusik (bearing the indication “Andante con moto” in the fair copy). Finally, it appears that Mahler decided at the last minute to have two “Nachtmusiken” in his Seventh, since the first was originally entitled “Nachtstück.” Printed Score, Critical Editions The Seventh was published in 1909 by Bote & Bock, and a four-​hands arrangement by Alfredo Casella quickly followed.75 It was the first volume to be issued in the critical edition in 1960, to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of Mahler’s birth.76 The Internationale Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft began the critical edition of Mahler’s works with the Seventh because, according to editor Erwin Ratz, it was the most needed.77 Mahler did not correct the proofs of the first edition with his usual care, and the original score contained, in addition to many changes he made after Amsterdam, some 800 printing errors. The 1960 critical edition is based on a comparison between Mahler’s fair copy, the copyist’s score, Mengelberg’s conducting score corrected by Mahler, the emended orchestral parts, and the list of corrections printed by

  NBLE, 46; NBL, 42.   Editions and sets of corrections are listed in the Appendix A. The exact date of publication of the Seventh is unknown, because we do not have access to the correspondence between Mahler and the publisher (see HLG3, 845). But we know that it was published before the performances of the Seventh in Holland, in October 1909. Casella’s arrangement was published by Bote & Bock in 1910. 76   Symphonie Nr. 7 in fünf Sätzen für grosses Orchester. Partitur. Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Band VII, ed. Erwin Ratz for the Internationale Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft in Vienna (Berlin and Wiesbaden: Bote & Bock, 1960) [KGA]. 77   Erwin Ratz, “Revisionsbericht” in KGA. See also HLG3, 845. 74 75

Compositional History : 87

Bote & Bock after the first edition, corrected by Mahler as well.78 One of the problems encountered by Ratz in establishing the text was the numerous differences between the 1909 printed score and the orchestral parts, as we cannot be certain that the parts accurately reflect changes required by Mahler during rehearsals. In his preface to the Eulenburg pocket score (1962), Hans Redlich explains his reasons for not including the corrections entered after the first edition: The present revision does not incorporate changes in orchestration and later modifications of tempo indications, as they occur in Bote & Bock’s “Druckfehler und Änderungen,” in Willem Mengelberg’s Amsterdam score and in contemporary band parts, carried out by Mahler, Mengelberg, and others during the two last years of Mahler’s life. These retouches lack final authenticity. . . . They might easily have been discarded, had Mahler lived longer and had he been given opportunities to hear the symphony more often and to prepare himself a revised edition of the full score.79

Thus, the Eulenburg pocket score is a revised edition of the 1909 first edition, which does not take later corrections into account. The new critical edition of the Seventh appeared in 2012, edited by Reinhold Kubik.80 ✽ ✽ ✽

The most striking characteristic of Mahler’s compositional materials for the Seventh is the large number of unidentified fragments that are mixed together with sketches used in the symphony. As mentioned earlier, around 1900 Mahler began to systematically use sketchbooks to store up musical ideas for future use. It is thus not surprising to find a significant quantity of unused music in sketchbooks, and the two specimens that have survived (in addition to the sketchbook leaves) confirm that this is the case. What is more surprising, though, is to find numerous fragments of unidentified music on oblong leaves containing sketches that chronologically follow the sketchbook stage; and we shall see that they yield insight into the compositional process for the Seventh. A manuscript at the Morgan Library may be related to the composition of the Seventh: a single leaf labeled “Coda der Themen,” which shares common features with the first and last movements.81 The motivic   See note 39 in this chapter, and Appendix A.   Redlich, Preface to the Eulenburg pocket score (1962), xi. 80   Symphonie Nr. 7 in fünf Sätzen für grosses Orchester. Partitur. Neue Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Band VII, ed. Reinhold Kubik for the Internationale Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft inVienna (Boosey & Hawkes–​Bote & Bock, 2012) [NKG]. 81   Morgan Library & Museum, New York, Morgan Collection, Bequest of Mrs. Wolfgang Rosé, M.214.U58b. See Appendix MS10 . This sketch is discussed in Chapter  8, “Sketches and Drafts.” Two other symphonic drafts bear some 78

79

88  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

material is close to the main theme of the first movement (which returns at the end of the Finale), and the harmonic pedal in a  measure recalls the codas to the first and last movements of the Seventh. The following chapters explore each of the five movements of the Seventh, both in their finished version and in their genesis, beginning with the Finale (Chapters 4 and 5), turning then to the Nachtmusiken (Chapter 6), the Scherzo (Chapter 7), and ending with the first movement (Chapter 8).

similarities to the Seventh: a “Presto” (Unidentified Draft A, PML, M.214.U58a) and a “Scherzo and Trio” (SBW , MHc 14564), both published in Renate Hilmar-​ Voit, Gustav Mahler: Symphonische Entwürfe. Faksimile nach Skizzen aus der Wiener Stadt-​und Landesbibliothek und der Pierpont Morgan Library New York (Tutzing: H. Schneider, 1991). “Coda der Themen” is reproduced in Hilmar-​Voit, p. 21.

Chapter 4

Rondo-​Finale

Last movements are a pitfall, I shall be careful. I only write one-​movement symphonies. —​Richard Wagner1

That the Finale of the Seventh played a central role in the reception of the work as “problematic” is confirmed by numerous accounts: If it had not been for its final movement, Mahler’s Seventh Symphony might have been the firm favorite among audiences and performers of his music.2 Mahler’s Seventh Symphony is undoubtedly one of the most controversial of all his symphonies. The Rondo-​Finale in particular has become the object of strong conflicting aesthetic judgments.3 None of Mahler’s works has proved so enigmatic as his Seventh Symphony, and most especially its finale, which has been discussed at great length.4

 Richard Wagner, in Cosima Wagner’s diary, 17.11.1881, in Bayreuther Blätter 61 [1938], 6: “Die letzten Sätze sind die Klippe, ich werde mich hüten, ich schreibe nur einsätzige Symphonien.” Quoted in Bernd Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls: Untersuchungen zum Finalproblem in den Symphonien Gustav Mahlers (Tutzing: Schneider, 1978), 33. 2   Jens Malte Fischer, Gustav Mahler (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2011), 458. 3   Peter Revers, “The Seventh Symphony,” in The Mahler Companion, eds. Donald Mitchell and Andrew Nicholson (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 376. 4   Stephen Hefling, “Techniques of Irony in Mahler’s Œuvre,” in Gustav Mahler et l’ironie dans la culture viennoise au tournant du siècle, Actes du colloque de Montpellier, 16–​18 juillet 1996, eds. André Castagné, Michel Chalon, and Patrick Forençon (Castelnau-​le-​ Lez: Editions Climats, 2001), 123. 1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

90  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony The Finale of the Seventh embarrasses even those who concede everything to Mahler.5

What are we to make of this theatrical music, with trumpets and drums, which so often seems to announce the arrival of something important that nevertheless remains unheard? Is it merely a failure, as has been sometimes suggested?6 Or should we take it ironically, as a musical essay on the impossibility of writing a jubilant rondo in the early twentieth century? The long-​held view of the Finale as an “embarrassment,” largely influenced by Adorno’s perspective, as well as the fact that most of the compositional materials we have for Mahler’s Seventh concern this movement, make it a good starting point for a close reading of the work. In this chapter I first examine the Finale in its finished form, in terms of structure and motivic treatment, focusing particularly on its strong rhetorical aspect. I then discuss several readings of the movement, early and more recent, which all highlight the interpretive difficulties raised by this piece.

Form and Content My analysis concentrates on two significant aspects of the Finale: moments of interruption in the musical flow—​“in-​between” spaces that have both an introductory and a concluding function; and the persistent cadencing of the movement. Since the Seventh’s first performance in 1908, critics have commented on the Finale’s similarities to Richard Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, referring particularly to the Ritornello theme. While I  encourage and deepen the connections between Mahler’s Seventh and Wagner’s Meistersinger in Chapter 9, I avoid them here in order to temporarily free the movement from this Wagnerian association. The difficulty in analyzing this movement as a traditional rondo form is to clearly identify a “ritornello” and contrasting episodes. To put it differently, it is challenging to distinguish between what remains “inside” the recurring refrain and what lies “outside”—​that is, what contrasts with regards to the established “norm” of the refrain.7 If the distinction seems straightforward  Theodor Adorno, Mahler:  A Musical Physiognomy, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 136. 6   See Adorno, Mahler, 137; Deryck Cooke, Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to His Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 90 (“There can be no question that the finale is largely a failure”); or Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 399–​401. 7  In Elements of Sonata Theory, the rondo is defined as a “structure built primarily on the juxtaposition of discrete sections, each of which is normally marked by memorably tuneful ideas. Its defining feature is the recurrence of a tonic-​key refrain 5

Rondo-Finale : 91

at the beginning, it becomes less clear as the movement unfolds, since the boundaries between the “inside” and the “outside” become increasingly less audible. By opting for a more basic formal scheme, I seek to reduce structural expectations in order to make more room for the complexity of this music. Part of the exasperation felt by some listeners seems to originate in a paradox: the music “wants” to sound straightforward, plain, jubilant, clearly shaped as a rondo, with a contrasting “episode” that could not be more clearly distinct from the ritornello. But the feeling that we are dealing with something familiar quickly gives way to unease, confusion, and questioning. Unease may be more difficult to accept when it occurs at a moment of confidence, when we think that we have control over what we hear, that we know how to decode and decipher the music. This familiarity with references implied in the Finale raises the level of auditory expectations, which are so brutally deceived that the listener’s confusion becomes even deeper.

The Finale’s Nine Sections

I divide the Finale into nine sections, determined according to the presence of audible formal markers (interruptions, and introductory and concluding gestures)8: 1–​6 7–​78

Introduction Section 1

(or ‘rondo theme’) separating the appearances of differing or contrasting episodes (‘couplets’), which are often . . . in non-​tonic keys.” James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy, Elements of Sonata Theory: Norms, Types, and Deformations in the Late-​Eighteenth-​Century Sonata (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 388.

 For my formal analysis of the Finale, see Appendix F5. I  chose Bernd Sponheuer, Hans Swarowsky, and Constantin Floros as “samples” for my comparative table because they each proposed their own formal and thematic analysis of the piece. We more or less all agree on the locations of ritornelli, except for two moments: at m. 268, which Floros did not mark as the beginning of a ritornello; and at m. 291, which both Sponheuer and Swarowsky considered as the continuation of the preceding ritornello. I hear the return of the refrain at both places, even though the thematic material undergoes more significant transformations here than in the other ritornelli. Floros and Sponheuer identify only eight ritornelli. See Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 376–​78; Hans Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt: Schriften über Werk und Wiedergabe, Stil und Interpretation in der Musik, ed. Manfred Huss (Universal Edition, Vienna, 1979), 151–​59; and Constantin Floros, Gustav Mahler: The Symphonies (Portland: Amadeus Press, 1997), 207–​208. 8

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79–​115 (Fig. 233) 116–​19 120–​85 (Fig. 238) 186–​88 189–​248 (Fig. 247-​4) 249–​68 (Fig. 254) 268–​90 (Fig. 256+5) 291–​359 (Fig. 259+3) 360–​442 (Fig. 268) 443–​45 446–​538 (Fig. 279-​3) 539–​57 (Fig. 290+2) 558–​90

Section 2 In-​between 1 Section 3 In-​between 2 Section 4: Inserts In-​between becomes a motive Section 5: Insert Section 6 Section 7: operatic allusions In-​between 3 Section 8:  interruption within interruption, In-​between 4 Section 9 Coda

Before the return of a clearly identifiable motivic element, musical events occur in the following order9:

• Introduction in E minor (mm. 1–​6) • Ritornello theme, divided into two sections (A1 and A2), in C major (mm. 7–​23) • Transition A, still in C major, built on the end of the introduction (mm. 23–​37) • Concluding group, based on motives derived from the preceding ones (introduction, A1, A2, Transition A, mm. 38–​51) • Contrasting Theme B in A♭ major (mm. 53–​78)

At m. 79 the Ritornello theme returns, and starting from there, some of the earlier-​mentioned events recur, as well as new ones, a certain number of times, always varied. Section 1 In the first section, the Ritornello theme in C major (A1 + A2) is introduced by six measures in E minor, with brief incursions in B minor and G major (mm. 1–​6, Fig. 223).10 The move from E minor to C major reflects the tonal path of the Seventh as a whole, which starts with a first movement in   See Appendix M5 for a motivic table.   Sponheuer, Swarowsky, and Floros identify the “ritornello” as the succession of the main theme, Transition A, and the concluding group, with one major difference: Sponheuer is the only one (and I follow him) not to include the introduction within the ritornello. Indeed, the introduction has a special status in the movement 9

10

Rondo-Finale : 93

E minor and ends with a Finale in C major. Moreover, the B minor (mm. 3–​ 4)–​E minor (mm. 5–​6)–​C major (mm. 7ff ) progression of this introduction also reflects the tonal path of the first movement in E minor, with an introduction in B minor and a secondary theme in C major. As Sponheuer notes, the very first notes of the Finale feature a fanfare-​like timpani figure marked “brilliantly” (“mit Bravour”), which establishes a pompous and festive atmosphere.11 These first measures (mm. 1–​6) have both an introductory and a concluding character. The music at first seems to announce an important arrival, creating a sense of expectation, while its descending broken-​scale contour achieves the opposite effect, bringing the melodic line down to a hurried resolution.12 This broken-​scale descent at the outset of the movement suggests several associations. It can be heard as a condensed and more theatrical version of the opening of the Fourth Symphony; but instead of introducing a “grazioso” violin melody, the broken-​scale motive leads to a noisy brass theme.13 It also recalls Julius Fučík’s “Entrance of the Gladiators,” with its chromatic turn-​around achieving a similar effect of a descent making detours (two steps down, one step up, etc.). The arrival announced by fanfare and timpani is the Ritornello theme, divided into two sections (A1 and A2, mm. 7–​23).14 Both parts of this “majestic” theme are brought to a conclusion by emphatic cadences.15 In fact, the very substance of the Ritornello

and never returns with the ritornello (except in sections 6 and 9, but it is played simultaneously with the Ritornello theme and does not precede it).  Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 365.   Richard Specht and Karl Weigl both qualify only the first two measures (i1 and i2) as important thematic elements in the introduction, and not the broken-​scale descent (i3), on which the theme Transition A is built. See Specht, “Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” Der Merker 2 (1909): 1–​8, 7; and Weigl, “Gustav Mahler. VII. Symphonie in E moll,” in Mahlers Symphonien, ed. Edgar Istel (Berlin: Schlesinger, 1910), 150. 13   My thanks to Seth Monahan for drawing my attention to this similarity. 14  Specht identifies only the first part of the Ritornello theme (A1) as “Hauptthema,” calling the second part (A2) a “Seitenmotiv” (“secondary motive”), as if these two themes had a different status in the structure (“Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” 7). Weigl considers A2 a “second form” of the main theme. Within A2, Weigl distinguishes the main melody in the strings from the sixteenth-​note figure played by the woodwinds (“Gustav Mahler. VII. Symphonie in E moll,” 136–​54). This sixteenth-​note motive appears three times alone throughout the Finale, and signals the “coda-​like” gesture closing the C major section of the first ritornello, which foreshadows the final cadence of the movement. 15   The beginning of A1 is marked “maestoso” (m. 7). 11

12

94  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

theme consists of exaggerated concluding gestures. Indeed, the cadence concluding A2 seems to be the event toward which everything that precedes it has tended. The theme that follows, Transition A (m. 23, Fig. 226), constitutes an important thematic reservoir in the Finale.16 Since Transition A begins with the broken-​scale motive of the introduction (ia3 or ta1), the Ritornello theme is framed by this descending motive: Intro (i1, i2, i3)–​Ritornello (A1 + A2)–​TA (ta1 [cf. i3], ta2, ta3) This broken-​scale motive is thus associated with both what precedes and what follows the ritornello. Introduction and conclusion share common material, which contributes to the confusion between introductory and concluding gestures that characterizes the Finale. Moreover, the broken-​ scale motive is a hallmark of “in-​betweens” discussed later, which both announce a forthcoming event and noisily conclude another. This confusion of beginnings and ends also extends to ascending and descending motions, since the broken-​scale motive is made of descending steps contradicted by ascending ones. After this short introduction, the harmony remains in the tonic (C major) until the abrupt arrival of Theme B, in A♭ major (m. 53, three before Fig. 230). As if the key were not established firmly enough, this long C major passage is punctuated not by one, but by three conclusive cadences (mm. 13–​15, 20–​23, and 42–​50).17 The third cadence, with its “coda-​like” gesture (mm. 47–​51), anticipates the last measures of the entire movement and presents a “regular” version of the final cadence, which will be diverted by an augmented triad at the penultimate measure. The first fifty measures of music show a strong concluding tendency, as if the musical motion were irresistibly drawn to the tonic of C major. As mentioned earlier, even the descending broken-​ scale motive closing the introduction (i3) has a certain concluding quality, recalling the introductory gesture of the second Nachtmusik. At m. 51, an A♭ major triad is superimposed on a C dyad, briefly creating the impression of two worlds colliding.18 This striking moment brings a new

  Sponheuer notes that the “Nachsatz” (my Transition A) “forms the real and only dynamic motivic component of the movement.” Logik des Zerfalls, 368–​69 and 373–​74. 17   See Table 4.3. 18  Swarowsky notes the (enharmonic) third-​relationships of the Finale’s key areas: C major–​E minor, C major–​A♭ major, C major–​A minor, A major–​D♭ major, etc. Wahrung der Gestalt, 153. 16

Rondo-Finale : 95

theme (B), which contrasts radically with what precedes it; the solemn march gives way to a gentle pastoral moment.19 Both Richard Specht and Karl Weigl hear “bagpipe sonorities” in Theme B, and Ritter notes its “insolently Slovak instrumentation.”20 Whatever the perspective, Theme B sounds “local” and rustic.21 While Theme B dissipates, the Ritornello theme returns for the first time, abruptly interrupting the “morendo” of this A♭ major episode. Section 2 Some of this material recurs in section 2 (m. 79, Fig. 233), but in a truncated form—​the first part of the Ritornello theme (A1), as well as Theme B, are missing. The perfect authentic cadence closing A2 (mm. 84–​86) is similar to the one heard in section 1 (mm. 20–​23), but its monumental character is further exaggerated: the melody reaches a climactic upper C, marked poco ritardando and then “Pesante.” Ironically, since there is a short fermata on the dominant chord just before the resolution on the tonic of C major, this exaggerated gesture is prevented from resolving “on time.” Transition A then reappears in a varied form, in  instead of , almost caricatured: the detached articulation, numerous trills, and constant changes of dynamics (fp, pp subito) give it an affected character (m. 87). A new theme in  (Theme C) marked “Grazioso,” built on accented repeated notes belonging to the end of Transition A  (ta3), is then juxtaposed with this varied version of Transition A (m. 100).22 Thus, Theme C begins as a superimposition of two motives belonging to Transition A, the descending broken-​scale (ta1 or i3) and the repeated notes (ta3). These two motives serve as a basis for several of the new elements that will begin to proliferate and reappear throughout

  Theme B has been sometimes heard as an allusion to Franz Lehár’s Die lustige Witwe, Act II, “Lippen schwiegen.” However, Die lustige Witwe was premiered in Vienna only in December 1905, after the completion of the Seventh. 20  Specht, “Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” 7; Weigl, “Gustav Mahler. VII. Symphonie in E moll,” 151; Ritter in William Ritter chevalier de Gustav Mahler:  Ecrits, correspondance, documents, ed. Claude Meylan (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000), 175–​79 [Ri09, 1912]. 21  Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 375. 22   See Appendix M5. As opposed to Sponheuer, Swarowsky does not consider Theme C as a second episode, but merely as a counterpoint (“Gegenstimme”) to Transition A. La Grange agrees with Swarowsky that Theme C “is not a true theme, but a motive varied five times and always superimposed on another” (HLG3, 877). This does not reflect the way Theme C is used throughout the movement, as a true contrasting theme, one that possesses a distinctive and clearly recognizable character, even though it is derived from Transition A. 19

96  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

the movement from this point on. The dance features of the “Grazioso” theme C contrasts with the preceding themes, more oriented toward the march (A1, A2, and TA). In fact, Mahler specifically associated Theme C with the minuet, while staying clear of it at the same time, when he marks that it should be played “Graziosissimo, almost Minuet” (m. 422, three before Fig. 276).23 At m. 116 there is another abrupt interruption, similar to the return of the ritornello at m.  79. The passage marked “Pesante,” played forte subito, possesses both a concluding and an introductory function. Beginning as a variant of Theme C (itself a variant of Transition A), with accented repeated notes (ta3) at the upper voice and the broken-​scale motive (i3) at the bass, it becomes a strong concluding cadence in G major, where we hear, again, the broken-​scale motive which now brings us back to C major. This moment (mm. 116–​19) is a turning point in the musical discourse, standing out as an event meant to call the listener’s attention in a particular way, “in-​ between” two sections and functioning as a threshold, both as an entrance toward something new and as a point of departure. This first In-​between, foreshadowed by the presence of repeated notes, is tonally connected to what precedes it. Section 3 Similarly, what happens next seems to correspond to what the In-​between announces with great pomp: the return of the Ritornello theme, this time in its complete form (m. 120, Fig. 238). But here, as opposed to its first appearance, the passage from A1 to A2 is carried out through a deceptive cadence (m. 128), that we will hear once again in the very last section of the Finale (m. 546, Fig.  291). The frequency of authentic cadences throughout the movement draws attention to these two deceptive motions and gives them a particular weight. Moreover, the authentic cadence ending A2 in this section is so unobtrusive (m. 136), compared to the ones heard in the previous two sections, that it redirects our attention to the deceptive cadence. In section 1, Transition A had concluded with a few measures (mm. 38–​ 47) built on a combination of motives taken from TA, from the introduction and from A1, leading into a tonic pedal functioning as a coda (mm. 47–​51). These measures appear again in section 3, varied (mm. 143–​47); but Theme A1 is spelled out here, whereas we could only hear its head in section 1. The music could progress toward the coda-​like gesture again, but it does not.   “Graziosissimo, beinahe Menuett.” Emphasis is mine. La Grange and Floros both describe the Grazioso theme as a minuet. See HLG3, 879; and Floros, The Symphonies, 210. 23

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Instead of the abrupt juxtaposition of C major and A♭ major heard at the end of the coda in the first section (m. 51), Theme B is introduced smoothly, with the timpani’s entrance on A while C major is fading away (m. 153). Here C major becomes A minor through common-​tone modulation, whereas in the first section A♭ major intruded and collided with C major. Section 3 is structurally similar to section 1: both display the complete form of the Ritornello theme (A1 + A2), while sections 2 and 4 begin directly with A2. Thematic elements occur in the same order (Themes A1 + A2–​Transition A–​Theme B), but they are not linked to each other in the same way. The cadences in C major that were so persistent in section 1 are altered here: the first becomes a deceptive cadence, the second is authentic but goes almost unnoticed, and the coda-​like gesture is omitted. As was the case between sections 2 and 3, we have an In-​between dividing sections 3 and 4 (mm. 186–​88, three after Fig. 246). The main motivic difference between these two In-​betweens is that here, the descending broken-​scale motive (i3) follows the repeated notes (ta3) instead of being sounded simultaneously. This new configuration will become the hallmark of a new motive, called here the “Entführung motive” because of its similarity to the chorus of the Janissaries at the end of Mozart’s Die Entfürhung aus dem Serail (Act III, Finale).24 This motive will be heard in its complete realization between section 4 and section 5 (m. 249–​68), then again in section 7 (m. 368). As opposed to In-​between 1, which brought us back to C major, In-​ between 2 jumps into D♭ major (m. 189), breaking the harmonic connection between the announcement (a ritornello in A minor) and the arrival of what is announced (a ritornello in D♭). This shift begins to show the diverting power of In-​betweens.

  This relationship has been noticed in most writings on the Finale of the Seventh. See, for example, HLG3, 879; Steven Gordon, Mahler’s Seventh Symphony, Modernism, and the Crisis of Austrian Liberalism, PhD dissertation (University of California, Los Angeles, 1998), 292; Revers, “The Seventh Symphony,” 378; Fischer, Gustav Mahler, 461 (“as if the Janissaries’ march from Die Entführung aus dem Serail had been instrumented by Strauss”); Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move: His Seventh Symphony,” in Discovering Mahler: Writings on Mahler 1955–​2005, ed. Gastón Fournier-​Facio (Rochester: Boydell & Brewer, 2007), 408; Hefling, “Techniques of irony,” 125–​26. Hefling traces the connection to Mozart to the theme Transition A, suggesting that it “may have been [Mahler’s] first inspiration for the finale” because a sketch for Transition A is found in the Vienna sketchbook (fol. 29r). This sketch is discussed in Chapter 5. 24

98  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Section 4 As in section 2, the second part of the Ritornello theme (A2) signals the beginning of a new section (m. 189, four before Fig. 247). The authentic cadence closing A2 is as monumental as it was in sections 1 and 2 and, as in section 2, its resolution is briefly interrupted before the beginning of Transition A (m. 196). At the end of section 4, in the middle of a peaceful passage of chamber-​like music combining Theme B with the “Grazioso” theme C, exuding the charm of Viennese dance in an exaggerated way,25 two measures marked “flott” (“fast,” “lively”) are inserted (mm. 239–​40, two before Fig.  253), brutally interrupting the Viennese idyll, as did the In-​betweens. The “flott” insert represents the first contamination of In-​betweens within a section; these noisy intrusions are no longer thresholds but have become part of the substance of the section, blurring boundaries between the inside and the outside. Here remain only the accented repeated notes indicating the beginning of such interruptions—​accompanied by the timpani figure that appears for the first time with Transition A at m. 87—​without the broken-​ scale descent (i3). The charming “Grazioso” theme resumes its course, undisturbed (m. 241, Fig. 253). A few measures later though (m. 246), the “flott” insert returns, triggering a significant development:  the “Grazioso” theme does not reappear, but is replaced by the insert itself which becomes a motive—​the Entführung motive (mm. 249–​68, Fig. 254). This new motive is built from the combination of the In-​between moments and the “flott” inserts (repeated notes ta3, broken-​scale i3). Retrospectively, these interruptions can be heard as foreshadowing the appearance of the Entführung motive. In sum, what was previously interrupting and intruding with trumpets and drums into the main motivic substance of the sections becomes the substance itself at m. 249. The Viennese minuet (Theme C), which constitutes the main motivic material of section 4, is replaced by the orientalist percussion of the Entführung motive, and thus the earlier intruder has succeeded in making itself at home. This marks the beginning of the end. Things quickly get out of control (m. 267), as if chaos were taking over Viennese civilization. The tension increases until the musical discourse collapses (mm. 267–​68).26 This D♭ major fall is then interrupted by the arrival of the Ritornello theme in C major, marking the beginning of a new section.

  M. 231 is marked “Recht gemessen,” (grave, measured), and the strings are required to play the characteristic ascending leap of an octave portamento (mm. 233–​35), as if to exaggerate the charming character of the music. 26   On collapses, see Chapter 2. 25

Rondo-Finale : 99

Section 5 The assimilation of this intrusive gesture has significant consequences for what follows. The Ritornello theme is transformed to such an extent in section 5 (m. 268, four after Fig. 256) that some do not consider it as a proper ritornello.27 A1 is rhythmically augmented and combined with the “Grazioso” theme C and the Entführung motive (mm. 272–​73), so as to reflect the transforming power of these inserts becoming substance. Thus, at this point, the Entführung motive contaminates not only secondary themes, but also the main substance of the movement: the Ritornello theme. A1 ends on an E major triad that could lead to the dominant and tonic of C, as it did between A1 and A2 in section 1 (mm. 13–​15). Instead, a combination of A1 and A2 is restated in E major (mm. 278–​81), and again a major third above (G♯ major, here spelled A♭ major, mm. 282–​85). While the horns and trumpets play this layered Ritornello theme, the violins present a fragment of Transition A (ta2). The insert heard at m. 286 (three before Fig. 259, here marked “Pesante” but not “flott”) is less marked than the previous interruptions. The presence of repeated notes, as well as the timpani rhythm typical of the previous inserts, help to merge this moment within the musical flow. This “Pesante” passage does not interrupt anything:  what precedes moves toward it and, tonally, it brings us back to the tonic of C major. In short, the contamination process of In-​betweens begins with the invasion of sections themselves (inserts “flott” in section 4), leading to the assimilation of the outsider into a new motive alla turca, which will then make the world collapse. In section 5, the insert loses its outsider quality; it has been too much assimilated to act as an interruption. In fact, the assimilation of the insert with the rondo’s main substance, the Ritornello theme, makes section 5 an interruption in itself. Section 6 The authentic cadence in C major that is about to conclude the Grazioso theme C deviates at the last minute on the major submediant (A major), instead of the expected tonic C (m. 291, two after Fig. 259). Section 6 therefore opens with the Ritornello theme in A major, combined with two other elements: motives taken from the introduction (i1 and i2), returning for the first time since the beginning of the movement, as well as the theme Transition A.  As in section 5, the Ritornello theme is radically transformed here, to

 See Floros, The Symphonies, 207; and Martin Scherzinger, “The Finale of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony:  A Deconstructive Reading,” Music Analysis 14, no. 1 (1995): 75. Floros considers the passage between mm. 268–​90 (my section 5) as a “development-​like passage.” 27

100  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

the extent that it could be considered as merely the continuation of the preceding section.28 Here, as we heard at the end of section 5, the heavy authentic cadence is avoided with a spectacular leap to yet another major submediant (G♭ major, enharmonically F♯, m. 307, three after Fig. 261).29 With the arrival of G♭ major, we hear music that was previously associated with the coda-​like gesture (mm. 47–​51), foreshadowing the very end of the symphony (m. 585ff ). The concluding coda, however, is interrupted by Theme B (m. 309), more developed here than in the previous sections.30 Section 7 The return of the Ritornello theme in B♭ major (m. 360, Fig.  268), interrupting a cadence in G♭ major, signals the beginning of a new section. A1 is pompously supported by Parsifalesque bells and a tuba descending in fourths, but it concludes too quickly on an authentic cadence in F major—​ which could also be heard as a B♭ major half cadence since the following measures are in this key.31 This ritornello, which almost sounds like an insert, a brief recollection interrupting the main course of events, leads directly to the Entführung motive (m. 368, Fig. 269), here even closer to Mozart’s chorus of the Janissaries in Die Entführung aus dem Serail than its previous appearance at m. 249, particularly in terms of its alla turca orchestration (strings, bass drum, and cymbals).32 For the second time, the Turkish allusion disintegrates toward a collapsing scale (m. 400, Fig. 273), which brings back Theme C, no longer “Grazioso” and charming, but rather rushed, like a train traveling too fast. The tempo quickly slows down, allowing this theme to reappear in its initial character, in C major (m. 411). After a passage combining thematic elements from the Ritornello theme, Transition A, and Theme C, we hear   See Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 377 and 388; Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt, 157; and HLG3, 876. 29   Between mm. 291 and 307, the harmony drops down by minor thirds (C to A to G♭/​F♯). The spectacular aspect of this modulation is reinforced by the tam-​tam at m. 307. 30   The development of Theme B produces new motives that do not reappear in the movement (m. 332, including the flutter-​tonguing moment). 31  The bells and descending fourths (tuba) bring to mind the Transformation Music in Wagner’s Parsifal (Acts I and III). 32  The cymbals also appear the first time, but later (m. 255). On the alla turca topic in Mozart, see Benjamin Perl, “Mozart in Turkey,” Cambridge Opera Journal 12 (2001): 219–​35. Walter Frisch suggests that the Mozart allusion is “perhaps a more general reference to ‘Turkish’ music as represented by the Classical Composers.” German Modernism:  Music and the Arts (Berkeley and Los Angeles:  University of California Press, 2005), 286, note 59. 28

Rondo-Finale : 101

something that sounds “so old, and yet so new” (m. 434).33 Like Theme C and the Entführung motive, this new motive is derived from Transition A—​ with its repeated notes and broken-​scale descent—​but the result of this variation allows for a new association, here with French operetta, Jacques Offenbach’s “cancan” in Orphée aux Enfers.34 Mahler’s softer and slower version of the cancan brings to mind another reinterpretation of Offenbach, when tortoises dance the cancan (or imagine dancing it) in Camille Saint-​Saëns’s Carnival of the Animals. As in Mahler’s Finale, Saint-​Saëns’s cancan has lost its exalted quality to become a faraway reminiscence. This Cancan motive leads to another In-​between (m. 443, two after Fig. 278), very similar to the first one, which also has the function of bringing back the Ritornello theme, but now in D major, marking the beginning of a new section (m. 446).35 Section 7 is characterized by the presence of operatic motives, reminiscent of Mozart’s Entführung aus dem Serail and Offenbach’s Orphée aux Enfers. I will return to the question of operatic allusions in the Finale later, but, for the moment, let us keep in mind that Mahler’s allusions to music alla turca, with bass drums and cymbals, as well as to French cancan—​two different forms of Otherness—​are crucial components of this heterogeneous movement. Section 8 Section 8 (m. 446, three before Fig. 279) brings back a structurally significant element, the main theme of the first movement. Both the head of the

  This is Hans Sachs’s assessment of Walther’s song in Wagner’s Meistersinger (Act II, Scene 3, “Was duftet doch der Flieder”). 34   “Ce bal est original, d’un galop infernal.” (Act II, Scene 2). See Appendix M5. This scene belongs to the Finale of the opera, like the Entführung quotation. According to Knud Martner, Mahler conducted Orphée when he was in Kassel (1883–​ 1885). See Martner, “Mahler im Opernhaus,” in Neue Mahleriana: Essays in Honour of Henry-​Louis de La Grange on His Seventieth Birthday, ed. Günther Weiss (Bern: Peter Lang, 1997), 169. However, Timothy Freeze recently suggested that this was not the case. See Freeze, “‘Fit for an Operetta’:  Mahler and the Popular Music of His Day,” in Mahler im Kontext/​Contextualizing Mahler, eds. Erich Wolfgang Partsch and Morten Solvik (Vienna:  Böhlau Verlag, 2011), 365–​96. Mahler may have conducted Orphée when he was in Bad Hall, but there is no comprehensive account of his repertoire there. See also Donald Mitchell, Gustav Mahler: The Early Years (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1980), 109. 35   Harmonically In-​between 1 and In-​between 3 progress in a similar way, using the circle of fifths (B–​E–​A–​D–​G–​C at m. 116, and C♯–​F♯–​B–​E–​A–​D at m. 443). In-​between 1 was used to go from D major to C major, whereas here it is the opposite (we go from C to D). 33

102  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ritornello theme (A1, accompanied by bells as in section 7) and the theme of the first movement are played successively by the same instruments—​ horns, mm. 447 and 455—​and start with the same pitches (D4–​A3), which draws attention to their thematic connection. The whole extent of their relationship will be revealed at the end of the symphony, when we hear the theme of the first movement in C major at m. 581 (See Ex. 4.1). Theme A, set in the first movement in E minor (at m. 50), is heard successively in D minor (m. 455), C♯ minor (m. 465) and C minor (m. 476).36 There the tempo broadens and the climax is approaching, but the progression is interrupted at m. 486 (two before Fig. 284) with the Cancan motive in B major, marked “flott” like the inserts in section 4. As shown in the next chapter, Mahler’s compositional materials demonstrate a clear case of correspondence between the Seventh’s final form and its genetic history: a passage inserted later in a preliminary draft sounds precisely like an insert in the finished work.37 The Cancan interrupts the transposition pattern of the theme of the first movement; but, at the same time, it makes the chromatic transition between C minor and B♭ minor (m. 492). Theme A in B♭ minor leads to another In-​ between (m. 500), comparable to the previous ones in terms of a similar heralding quality, weight, and slowing down of the tempo (“Breiter,” Rit.). As was the case at mm. 479–​85, tension increases and seems to announce a climax, and this time we reach it (m. 506, Fig. 286). The climax is not, as we may expect, crowned with the return of the Ritornello theme, but with a reiteration of the theme of the first movement, “solemn” (“Feierlich”), in D♭ major, contrapuntally combined with Theme C.38 Theme C, as if fighting for supremacy against the theme of the first movement, manages to reappear alone in C major, under its former charming Viennese minuet guise (m. 517). The D♭ descending scale erupts brutally (m. 536, Fig. 290), marking the third collapse of the movement, crashing into the Ritornello theme in C major. The theme of the first movement constitutes the main substance of section 8. The Ritornello theme is incomplete, since we only hear the head of A1. Here, in fact, the Finale’s material is constantly interrupted by material from the first movement (in bold): Section 8 (mm. 446–​538): Ritornello A1 (incomplete)   The pizzicato chord played by the violins at m. 465 recalls the sounds of the guitar and mandolin in the second Nachtmusik. 37   See Chapter 5, “The Paris Sketchbook Leaves and the Moldenhauer Sketches.” 38   At the first appearance of the theme of the first movement (m. 455), it is also combined with a new theme that can be heard as an inversion of Theme C (violin I). See Appendix M5. 36

Rondo-Finale : 103

/​ Theme A VII/​1 (Dm, C♯m, Cm) /​Cancan (BM), m. 486 /​ Theme A VII/​1 (B♭m) /​ Theme  C In turn, the series of quotations from the first movement are interrupted by the Cancan motive at m. 486. This interruption-​within-​an-​interruption asks the question of the relationship between the norm and the exception. Since the musical discourse is frequently interrupted, what constitutes the main discourse and which elements can be identified as interrupting “outsiders”? When the “flott” insert becomes the Entführung motive, the outside becomes the inside, and the intruding element becomes main substance. When material from the Finale interrupts material from the first movement, itself intruding into the Finale, it becomes difficult to establish boundaries between the inside and outside, norm and exception, main discourse and foreign elements, or even first and last movements—​beginning and end. As in a Viennese Reigen (round dance), the music keeps circling, alternating ritornello and episodes in such a way that one loses track of time . . . the devilish Rondo could continue until death occurs.39 Section 9 The last section (m. 539, two after Fig 290) can be heard as a recapitulation, briefly re-​presenting the Ritornello theme followed by Transition A, similar to their initial exposition (even if A2 is melodically inverted here). The motives heard in the introduction to the movement (i1 and i2) reappear (as in section 6), coloring the C major of the ritornello with A minor. A1 moves to A2 through a deceptive cadence (m. 546), recalling the one heard in section 3 (m. 128). The coda (m. 558, Fig. 293) is built on A1, which is presented in C and E major with, in between, part of the concluding group heard at mm. 38ff (m. 566). The Ritornello theme is here accompanied by bells and cowbells, an important sonic feature of the first Nachtmusik.40 E major quickly drops down to   I refer to Arthur Schnitzler’s play Reigen (1897).   On cowbells, see Chapter 6. In the fair copy, “Herdenglocken” (cowbells) were added in ink on the top staff from mm. 559–​61, then are noted at the right place in the score from mm. 562–​84. See Gustav Mahler: Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, eds. Donald Mitchell and Edward Reilly (Amsterdam: Rosbeek Publishers, 1995), 300–​ 301. The bells, played with the cowbells at mm. 559–​65, are missing in the fair copy but present in the copyist’s score (see pp. 288–​89, online access through ÖNB catalog, cf. Appendix MS8  ). 39

40

104  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

C major again, where the theme of the first movement is heard in C, making its connection with the Ritornello theme of the Finale audible (Ex. 4.1): Ex. 4.1  Theme A in VII/​1; A1 and A + A1 in VII/​5 50

Seventh Symphony, first movement

A ff 7

Seventh Symphony, Finale

A1 ff

581 A+A1 ff

Theme A had already appeared in major at the end of the first movement, but there in E major (m. 394, “Grandioso”). Finally, the coda-​like gesture that concluded the first fifty measures of the movement (mm. 47–​51) reappears for the last time, but not without a surprise: the C triad is augmented. This twist is resolved one measure later, but the resolution is rather abrupt, since the voices playing G♯ do not move on G natural but jump to C and E.41

Rondo or Sonata Form?

Sponheuer discusses the possibility of analyzing the movement as a combination of rondo and sonata form (with “A” for Ritornello theme, “B” for Theme B, and “C” for Theme C)42:

  This ending recalls the conclusion of the Fifth Symphony, pausing on ♭vi before cadencing in D major. 42   See Appendix F5. 41

Rondo-Finale : 105

Exposition (mm. 1–​152): Development (mm. 153–​268): Recapitulation (mm. 269–​454): Coda (mm. 455–​end):

A–​B–​A–​C–​A B–​A–​B–​C–​B+C A–​B–​A–​C–​A A–​B+C–​A

Following this pattern, the exposition and the recapitulation have a parallel structure. However, Sponheuer argues against this proposition for two main reasons. First, the recapitulation would start with the only ritornello that is truly developmental (section 5 of my analysis), and second, the movement is more sequential than developmental—​and this is a central idea in Sponheuer’s analysis. We could add to these objections that labeling the beginning of the development section at m. 153 (toward the end of my section 3) is arbitrary, since the material is not any more developed here than elsewhere in the movement. Hans Swarowsky also discusses the possibility of hearing the movement as a sonata-​rondo, but his analysis of the Finale differs from Sponheuer’s in a number of significant ways.43 On a structural level, Swarowsky divides the Finale into four sections, each one (except for the last) constituted by a refrain, a couplet, and a refrain-​variation. Swarowsky also notes that this four-​part schema has the potential to recall sonata form, with the first part considered to be the exposition, the second a varied repetition of the exposition, the third the development, and the last part the recapitulation, reprise, and coda. As indicated in Table 4.1, even though Sponheuer and Swarowsky both explore the possibility of interpreting the movement in terms of sonata form, they have divergent views on the realization of the form within the movement. Swarowsky’s sonata schema is more convincing than Sponheuer’s. First, it highlights the parallelism between sections 1–​2 (exposition) and sections 3–​4 (exposition varied): sections 1 and 3 both have the complete Ritornello theme (A1 + A2) followed by Transition A, and then the contrasting appearance of Theme B, while sections 2 and 4 start directly with the second part of the Ritornello theme (A2). Second, Swarowsky’s development section begins precisely where most other analysts use the term “development” (m. 269): Sponheuer describes the fifth ritornello (my section 5) as the only one that is really developmental (as opposed to sequential),44 and Floros did

 Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt, 152.  Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 387.

43

44

106  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Table 4.1  Sponheuer’s and Swarowsky’s analyses Sponheuer (1978)

Swarowsky (1979)

Exposition (mm. 1–​152) Dev. (mm. 153–​268) Recap. (mm. 269–​454) Coda (mm. 455–​end)

Exposition (mm. 1–​119) Expo. varied (mm. 120–​268) Dev. (mm. 269–​445) Recap. (mm. 446–​end)

not mark it as the beginning of a ritornello.45 Finally, the key of D major and the absence of a complete Ritornello theme at m. 446 seems at first to contradict the idea of a recapitulation starting here; but the significant return which appears in section 8—​the main theme of the first movement—​could be seen as taking the place of the recapitulation of the Ritornello theme.46 Swarowsky’s and Sponheuer’s common rejections of a sonata form interpretation are built on opposing grounds. Where Sponheuer deplored the lack of real developmental drive in the Finale, Swarowsky saw “permanent development” and “uninterrupted transformations of form.”47 The problematic equation made here between development and variation is explained in the introduction to Swarowsky’s chapter on the Seventh, in which he clearly states that Mahler’s motives develop from a kernel by being “constantly altered,” referring to Schoenberg’s “developing variation.”48 These analyses show that the Finale cannot be easily explained in terms of traditional formal categories, which indicates the need for a more basic formal scheme avoiding clear distinctions between “ritornelli” and “episodes.” Before considering different interpretive stances for this movement, let us return to two of its most significant characteristics: the In-​betweens, strong

 Floros’s overview of the Finale is close to Sponheuer’s analysis. See The Symphonies, 206–​11. “The structure of the movement can be understood as sequential, as Sponheuer remarked, and not as developmental” (208). 46  That said, Swarowsky’s analysis lacks clarity in detailing the theme’s components. His system of combinations of motives is so confusing that La Grange, who chose to follow Swarowsky’s analysis over Sponheuer’s—​because he found the latter to be “less clear in characterizing episodes, motifs, and their combinations, as well as the elements of variation fundamental to this Rondo”—​gives an erroneous account of the former. See HLG3, 873–​88. Stephen Gordon also adopted Swarowsky’s formal analysis of the Finale (“Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” 237–​38). 47  Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt, 152. 48  Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt, 135. 45

Rondo-Finale : 107

rhetorical formulae which summon the listener’s attention in a particular way; and the Finale’s persistent cadencing.

In-​betweens

As shown in Table 4.2, In-​betweens share a number of common features, which contribute to isolate these moments from their context: • Tempo or expressive markings that differentiate these moments from what precedes and follows them; • Motivic material derived from Transition A and from the introduction (the dactylic rhythm from i1, the broken-​scale motive i3, and the accented repeated notes ta3). Ta3 and i3 either appear superimposed upon each other (In-​betweens 1, 3, and 4), or succeed to each other (In-​between 2, which prefigures the Entführung motive). • Abrupt changes of key, before or after • Massive orchestration (except In-​between 2) • Forte or fortissimo dynamics and accented notes.

The introduction belongs to this table because it constitutes the motivic matrix of inserts and In-​betweens. By definition, the introduction does not interrupt anything in the Finale since it is the beginning of the movement, although it could perhaps be heard as interrupting the “morendo” ending of the second Nachtmusik. Moreover, the introduction shares with the In-​ betweens both an introductory and a concluding character. What is the function of these In-​betweens? Do they introduce change? Are they used as turning points? Four of these moments act as thresholds between sections, leading back to the Ritornello theme:  the initial introduction and In-​betweens 1, 2, and 3. The other moments all appear within a section. The “Pesante” passage in section 5 is motivically close to the “flott” inserts, but, as we have seen, it is more successfully integrated into the surrounding passage. Sponheuer is one of the few questioning the function of these rhetorical moments. Referring to them as “Kadenzfiguren,” Sponheuer observes that while these “boastful” gestures seem at first to announce something new, in the end they only lead to a repetition of the main theme. This comment reflects the discrepancy noted earlier, between the announcement and the actual arrival of what is announced.49 The author implies that these moments have both a concluding and an introductory function, but he does not offer a detailed discussion of this ambiguity. Maybe more clearly  Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 384.

49

(186–​88) In-​between 2

Section 3

(116–​19) In-​between 1

Section 2

(mm.  1–​6) Introduction

Location

Pesante

Pesante

mit Bravour

Exp., Tempo markings

ta3, i3

ta3 (rep. notes) + i3

i1 (dactylic) i2 (trills) i3 (broken-​scale, dot. rhythm)

Motivic material

Am //​D♭M

DM //​ -​-​CM

Em //​CM

Keys

Table 4.2  In-​betweens in the Finale

Strings, bass drum

Tutti

Timpani Horns Woodwinds

Orchestration

ff, sf >

f subito >

ff, sfp

Dynamics, articulation

ta3, i3

Fliessend

Zurückhaltend (Molto pesante)

Breiter

Section 8 (500–​505) In-​between 4 ta3, ia3

ta3 + i3

ta3 + rhythm from i1

ta3 + rhythm from i1 -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

Wieder flott -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

Pesante

ta3 + rhythm from i1 -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

Wieder flott -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

(443–​45) In-​between  3 cf. In-​between 1

Section 7

Section 5 (286–​87) Merged insert

Section 4 (239–​40) Insert “flott” 1 -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​ (246-​48) Insert “flott” 2 -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​ (249) Insert becomes Entführung

Modul.

CM //​ -​-​AM

CM

Tutti

Strings, brass, cl. and bsn.

Tutti

Strings, bass drum, brass

Tutti (2 groups in echo) -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

C♯/​F/​C♯/​A -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​ AM

Tutti (2 groups in echo) -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

C♯ -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

ff

ff subito >

ff

ff

ff > -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

ff > -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

110  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

than Sponheuer, Floros also places these moments outside the ritornelli or episode sections. While this shows that he understands these passages as having a specific function, he does not address the issue in his commentary any further.50

Cadencing

Turning now to the second notable characteristic of the Finale: how do these In-​betweens, which have a strong cadential tendency, differ from other cadential gestures that are particularly emphasized throughout the movement? I focus here on two main types of cadences closing the Ritornello theme: authentic and deceptive. In addition, the movement features a coda-​like gesture ending the initial C major section (mm. 38–​51) that comes back at the end of the symphony. These cadences, including In-​betweens that are strongly cadential, are listed in Table 4.3. The cadences that conclude the second section of the Ritornello theme (A2) are all authentic, reaching the dominant from a standard pre-​dominant chord.51 Some are emphatic and others are unobtrusive, and as we shall see in Chapter 9, they all relate to Wagner’s Meistersinger. Cadences found between A1 and A2 are of two kinds:  either authentic, but reaching the dominant from the mediant (III/​iii–​V–​I); or deceptive, moving from the dominant to the submediant with an added sixth (vi+♯6). Two other deceptive cadences, at the end of section 5 and in section 6, are included in Table 4.3 because of their emphatic character: they reach the major submediant from the dominant after a caesura.52 The high proportion of authentic cadences in the Finale has been discussed by several scholars. Martin Scherzinger is particularly engaging with respect to what he calls the movement’s “persistent cadencing”: The lack of a clearly identifiable development section, together with the persistent cadencing (though not even the cadences necessarily coincide with the structural points of the movement), serve to undermine rather than underscore the overall logic of the Finale.53

 Floros, The Symphonies, 207–​208.   Sponheuer calls the cadence ending A2 an “archaisierende Kadenzwendung,” “archaicist cadencial movement” (Logik des Zerfalls, 376). 52   See John Williamson, “Deceptive Cadences in the Last Movement of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” Soundings: A Music Journal 9 (1982): 87–​96. 53   “The Finale of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” 76. Scherzinger’s formal analysis is indebted to Floros, himself close to Sponheuer. 50 51

Table 4.3  Cadential gestures in the Finale Location Section 1 13–​15 (between A1–​A2) 20–​23 (end A2) 38–​51 (before B) Section 2 84–​85 (end A2) 116–​19 In-​between 1 Section 3 127–​28 (between A1–​A2) 134–​36 (end A2) 143–​49 Section 4 193–​96 (end A2)

PAC (perf. authentic)

CM ii–​V–​I (Meistersinger) CM I Cf. final coda CM ii–​V/​I (Meistersinger) GM IV–​V–​I CM III–​V/​  vi+♯6 (Meistersinger) CM ii–​V–​I (unobtrusive) CM I [coda] CM ii–​V/​I (Meistersinger) CM V/​VI (AM)

Section 6 306–​307 (before B)

Section 9 545–​46 (between A1–​A2) 552–​54 (end A2) Coda 558–​90

Coda-​like gesture

CM III/​iii–​V–​I

Section 5 290–​91 (before A1)

Section 7 366–​67 (end A1) 443–​45 In-​between 3

DC (deceptive)

AM V/​VI (G♭M) FM V–​I (short) AM IV–​V–​I CM III–​V/​  vi+♯6 (Meistersinger) CM ii–​V–​I (Meistersinger) CM I–​III–​V–​I

CM I Final coda/​5♯

112  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

One of the most significant aspects of the Finale, according to Scherzinger, is the fact that “some of the more emphatic perfect cadences do not seem to articulate important structural moments” in the movement, while “some of the less important structural moments are marked with forceful cadences.”54 Consequently, “the traditional use of the perfect cadence as signifying closure is weakened.”55 In pointing out that the cadential figures are “recontextualized” and “continually brought into question” in Mahler’s Finale, Scherzinger put his finger on a central issue at stake in this movement. Jonathan Kramer reaches similar conclusions.56 Kramer’s main thesis is that the rondo’s various returns (tonal, thematic, or harmonic) do not coincide with each other, in a way that “compromises, redefines, and deconstructs their traditional meaning and functions.”57 He also stresses the strong presence of perfect authentic cadences in the movement and, like Scherzinger, notes that they “only rarely coincide with a return to the tonic area or a return to the rondo theme.”58 Both end up with the same remark, that the “meaning of the V–​I cadential gesture is severely challenged.” Now: if the traditional meaning of the authentic cadence is “challenged,” “deconstructed,” “recontextualized,” or “brought into question,” what do these concluding gestures mean? What “new” meaning does Mahler present, clothed in these old structural devices? Scherzinger reads Mahler’s Finale by drawing on Derrida’s concept of the “supplement” and attempts to “show how any internally coherent moment contains within itself a ‘space’ which inevitably contains its opposite (‘incoherence’)—​a space which reveals the inadequacy of that moment while at the same time, paradoxically, making its very coherence possible.”59 Kramer proposes a more concrete answer: The V–​I cadential gesture becomes not so much a functional harmonic progression as a musical object, rich in associations, connotations, and intertextual resonance. It exists prominently on the surface, but not in the deep structure, where the dominant key is absent.60

The persistent cadencing in the Finale, as well as the presence of these In-​ betweens, place a strong emphasis on beginnings and endings, blurring the

  Scherzinger, “The Finale of Mahler’s Seventh,” 83.   Scherzinger, “The Finale of Mahler’s Seventh,” 80. 56   Jonathan Kramer, “Post-​Modern Concepts of Musical Time,” Indiana Theory Review 17 no. 2 (1996): 21–​61. 57   Kramer, “Post-​Modern Concepts,” 34. 58   Kramer, “Post-​Modern Concepts,” 45. 59   Scherzinger, “The Finale of Mahler’s Seventh,” 70. 60   Kramer, “Post-​Modern Concepts,” 47. 54 55

Rondo-Finale : 113

boundaries between them. As we shall see, this resonates with poetic and musical preoccupations articulated in Wagner’s Meistersinger.61

Interpretive Views The critical reception of the Seventh Symphony discussed in Chapter 1, with its emphasis on the Finale, provides an essential backdrop for the following discussion in which I consider several of the most significant interpretations of this movement. Writing after the premieres of the Seventh in Prague on September 19, 1908, and in Vienna a year later, on November 3, 1909, several reviewers perceived the Finale as a joyous and triumphant movement.

Excessive Joy and Victory

For Felix Adler, “everything is cheerful, joyous, and life-​affirming. The sun has risen, it has become day. . . . A truly masterful happiness pervades this movement.”62 After the Viennese premiere in 1909, Elsa Bienenfeld and Julius Korngold both insisted on the “jubilant” aspect of this movement. “This orgiastic sound of triumph springs from a very bold, powerful, and life-​ affirming energy,” writes Bienenfeld,63 while for Korngold, Here we have come to a single ecstasy of joy, a Meistersinger festival atmosphere, a burst of exultation and festive jubilation. The movement displays a great deal of solid contrapuntal work and diligent detail; the main theme returns again and again, admirably fulfilling its rondo function, releasing new surges of  joy.64

  About cadences in Mahler’s Finale, see Paul John Whitworth, Aspects of Mahler’s Musical Language: An Analytical Study, PhD dissertation, Cornell University, 2002 (especially Chapter 3: “Cadences in Mahler’s Musical Language”). Seth Monahan notes that “given Mahler’s career-​long propensity to dramatize the attainment and evasion of cadences, it is surprising that issues of closure have received so little focused attention.” Mahler’s Symphonic Sonatas (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 15. 61

  Felix Adler, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” Bohemia, September 20, 1908. Quoted in “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” eds. and trans. Karen Painter and Bettina Varwig, in Mahler and His World, ed. Karen Painter (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002), 318–​20. 63   Elsa Bienenfeld, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” Neues Wiener Journal, November 10, 1909. Quoted in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 325. 64   Julius Korngold, “Feuilleton:  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” Neue Freie Presse, November 6, 1909. Quoted in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​language Critics,” 332. 62

114  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Yet if these three reviews are united on this point, both Bienenfeld and Korngold hear the whole symphony as being “excessive” on several levels, and the Finale in particular exemplifies this overall over-​the-​top quality. Writing about the “oversized” first movement, Bienenfeld applies the same comment to the Finale:  “It is as though he cannot do enough to depict joy: as he places climax after climax the piece founders in its sheer breadth.”65 This forced gaiety, according to Bienenfeld, provokes the movement’s collapse. The Finale, like the second and third movements of the Seventh, collapses three times; but in the last movement, as opposed to what happens in the Scherzo, falling gestures do not have the last word. In his analysis of the Seventh, written about a decade later, Paul Bekker insists on the work’s triumphant aspect, while downplaying the excess heard by Bienenfeld and Korngold. “Night is gone, day is rising. With timpani, fanfares, fife, and drum, in an illuminated C major.”66 Bekker’s remarks on the last part of this movement are so intense that they are worth quoting here: In this revelation of a life that has become sonorous there sounds one more time, as the last, highest proclamation, the Allegro theme of the first movement. For the first time within the whole work, it is now in C major, won from earth and life, became one with the whole of Nature, resolved in the Cosmos that contains everything and into which everything returns. Sun and earth, creator and created, the divine and the earthly all sound together in one great chord. Mahler has reached here the pinnacle of a proclamation that says yes to life. . . . The sounding bursts into elemental power, so elemental that it is barely graspable by the physical ear. Beyond this physical appearance of the sound, however, its metaphysical signification, its secret symbolism takes effect. In it lies the enigma that always points again toward Mahler, and that gives to his creations beyond the realm of humanity, the consecration of transcendental revelations.67

 Bienenfeld, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” quoted in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 325–​26. The full quotation is in Chapter  1, “Reception.” See also Chapter 2, “Dance to Collapse” in “Main Interpretive Leads.” 66   Paul Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien (Berlin: Schuster & Loeffler, 1921), 260. 67  Bekker, Mahlers Sinfonien, 265–​66. “In diese Offenbarung klanggewordenen Lebens hinein tönt als letzte, höchste Verkündigung noch einmal das Allegro-​thema des ersten Satzes. Zum erstenmal innerhalb des ganzen Werkes jetzt in C-​dur, der Erde, dem Leben gewonnen, eins geworden mit der ganzen Natur, aufgegangen in den Kosmos, der alles umfasst und in den alles zurückkehrt. Sonne und Erde, Schöpfer und Geschöpft, Göttliches und Irdisches tönen zusammen in einen grossen Akkord. Es ist der Gipfel lebensbejahenden Bekennens, den Mahler hier erreicht hat. . . . Das Tönende braust in elementarer Gewalt auf, so elementar, dass es dem 65

Rondo-Finale : 115

There is more than simple joy and happiness here. Bekker’s text describes the Finale in metaphysical, almost mystical terms; according to this author, the music tells of the reunification of the human and the divine in a great chord (“in einen grossen Akkord”). A similarly ecstatic tone can be found in the writings of William Ritter. As seen in Chapter 1, this critic considered the Seventh to be “Mahler’s chef d’œuvre” and wrote about the work on several occasions.68 In his longest essay on the Seventh (published posthumously), Ritter offers the reader a passionate description of the “hurricane-​like” Rondo-​Finale69: And suddenly a sunrise of glory. . . . Rough interruptions as in Bruckner divide the piece up, through such falls into silence and sudden changes of tone, where the lack of preparation, or brief preparation, will also rush [the listener] with the brazenness of Napoleonic daring, these impunities of Bismarckian brutality of which I know few examples in music until now. . . . Here the insolence of the brutality bursts forth radiantly, knowing that it has the right to shatter everything. . . Athletic games “à la Bruckner” acquire an ease in maestria unknown since Wagner, and the performance is carried out as it is in the brightness of the Meistersinger overture. . . . Mahler continues with all his energy sublimated by success. . . . He does not spare anything or anybody. He only knows one duty: to reach the peak.70

physischen Ohr kaum fassbar. Über diese physische Erscheinung des Klanges hinaus aber wirkt seine metaphysische Bedeutung, wirkt seine geheimnisschwere Symbolik. In ihr liegt das Rätzsel, das immer wieder zu Mahler zieht und seinen Schöpfungen über alles menschlich Bedingte hinaus die Weihe übersinnlicher Offenbarungen gibt.” See Kelly Dean Hansen, Gustav Mahler’s Symphonies by Paul Bekker (1921): A Translation with Commentary (PhD dissertation, University of Colorado at Boulder, 2012), 610–​11; translation emended.  Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” Revue Musicale de la Société Internationale de Musique, Paris, November 15, 1908. See William Ritter chevalier, 122. 69   Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” Lugdunum, Lyon, November 1908. See William Ritter chevalier, 130. 70   Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” unpublished book chapter, August 1912. See William Ritter chevalier, 175–​79. “Et aussitôt un lever de soleil de gloire. . . . Des pauses brutales comme chez Bruckner morcelleront le morceau, par de ces chutes au silence et à de brusques changements de ton, dont l’absence de préparation ou la préparation sommaire brusqueront également avec ces impudences de l’audace napoléonnienne, ces impunités de la brutalité bismarckienne dont je sais peu d’exemples jusqu’ici en musique. . . . Ici l’insolence de la brutalité éclate, radieuse, se sachant le droit de tout fracasser. . . Des jeux athlétiques à la Bruckner acquièrent une facilité dans la maestria ignorée depuis Wagner, et la performance s’accomplit comme dans la clareté l’ouverture des Maîtres Chanteurs. . . . Mahler y va de toutes ses énergies sublimées 68

116  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ritter did not believe that the Seventh was programmatic: “If this symphony does not tell a story, at least it has its history.”71 His narrative description of the movement, however, sounds rather programmatic: Three robust themes [A1, A2, and TA] dash forward with a decisive aspect, a calibre of the chest and a vigor in the arms that are inexpressible. . . . Their beam which nothing will resist takes shape around the principal theme [A1], whose climbing satellite, as if projected like a bomb, in the curve of a firework’s rocket, will know how to force itself into a more dense form and whose panting breathlessness reveals the squat vigor of an organism made to knock everything over. . . . It is immediately followed by the second theme [A2], a kind of jerky bar designed to cut and to spur the great rondo at the same time. And the third and last of this group [TA], in such a close parallelism with the first group of the first part [introduction], will follow like an answer . . . . These two pairs of themes [A1–​A2 and Intro–​TA], this bold quadriga will exert himself in this run around the Rondo’s great circular course with an invincible drive. Between all four it will be an athletic emulation in the radiant light of this Finale.72

par le succès. . . . Il n’a plus rien ni personne à ménager. Il ne connaît qu’un devoir: atteindre la cime.” Meylan comments that the manuscript is difficult to decipher in some places (William Ritter chevalier, 134).

 Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” Revue Musicale de la Société Internationale de Musique, Paris, November 15, 1908. See William Ritter chevalier, 116. Emphasis is mine. “[Cette symphonie] a-​t-​elle une clef ? Touche-​t-​elle en quelques points au poème symphonique? Il est des critiques pour l’affirmer. Je le nie, mais Mahler donne quelques brèves indications de Stimmung, d’état d’âme, et je crois fermement que, si cette Symphonie ne raconte pas d’histoire, du moins a-​t-​elle son histoire.” 71

  Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” unpublished book chapter, August 1912. See William Ritter chevalier, 175–​79. “Trois thèmes robustes se ruent à l’assaut avec une décision d’allure, une carrure du buste et une vigueur des bras indicibles. . . . Leur faisceau auquel rien de résistera se forme autour du thème principal dont la parabole escaladante et comme projetée en bombe, à la courbe d’une fusée de feu d’artifice, saura se contraindre en une forme plus ramassée et dont l’essoufflement haletant trahit la vigueur trapue d’un organisme fait pour tout renverser. . . . Immédiatement suivies du deuxième thème, sorte de barre saccadée destinée à trancher en même temps qu’à aiguillonner la grande ronde. Et le troisième et dernier de ce groupe, en si étroit parallélisme avec le premier groupe de la première partie, suivra comme une réponse . . . . Ces deux couples de thèmes, ce quadrige audacieux va se dépenser à cette course autour de la grande piste circulaire du Rondo avec un entrain indomptable. De tous quatre ce sera une émulation athlétique dans la lumière radieuse de ce Finale.” Themes as I label them in Appendix M5 are indicated in brackets. Ritter 72

Rondo-Finale : 117

If the Seventh does not depict a story, as Ritter believes, the writer still needed to invent one to describe the music. Ritter’s tale is heroic—​his “symphonic hero” fights a war, maybe against the musical themes themselves, qualified in aggressive terms. Ritter does not only write about victory and sunrise here; his violent and warlike imagery is particularly striking. Nothing will “resist” the main theme, whose “satellite” (“parabole” in French) is “projected like a bomb,” and which has the “vigor of an organism made to knock everything over.” The description of the Ritornello theme [A2] as a “jerky bar designed to cut and to spur the great round at the same time” seems particularly apropos, since A2 has both the function of launching the “great round,” and of interrupting, sometimes brutally, the contrasting episodes. In another late essay on Mahler, dating from 1945, Ritter recalls a rehearsal for the Seventh in Prague on September 15, 1908, a few days before its premiere. Alma Mahler had arrived from Vienna earlier the same day, and Mahler, realizing that neither his wife nor Ritter had yet heard the Finale, decided to play the whole movement for them “without any interruption, for the first time!”73 As in the previous account, the following is built on metaphors of sunrise and victory, but Ritter uses them here from a different perspective: And it was for the first time, to our delight, the immortal sunrise on this glorious Finale, which starts on a frenzied burst of timpani, and straight away there is a recall, a quotation of the first measure of the Meistersinger overture. This time, enthusiastic about the presence of the woman whose beauty and good Viennese grace “à la Makart” he idolized, the Master struggled like a madman, sitting, standing, stamping his feet, jumping like a little jack-​in-​the-​box, being on every side at the same time, conducting on the right, on the left, in the front, in the back, and naturally forgetting all about me and kicking his feet in my back [Ritter was sitting next to the podium]. But what enthusiasm! What madness! And how brightly it was played! This time, however inflexibly Czech the orchestra was toward the German director, they were conquered! Thrilled! . . . It was played so brightly, with such a drive from the orchestra, itself finally possessed, that as soon as this glorious Finale ended, all musicians started to applaud triumphantly in their own way, violins hit by the bows. . . . And Mahler looked happy, happy as I never saw him since then.

refers to the “perfect thematic analyses of Dr. Karl Weigl,” (William Ritter chevalier, 142). See Weigl, “VII. Symphonie in E moll,” 136–​54. Even if Ritter’s own description of the movement is significantly different in terms of tone, and in what it achieves, some of its ideas clearly show that Ritter carefully read and adopted Weigl’s analysis of the Finale.   Ritter, “Quelques souvenirs sur Gustave Mahler,” Vie Art Cité, Lausanne, 1946. See William Ritter chevalier, 33. Radio broadcast for Radio-​Basel, 1945. 73

118  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony Standing, triumphant, he eyed intently, beyond this true apotheosis, the beloved one who was smiling over there. . . .74

With its rhetoric of military victory, recalling the references to Napoleonic and Bismarckian brutality in the previous quote, Ritter’s discourse shifts from the music toward the composer/​conductor. The Finale’s triumph becomes Mahler’s personal victory. The “German conductor,” whose Jewish-​ Bohemian background is ignored here, succeeded in subduing the Czech orchestra, and the husband “conquered” his wife.75 Richard Specht, Mahler’s first biographer, wrote about the Finale on several occasions: in his review for the Neue Freie Presse, following the Seventh’s premiere in Prague; in his thematic analysis that appeared in Der Merker in 1909; and in his monograph on Mahler published in 1913.76 Specht’s first reaction to the music was cautious: The final movement, a masterly rondo-​finale of frenetic gaiety and freedom, ranges across similarly spacious dimensions. After a single hearing its details can hardly be grasped, but there is a verve which sweeps one along irresistibly, and an utterly effortless, sovereign victory over the most restrictive formal and contrapuntal problems. It may be that a great deal of opposition to the frequently stark architecture

  Ritter, “Quelques souvenirs sur Gustave Mahler,” in William Ritter chevalier, 33–​ 34. “Et ce fut pour la première fois, à notre ravissement, l’immortel lever de soleil sur ce glorieux Finale, qui part sur un éclat de timbales forcené, et aussitôt un rappel, une citation de la première mesure de l’ouverture des Maîtres Chanteurs. Cette fois, enthousiasmé par la présence de la femme dont il idolâtrait la beauté et la bonne grâce viennoise à la Makart, le Maître se démenait comme un fou, assis, debout, trépignant, bondissant, tel qu’un diablotin hors de sa boîte à surprise, devant être de tous les côtés à la fois, diriger à droite, diriger à gauche, devant, derrière, et comme de juste m’oubliant complètement et m’envoyant de grands coups de pieds dans les reins. Mais quel enthousiasme! Quel délire! Et comme ce fut enlevé! Cette fois, tout tchèque qu’il fût irréductiblement à l’égard du directeur allemand, l’orchestre était conquis! Emballé! . . . Ce fut si bien enlevé, et avec un tel entrain de l’orchestre, enfin lui-​même possédé, qu’à peine ce glorieux Finale était-​il achevé, tous les musiciens partaient en un triomphal applaudissement à leur manière, tous violons frappés de l’archet. . . Et Mahler paraissait heureux, heureux comme plus jamais je ne l’ai revu. Debout, triomphant, il dévorait des yeux, par-​dessus cette véritable apothéose, la tant aimée qui là-​bas souriait. . . .” 74

  See Chapter 1, “A ‘Bilingual’ Concert” in “Premiere.”   Richard Specht, Neue Freie Presse, September 20, 1908, quoted and translated in Mitchell, “Reception,” 47–​49; Specht, “Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” Der Merker 2 (1909): 1–​8; Specht, Gustav Mahler (Berlin: Schuster & Loeffler, 1913). 75

76

Rondo-Finale : 119 of both these symphonic cornerstones [the first and last movements] has still to be heard, and that to grasp them fully and evaluate them correctly will take a long while.77

Once again, the prose inspired by Mahler’s Finale tells of victory, but this time not of the victory of a symphonic hero, nor of the conductor over his orchestra and wife (as in Ritter’s narrative). Specht assesses here the composer’s victory over compositional problems. Contrary to some of his contemporaries, who hurried into a harsh critique of the movement, Specht acknowledged its complexity. A year later in Der Merker, the writer offers a more detailed analysis of the piece. The last movement, writes Specht, has an “exultant ‘mood of sunrise’ [‘Sonnenaufgangstimmung’], saluting life in a brave and boisterous joy, intensifying the triumphant end of the first movement and leading to a jubilant peak.”78 According to him, Mahler characterized the Finale with the German adage “Was kost’ die Welt?” (“What does the world cost?”), to which one usually responded “Ich kauf ’ sie mir!” (“I’ll buy it for myself!”).79

Critical and Metacritical Approaches

While the Finale began to be received as a “problematic” piece later, some of these early reviews already show discomfort about its excessive aspect. Sponheuer distinguishes three main interpretive stances: the “orthodox” approach, which considers the movement as truly positive and affirmative; the “critical” approach, which considers it as a failure; and the “metacritical” approach, seeking to go beyond the positive and negative evaluations—​because they both make the mistake of “taking this music seriously”80—​by reading the Finale as an intentional failure of its positivity, so to speak, or as a “critical montage of fake musical forms (“Gestalten”).”81 Most of Mahler’s early  Specht, Neue Freie Presse, September 20, 1908, in Mitchell, “Reception,” 48.   Specht, “Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” 1. 79   Specht, “Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” 1. The answer to the question is provided by Hefling in “From Wunderhorn to Rückert and the Middle-​Period Symphonies,” in The Cambridge Companion to Mahler, ed. Jeremy Barham (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 2007), 127. This German adage is sometimes translated as “The world is your oyster!” 80  Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 359. The first advocate of this interpretive stance, according to Sponheuer, is Peter Ruzicka in “Befragung des Materials. Gustav Mahler aus der Sicht aktueller Kompositionsästhetik,” in Musik und Bildung 5 (1973): 598–​603. Quoted in Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 359, note 18. 81  Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 353 and 362. 77 78

120  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

critics quoted earlier may be seen to fall into Sponheuer’s “orthodox” category, even though their interpretation of the Finale as victorious or sunny did not prevent them from perceiving its violent, fragmented, complex, and exaggerated aspects—​the latter being, in Bienenfeld’s review, related to joy. Theodor Adorno can be considered as the leader of the “critical” group, later followed by Deryck Cooke, Sponheuer himself, and several others. As discussed in Chapter 1, Adorno’s condemnation of the Finale focused on what he perceived as its artificiality. He further characterized it as “theatrical” and “tending secretly toward operatic performance.”82 Where some of the earlier critics heard sincere joy and true sunlight, Adorno denounced a “strained gaiety” and “vain jubilation.” Sponheuer’s interpretation of the Finale owes much to Adorno’s, and his analysis reaches similar conclusions about a certain disproportion between form and content—​particularly regarding “pretentious” musical gestures like the “cadential figures” (my In-​betweens), the Entführung motive, and the emphatic cadence ending the Ritornello theme (mm. 20–​23).83 Sponheuer concludes that “the Finale of the Seventh carries out a failed attempt to restore the old idea of the symphonic Finale, which found its ideal form of expression in the topic of the light Rondo-​Finale.”84 The “pompous musical language,” he writes, its “eloquent rhetoric,” the abundance of “images and musical idioms,” the “historicist quotations,” the “calculated brilliance of the musical effects,” all are meant to support and legitimize this restoration process.85

Eternal Return, Irony, or Social Critique?

“What was Mahler’s purpose? What did he want to express with this Rondo-​ Finale?” asks Constantin Floros at the end of his brief analysis.86 The answer comes quickly:  “Mahler understood the movement as a parable for the eternal return,” and he “expressed in 1905 symphonically what had been conceived by Friedrich Nietzsche in 1881.” Since the ritornello comes back seven times, and because “bells were Mahler’s sound symbol for eternity,” the

 Adorno, Mahler, 137. The full passage is discussed in Chapter 1, “Cinderella” in “Reception.” 83  Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 387 and 389. 84  Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 399:  “Das Finale der Siebten Symphonie unternimmt den mißlungenen Versuch einer Restauration der älteren symphonischen Finalidee, wie sie im Topos des heiteren Schlußrondo ihren idealtypischen Ausdruck gefunden hat.” 85  Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 401. 86  Floros, The Symphonies, 211. 82

Rondo-Finale : 121

Finale is taken as a musical illustration of the poem “The Seven Seals” in Nietzsche’s Also sprach Zarathustra. For La Grange, this “endlessly fascinating and often disconcerting Rondo” is “music about music which celebrates the impossibility of any real victory or of any return to the innocence humanity yearns for rather than a definitive victory over the forces of night.”87 While I resist a mainly ironic hearing of the Finale, “celebrating the impossibility of a real victory,”—​an idea much indebted to Adorno—​La Grange’s mention of “music about music” is of the essence here, and I  return to the question of musical allusions at the end. Stephen Gordon offers another interpretation, claiming that “the Finale is one of Mahler’s most blatantly socially-​grounded symphonic movements, and the exclusive search for existential and psychological meanings has deflected attention from what might be one of the clearest examples of Mahler as a social critic.”88 In this music, concludes Gordon, “form is pressed into the service of social discourse.”89 Albeit provocative, this reading seems less motivated by a desire to understand how the music works than by the need to use the Seventh to illustrate a socio-​political argument that can be made about fin-​de-​siècle Vienna.

Theater

More recent, post-​ Adornian readings concentrate on the movement’s disjunctions and fractures. Julian Johnson, for example, emphasizes its “section-​by-​section assemblage” that creates a “structural polyphony, as if several musical trajectories were going on at the same time.”90 As Johnson put it, Mahler’s Finales often express the cohabitation of multiple voices, in turn tragic or comical.91 Thomas Peattie’s recent discussion of the Seventh, focusing on the tension between continuous and discontinuous surfaces, offers new leads to come to terms with the Finale.92 The development of railway shaped Mahler’s perception of landscape as much as his practice of hiking, and Peattie suggests an association between the unfolding of musical events in the Finale and a view of the panorama experienced from a railway

  HLG3, 880.   Gordon, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” 255. 89   Gordon, “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” 268. 90  Julian Johnson, Mahler’s Voices:  Expression and Irony in the Songs and Symphonies (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 119. 91  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 133–​34. See full quotation in Chapter  2, “Mahler’s Humor” in “Main Interpretive Leads.” 92  Thomas Peattie, Gustav Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 2015), ­chapter 4, “Symphonic Panoramas.” 87 88

122  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

carriage—​a continuous landscape constantly interrupted by elements in the foreground. “Despite the movement’s numerous surface discontinuities, the individual tableaux are clearly bound up together as a continuously unfolding unit.”93 Johnson’s and Peattie’s readings both emphasize the plurality of perspectives, whether vocal or visual. What stands out from these interpretive views is the artificial, theatrical, and historicist aspects of the Finale. My emphasis on rhetorical gestures moves in a similar direction. The announcement seems more important than what follows it, and ironically, this statement is made in the last movement of the symphony, as if the show were resuming one more time. We are projected into the world of theater, funfair, and circus, where trumpets and drums signaling the beginning of the show might be a greater source of pleasure than the show itself.94 The Finale could be seen as a circular stage, where we quickly move from one number to the next, mixing excitement and anxiety (the risk of a collapse being always present). What Adorno heard as “vain jubilation” and “strained gaiety” may be translated into beauty: the beauty of illusion, the excesses and artificiality of the circus that turn around in an infinite procession. Yes, the Rondo-​Finale enhances the artificiality of the musical language; but not necessarily in order to expose a lack of sincerity. The “Grazioso” theme acts like a minuet (“almost Minuet,” Mahler writes), without pretending to be one. The theatricality of the movement is performed, not commented upon; and it reveals, perhaps more clearly than elsewhere in Mahler, the composer’s “self-​awareness that music, like theater, is acting and make-​believe.”95

 Peattie, Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 137.   Peter Franklin asks about the Finale of the Seventh: “Are we in the pantheon of Great Art there, or an archaic circus-​tent on some festival fringe?” The Life of Mahler (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 159. 95  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 264. 93

94

Chapter 5

Genesis of the Rondo-​Finale

Composing is like playing with bricks, continually making new buildings from the same old stones. —​Gustav Mahler1

This chapter explores physical traces of Mahler’s compositional process for the Finale of the Seventh. To what extent can compositional materials inform an interpretation of the music? More specifically, what does the genesis of the Finale tell us that the finished music does not? Interruptions (In-​betweens) and inserts constitute one of the main characteristics of this movement. As we shall see, one of these interruptions was added later in a preliminary draft. In other words, a passage interpolated in a draft as an insert (“Einlage”) actually sounds, in the finished version, as an interruption. This is a case of striking resonance between the genesis of a passage and what the music achieves in its final form—​as if we could hear, not only the product of a creative process, but the process itself at work. As discussed in Chapter  1, the Seventh has been heard as “music after the catastrophe,” following the “tragedy” of the Sixth. A  close reading of the compositional materials for the Finale questions the idea of the Seventh as a consequence of the Sixth, showing that the composition of both works was more entangled than previously thought. Moreover, the numerous connections that can be drawn between different manuscript sources containing preliminary sketches (sketchbooks and larger leaves) allow us to trace some of the compositional experiences Mahler carried before abandoning them in the final version. Besides the drafts that are clearly associated with a specific movement (the preliminary draft for the Scherzo and the orchestral draft for the first movement), most of the compositional materials for the Seventh relate to the   NBLE, 131.

1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

124  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Finale: the Vienna sketchbook, the Paris sketchbook leaves, the Moldenhauer sketches, and a single leaf displaying a draft for the first movement of the Sixth on one side, and sketches for the Finale of the Seventh on the other side (Ms. 7661).2 Globally, sketches found on larger leaves (Moldenhauer) show a more advanced stage of the compositional process than the material found in the sketchbooks—​even though, as we will see, this distinction is not always clear. As shown in Appendix CSk, some of the fragments in the Vienna sketchbook, as well as others in the Paris sketchbook leaves, reappear in the Moldenhauer sketches, which confirms that Mahler was working on these larger leaves with his sketchbooks at hand.3 I first discuss the correspondences between the Vienna sketchbook and the Moldenhauer sketches, which point toward the Sixth, Seventh, and Ninth symphonies. The sketches for the Finale found on the Paris sketchbook leaves are then examined in conjunction with the Moldenhauer folios 2v and 3r. Finally, I  discuss more elaborated sketches and drafts for the Finale (the Moldenhauer folios 1v and 3v, and Ms. 7661). My exploration of this movement’s genesis thus begins with preliminary sketches presenting hypothetical connections with the music in its finished form (questioning their status of “sketches for the Finale”), turning then to material clearly related to it.

The Vienna Sketchbook and the Moldenhauer Sketches The Vienna sketchbook and the Moldenhauer sketches both contain a significant amount of what appears to be discarded material, but which reveals connections to both the Sixth and Seventh symphonies, as well as to the Ninth.4 While the front section of the Vienna sketchbook exclusively contains sketches that ended up in the first and last movements of the Seventh

  See Chapter 3, “Musical Evidence.” Selected facsimiles and a description of the contents of each source can be found in the Appendices MS1–​MS4 . See also Appendix A. 3   See also Appendix MSk showing the motives recurring in the Vienna sketchbook and in the Moldenhauer sketches. 4   Some of this material has been previously discussed in Anna Stoll Knecht, “Preliminary Sketches for Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in Naturlauf: Scholarly Journeys Toward Gustav Mahler. Essays in Honour of Henry-​Louis de La Grange for His 90th Birthday, ed. Paul-​André Bempéchat (Bern: Peter Lang, 2016), 314–​32. 2

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  125

(7 pages), the back section (25 pages) mainly comprises material previously labeled as “unknown.”5 The entry on folio 3r, in the back section, is continuous on three systems and carried onto the following page. I  focus here on two recurring motives: an upper neighbor with dotted rhythm based on a deceptive harmonic progression (motive a), and a descending and ascending arpeggio on a major triad (motive b, Ex. 5.1).6 Ex. 5.1  Vienna sketchbook fol. 3r, motives a and b

As we shall see, the combination of motives b and a relates to the Finale of the Sixth Symphony and to the first and last movements of the Seventh. But for the moment, let us concentrate on motive a alone.

Connections to the Ninth Symphony

Motive a is based on the deceptive progression I–​V–​♭vi that is further elaborated on folio 7v (a′), which anticipates the Adagio of the Ninth Symphony (Ex. 5.2).7

  See Stephen Hefling, “‘Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken’: Mahler’s Seventh Symphony Sketchbook,” in Mahler Studies, ed. Stephen Hefling (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1997), 190–​91. 6   See fols. 3r and 3v in Appendix MS1 . In my musical examples, the first number above the staff indicates the staff number on the page, and the second number shows the measure on the staff. 7   See Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 176 and 191. Measures 1–​2 and 9–​10 on fol. 7v relate to the Finale of the Ninth. This deceptive progression also appears with Theme IB in the first movement of the Seventh, found in the Vienna sketchbook on fol. 28v (discussed in Chapter 8, “The Vienna Sketchbook (fols. 30v–​27v; 10v–​12r),” in “Sketches and Drafts”). 5

126  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 5.2  Vienna sketchbook fols. 3r and 7v; and IX/​4 Sketchbook, fol. 3r 1/1

a

Sketchbook, fol. 7v 1/1

a'

2/1 Ninth Symphony, Finale 3

Molto adagio

p molto espress.

Two measures, circled on the next folio (8r), show a variant of this deceptive progression with the Wagnerian turn heard in the first measure of the Finale of the Ninth, which forms the basis of the movement’s motivic material.8   Measures 1–​2 on fol. 8r relate more specifically to mm. 126–​27 in the Finale of the Ninth. Hefling notes that mm. 1–​2 are encircled, which is “Mahler’s usual marking that an idea is to be kept and possibly reconsidered.” See “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 191. The other Mahler sketchbook that has survived mainly contains sketches for the Ninth Symphony (Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna, Mus. Hs. 41634). Interestingly, these sketches are in F major, while in the sketchbook for the Seventh they are in the key eventually chosen by Mahler (D♭ major). See fols. 12v, 13r, and 14v in sketchbook for the Ninth Symphony. It is the same format as the 8

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  127

The sketchbook motives a and b reappear on the Moldenhauer sketches, in a portion of “unknown” music sketched on the lower systems of folios 1v and 2r. On top of this “unknown” music on folio 2r, Edward Reilly noticed a short melodic sketch pointing toward the opening of the Ninth Symphony (Ex. 5.3).9 Ex. 5.3  Moldenhauer fol. 2r and IX/​1 Moldenhauer fol. 2r 12/1

Ninth Symphony, first movement 6

Since this sketch is positioned above the unknown music, it could have been meant to be played with it, as a counterpoint. “Did Mahler consciously or unconsciously remember the theme when he came to write the Ninth?” asks Reilly—​“We will never be absolutely certain.”10 If he did remember it, this fragment could represent the earliest sketch we have for the opening of the Ninth. To summarize, a motive foreshadowing the Finale of the Ninth in the sketchbook (motive a on fols. 3r and 3v, a′ on fol. 7v) reappears on the Moldenhauer folio 2r, which also contains a short sketch connected to the

sketchbook for the Seventh (J. Eberle, No. 80). Colin Matthews provides transcriptions of the entire sketchbook in Mahler at Work: Aspects of the Creative Process (New York and London: Garland Publishing, 1989), 105ff; but without indicating to which folios they correspond.   See Edward Reilly, “Gustav Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” in The Rosaleen Moldenhauer Memorial: Music History from Primary Sources—​A Guide to the Moldenhauer Archives, eds. Jon Newsom and Alfred Mann (Washington:  Library of Congress, 2000), 311. The first three systems of fol. 2r contain unknown material in A major, . See Appendix MS3 . 10   Reilly, “Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” 311. 9

128  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

opening of the Ninth Symphony.11 This suggests that while Mahler was usually focusing on one work at a time—​except, indeed, during the summer of 1904—​he was occasionally going back to older sketches, “playing with old bricks,” searching for ideas to be used in his current work.12 When Mahler began to keep track of his ideas by writing them in sketchbooks around 1900, he was building a reservoir of material which became bound up with the subtle connections that can be traced between his works.

Connections to the Finale of the Sixth and First Movement of the Seventh

Let us return to the combination of motive b and a that appears at the beginning of folio 3r (see Ex. 5.1). This combination, recurring several times on folios 3r and 3v, recalls the main theme of the Finale of the Sixth Symphony (Ex. 5.4).13 Ex. 5.4  Vienna sketchbook fol. 3r, motives b and a; and  VI/​4

Compared to folio 3r, the Finale of the Sixth has abbreviated versions of a and b: a is reduced to an upper neighbor, and not harmonized with a deceptive progression as it will be in the Finale of the Ninth; and b is reduced to an ascending arpeggio. This theme also made its way in the first movement of the Seventh, in two passages alluding to the Finale of the Sixth (the introduction and the recapitulation, Ex. 5.5).

  On the same staff of the Moldenhauer fol. 2r, further on the right, there is a sketch partly in ink, partly in pencil, which vaguely recalls the melodic contour and rhythm of the Finale of the Ninth’s main theme (fol. 2r, staff 12, after the double bar near the right hand margin). 12   See the quotation at the beginning of this chapter (NBLE, 131). 13   Hefling suggests a possible connection between mm. 13–​14 of fol. 3r with the Finale of the Sixth, mm. 192–​94. See “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 174. 11

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  129

Ex. 5.5  Vienna sketchbook motives b and a; and  VII/​1

Bernd Sponheuer noted that the first movement of the Seventh quotes the Finale of the Sixth in the reprise of the introduction (m. 340); and the choice of the trombone solo reinforces the thematic connection, since the theme is played in a similarly low register.14 But this allusion is announced, in a more disguised way, in the movement’s introduction, in the unfolding of the tenor horn theme (mm. 13–​15, see Ex. 5.5, middle staff ). Here, the ascending arpeggio is preceded by a descending figure, which brings it closer to motive b in the sketchbook. Let us turn to the variant of motive b sketched at the end of folio 3r (Ex. 5.6, staff  2).

  Bernd Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls: Untersuchungen zum Finalproblem in den Symphonien Gustav Mahlers (Tutzing: Schneider, 1978), 363, note 26. See Chapter 8, “Partitur for the first movement,” in “Beginning of the Seventh.” 14

130  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 5.6  Vienna sketchbook fol. 3r and VII/​1 Sketchbook, fol. 3r

b

5/4

a

ia

6/4

variant b

Seventh Symphony, first movement ia

2 Tenor horn f

The variant written on the lower staff of folio 3r, starting with a descending seventh, evokes the tenor horn solo at the beginning of the Seventh (cell ia, m.  2).15 As previously discussed, Mahler’s “boat letter” to Alma describes a trigger moment that allowed him to complete the Seventh in a few weeks. What occurred to him when stepping in the boat, Mahler wrote, was the “rhythm” and “character” of the symphony’s introduction. Several scholars proposed to identify a sketch in the Vienna sketchbook, outlining the first few measures of the tenor horn theme (including the cell ia), as the “boat sketch.”16 This sketch is located at the beginning of the front section of the sketchbook, which contains sketches that are usually more elaborated than those in the back section. If the sketch on folio 3r was entered before the sketch on folio 30v, which seems likely, it is possible to speculate that the famous “boat idea,” which allowed Mahler to unblock his creativity, was already there, in the sketchbook, waiting to be rediscovered.

  The entry on staff 6 could be read in the bass clef as well.   Vienna sketchbook, fol. 30v. See Chapter 8, “Searching for the Boat Sketch” (including a facsimile of fol. 30v), in “(Auto)biography, Genesis, and Interpretation.” 15

16

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  131

The connection between the Finale of the Sixth and the first movement of the Seventh does not necessarily inform the chronology of the compositional process, since Mahler alludes to the Sixth in the Seventh. Indeed, he could have decided later to use material from the Sixth in the Seventh. What stands out is that Mahler worked out material sketched in the Vienna sketchbook in both the Finale of the Sixth and in the first movement of the Seventh, which reinforces the relationship between these works.

Connections to the Finale of the Seventh

The links between the Vienna sketchbook and the Moldenhauer sketches, this time, have implications for the chronology of the compositional process, suggesting that Mahler began working on the Finale of the Seventh in 1904 while he was finishing the outer movements of the Sixth. Motives a and b reappear later in the sketchbook, on folio 7r, but whereas motive a succeeds to motive b on folio 3r, they are superimposed on one another on folio 7r (with b′, variant of b, Ex. 5.7). Ex. 5.7  Vienna sketchbook fols. 3r and 7r, motives a, b, and b′ Sketchbook, fol. 3r 5/4

a

b

Sketchbook, fol. 7r 5/1

6/1

b'

a

b'

a

This variant of motive b (b′) could have been inspired by the descending arpeggio found at the beginning of folio 7r (Ex. 5.8).

132  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 5.8  Vienna sketchbook fol. 7r, motives b′ and a

Inverting the descending arpeggio into an ascending one (b′) may have allowed Mahler to make an association with motive b previously sketched on folio 3r. He then proceeded, on the third system of folio 7r, to combine b′ with motive a contrapuntally. This combination of motives a and b′ also appears on a Moldenhauer page (Ex. 5.9).

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  133

Ex. 5.9  Vienna sketchbook fols. 3r, 7r, motives a and b′; and Moldenhauer 1v Sketchbook, fol. 3r

b (version 1) 1/1

a

a

Sketchbook, fol. 7r 5/1

6/1

b'

b'

a

a

Moldenhauer sketches, fol. 1v 16/11

17/11

a

b'

a

a

On the Moldenhauer folio 1v, Mahler used both the melodic combination of motives b and a found in the Vienna sketchbook folio 3r, as well as their vertical combination sketched on folio 7r.

134  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony 1r

1v

VI/1 (Alma)

VII/5 (7–26)

unknown

unknown

2r

unknown

Fig. 5.1  Moldenhauer fols. 1r, 1v, and 2r At this juncture, a brief summary of the musical contents of the Moldenhauer folios 1r, 1v, and 2r is necessary (Fig. 5.1).17 Folio 1r contains a short fragment in ink related to the secondary theme in the first movement of the Sixth Symphony (so-​called Alma theme),18 and, below it, a few measures in pencil sharing a vague thematic connection with the “Alma theme.” On the verso (1v) we find sketches in pencil, some of which are clearly related to the Finale of the Seventh (syst. 1–​5), and some of which appear to be unknown, but related to the sketch in pencil on folio 1r (syst. 6–​8). On the lower portion of folio 2r (syst. 4–​5), Mahler worked out the material sketched at the bottom of folio 1v.19 As we shall see, this “unknown” music has connections to both the first movement of the Sixth and the Finale of the Seventh. Let us return to the measures combining motives a and b′ on the Moldenhauer folio 1v (Ex. 5.9, bottom). Above this combination on 1v we find three variants of these two measures, sketched on top of each other. One of these variants (Ex. 5.10, syst. 3) connects this unknown music with the sketches written on the upper portion of the page, themselves clearly related to the Finale of the Seventh (Ex. 5.10, syst. 1–​2).20

  See also Appendix MS3 .   See VI/​1 at mm. 76ff. 19   The music sketched on the first three systems of fol. 2r does not relate to any of Mahler’s known works. 20   In this example, the transcription of the variants omits several pitches, in order to highlight the connection to the Finale of the Seventh. See Appendix MS3 for a facsimile of fol. 1v . Here my labeling system in the Seventh conflates with that adopted for the sketches (Appendix MSk): a and c indicated in the Moldenhauer folio 1v refer to my labeling system in the Seventh, not to the sketches (where a and c designate different motives). 17 18

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  135

Ex. 5.10  Moldenhauer fol. 1v and VII/​5

The entry on staff 12 (Ex. 5.10, syst. 3) establishes a connection between motive b′ in the sketches and motive b in the Finale (in A1): both outline an ascending arpeggio preceded by a dotted half note. This suggests that the material sketched at the bottom of folio 1v (and 2r) could have been meant, at some point, to be included in the Finale of the Seventh. Returning to the beginning of this unknown music on the Moldenhauer folio 1v (Ex. 5.11, upper syst.), we find a preliminary sketch for this passage in the Vienna sketchbook, on folio 3v.

136  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 5.11  Vienna sketchbook fol. 3v, motive d; and Moldenhauer fol. 1v

The music sketched on the two last systems of the Moldenhauer folio 1v (the lowest system seems to be a variant of the penultimate system) is worked out in the lower portion of folio 2r. The association of motive d with a brass chorale is reinforced on folio 2r, which bears a few indications of orchestration (“Hörner,” “Pos.” on the penultimate system, m. 6), as well as a scoring of the music on four staves.21 This choral format, along with the key (C Major), the meter (), the initial rhythmic pattern (dactylic) and the solemn character, reinforce the association between the “unknown” music on folios 1r and 2v and the Finale of the Seventh. So far, we observed how some fragments of “unknown” music contained in the Vienna sketchbook, and elaborated on the Moldenhauer sketches, present connections with the Finale of the Sixth, the first movement of the Seventh, and the Finale of the Seventh. Let us turn now to the first movement of the Sixth.

Connections to the First Movement of the Sixth

The upper system in Ex. 5.12 shows the sketch in pencil found at the bottom of the Moldenhauer folio 1r, below sketches for the second theme of the first movement of the Sixth Symphony in ink (“Alma theme”). The descending scale starting with a dotted quarter note that plays an important role on folios 1r, 1v, and 2r (in brackets) also appears on several pages in the Vienna sketchbook (motive f, on folios 4v, 5r, and 5v), and leads us to the first movement of the Sixth Symphony.

  See Appendix MS3

21

.

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  137

Ex. 5.12  Moldenhauer fol. 1r, Vienna sketchbook fol. 4v and VI/​1

This dotted descending scale is a variant of motive a2, heard in the main theme of the Sixth’s first movement, and, as we shall see later, the descending fourth characterizing a2 in the Sixth also appears on folio 5v in the sketchbook (as f′, variant of  f).22 A descending scale with a dotted rhythm is admittedly too common to allow us to draw meaningful conclusions from this resemblance with a motive in the Sixth Symphony. Indeed, it could be argued that so far, I have   It also relates to the second theme of the first movement of the Sixth (Theme B). Variants of motive f play important roles in the Finale of the Sixth and in the second Nachtmusik. These connections are explored in Chapter 6. 22

138  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

mainly emphasized affinities between the sketches and the score based on basic motives: a neighbor figure harmonized by a deceptive progression (a) and an ascending arpeggio preceded by a dotted half note (b). But it is the accumulation of small connections, I suggest, that becomes meaningful and encourages speculation about the relationship between these fragments and both the Sixth and Seventh symphonies. Besides this descending scale (f), there is another motive (e) found several times on folios 4v and 5r—​and often coupled with f—​which recalls the melodic contour of another theme in the first movement in the Sixth (Ex. 5.13). Ex. 5.13  Vienna sketchbook fols. 4v and 5r, motive e; Transition A in VI/​1

The theme Transition A in the Sixth Symphony, which appears between the first and secondary themes, outlines an upper neighbor followed by an ascending fourth (ta2). This melodic contour appears several times in the sketchbook, rhythmically diminished (in quarter and eighth notes). Folios 4v and 5r thus contain two motives related to the first movement of the Sixth Symphony: motive f recalling Theme A, and motive e pointing toward Transition A.

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  139

One sketch clearly related to Transition A in the Sixth has survived, on the verso of a single leaf of oblong format.23 The sketch is in pencil, rhythmically diminished (in quarter notes) compared to the score, as is the case for ta2 in the sketchbook. The recto of this leaf presents a sketch in ink initially labeled “Allegro energico”—​to which Mahler added in pencil: “Alles ohne Punkte, nicht energisch” (“all this is pointless, not energetic”), and later in blue pencil: “Trio?” Alban Berg examined this leaf and concluded that the “tempo indication and the tonality allow connections to the first movement of the Sixth,” but that “there is no similarity with this movement.”24 While there is no clear thematic link with the first movement of the Sixth, this sketch nevertheless shows some affinities with this movement: in particular, the use of the major-​minor “motto” that plays a fundamental role in the Sixth. The first two measures of folio 5v in the Vienna sketchbook suggest another correspondence to Theme A  in the first movement of the Sixth, a theme itself related to Theme A1 in the Finale of the Seventh. Mm. 1-​2 on folio 5v (Ex. 5.14, upper staff ) present a melodic contour similar to the first measures of Theme A in the Sixth (Ex. 5.14, staff 3): the characteristic minor third at the outset of Theme A appears in the sketchbook in major (if one reads staff 2 with a bass clef ), and the descending scale beginning with a descending fourth (a2) is found as such in the sketchbook (f′). The connection is slight, but again, is worth noticing in the context of other motivic associations to several themes in the first movement of the Sixth Symphony. No sketch points directly to the Finale of the Seventh in this section of the sketchbook, but several pages (fols. 4r to 6v) present a C major material in  showing a predilection for melodic fourths and a certain archaic flavor, which could indicate that these were preliminary sketches for the Finale.25

  Morgan Library & Museum, New  York (M214. S9866). Published in Gustav Mahler: Symphonische Entwürfe. Faksimile nach Skizzen aus der Wiener Stadt-​und Landesbibliothek und der Pierpont Morgan Library New  York, ed. Renate Hilmar-​ Voit (Tutzing:  H. Schneider, 1991). See Hilmar-​Voit’s commentary, pp. 22–​23. 24   See Berg’s cover with comments at the Morgan Library & Museum, New York (M214. S9866). 25  This was also suggested by Hefling in “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 190. These pages are discussed in Chapter 9. 23

140  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 5.14  Vienna sketchbook fol. 5v, Theme A in VI/​1 and Theme A1 in VII/​5

The comparison of the Vienna sketchbook with the Moldenhauer sketches highlights significant connections between the outer movements of the Sixth and the last movement of the Seventh. While I also pointed out links between the Finale of the Sixth and the first movement of the Seventh, they appear to be less meaningful, since they depend on the fact that the first movement of the Seventh quotes the Finale of the Sixth.

The Paris Sketchbook Leaves and the Moldenhauer Sketches The Paris sketchbook leaves (Mss. 007, 010, and 012) were all torn out of a sketchbook of the same manufacture as the Vienna sketchbook, but of a larger format, each page containing nine staves instead of six.26 Two of the four pages of Ms. 007 (fols. 1v and 2r) contain music that ended up in the Finale of the Seventh and were crossed out by Mahler in order to indicate that he used that material. On the verso of these two pages (fols. 2v and 1r), we find a sketch in A major, , which does not present any connection to   See Appendix MS2

26

.

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  141

the Seventh, but which reappears on Ms. 012. Ms. 010 presents a preliminary sketch for the Finale in ink (on both sides). As was the case with the Vienna sketchbook, material found on Ms. 007 and Ms. 010 was entered on the Moldenhauer sketches, which confirms that Mahler was using at least two different sketchbooks while at work on the Seventh.

Alban Berg’s Comments on the Paris Sketchbook Leaves

Before entering into details of the Paris sketchbook leaves, let us briefly consider the comments Alban Berg left on a cover held with these sketches.27 This cover seems to concern only one of the sketchbook leaves included in the folder, as well as a “large leaf, written on one side” which is no longer part of this group of sketches, currently including only small sketchbook pages. Berg’s comments, dated from July 9, 1924, run as follows: 2 separate leaves, namely28: 1 large, one-​sided written [leaf] and 1 sketchbook leaf written on both sides, in ink -​-​-​-​-​-​ Both seem to belong together with regard to the thematic material. This symbol completely unknown? And not used in the Tenth Symphony either. The  measure could at most recall parts of the Seventh Symphony (Finale) But it is otherwise not related to this symphony in any way.

Berg mentions a sketchbook leaf written on both sides in ink, containing sketches in  that “could recall the Finale of the Seventh, but is otherwise not related to this symphony in any way.”29 Among all candidates included in the folder in Paris, the most likely to correspond with this description is Ms. 010, discussed later. In addition to his comments on the cover, Berg

  See Appendix BC1 for Berg’s comments, and Appendix MS2 for the contents of the folder in Paris . See also Chapter 3, “The Paris Sketchbook Leaves” in “Musical Evidence.” 28   Here Berg uses the expression “U. zw,” which stands for “und zwar” (“namely”). See Hartmut Schaefer, Gustav Mahler:  Briefe und Musikautographen aus den Moldenhauer-​ Archiven in der Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek (Berlin: Kulturstiftung der Länder, 2003), 175. 29   “[L]‌ässt höchstens auf Partien der VII. Symphonie (Finale) schliessen, sonst aber auch in keiner Weise mit dieser Symphonie verwandt.” 27

142  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

usually wrote the number of the symphony toward which sketches point in the upper right corner, in pencil. Ms. 010 is marked “VII?” on folio 1v; thus Berg established a relationship with the Seventh, but the connections seemed too tenuous for him to consider them as preliminary sketches for the Finale. Ms. 007, however, which presents music that ended up in the Finale of the Seventh, is marked with a firm “VII” on folio 2r. The Morgan Library & Museum in New York holds another of these covers, dated from the same day, and clearly referring to some of the sketchbook leaves located at the Médiathèque Mahler in Paris.30 The first section of Berg’s comments concern an envelope (“Umschlag”) containing sketches for the fourth movement of the Tenth Symphony, which apparently he did not see, since he only mentions the cover and not the sketches.31 The second section clearly concerns the Paris sketchbook pages32: Six small sketchbook leaves namely: 4 [leaves] belonging together, circled in red: they also contain one [leaf] bearing the indication “Adagio VII,” which does not appear in any of Mahler’s known symphonies. [Also not in the Seventh or in the Tenth!] and on one of these pieces of paper two citations from the Eighth Symphony. In addition, a citation from the Rondo-​finale of the Seventh in  is crossed out! One leaf with an unknown Part also in , which in some places recalls the Seventh (Rondo-​finale).

Berg first mentions four leaves related to each other, which are most probably Ms. 007 (2 leaves) and Ms. 012 (2 leaves). The pages framed in red correspond to Ms. 012, where the indication “Adagio VII” can be read. The “citations” from the Eighth Symphony are located on Ms. 012, folio 1r, just above the section marked “Adagio VII.” The crossed out “citation of the Seventh’s

  See Appendix BC2 .   Morgan Library & Museum, New York (M214. S98610). 32  Following these findings, the catalogue of the Morgan Library has been updated. The last section of Berg’s comments concern Ms. 011, which does not appear to be related to the Seventh Symphony: “1 leaf in pencil that turned yellow, with a completely unknown  and Alla breve—​parts. Also from the Wörthersee time: “Kalenski Wittwe keyboard shop presumably [in] Klagenfurt.” Berg’s comments here still need to be elucidated. This keyboard shop in Klagenfurt apparently helped 30 31

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  143

Rondo-​finale” probably points out to Ms. 007, folios 1v and 2r, discussed earlier. The single leaf with an “unknown Part also in ” could refer to Ms. 010. However, since Berg makes a similar comment on the Paris cover discussed earlier (BC1), it is difficult to establish which of these covers describes Ms. 010, the other one probably referring to a sketchbook leaf that is now lost.

The Paris Sketchbook Leaves Ms. 007 and the Moldenhauer Folio 2v

I begin with Ms. 007, folios 1v and 2r (Fig. 5.2). In an overview of the manuscript sources for the Seventh, Reilly considers Ms. 007 as discarded material: It appears to be an attempt to create a contrapuntal combination, not ultimately used, of several of the principal motifs from that movement, specifically the descending scale figure and the timpani’s motif based on the interval of a fourth found in the two bars before fi­ gure 234 of the published score, together with a form of the Grazioso theme that appears four bars before ­figure 251.33

Reilly refers here to a contrapuntal combination of the theme Transition A and the “Grazioso” theme C, which is not only used more than once in the Finale of the Seventh, but is also the hallmark of that very “Grazioso” theme, always combined with Transition A. In fact, the music sketched on the second and third systems of Ms. 007 folio 2r corresponds closely to the score at mm. 517–​25: 1v cf. VII/​5

2r cf. VII/​5

mm. 526–​29 (Fig. 289-​3) mm. 480–​82 (Fig. 283+1) mm. 517–​25 This passage is marked by the return of the “Grazioso” theme C in C major, followed by a collapsing D♭ major scale leading to the last Ritornello theme (m. 538, Fig.  290).34 The sketch on folio 2r continues onto folio 1v (mm. Berg to date this sketch from the Wörthersee time, when Mahler was spending his holiday in Maiernigg between 1900 and 1907. 33   Reilly, “The Manuscripts of the Seventh Symphony,” in Gustav Mahler: Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, eds. Donald Mitchell and Edward Reilly (Amsterdam: Rosbeek Publishers, 1995), 77. Reilly did not consider that Ms. 010 was connected to the Finale of the Seventh. Following him, Kubik describes Ms. 007 as a single leaf without mentioning the other manuscripts of the folder (Mss. 010 and 012), but notes that “a proper examination of these sketches still needs to be made.” (NKG, 314). 34   See Appendix F5.

Fig. 5.2  MAH-​ms2-​007, fols. 1v and 2r. Fonds de La Grange, collection Mahler, Fondation de France. Deposited at the Médiathèque Musicale Mahler, Paris

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  145

526–​29). The first system of folio 2r corresponds to mm. 480–​82, and I return to this later. Therefore, folios 2r and 1v form a musical continuity, but not in the “right” order, since the sketch begins on the right hand page and continues on the left hand page. This suggests either that these two folios were not facing each other in the sketchbook, or that Mahler started sketching on the right hand page and continued on the left hand page. There are three possibilities for the original disposition of these folios in the sketchbook. First, folios with music that ended up in the Finale were facing each other: 1r 2 m. in , AM unknown 1v cf. VII/​5 mm. 526–​29

2r cf. VII/​5 mm.  480–​82 mm. 517–​25

2v 3 syst. in , AM unknown

Second, folios with unknown music in  were facing each other: 1r

cf. VII/​5 mm.  480–​82 mm. 517–​25 1v 3 syst. in , AM unknown

2r 2 m. in , AM unknown

146  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

2v cf. VII/​5 mm. 526–​29 Third, these two pages were not next to each other in the sketchbook. Since the unknown music in  does not present any particular continuity between the two pages, I regroup the pages containing music that ended up in the Finale of the Seventh together, and I have therefore labeled the folios according to the first possibility, with the sketches used in the Finale on folios 1v and 2r. We have a draft for the same passage in the Finale on the Moldenhauer folio 2v. This page contains material equivalent to the score at mm. 446–​511 (three before Fig. 279), which corresponds to most parts of my section 8. As Reilly has observed, this sketch is more extended than the others on the Moldenhauer pages. Laid out in Particell format,

it is more or less continuous, presented in five systems, all but one in four staves, the other in three, rather than the two or three found in the earlier sketch. These features suggest a somewhat more advanced stage in the composition of the movement.35

Section 8 is characterized by the return of the theme of the first movement. The music of the first two systems is sketched a semitone lower than it appears in the score, starting in D♭ major instead of D major. Mahler indicated, in red pencil, that this passage had to be transposed “1/​2 [tone] higher.”36 Starting from the end of the second system, where we find the indication “C minor” (also in red pencil), the sketch is written in the same keys as in the score. The first system corresponds to mm. 446–​61, the second to mm. 462–​77, the third to mm. 478–​82, and the fourth has another version of mm. 481–​85. At this point on the page there is a “V” sign inserted, marked with the letter B, showing that a passage probably sketched elsewhere had to be inserted at this place. After the letter B we have a sketch for mm. 492–​500, and the last system is equivalent to mm. 500–​11. It is tempting to imagine that this insert corresponds to mm. 486–​91, missing in the sketch, and I return to this question later. One particular passage on this page needs to retain our attention for a moment: the two versions of mm. 481–​83. The first version

  Reilly, “Gustav Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” 306–​307.   See Appendix MS3, fol. 2v, upper left corner .

35

36

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  147

(Ex. 5.15, syst. 3) brings us back to the Paris sketchbook leaf Ms. 007, folio 2r (Ex. 5.15 top). Ex. 5.15  Moldenhauer fol. 2v, Paris Ms. 007 fol. 2r and VII/​5

The first system on Ms. 007, folio 2r, displays at least three layers of corrections (the first in pencil, the others in ink), two of which are transcribed in Ex. 5.15. The third version corresponds closely to the first version sketched on the Moldenhauer folio 2v (Ex. 5.15, syst. 2–​3). This clearly shows that Mahler was working back and forth between the Paris sketchbook pages and the Moldenhauer folios, here using the former as a basis for his draft on the latter. The third layer of corrections in the sketchbook may have been added after Mahler had sketched the first version of the passage on

148  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

the Moldenhauer folio 2v. The second version on folio 2v, entered below the first (at st. 16–​18, Ex. 5.15 syst. 4), is close to what is found in the score (Ex. 5.15, bottom). The letter B is inserted at the end of the second version on the Moldenhauer folio 2v (Ex. 5.15, end of syst. 4). The missing measures on the draft (mm. 486–​91, two before Fig. 284) correspond precisely to a passage sounding like an insert in the score:  the key and the meter change (B major, ), and the passage is marked “Flott” which, as we have seen in Chapter 4, often signals rhetorical inserts in the Finale. This moment interrupts the series of quotations of the theme of the first movement that appear each time transposed a semitone lower, starting at m. 455 in D minor.37 After the insert in B major built on the Cancan motive, the quotation reappears one more time at m. 492 (four before Fig. 285) in B♭ major (B major in the sketch). Therefore, what sounds like an interruption in the final version of the movement already appears as an insert in this preliminary draft—​or, rather, does not appear at all, since we cannot be sure that Mahler initially meant to insert this particular passage as we know it. In this case, the music in its completed form seems to be perfectly aligned with its genesis. This passage brings to mind Mahler’s comment quoted earlier, that “composing is like playing with bricks, continually making new buildings from the same old stones.”38 The Moldenhauer folio 2v could represent a physical trace of this compositional “playing with bricks,” which, in this case, remains audible in the finished work. The fact that what can be observed in the sketches resonates with what the music achieves in its final form can be used to reconsider the relationship between a work’s genesis and its structure, and I return to this question in Chapter 8.

The Paris Sketchbook Leaf Ms. 010 and the Moldenhauer Folio 3r

The Paris sketchbook folio Ms. 010 presents music related to the Finale, even though the connection did not appear clearly enough to grant it the status of

  See Chapter 4, “Section 8” in “Form and Content.”   NBLE, 131; NBL, 138, “Wie ein Spielen mit Bausteinen.”

37 38

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  149

“sketch for the Finale” in previous assessments.39 As Ex. 5.16 shows, the recto and the verso of Ms. 010 are closely connected to each other. Ex. 5.16  Paris Ms. 010, fols. 1r and 1v

It seems that the sketch found on folio 1v (Ex. 5.16 syst. 1) precedes those of folio 1r, for two reasons. First, the initial syncopated rhythm found on folio 1r (in motive x, Ex. 5.16, syst. 2) probably originates from the correction made on folio 1v, where the initial half notes (version 1) become syncopated in version 2. Second, the music sketched at the bottom of folio 1r (Ex. 5.16, bottom) derives from a combination of the sketch on folio 1v with the sketch at the top of folio 1r (Ex. 5.16, syst. 2). Motive x reappears at 8/​1 in the inner voices. The descending scale in motive y at 8/​1 was inserted later, possibly after the sketch on folio 1v was made. The time signature () and the melodic contour of these fragments recall the Grazioso theme C in the Finale (Ex. 5.17, bottom), which was also sketched on the other Paris sketchbook leaves discussed earlier (Ms. 007). As shown in Ex. 5.17, Ms. 010 and the Moldenhauer folio 3r share several motivic connections.   See Reilly, “The Manuscripts of the Seventh Symphony,” in Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, 77; or Kubik, NKG, 314. 39

150  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 5.17  Paris Ms. 010 fol. 1v, Moldenhauer fol. 3r and Theme C in VII/​5

The alternation of motives w, z, and w′ found in Ms. 010, folio 1v (Ex. 5.17, upper system) also appears on the Moldenhauer folio 3r (Ex. 5.17, syst. 3).40 This folio, previously unidentified, contains three sketches: the first is in G major,  (ink); the second in G minor,  (also in ink, the first measures are transcribed in Ex. 5.17), and the third in C major,  (pencil), related to the initial sketch in G major.41 The motivic connection mentioned earlier, as well   On fol. 3r, w′ ends with an ascending leap of an octave, and not of a fifth, as in Ms. 010. 41   In his description of the Moldenhauer sketches, Reilly (and therefore also Hartmut Schaefer, who relied on Reilly’s work) does not make any connection between folio 3r and the Finale of the Seventh. See “Gustav Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” 311; and Hartmut Schaefer, in Gustav Mahler: Briefe und Musikautographen, 84 and 177. There might be also a tenuous connection to make with the Trio of the first Nachtmusik, at 5/​3–​5 (compare with mm. 85–​87). This melodic 40

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  151

as the time signature () and the key of G major, establish a strong relationship between the Paris sketchbook leaf Ms. 010 and the Moldenhauer folio 3r; and, by extension, between these sketches and the Finale of the Seventh. Moreover, it should be noted that the verso of this Moldenhauer folio (3v), discussed later, contains sketches that ended up in the Finale. Motives w and z also appear in Theme C, but disposed in a different way (Ex. 5.17, bottom). The first version found at 7/​1 on folio 1v, whose rhythm was then changed into a syncopated one (Ex. 5.17, syst. 2), begins like the first appearance of Theme C at m. 100 (three after Fig. 235, w″)—​with a descending step followed by two ascending steps—​but the ascending leap in quarter notes on the first beat is closer to the variant of Theme C found at m. 411 (four before Fig. 275, w′). The repeated descending second ornamented with a mordent, which appears several times on Ms. 010 folio 1r (Ex. 5.18, syst. 1–​3), relates to two themes in the Finale: the carousel-​like Theme B and the Grazioso theme C (Ex. 5.18, syst. 4–​7). This motive is also found on the Moldenhauer folio 3r, but without the mordent (Ex. 5.18, syst. 3, on the right).

turn is also found on the Moldenhauer folio 4r at 1/​4, and it was marked by Berg as “VII?” with an arrow pointing toward it. These two connections might seem too thin at first sight, but they become more meaningful if we keep in mind that folio 5r has a sketch for this very Trio in the first Nachtmusik. These pages are discussed in Chapter 6.

152  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 5.18  Paris Ms. 010 fol. 1r, Moldenhauer fol. 3r and Themes B and C in  VII/​5

Finally, Ex. 5.19 shows the first sketch in G major on the Moldenhauer folio 3r, which contains a cell (b3) recurrent in the Finale of the Seventh (Theme B), as well as in the first Nachtmusik (Trio, see Ex. 6.4).

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  153

Ex. 5.19  Moldenhauer fol. 3r

All this suggests that Mahler was working back and forth between two different sketchbooks—​the Vienna the Paris ones—​and the Moldenhauer folios while composing the Seventh.

Other Sketches and Drafts for the Finale The Moldenhauer folios 1v and 3v both present sketches clearly connected to the Finale of the Seventh, specifically for the Ritornello theme (A1 and A2) and for the march theme Transition A immediately following it. The presence of Transition A on folio 1v allows for a comparison with the Vienna sketchbook (fol. 29r). My examination of the compositional materials for the Finale ends with Ms. 7661, displaying a sketch for the development of the rustic Theme B.

The Moldenhauer Folios 1v and 3v

As discussed earlier, the “unknown” music found at the bottom of the Moldenhauer folio 1v (st. 15–​22) may have been originally meant for the Finale of the Seventh. Two thirds of this folio 1v (st. 1–​14) display sketches clearly connected to the Finale. The music is written in , C major—​except for the first two systems in B♭—​but as the marking “C-​dur” shows, Mahler meant to transpose the second system into C major as well.42 Sketches are presented in an order reversed from how they appear in the score: Transition A (st. 1–​2), Theme A2 (st. 4–​7), and Theme A1 (st. 8–​13). Mahler began on the page with the theme that will eventually follow the Ritornello theme (Transition A, st. 1–​2), here sketched in B♭, in the rhythmic  The passage marked “Original” at the  had to remain as noted. See Reilly, “Gustav Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” 305. In fact, if one transposes the first three measures in C major, what follows starting from D at m. 4 are the correct pitches. 42

154  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

form found at m. 23 in the score. At m. 4 on folio 1v, (Ex. 5.20, upper system) Mahler began sketching on the second staff a few measures that seem to constitute the origins of both A1 and A2. Ex. 5.20  Moldenhauer fol. 1v, genesis of Themes A1 and A2

The measures transcribed on the first system of Ex. 5.20 (here on two staves for the sake of clarity) develop the broken-​scale motive ta1 so characteristic of the march theme Transition A.  The motivic material for the Ritornello theme (A1 and A2) is almost complete here:  we have the descending fourth a, cell a1, and the ascending scale c.43 The second system begins with the same combination of a with a1, followed by c, which represents a mixture of A1 and A2. A2 as it appears in the score (m. 15) is sketched on the third system, not directly below the preceding sketch but in the right hand portion of the page, maybe because it was added after Mahler had

  See Appendix M5.

43

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  155

sketched on staves 8 and 9. On staves 12 and 13 (Ex. 5.20, bottom), below a preliminary sketch for Theme A1 (st. 8–​9), we find the combination of a with a1, followed by motive b, which constitute the final form of A1 (m. 7 in the score), with orchestral indications (“trumpet” and “horn”; see facsimile in App. MS3  ). As Reilly noted, the first two measures sketched on the Moldenhauer folio 3v constitute an abbreviated form of the head of the Ritornello theme (A1) in the Finale (mm. 7–​8).44 The following measures do not appear as such in the Finale. However, the last four measures of the first system roughly correspond to mm. 43–​46 (Fig. 228). The measures preceding this passage (mm. 38–​43), marking the beginning of the “coda-​like” gesture after Transition A, are found on the second system, encircled and linked to the first system with a straight line. The encircled passage has mm. 38–​40, and m. 41 is sketched below, as an insert after m. 40.45 It is difficult to determine if this sketch was made before or after the sketches found on the Moldenhauer folio 1v.

Connections to the Vienna Sketchbook (Folio 29r)

The Vienna sketchbook contains only one page with material used in the Finale, in the front section (fol. 29r); although the two following leaves, which were torn out before the pages were numbered, may also have presented sketches for that movement.46 Folio 29r (Fig. 5.3), crossed out in blue pencil, displays a sketch for Transition A closely corresponding to the score at mm. 87–​95 (two before Fig. 234).47 In this variant of the theme, the broken-​scale motive appears in eighth-​ notes, not in dotted rhythm as the first time (mm. 23ff ). Hefling concludes that “evidently, then, [the theme] first occurred to Mahler in the energetic eighth-​note motion.”48 The theme in its augmented form added as counterpoint at the bottom of the page (5/​3–​5) “originally consisted of even

  Reilly, “Gustav Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” 306; and see Appendix MS3 . 45   The motive found on systems 3 and 4 is related to the second Nachtmusik. See Chapter 6. 46   Hefling suggests that these missing leaves could have been torn out by Mahler himself. “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 200. 47   For a transcription of fol. 29r, see Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 198. 48   Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 195. 44

156  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Fig. 5.3  Vienna sketchbook fol. 29r. KHM-​Museumverband, Theatermuseum Vienna. VK 905 BaM quarters; the characteristic dotted values were added only later as one of the few ink corrections found in the sketchbook.” Hefling seems to assume that folio 29r contains an early sketch for this passage in the Finale. As we have seen, the Moldenhauer folio 1v also presents a sketch for Transition A, there with the dotted rhythm.49 Did Mahler begin sketching the dotted rhythm version of Transition A on the Moldenhauer folio 1v as a variant of the eighth-​note version of the theme previously drawn in the Vienna sketchbook? The Moldenhauer sketch is in B♭ major, without any bass, and we only have the first four measures of the theme as it appears in the score (mm. 23–​26). The Vienna sketchbook, however, presents an entry corresponding very closely to the score (except for some changes in the horn part on the last system). At first sight, the sketchbook shows a more elaborated version of the music than the Moldenhauer page. Should we therefore conclude that the sketch on the Moldenhauer page precedes the one drawn in the Vienna sketchbook? The front section of the sketchbook, where folio 29r belongs, mainly includes continuous sketches on two staves that are fairly close to the final version, which could indicate that they were made on the basis of other preliminary sketches. We could imagine, then, that Mahler developed in the Vienna sketchbook a sketch jotted down earlier on the Moldenhauer page. However, the apparently low degree of elaboration of the sketch found on

  See earlier, “Moldenhauer folios 1v and 3v,” and Appendix MS3

49

.

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  157

the Moldenhauer page does not necessarily imply that it precedes the more developed one. Since sketches also have a mnemonic function, composers sometimes write down only what they need to remember. If Mahler had the sketchbook at hand, displaying a rather elaborated sketch for this passage, he could have worked on this melodic idea on the Moldenhauer folio, trying out another key (B♭ major) and the dotted rhythm that appears, as we have seen, at the bottom of the sketchbook page. The bass could have been omitted because Mahler already had it in the sketchbook, and therefore did not need to write it down again on the Moldenhauer page. The theme Transition A also appears on the Paris sketchbook folio 2r, Ms. 007, as a counterpoint to the Grazioso theme C.50 It remains difficult to determine in which order these sketches were made, and there is scant evidence that could allow us to make a chronological assumption. Seeing the Moldenhauer folio 1v as a whole, the presence of sketches used in the Finale on the upper half of the page supports the idea that the “unknown” music sketched at the bottom of the page, in C major and , was initially meant to be included in the same movement.

Ms. 7661 (Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Munich)

The recto of this single leaf contains a preliminary draft laid out in Particell for the second theme of the first movement of the Sixth Symphony (“Alma theme,” mm. 93–​122 in the score), while the verso displays sketches for the development of Theme B in the Finale of the Seventh.51 The music roughly corresponds to mm. 316–​25 (four before Fig.  263) and mm. 332–​41 in the Finale (my section 6), but sketched here a semitone higher and in rhythmic values that are twice as long as they appear in the score.52 This passage

  This was also noted by Reilly. See “Gustav Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” 307. 51   See Appendix MS4 . A facsimile of this page was published in Peter Andraschke, “Struktur und Gehalt im ersten Satz von Gustav Mahlers Sechster Symphonie” (1978), in Gustav Mahler, ed. Hermann Danuser (Darmstadt:  Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1992), 206–​37; as well as in Floros, The Symphonies, 160. See also Gustav Mahler:  Briefe und Musikautographen aus den Moldenhauer-​Archiven in der Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek (Berlin: Kulturstiftung der Länder, 2003), 228. 52   According to Hefling, there are several cases where Mahler sketched music in larger rhythmic values than those he ultimately chose. It is the case in sketches for the Rückert song “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,” as well as in the Particell for the third movement of the Fourth Symphony. See Hefling, “‘Variations in nuce’: A Study of Mahler Sketches, and a Comment on Sketch Studies,” in Gustav Mahler 50

158  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

belongs to the longest development of Theme B in the movement, where Mahler used the flutter-​tonguing technique for the flutes. It is not the first time we encounter sketches for the Sixth and Seventh on the same leaf. As we have seen, the first leaf of the Moldenhauer group (fol. 1r) also presents a short sketch for the “Alma theme” in ink on the recto, and preliminary sketches for the Finale in pencil on the verso.53 Mahler usually tore a bifolio in half and wrote on one side only, on whatever sheet was at hand.54 Thus, the fact that sketches for the first movement of the Sixth lie on one side of a leaf whose verso has sketches for the Finale of the Seventh could be coincidental; but these two cases nonetheless contribute to strengthen the relationship between the genesis of the Sixth and that of the Seventh. Indeed, as discussed in this chapter, the “unknown” music found in the Vienna sketchbook and in the Moldenhauer sketches often points toward the outer movements of the Sixth and the last movement of the Seventh. This suggests that Mahler began sketching material that was eventually entered into the Finale of the Seventh already in 1904, while he was still at work on the Sixth. Nothing allows to establish when, exactly, Mahler decided to use this material in the Finale of the Seventh—​in 1904 or in 1905. We can assume, however, that the composition of the outer movements of both symphonies was interconnected, and that for both works, Mahler worked on the inside (the middle movements) before concentrating on the beginning and the end. In most cases it is clear that Mahler was elaborating the more developed Moldenhauer sketches with his Vienna and Paris sketchbooks at hand. In some instances, however, he might have been working the other way around, developing in a sketchbook a sketch jotted down earlier on a larger leaf. As we have seen with the Vienna sketchbook folio 29r, it is difficult to determine if this sketch precedes or follows the sketch for the same theme displayed on the Moldenhauer folio 1v. Moreover, the front section of the Vienna sketchbook mainly presents continuous sketches on two staves that are rather close to the score, while it seems that the back section has been used to write down ideas as they came up, without being necessarily intended for a specific

Kolloquium 1979, Beiträge der Österreichischen Gesellschaft für Musik 2 (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1981), 108; and “The Composition of ‘Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,’ ” in Gustav Mahler, ed. Hermann Danuser, 112.

  In both cases, the paper has the same number of staves (22), even if it was not printed from the same plates, or (presumably) at the same time. 54   See Hefling, “Variations in nuce,” 107–​108. 53

Genesis of the Rondo-Finale  :  159

work.55 Thus, Mahler was not using sketchbooks exclusively to sketch early ideas to be developed later on larger leaves. He was working simultaneously on different sketching areas, which do not always represent a distinct and well-​defined stage of the compositional process. “Discarded” sketches, in this case, point toward the Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth symphonies. Even if the connections emphasized in this chapter are often tenuous, this web of correspondences allows us to see beyond the individuality and boundaries of each of a composer’s works, showing how the never-​ending creative process draws visible, and sometimes less visible, lines between them.

  Peter Andraschke reached a similar conclusion in “Mahlers Schaffenprozess,” in Mahler Handbuch, eds. Bernd Sponheuer and Wolfram Steinbeck (Stuttgart: Metzler, 2010), 130: “Auch in diesem Skizzenbuch sind verschiedene Arbeitsstadien zu finden, von knappen ersten Formulierungen bis zu einer Particellskizze von 22 Takten.” 55

C h a p t e r   6    

Nachtmusiken

As [Mahler] wrote the Nachtmusiken he was beset by Eichendorffish visions, murmuring springs, and German Romanticism. —​Alma Mahler1

The pairing of the Nachtmusiken of the Seventh seems unavoidable; first because these two movements bear the same name, and, second, because Mahler’s “boat letter” and Alma Mahler’s statement about their simultaneous genesis contribute to settle their association.2 The name pairing, however, was a late decision, since the fair copy of the Seventh shows that Mahler had initially entitled the second movement “Nachtstück” before correcting it to “Nachtmusik” in the copyist’s score.3

  AM, 113: “Ihm schwebten bei den Nachtmusiken Eichendorffsche Visionen vor, plätschernde Brunnen, deutsche Romantik.” 2   For the “boat letter,” see Chapter 3. Mahler does not specify when he composed the Nachtmusiken in this letter, but writes that they were both “on his table” at the beginning of the summer of 1905. The English translation of Alma Mahler’s statement is not accurate, since the German plural “Nachtmusiken” is translated by the singular “serenade,” as if she was referring to the second Nachtmusik only. See AME, 89. This mistranslation might be explained by the fact that two other sources referring to Eichendorff in the context of the Seventh, Julius Korngold and Karl Weigl, mention the German poet in connection with the second Nachtmusik (see later in this chapter). 3  See Gustav Mahler:  Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, eds. Donald Mitchell and Edward Reilly (Amsterdam: Rosbeek Publishers, 1995), 77. A title page added later bears “2. Satz /​1. Nachtmusik” (p. 75 in the Facsimile). In the copyist’s score, the word “-​musik” is written in lighter ink where the paper was scratched to erase the word “-​stück.” See copyist’s score p.  73, online access through ÖNB catalog, cf. Appendix MS8  . 1

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The fourth movement, however, bears the title “Nachtmusik” in the fair copy. Thus Mahler, for a while, considered having a “Nachtstück” and a “Nachtmusik” in his Seventh, making a distinction between “night piece” and “nightmusic.” “Nachtstück” is usually taken to refer to music about the night, suggesting the idea of night; while a “Nachtmusik” is to be played during the night, and, as a serenade, is usually addressed to someone and meant to fulfill a seductive function. The second Nachtmusik, with guitar and mandolin, clearly refers to the topic of the serenade, and Mahler himself qualified the fourth movement as a “serenade” on several occasions.4 In fact, the term “Nachtstück” would be more appropriate for the first Nachtmusik, which raises the question of Mahler’s motivations for choosing to have two “Nachtmusiken” in his Seventh instead of keeping this subtle nuance in the titles. The pairing of these two movements calls for a comparison of their characteristics and functions within the symphony. Like the Finale, both Nachtmusiken play with discontinuity and interruption. The first piece takes us into a pastoral world disturbed by military sounds; the second offers the vision of a serenade constantly interrupted by interjections and changes of perspectives, as if the subjective voice could not resist being turned into an objective observer. Besides their common features, however, these two movements each behave differently and are not particularly close in terms of musical language. Qualifying them with the same term may have allowed Mahler to show how the same idea—​the idea of a “nightmusic”—​can be musically embodied in different ways. In what follows, I  first discuss the music in its finished form, outlining the most salient features of each movement, before turning to the extant compositional materials, small fragments that can be associated with the Nachtmusiken (except one Moldenhauer folio clearly displaying a sketch for the Trio of the first Nachtmusik).

The First Nachtmusik From the pastoral to the military march, sprinkled with sounds of carousel music and habanera, the second movement of Mahler’s Seventh evokes several identifiable topics that do not seem to have much in common with each other. I begin by outlining the structure and motivic components of the movement, exploring how these topics relate to each other; and will

  Mahler in a letter to Henri Hinrichsen, December 5, 1907; see NKG, xx. In Willem Mengelberg’s conducting score, which bears corrections from Mahler’s hand and inscriptions inspired by conversations with the composer during rehearsals, the fourth movement is marked “Ständchen/​Serenade.” See NKG, 321. 4

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then highlight the affinities between the first Nachtmusik and the Finale before turning to the compositional materials.

Structure and Substance

The first Nachtmusik can be formally described as a march with two trios, structured as a symmetrical rondo (ABACABA) with introduction, transitional passages, and coda5: 1–​29: 30–​82 (Fig. 72): 83–​121 (Fig. 79-​3): 122–​40 (Fig. 83+5): 141–​60 (Fig. 85+4): 161–​211 (Fig. 88+5): 212–​22 (Fig. 95+1): 223–​61 (Fig. 96+2): 262–​92 (Fig. 101): 293–​317 (Fig. 105-​2): 318–​43 (Fig. 108):

Intro–​Collapse 1 (M–​m) A (march) B (Trio I, dance and circus) Intro (cowbells)–​Transition A C (Trio II, pastoral) /​Intro–​Collapse 2 (M–​m) /​ C Transition A B A Intro (Coda)–​Collapse 3

Section A, comprising the main March theme (A1–​A2), alternates with Trio I (B) and Trio II (C). The rondo is a recurrent structure in the Seventh, as three out of five movements are in rondo form:  the two Nachtmusiken and the Finale.6 The first Nachtmusik takes much of its substance from the “seal”   See Appendices F2 and M2. The analysis of the movement as a march with two trios is found, among others, in Richard Specht, “Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” in Der Merker 2 (1909): 3–​4; Hans Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt: Schriften über Werk und Wiedergabe, Stil und Interpretation in der Musik, ed. Manfred Huss (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1979), 143–​44; Constantin Floros, Gustav Mahler: The Symphonies (Portland: Amadeus Press, 1997), 198; HLG3, 860ff; and Peter Davison, “Nachtmusik I:  Sound and Symbol,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler: A Symposium, ed. James Zychowicz (Cincinnati: University of Cincinnati, 1990), 68–​73. 6   See Fig. 2.2. As opposed to most commentators, Karl Weigl and Hans-​Klaus Jungheinrich both specify that the movement is structured like a rondo. See Weigl, “Gustav Mahler:  VII. Symphonie in E moll,” in Mahlers Symphonien, ed. Edgar Istel (Berlin:  Schlesinger, 1910), 143; and Jungheinrich, “Nach der Katastrophe. Anmerkungen zu einer aktuellen Rezeption der Siebten Symphonie,” in Mahler—​eine 5

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of the Sixth Symphony, the major-​minor motto that runs through the first movement, the Scherzo, and the Finale like a common thread.7 The initial exchange of horn calls at the beginning of the movement’s introduction clearly states this major-​minor oscillation (Ex. 6.1).8 Ex. 6.1  Nachtmusik I and  VI/​1

As in the Sixth Symphony, where a loud major triad disappears into the minor mode (the triad is therefore lowered in both pitch and intensity), the first horn, in this Nachtmusik, launches a strong appeal in C major (i1, “rufend”) that is immediately answered by the third horn in C minor, as from far away (i2). Motivically, the answer is a variant of the call:  the

Herausforderung:  Ein Symposion, ed. Peter Ruzicka (Wiesbaden:  Breitkopf & Härtel, 1977), 193.  See VI/​1, mm. 59–​60; Scherzo, mm. 88–​92; VI/​4, mm. 9–​12. As seen in Chapter 3, William Ritter reported a conversation with Mahler where the composer showed him in the first Nachtmusik the “famous major-​minor decrescendo chord, which is the seal of the Sixth Symphony.” Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” unpublished book chapter (1912), in William Ritter chevalier de Gustav Mahler: Ecrits, correspondance, documents, ed. Claude Meylan (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000), 142. 8   Mahler’s calls and answers in the first Nachtmusik echoes Berlioz’s dialoguing shepherds in the “Scène aux Champs” of the Symphonie Fantastique. See Peter Revers, “The Seventh Symphony,” in The Mahler Companion, eds. Donald Mitchell and Andrew Nicholson (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 385. 7

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arpeggiated major triad in quarter notes, introduced by an upbeat in the call, becomes an arpeggiated minor triad rhythmically varied. Only one element remains constant between the call and the answer: the descent from the upper C down to the G, passing through A♭ (cell a), which already gives a minor touch to the major call.9 The connection to the motto of the Sixth Symphony becomes even more audible at the end of the introduction (mm. 28–​29), when three horns and three trumpets play a C major triad fortissimo fading into the minor mode with a decrescendo. But here, as opposed to what happens in the Sixth, the motto is accompanied by a collapsing scale breaking down over more than four octaves and making the connection between the major and the minor triads, as if the fall from major to minor—​from E to E♭—​contained much more than a semitone. These major-​minor collapses—“hissing tumbles” as William Ritter calls them10—​appear three times in the movement (at m. 28, m. 187, and m. 337). At the end of the first Nachtmusik (m. 337), the major/​minor triad is played by three trumpets in F, exactly as in the Sixth Symphony.11 This repeated pattern of “introduction leading to collapse” announces the collapsing dances of the Finale and, as we shall see in the next chapter, those of the Scherzo.12 In the Finale and in the Scherzo, the collapse is the result of intense movement, of a dance exhausting itself. In the first Nachtmusik, however, the collapse occurs quickly after an introductory gesture, announcing the “Intro-Cadence” of the second Nachtmusik and the introduction of the Finale: musical gestures that are both introductory and concluding at the same time. Like the introductory horn calls, the first theme (A1 and A2) constantly plays with the alternation between the major and minor modes (Ex. 6.2).

 Cell a can be heard as a variant of the cell that plays a crucial role in the first movement (ia, see motivic table in Appendix M1), and that appears, more or less transformed, in each movement of the Seventh. 10  “Sifflantes dégringolades.” See Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 156. 11   For Stephen Hefling, the “Sixth’s harrowing major-​minor motto is thrice casually dismissed” in the first Nachtmusik. See Hefling, “From Wunderhorn to Rückert and the Middle-​Period Symphonies,” in The Cambridge Companion to Mahler, ed. Jeremy Barham (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 124. 12   See Chapter 2, “Inner Connections” in “Structure” and “Dance to Collapse” in “Main Interpretive Leads”; and Chapter 4 for the collapses in the Finale. 9

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Ex. 6.2  Nachtmusik I, Themes A1 and A2

A1 and A2 echo the call-​and-​answer structure of the introduction on several levels. First, A1 begins, like the initial horn call, with a C major arpeggio in quarter notes, and ends on the dominant, like a typical antecedent phrase. Second, A1 is mainly in major—​except at mm. 34 and 36—​and A2 in minor, which reflects the contrast between i1 and i2. Finally, A2 starts with the dotted cell a, that concluded the question and answer in the introduction (see Ex. 6.1). This modal ambiguity is a key feature of the movement, reinforcing its unsteady character. For Paul Bekker, this oscillation between two opposed worlds operates at several levels in the movement: “between dream and reality, major and minor, half pleasant idyll, half lugubrious nightmare.”13 The major-​minor collapse symbolizes the underlying potential of the fall, as the shift to another world is only a semitone apart. At the time of the first performance of the Seventh in Holland, in October 1909, it was rumoured that Rembrandt’s painting The Night Watch (1642) had inspired the composition of the first Nachtmusik.14 Willem Mengelberg’s conducting score bears the following indication at m. 30 (at the entry of Theme A1): “Strict march. Night Watch Rembrandt. Left, right,

 Paul Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien (Berlin:  Schuster & Loeffler, 1921), 252. Thomas Peattie remarks that this major-​minor oscillation “conveys a sense of ambivalence that is characteristic of Mahler’s pastoral episodes in general.” The Fin-​ de-​siècle Metropolis:  Memory, Modernity, and the Music of Gustav Mahler, PhD dissertation (Harvard University, 2002), 1. 14   See Mitchell, “Reception,” in Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, 51. According to La Grange, Mahler had seen the painting in Amsterdam in 1902 (HLG3, 239). 13

166  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

left, right. Suggests olden times.”15 According to a Dutch review of the concert, “Mahler had said that the image of Rembrandt’s Night Watch was before his eyes when he composed it.”16 But the most complete account is found in a letter written by the composer Alphons Diepenbrock, who attended the Amsterdam rehearsals in October 1909: It is not true that [Mahler] wanted to describe The Night Watch here. He only mentioned the painting as a comparison. It is a nocturnal journey; he says he thought of a Scharwache [a small group of watchmen]. By the way, he says something different every time. Certainly it is a march with a fantastic clair obscur, so that an analogy with Rembrandt is appropriate.17

As Diepenbrock remarks, this analogy is not necessarily programmatic; yet Mahler’s play between the major and minor modes in this movement can be compared to Rembrandt’s technique of chiaroscuro, projecting a three-​ dimensional effect on the surface and showing that it is the contrast between light and darkness that highlights the contours of objects.18 A striking feature of this Nachtmusik, “bewildering” for some, is the cohabitation of sonic symbols belonging to different worlds.19 “With the distant and poetic echoes of the two horns,” writes La Grange, “the first Nachtmusik tackles a universe populated with memories:  sounds of nature, pastoral   See NKG, 320, for a description and commentary of Mengelberg’s conducting score, and Karel Philippus Bernet-​Kempers, “Mahler und Willem Mengelberg,” in Bericht über den Internationalen Musikwissenschaftlichen Kongress 1956 (Graz: Böhlaus, 1958), quoted in HLG 3, 852. At the beginning of the first Trio of the first Nachtmusik (m. 83), Mengelberg wrote the following: “A sweet beloved on a soldier’s arm /​amorous looks and squeezes” (“Ein liebes süszes Mädchen am Arm eines der Soldaten /​ verliebte Blicke und Drücke”). 16   L. van Gigch Jr. in De Telegraaf, October 5, 1909. Quoted in Mitchell, “Reception,” in Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, 52. Mitchell refers to another Dutch review that provides the same information:  “The first Nachtmusik, a march in  time inspired by Rembrandt’s Night Watch . . .” (Algemeen Handelsblad, Amsterdam, October 4, 1909, quoted in “Reception,” 57). 17   Letter from Diepenbrock to his friend Johanna Jongkindt, October 17, 1909. See Eduard Reeser, Gustav Mahler und Holland. Briefe (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1980), 31–​32; quoted in Floros, The Symphonies, 191. 18   Carl Niekerk interprets the Seventh in the light of Mahler’s relationship to Dutch culture, seeing it as a “symbol of what was marginalized and discarded within German cultural history.” Reading Mahler: German Culture and Jewish Identity in Fin-​de-​ Siècle Vienna (New York: Camden House, 2010), 148. I return to Niekerk’s reading in the Conclusion. 19   HLG3, 861; and Hefling, “From Wunderhorn to Rückert,” 125. 15

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motives, birdsongs, and military calls.”20 How can we interpret these symbols in this context? For La Grange, It seems as though Mahler were quoting at random from memories of the musical environment of his distant past—​stylized fragments bound together in no way except that they are all recollections, presented as an interior monologue à la Schnitzler or in the manner of a Joycean “stream of consciousness.”21

Hefling also attributes the juxtaposition of apparently unrelated symbols to the inner world, as if reflecting the composer’s or the protagonist’s imagination,22 and conductor Michael Gielen describes the Nachtmusiken as conveying a “sinister,” “disguised,” “quivering” element—​in short, “elusiveness” (“das nicht Greif bare”).23 Hearing these topics as recollections does not explain how they relate to each other, though; and in what follows I focus on the interaction between sounds of civilization and sounds of nature, a fundamental aspect of Mahler’s works in general, particularly significant in the first Nachtmusik.

Cowbells

Placed “in the far distance,” the cowbells first appear at the reprise of the initial horn calls, in a pastoral setting (mm. 126–​34, Fig. 84). The second time they are blended within the orchestra (mm. 280–​89, Fig. 103), accompanying the Circus theme B2, closely related to the secondary Theme B in the Finale. Cowbells reappear at the end of the Finale, also in the orchestra (mm. 559–​84), which contributes to strengthen the connections between the second and fifth movements. At a late stage of the compositional process, Mahler still hesitated on the location of cowbells in the first Nachtmusik. Their first appearance “in the far distance” (m. 126) was an afterthought, added in pencil in the fair copy.24 While the second occurrence (m. 280) was already planned in the fair copy, Mahler decided to cut them in the Stichvorlage (copyist’s score), before  La Grange, “L’Énigme de la Septième,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler, 16. 21   HLG3, 861. 22   Hefling, “From Wunderhorn to Rückert,” 124. 23  “Im Mittelpunkt der Siebenten stehen, ohne Zweifel, die ‘Nachtmusiken,’ also das Gespenstische, das Verhüllte, das Dahinzuckende, das nicht Greif bare.” Michael Gielen and Paul Fiebig, Mahler im Gespräch: Die zehn Sinfonien (Stuttgart and Weimar: Metzler, 2002), 136. 24  See Facsimile of the Seventh, 94; and copyist’s score, 90 (cowbells are notated in ink on the top staff ). 20

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Table 6.1  Cowbells in Nachtmusik I, fair copy and Stichvorlage Location in score (m. no)

Planned cowbells

Cowbells in final version

Placement of cowbells

62–​67: A 110–​15: B 126–​34: Int. 239–​42: A 280–​89: B

In fair copy In fair copy No In fair copy In fair copy

No (cut in Stichvorlage) No (cut in Stichvorlage) Added in fair copy No (cut in Stichvorlage) Yes (cut then restored in Stichvorlage)

No indication No indication “In weiter Entfernung” “Im Orchester” “Im Orchester”

changing his mind and restoring them.25 Moreover, as shown in Table 6.1, the cowbells were originally supposed to ring at three other places, until they were suppressed in the copyist’s score.26 Mahler had originally planned to have cowbells at four different places in the first Nachtmusik, in A and B sections. He ultimately chose not to have them with the March themes A1 and A2, and to keep them only at the reprise of the Circus theme B2 (m. 280). The only time Mahler added cowbells in the fair copy, he placed them “in the far distance.” This spatial play with the sound of cowbells—​heard at a distance first, then closer—​brings us back to the Sixth Symphony, where they also ring at a distance in the first movement, are then integrated in the Andante (“in the orchestra”) before moving away once more (“cowbells in the distance” in the Finale).27

  Cowbells are part of the orchestral score at mm. 280–​89, noted in ink, but without mention that they should ring “Im Orchester.” See Facsimile of the Seventh, 114. In the copyist’s score, the cowbells part is noted in ink (also without mention that it sounds “Im Orchester”), then crossed out in blue pencil. The blue pencil was then erased, the part crossed out in ink, then the crossing out in ink erased, and finally Mahler added his usual mention “bleibt” (in blue pencil) to indicate that the cowbells should remain. See copyist’s score, 110–​11. 26   Mm. 62–​67:  cowbells are notated in ink in the fair copy (see Facsimile of the Seventh, 86); and they are notated in ink and then crossed out in the copyist’s score, p. 82. Idem for mm. 110–​15 (see Facsimile of the Seventh, 92; copyist’s score, 88); and for mm. 239–​42 (Facsimile of the Seventh, 109: “Im Orchester” added in pencil; and copyist’s score, 105: “Im Orchester” in ink, crossed out in blue pencil). 27   See the first movement of the Sixth (mm. 198ff, “in Entfernung aufgestellt”); the Andante (mm. 86ff, “Im Orchester”); and the Finale (mm. 239ff, “Herdenglocken in der Ferne,” and 554ff “In der Ferne”). For a discussion of cowbells in the Sixth 25

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In the printed list of corrections published after the first edition of the Seventh and emended by Mahler, we find the following instructions: “Cowbells are always discrete and intermittent, to play in realistic imitation of the sound of a grazing herd.”28 As Thomas Peattie notes, these instructions are very similar to those found in the Sixth Symphony; except that there, Mahler added a caveat:

The cowbells must be treated with great discretion so as to produce a realistic impression of the bells of a grazing herd of cattle whose sounds drift from the distance, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups, in sounds of high and low pitch. It must, however, be made explicit that this technical remark does not allow for a programmatic interpretation.29

The impression should be “realistic,” indicates Mahler, but this performing clue should not be interpreted programmatically, and I return to this question later. According to Mitchell, what characterizes Mahler’s use of cowbells in the Seventh is the “summoning up of a location unimaginably distant from the materials that make up the rest of the movement.”30 But how can we interpret this sound in the context of the movement? A few decades earlier two scholars discussed, in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, the question of the status of the cowbells within the Seventh. Wolfgang Dömling heard them in “acoustic isolation” and argued that they represented an extra-​musical reality, producing the impression of a musical “collage.”31 Tibor Kneif, in his answer to Dömling, proposed to interpret this sound as “symphonic naturalism.” He pointed out that Mahler’s use of the cowbells as an instrument

and Seventh symphonies, see Thomas Peattie, Gustav Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 83, 104–​108, 144–​46. 28  “Herdenglocken sind immer diskret und intermittierend, in realistischer Nachahmung des Glockengebimmels einer weidenden Herde zu spielen.” See Appendix MS9 . The critical editions of the Seventh (KGA and NKG) both report these instructions at the first appearance of the cowbells, in the first Nachtmusik (m. 126), but the list of corrections does not specify the exact location of these instructions in the score. 29  These instructions were added in the revised edition of the score published in 1906, in a footnote. See Peattie, Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 105, and 145, note 72. 30   Donald Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move: His Seventh Symphony,” in Discovering Mahler: Writings on Mahler, 1955–​2005, ed. Gastón Fournier-​Facio (Rochester: Boydell & Brewer, 2007), 402. 31  Wolfgang Dömling, “Collage und Kontinuum. Bemerkungen zu Gustav Mahler und Richard Strauss,” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik 133 (1972): 131–​34.

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in the orchestra (in the first Nachtmusik and in the Finale), and not only in “acoustic isolation,” speaks against the notion of “collage.”32 We may turn to Mahler himself, who left a fascinating clue about these cowbells during a rehearsal for the Seventh in Munich. His comments were reported by Edgar Istel as follows: Mahler noticed that the audience and the critics seemed to misunderstand the meaning of this timbre [“Klangfarbe”] until then. His intention is not to conjure up the picture of a herd of cows or a flock of sheep with the sound of cowbells. He rather wants to describe an earthly sound resonating from far away [aus weitester Ferne] and disappearing. In such passages in his work, he imagines that he was standing on the highest peak, facing eternity. And as the one who roams above the peaks perceives the last greeting of living beings only through the fading sound of herds grazing afar, so Mahler perceives this sound as the only one symbolizing the loneliness afar from the world [weltferne Einsamkeit].33

Mahler insists, as he did in the instructions added in the Sixth Symphony, that the cowbells should not be taken as a purely descriptive symbol. They do not only evoke a natural landscape, but also a particular type of isolation of the wandering man moving away from the populated lands of nature. The cowbells, here, refer to nature domesticated, to the human appropriation of nature, as opposed to the heights of the mountains, symbolizing the most distant point on earth that man can reach. Paul Stefan also reports Mahler’s remarks (in a shorter version), putting them in relationship with the beginning of the symphony: When Mahler wanted to “justify” the cowbells at a rehearsal in Munich, he explained to the orchestra that this sound was not meant to describe a Pastoral, but, in a way, that it should be the last distant greeting reaching the wandering man [“Wanderer”] on the highest height of the earth. The atmosphere [“Stimmung”] is given in the first measures [of the symphony].34

 Tibor Kneif, “Collage und Naturalismus? Anmerkungen zu Mahlers ‘Nachtmusik I,’” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik 134 (1973): 623–​28. Kneif gives other examples of sounds that are used as a “foreign body” (Fremdkörper). Among others, he refers to the Nightwatchman’s horn in Meistersinger, at the end of Act II. See also Dömling’s own answer to Kneif: “A propos Mahler und Collage,” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik 135 (1974): 100–​101. 33   Edgar Istel, “Persönlichkeit und Leben Gustav Mahlers,” in Mahlers Symphonien (Berlin:  Schlesinger, 1910), 12ff. Quoted in Constantin Floros, Gustav Mahler II (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1977), 323. 34   Paul Stefan, Gustav Mahler: eine Studie über Persönlichkeit und Werk (Munich: Piper, 1912), 126. 32

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It is not clear if the association between the cowbells and the beginning of the Seventh was made by Mahler himself or by Stefan; but either way, the initial tenor horn solo works as well as the cowbells in conveying the image of the Wanderer observing the world from the top of the mountain through a sea of fog.35 It is worth quoting William Ritter’s report of Mahler’s explanation as well, since his version differs significantly from others: “If you think that they [cowbells] are here to evoke the cows, you would be as narrow-​minded as the critic who asked me why I did not bring the herd onto the podium. It is, for me, a tone [“ton”] like any other. I use it as a painter uses a certain touch of color because it is needed here, and because no other would be at the right place here. . . . Indeed, they have the ability to evoke something for me, but not the herd. One of the noblest, most salubrious impressions of peace and vastness that man can feel is, once one reached the peak of a mountain, not to hear any human noise except, from time to time, distant herd bells. It is this specific feeling [“impression”] that I care for. And when I use them in my orchestra, these cowbells, it is to create a feeling of height, of loneliness or of silence. . . .” I am furious not to be able, alas, to reproduce the German expression of his discourse. But I guarantee the exact impression left on my spirit by the words which were flying away without my knowing how to retain them.36

As he does elsewhere in his writings, Ritter expresses his frustration about the language barrier separating him from Mahler.37 While he acknowledges his inability to reproduce Mahler’s words in German, he nonetheless “guarantees the exact impression [they] left on [his] mind.” In other words, what really matters for Ritter is to be able to transcribe this impression, rather than to provide a faithful report of Mahler’s words which were “flying away” while he was unable to retain them. This linguistic gap between Ritter and Mahler is important, because unlike other contemporary German-​speaking critics, Ritter could not report Mahler’s words “literally,” and his narrative always implies a certain degree of interpretation, if only because he had to translate them into French.

  Caspar David Friedrich, Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer, 1818.   Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 145. Ritter may have had access to Istel’s text in German (quoted earlier), which would have helped him fix his recollection and find the German words he was looking for. 37  See, for example, William Ritter chevalier, 135, 145, 408:  “Here we are, face to face . . . but always with this awful embarrassment, not to know how I would express myself or, on the contrary, knowing it too well! What conversations we could have if I knew [German] better!” Excerpts from his Journal, Munich, October 20, 1908. 35

36

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Sounds of Nature

According to Alma Mahler, Mahler was “beset by Eichendorffish visions” when he wrote the Nachtmusiken.38 What she means by “Eichendorffisch visions” is explained in the same sentence: “murmuring springs and German Romanticism.” This comment, notes Peter Revers, suggests an idealized vision of nature, “unbroken” and “unspoiled.”39 Two poems from Josef von Eichendorff have been proposed in association with the Nachtmusiken:  one from the novel Marmorbild (The Marble Statue, 1819) and an individual poem entitled “Ständchen” (“Serenade”).40 These poems present different aspects of the notion of “idyll.” The first poem, sung by the young Florio in Marmorbild, conveys the idea of harmony between man and nature. In “Ständchen,” however, the beauty of a nocturnal landscape leads an older man to the recollection of loss: In my young days Some summer night I would play the lute and sing a happy song But from this silent threshold They buried my love And you, you merry fellow, Keep singing.41 The idealized harmony between man and nature is complicated by the awareness that this ideal state does not belong to reality—​as when a dream contains   AM, 113 (quoted at the beginning of this chapter).  Peter Revers, “Return to the Idyll:  The Night Pieces in Gustav Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in Colloque International Gustav Mahler:  25, 26, 27 Janvier 1985 (Paris: Association Gustav Mahler, 1986), 40. 40   Revers, “Return to the Idyll,” 42. The texts are quoted in HLG3, 869, note 127. Eichendorff ’s “Ständchen” was set to music by Hugo Wolf (Eichendorff-​Lieder, 1889). For Peter Davison, another “Ständchen,” included in the novel Dichter und ihre Gesellen (ch. 19), is even more relevant for interpreting the second Nachtmusik. See Davison, “The Nachtmusiken from Mahler’s Seventh Symphony:  Analysis and Reappraisal,” MPhil dissertation (Cambridge University, 1985), 58–​59; and HLG3, 850. 41  Eichendorff, Novellen und Gedichte, quoted and translated in Revers, “Return to the Idyll,” 42. “So in meinen jungen Tagen /​habe ich manche Sommernacht /​Auch die Laute hier geschlagen /​Und manch lust’ges Lied erdacht. /​Aber von der stillen Schwelle /​Trugen sie mein Lieb’ zur Ruh’ /​Und du, fröhlicher Geselle, /​singe, sing’ nur immer zu!” 38

39

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the awareness of its own status. “The longing for happiness becomes the escape from the reality of life as seen through critical eyes,” as Revers puts it.42 The Nachtmusiken of the Seventh invoke idyllic voices (the voice of nature in the first and the voice of love in the second), while simultaneously drawing attention to their idealized status, as images that do not belong to reality. The Nachtmusiken may appear as peaceful interludes compared to the intense activity of the other movements; but their idyllic quality does not imply a straightforward relationship to nature. “While the Nachtmusiken have long been celebrated as idyllic interludes in the context of the symphony as a whole,” writes Peattie, a more careful examination of the musical processes at work in these movements suggests not only that their relationship to the pastoral is more troubled than has been commonly acknowledged but also that the idyllic voice once again serves as a disruptive presence.43

In a similar way, the cowbells can be taken as a symbol of isolation (as they appear in Mahler’s comments reported by Istel), but they also testify to the human presence in nature—​first, as a human artefact, and second, as a sound heard by the Wanderer.44 Like the Nachtmusiken, the sound of cowbells evokes a peaceful world momentarily protected from intrusions of the “course of the world” (“Weltlauf ”), but at the same time implies an idea of disruption.45 The two appearances of the cowbells in the first Nachtmusik follow this pattern:  the first time they sound in a pastoral context (with horn calls, m. 126) and the second time with the Circus theme B2 (m. 280), contradicting the idea of pastoral isolation.

Echoes of the Wunderhorn World

The human presence in nature is also summoned by military sounds in the first Nachtmusik. As Revers pointed out, the development of Theme C (Trio   Revers, “Return to the Idyll,” 43.  Peattie, Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 143. On Mahler’s pastoral episodes, see also Peattie, “In Search of Lost Time: Memory and Mahler’s Broken Pastoral,” in Mahler and His World, ed. Karen Painter (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002), 185–​98; and Julian Johnson, “Mahler and the Idea of Nature,” in Perspectives on Gustav Mahler, ed. Jeremy Barham (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 23–​36. 44   See Chapter 2, “Mankind and Nature” in “Main Interpretive Leads.” 45   On the Hegelian notion of “Weltlauf,” see Theodor Adorno, Mahler: A Musical Physiognomy, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 6:  “The aimlessly circling, irresistible movements, the perpetual motion of his music, are always images of the world’s course.” 42 43

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II) shows nature being progressively challenged by military sounds, leading eventually to the domination of nature by man. The pastoral Theme C, introduced by woodwind trills evoking the topic of nature (m. 163–​64, Fig. 89), is quickly disturbed by the intrusion of a rhythmic figure (at m. 169) first associated with the March theme (A1, at mm. 33 and 37), then with the transition T1 (at mm. 48–​49, 55).46 Ex. 6.3  “Revelge” rhythm

This rhythm (Ex. 6.3), which plays a significant role in the first Nachtmusik, is omnipresent in the Wunderhorn song “Revelge” composed in 1899. This song tells the story of a drummer boy hit by a bullet, asking his brothers to carry him to his quarters. “I cannot carry you,” answers a soldier, “the enemies have beaten us, may God help you; tralali, tralalei, tralala, I have to march unto death.” As was the case in “Ständchen,” an idealized vision of nature as a protected world is spoiled by the idea of loss, and the march becomes associated with an irresistible movement toward death. For Revers, the march is “semantically completely alien to the idyll,” and “the coming in of the march destroys the naturalness and the melodiousness of the folksong-​like tune.”47 When Theme C resumes after being interrupted by the March theme at mm. 179–​88, Revers describes it as “deprived of its relation to natural sounds.”48 But this loss of touch with nature is compensated, on some level, by new associations. In fact, when Theme C returns at m. 189, the martial “Revelge” rhythm is transformed by a new bass, typical of a habanera. At this point, the pastoral topic converges with march and dance, as if to say: there is only one step from pastoral immobility to rhythmic walk, and only one from military march to sensual dance. Thus, if the march can be seen as spoiling the idyll, it can also lead to the seductive rhythm of Carmen’s habanera (which, incidentally, brings us back to birds).49 The play between the major and minor modes in the first Nachtmusik recalls another Wunderhorn song, “Der Tamboursg’sell” (1901). Like “Revelge,” “Der   Revers, “Return to the Idyll,” 44. See Appendix M2.   Revers, “Return to the Idyll,” 45. 48   Revers, “Return to the Idyll,” 46. 49   “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle, qui n’a jamais, jamais connu de loi.” The connection between the first Nachtmusik and Bizet’s Carmen has been suggested by Peter Davison in “Nachtmusik I: Sound and Symbol,” 71. 46

47

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Tamboursg’sell” relates the military topic to the idea of death: a drummer boy (another one!) is about to be executed and takes his leave from the world (“Gute Nacht, Gute Nacht!”). As has been often noted, the first Nachtmusik as a whole points back to the soldier songs (“Marschlied”) of the Wunderhorn period.50 For Karl Weigl, The spirits of a long lost time appear to rise again and pass by in a creepy nocturnal procession. Muffled march rhythms, lost love songs, horn calls emanate from it; mysterious sounds of nature at night awaken and provide a ghostly background for strange events.51

As in the idyllic vision darkened by death in Eichendorff ’s “Ständchen,” compositional reminiscences of the Wunderhorn songs are presented with nostalgia in the first Nachtmusik, colored by the idea of loss. The pastoral world is constantly evoked in this movement, but as we have seen, it is three times shattered by a major-​minor collapse (mm. 28, 188, 337).52 When the pastoral material of the introduction returns for the last time, marked Wie Vogelstimme (“like bird’s voices,” m.  320), it disintegrates quietly, in contrast with the previous brutal collapses. The C major triad becomes minor (m. 338) and the perpetuum mobile in triplets stops, as an engine running out of fuel. This triplet movement is, from the beginning of the first Nachtmusik, associated with sounds of nature—​the rustling of leaves or murmuring of springs (mm. 10ff ). But here, at the end, the triplets’ potential to turn into perpetuum mobile is revealed. Indeed, the course of nature can be assimilated with the course of the world, the Weltlauf Adorno heard running in Mahler’s perpetuum mobile movements, such as the Scherzo of the Seventh. On some level, the mechanical sounds of the Scherzo contrast with the nocturnal bird songs of the first Nachtmusik, as marking a passage from a natural to an urban context. But, at the same time, the kinship between the constant motion of natural sounds and that of an engine—​which, in both cases, gives the impression   See, for example, Richard Specht, Gustav Mahler (Berlin: Schuster & Loeffler, 1913), 301 (“Wunderhornstimmung ohne Worte”); Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien, 251; or HLG3, 861, and “L’Énigme de la Septième,” 16. 51  Weigl, “Gustav Mahler:  VII. Symphonie in E moll,” 142. “Die Geister einer längst entschwundenen Zeit scheinen wieder aufzustehen und ziehen in einer schauerlichen nächtlichen Prozession vorüber. Gedämpfte Marschrythmen, verschollene Liebesweisen, Hörnersignale tönen daraus hervor; geheimnisvolle Naturlaute der Nacht werden wach und geben einen gespenstigen Hintergrund für die seltsamen Vorgänge.” 52   Material from the pastoral introduction also appears at mm. 122ff, but this time serves as a transition, without collapsing. This marks the first apparition of the cowbells in this movement. 50

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of suspended time through repetitive motion—​complicates the opposition between rustic and urban life. This confluence has been oddly expressed in a 1980s English commercial for motor oil, Castrol GTX, which uses the opening of Mahler’s first Nachtmusik as a soundtrack. Following a trail of oil slipping along abstract shapes, the soundtrack conveys a sense of nature through horn calls and bird songs, while simultaneously suggesting the idea of an engine in perpetual motion, running smoothly without interruption. Peattie interprets the ending of the first Nachtmusik as a dissolution of the idyll, “undermined by the mundane and ever-​present course of the world,” which “draws particular attention to the fragile and ultimately illusory nature of the idyllic voice.”53 He also points out, though, that the movement’s ending on a high G in harmonics “opens the presumed collapse of the idyll to question.”54 Peter Davison goes further, hearing the end of the first Nachtmusik as an “ambiguous half close,” concluding that “nature has the last word.”55 Whether man ultimately succeeds in dominating nature, as Revers suggests, or whether the total collapse of the idyll is not fully achieved, the fragmentation of the triplet movement is brought to a pause, before resuming slowly with the beginning of the Scherzo, which connects two movements revolving in apparently opposed worlds. The dead soldiers from the Wunderhorn songs may have taken their leave from the world at the end of the first Nachtmusik, where the march stops; but the ghosts wake up to begin their Sabbath in the following movement. As we shall see, the transition  Peattie, Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 146.   Adorno draws a parallel between Adrian Leverkühn’s Faust Kantate in Thomas Mann’s Doktor Faustus and the first Nachtmusik: “Leverkühn . . . receives more from Mahler than the high G on the cellos from the end of the first Nachtmusik in the Seventh Symphony” (Mahler, 48). Mann’s description of Leverkühn’s cantata runs as follows: “One group of instruments after another retires, and what remains, as the work fades on the air, is the high G of a cello, the last word, the last fainting sound, slowly dying in a pianissimo fermata. Then nothing more: silence, and night. But that tone which vibrates in the silence, which is no longer there, to which only the spirit harkens, and which was the voice of mourning, is so no more. It changes its meaning; it abides as a light in the night.” (Doktor Faustus, end of ch. 46. Quoted in HLG3, 863.) La Grange notes that “It is well known that Adorno collaborated with the author [Mann] in the conception and writing of the novel. Thus, he, better than anyone, was in a position to know the extent of Mann’s debt to the Seventh Symphony. The high G (arco) in the cellos is in fact supported by a pedal point. Elsewhere in the book, Leverkühn’s imaginary violin concerto begins with an ‘Andante amoroso of a dulcet tenderness bordering on mockery,’ a description perfectly suited to the second Nachtmusik (Faustus, ch. 38).” (HLG3, 863, note 113). 55   Davison, “Nachtmusik I: Sound and Symbol,” 72. 53

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between the second Nachtmusik and the Rondo-​Finale achieves a similar effect: the intimate ambiance of the serenade, dying away (morendo), is followed by a noisy collective scene which seems, one more time, to shatter the remains of a nocturnal dream.

Connections between the First Nachtmusik and the Finale

As discussed in Chapter 2, the three middle movements of the Seventh all relate to the outer movements on some level, but connections are even stronger between the first Nachtmusik and the Finale. First, both movements are in rondo form, with an A section in C (major in the Finale, major/​minor in the second movement) clashing with a B section in A♭ major.56 Moreover, the contrasting themes of the B section (B2 and B) are variants of each other (Ex. 6.4). Ex. 6.4  Theme B2 in VII/​2; Theme B in VII/​5

Besides sharing the same key and meter, these themes are based on similar motivic material: the repeated cell b3 and a bass movement oscillating between tonic and dominant.57 These themes are reminiscences of the “Summer march” theme in the first movement of the Third Symphony, which also features repeated descending thirds with trills (around Fig. 21) and cell b3 (Fig. 26).58   At m. 83 in the first Nachtmusik, at m. 51 in the Finale. The balance between a main section in C major and a contrasting part in A♭ major also appears in another work by Mahler, this one unfinished: a “Scherzo” and “Trio” that were ultimately not used in any of his symphonies. See Chapter 3, note 81. 57  Cell b3 is not placed on the same scale steps in VII/​2 and VII/​5 (the descending step is on ^6– ^5 in VII/​2, ^5 – 4^ in VII/​5). However, the variant of b3 (b3′), which appears at m. 58 in VII/​5, is placed on ^6– ^5 , as in VII/​2. 58  The passage at Fig. 21 in III/​1 also recalls Transition A in the Finale of the Seventh, with its dotted rhythm and repeated notes with trills. 56

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The funfair or circus sonorities characterizing B2 in the first Nachtmusik reappear in Theme B in the Finale (particularly at mm. 70–​74 and 351–​54), and were already present in the first movement of the Third Symphony, orchestrated with a glockenspiel and triangle (Fig. 26). As discussed earlier, the reprise of B2 in the first Nachtmusik is accompanied by cowbells (m. 280) that recur at the end of the Finale, which draws another connection between these two movements. In the Nachtmusik, cowbells are heard in the context of circus music, while in the Finale they are mixed with bells in the triumphant C major ending of the symphony, which confirms that Mahler does not associate a fixed symbolic meaning with this specific sound, but overlays such sounds to create a richly textured counterpoint of meaning. Finally, the motivic material of the first Nachtmusik emphasizes the melodic movement (♭)^6– ^5 : • A♭/​♮–​G in C major/​minor in the Introduction, Themes A1 and A2; • F–​E♭ in A♭ major in Themes B1 and B2 (Trio I). In B2 the descending second is contained in cell b3 (see Ex. 6.4).

This insistence on the sixth scale degree can be associated with a tendency toward deceptive cadences, frequent in the Finale.59 The connection is particularly striking when the deceptive progression is in C major, thus highlighting G and A. As mentioned in Chapter 2, both the pairing of C major/​ minor and A♭ major in the second and last movements of the Seventh, as well as the frequent emphasis of the semitone A♭–​G in the first Nachtmusik, are crucial components of Wagner’s Parsifal: the semitone A♭–​G contained in the Communion theme marks the temporary shift from A♭ to C minor, which in turn reflects the successive modulations of the Communion Theme in the Prelude (A♭ major–​C minor–​A♭ major).60 But if the descending semitone expresses suffering in Parsifal, it is heard more casually in the first Nachtmusik, as a play between the major and minor modes. As we shall see later, the triad with an added sixth is also characteristic of the second Nachtmusik as well as of the first movement, where a harmonic connection with Parsifal can be used as an interpretive key.61

Sketches for the First Nachtmusik

Two manuscript sources present sketches connected to the first Nachtmusik: the Vienna sketchbook and the Moldenhauer sketches.

  See Table 4.3.   See Chapter 2, “External connections” in “Structure.” 61   See Chapter 8, “Beginning of the Seventh.” 59

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The Vienna Sketchbook (Folios 2v, 3r, and 3v) As discussed in Chapter 5, several of the fragments sketched in the back section of the Vienna sketchbook point, more or less directly, toward the Sixth, Seventh, and Ninth symphonies.62 Some of these sketches, as we have seen, bear stronger connections to the Sixth and Seventh through their reworking on the Moldenhauer folios. The combination of the deceptive progression in thirds (motive a) with the arpeggio (motive b), found in the Vienna sketchbook (fols. 3r, 3v, and 7r) and then reported on the Moldenhauer sketches (fols. 1v and 2r), relates both to the Finale of the Sixth and to that of the Seventh. Folios 3r and 3v in the Vienna sketchbook might also, however, bring to mind passages from the first Nachtmusik. Motive c appears several times on folios 3r and 3v, where it is set in parallel thirds, like motives a and b (Ex. 6.5). This fragment recalls the end of a transitional passage in the first Nachtmusik (Theme T2), a cadence played pizzicato by the strings just before the horns resume Theme A1 (mm. 60–​61 and 250–​51).63

Ex. 6.5  Vienna sketchbook fol. 3r, motive c; and Theme T2 in VII/​2

The connection is thin. But other elements on folios 3r, 3v, and 2v relate to the first Nachtmusik. The parallel thirds on folios 3r and 3v, for example, evoke the pastoral character of the first Nachtmusik. The theme of Trio II in particular (Theme C, m. 165, Fig. 89), shares affinities with motive a on folio 3r, as well as with the variant of a exposed on folio 7v (Ex. 6.6).

 See Appendix MS1 . Connections to the first Nachtmusik in the Vienna sketchbook on fols. 2v, 3r, and 3v are also discussed in Stoll Knecht, “Preliminary Sketches for Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in Naturlauf: Scholarly Journeys Toward Gustav Mahler: Essays in Honour of Henry-​Louis de La Grange for His 90th Birthday, ed. Paul-​André Bempéchat (Bern: Peter Lang, 2016), 315–​16. 63   See Appendices M2 and F2. 62

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Ex. 6.6  Vienna sketchbook fols. 3r and 7v, motive a; and Theme C in VII/​2

The alternation parallel third–​fifth–​third is common to motive a and Theme C; and the descending stepwise motion over the span of a third, on a dotted rhythm, also appears in the sketchbook, on folio 7v (a′). In this context, the entry on folio 2v can be related to the passage immediately following the first appearance of Theme C in the first Nachtmusik (Ex. 6.7). Ex. 6.7  Vienna sketchbook fol. 2v, and VII/​2

As was often the case with preliminary sketches examined in Chapter 5, these correspondences are not particularly convincing taken separately. But as a whole, the kinship between fragments sketched in the Vienna sketchbook on folios 2v, 3r, and 3v and the first Nachtmusik suggests that, at some point, Mahler used this material to work on the second movement of the Seventh. Moreover, the juxtaposition of sketches related to the Finale of the Sixth Symphony with others connected to the first Nachtmusik in the

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sketchbook tends to confirm William Ritter’s testimony that Mahler was working on these movements during the summer of 1904.64 The Moldenhauer Sketches (Folios 4r and 5r) The only page that can be unequivocally considered as a sketch for the first Nachtmusik is the Moldenhauer folio 5r (Fig. 6.1).65 This folio, labeled “Trio,” presents a continuous sketch for the first theme of Trio I, the dancing Theme B1 (mm. 83–​105).66 The key signature indicated above the first measure (“As”–​ A♭ Major) corresponds to the tonality of Trio I in the score. Melody and bass are sketched here without the horn part in triplets, which gives Theme B1 a waltzing quality despite its duple meter, as each beat is ternary. The first system corresponds to the first statement of Theme B1 (mm. 83–​95), and the second shows the restatement of that theme with a new counterpoint in parallel thirds and dotted rhythm (mm. 96–​105).67 Upon closer examination, the sketch on the first system contains elements that appear in both the first and second statements of B1. The corrected measure on system 1, for example (Fig. 6.1, m. 3), corresponds to m. 98 in the score (with B♭–​A♭–​G–​F in eighth notes), while the version ultimately used by Mahler at m. 85 is scribbled above the upper staff (E♭–​A♭–​G–​F–​E♭) in quarter notes. As it turns out, this motive is also displayed on another folio in the Moldenhauer group: folio 4r (at m. 4). This similarity led Alban Berg to suggest a possible connection between the sketch found on folio 4r and the Seventh Symphony: “1 [leaf] [the last (superscribed “brass”)], an entirely unknown 20 bars, of which only 1–​2 bars permit [one] to conclude a relationship with the Seventh.”68 Berg wrote “VII?” in pencil above m. 4. What Berg describes as a “totally unknown section” on folio 4r, however, presents further connections with the introduction of the first Nachtmusik: the orchestral indication “brass” (“Blech”), the triplet figuration, and the

  See Chapter 3, “Autobiographical and Biographical Evidence.”   See Appendix MS3 for a facsimile of the whole page  . 66   See Appendix F2. 67   See Edward Reilly, “Gustav Mahler Sketches in the Moldenhauer Archives,” in The Rosaleen Moldenhauer Memorial: Music History from Primary Sources—​A Guide to the Moldenhauer Archives, eds. Jon Newsom and Alfred Mann (Washington:  Library of Congress, 2000), 304. 68   See Appendix BC3 : “1 [das letzte (mit “Blech” überschriebene)] /​eine ganz unbekannte 20 Taktige /​Partie, wovon nur 1-​2 Takte auf eine /​Verwandschaft mit der VII. schliessen lassen.” It seems that when Berg examined these leaves, what we call “folio 4” was the fifth folio, and not the fourth. 64 65

Fig. 6.1  Moldenhauer fol. 5r. Bayerische Staatsbibliothek München, Musikabteilung. Mus. Ms. 22741

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imitative character of the passage.69 In particular, it is worth comparing the end of the movement, where the material from the introduction reappears one last time, with some passages on folio 4r (Ex. 6.8). Ex. 6.8  Moldenhauer fol. 4r and VII/​2

In both cases we have a similar triplet motive repeated several times, and the rhythmic figure quarter note–​eighth note (within a triplet) on tonic-​dominant. As the Moldenhauer pages are not dated, they cannot be used to confirm the composition period of the first Nachtmusik. The fact remains, as mentioned earlier, that sketches related to the first Nachtmusik and to the Sixth Symphony are located in the same portion of the Vienna sketchbook.

The Second Nachtmusik If the use of guitar and mandolin, the indication “Andante amoroso” and the chamber music setting immediately suggest an association with the Nocturne genre, the movement’s abstract musical language, combined with a fragmented orchestration prefiguring the work of the Second Viennese School, is not easily reconciled with the concept of a serenade.70 Arnold  The passage in D minor (m. 7ff ) and the triplet figuration also recall the Scherzo of the Seventh. 70   “Andante amoroso” only appears in the Stichvorlage. In the fair copy, the fourth movement is marked “Andante con moto.” The orchestration is strings, harp, guitar, 69

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Schoenberg commented on Mahler’s use of the guitar in a commemorative discourse delivered in Prague after the composer’s death: The guitar of the Seventh is not introduced for a single effect, but the whole movement is based on this sonority. It belongs to it from the beginning, it is a living organ of the composition: not the heart, but perhaps the eyes, whose glare is so characteristic of its aspect. This instrument is very close—​in a more modern way naturally, to the method of classical composers, who built whole movements or pieces around the sonority of a specific instrumental group.71

Plucked instruments are omnipresent in the second Nachtmusik, but in a discreet way, always blended with other instruments and playing mostly repeated notes.72 The musical language of the piece reaches a high degree of abstraction, more than in the other movements. This abstraction partly originates in the briefness of the motivic material: the whole movement is built on a few short cells, often repeated several times, as if turning on themselves.

Declaration of Love or Ironic Serenade?

Paul Bekker remarked that while “we don’t really know what Mahler particularly imagined in [the term] ‘Nachtmusik’ ”—​since the two nightmusics are different in character—“the second in F major can easily be considered as a serenade, and therefore justifies its name.”73 Indeed, as we have seen, the fourth movement was meant to be a “Nachtmusik” before Mahler chose the same term to qualify the second movement. Alma Mahler’s association of Eichendorff ’s poetry with the Nachtmusiken was restricted to the second mandolin, 2 horns, 2 bassoons, 2 clarinets, English horn, 2 oboes, 2 flutes (trumpets, trombones, tuba, and percussion are left out.)  “Prager Rede auf Mahler (1912),” in Gustav Mahler by Arnold Schoenberg, Ernst Bloch, Otto Klemperer, Hans Mayer, Dieter Schnebel, Theodor W. Adorno (Tübingen: Rainer Wunderlich Verlag, 1966), 41. English translation in Style and Idea, ed. Leonard Stein, trans. Leo Black (New  York:  University of California Press, 1984), 463. Schoenberg’s Serenade op. 24 for orchestra (1921) also includes mandolin and guitar, as well as Webern’s Five Pieces for Orchestra op. 10 (1911–​1913). 72   Diepenbrock notes that they are “drowned out by the other instruments” in performance. Letter to his friend Johanna Jongkindt, October 17, 1909. See note 17 in this chapter. 73  Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien, 238. Translation emended from Kelly Dean Hansen, Gustav Mahler’s Symphonies by Paul Bekker (1921): A Translation with Commentary (PhD diss., University of Colorado at Boulder, 2012), 544. 71

Nachtmusiken : 185

Nachtmusik in the English translation probably because both Julius Korngold and Weigl mentioned Eichendorff in this context.74 Ritter ostensibly adhered to the view of this movement as a serenade, and his passionate prose led him to offer a particularly sensual description of the music: Heavy with passion the violin falls, like a turtledove swooning in tenderness, on the harps, and, for a moment, one does not hear anything other than heartbeats. It is a serenade, soft with voluptuousness, moist with languidness, blurred, in a daydream . . . covered with dewdrops of silvery tears, fallen drop by drop from a guitar and a mandolin.75

Later in this essay on the Seventh, Ritter introduced a longer section on the second Nachtmusik with Weigl’s comments on the piece, depicting a typical serenade scene with moonlight, a fountain, a flowering linden tree, and a young fellow singing to his love with a mandolin.76 Taking this programmatic interpretation as a pretext to reflect on the purpose of music criticism, Ritter explains and justifies the function of his own poetic prose: We try not to translate into images our impressions, but to analyze the work through our impressions, keeping from these as simple means, the words and comparisons directly inspired by the music, proposing our half-​interpretation as one indicates a direction toward which one can go, as one shows in which way it would be less reckless to search, but essentially caring to stay in abstraction.77

  Korngold evokes the “exquisite Eichendorffish atmosphere” of the piece (Neue Freie Presse, November 6, 1909, quoted in Mitchell, “Reception,” 68). Karl Weigl writes about “the mood of an Eichendorffish summer fairy tale” (“Gustav Mahler: VII. Symphonie in E moll,” 148). 75  Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” Revue Musicale de la Société Internationale de Musique, Paris, November 15, 1908, in William Ritter chevalier, 120: “Lourd de passion le violon tombe, comme une tourterelle pâmée de tendresse, sur les harpes, et, un moment, on n’entend plus que les battements de cœur. Il s’agit d’une sérénade, molle de voluptés, moite de langueur, d’un flou, d’une rêverie . . . toute emperlée de la rosée de pleurs argentins, chus goutte à goutte d’une guitare et d’une mandoline.” 76   Weigl, “VII. Symphonie in E moll,” 148. 77   Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 165: “Pour nous, nous nous efforçons, non pas de traduire en images nos impressions, mais d’analyser l’œuvre à travers nos impressions, conservant de celles-​ci comme de simples truchements, les mots et les comparaisons que la musique nous inspire directement, proposant notre demi-​interprétation comme on indique une direction dans laquelle on peut aller, comme on montre dans quel sens il serait le moins téméraire de chercher, mais tenant essentiellement à rester dans l’abstraction.” 74

186  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

He then suggests to the music critic: “Say what this music evokes, but do not say that this music means what it evokes, or that this music is it.”78 Ritter clearly makes the distinction between the music and his verbal commentary on it, knowing that his words cannot account for what the music is, but only for the impression the music left on him. This recalls Ritter’s comments on the cowbells in the first Nachtmusik, where he specifies that although he was unable to report Mahler’s exact words in German, he could transmit the “exact impression the words left on his mind.” Ritter heard the second Nachtmusik as a “page of heartbreaking confession,” expressing love and physical desire, a piece allowing the listener to “reach the most intimate fiber of Mahlerian sensibility.”79 Indeed, this Nachtmusik has been compared to the Adagietto of the Fifth Symphony, as if these two movements were acting on a similar level of expression.80 In fact, elsewhere in his writings on the Seventh, Ritter interprets the piece as another declaration of love to Alma—​a declaration to which she would have been insensitive: She [Alma] was clearly incapable of responding either to what was being said or to the work she had just heard, and which she knew had been dedicated to her in its entirety; nor could she understand the significance of the moonlit night and the jets of water in the third Nocturne, the “Andante amoroso.” She affects a strained smile . . . embarrassed glances to right and left. . . . She feels she is being observed by everybody. She is disquieted by this, the unhappy woman. . . . And so she feels no pity for this man of genius, overwrought and possessed by his work, who is almost dying of love before her eyes.81

  Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 166. “Dites tout ce que cette musique évoque, mais ce qu’elle évoque, ne dites pas que cette musique le signifie, que cette musique le soit.” 79   Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 169–​70. 80   See Jungheinrich, “Nach der Katastrophe,” 194. Cooke made the same comparison:  “This [the second Nachtmusik] is one of Mahler’s most immediately attractive movements; it is surprising that it has never achieved the same kind of popularity as the Adagietto of the Fifth.” Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to his Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 91. 81   Ritter, “Quelques souvenirs sur Gustave Mahler,” Vie Art Cité, Lausanne, 1946, in William Ritter chevalier, 35. Ritter writes about the rehearsals for the Seventh in Prague, September 1908. This is Mitchell’s translation (“Reception,” 42). “Et elle, Madame Mahler, je ne l’oublierai jamais. . . . Tout respectueux d’elle que j’aie toujours été, je ne veux pas aujourd’hui trahir le secret sentiment que j’eus de ce tête-​à-​tête impossible. Elle n’était évidemment à la hauteur ni de ce qui lui était dit en ce moment-​ là, ni de l’œuvre qu’elle venait d’entendre, et dont elle savait bien qu’elle lui était 78

Nachtmusiken : 187

This view of the piece as a sincere declaration of love has been challenged by several commentators, struck by the conflict between apparent simplicity and perpetual unrest. As Revers writes, “Mahler’s conception of the idyll is mainly revealed by the extreme contrast between passages of light-​hearted serenade-​like character, and others, which are inserted as irritating interjections.”82 As an example of “disturbing interjection,” Revers refers to mm. 89–​92 (five after Fig.  185), where the solo violin transforms his “melancholic” rhapsody, “somewhat suspended” (“etwas anhaltend”), into a hurried and angular melodic contour that suddenly breaks off.83 If the second Nachtmusik can be seen as an interrupted serenade (which hints at Wagner’s Meistersinger), it can also function as a “disruptive presence,” as an interlude interrupting the course of a devilish dance started in the Scherzo and ending with the Rondo Finale.84 Here, the interruption lets itself be regularly interrupted, which raises the question of the norm versus the exception, as it also happens in the Finale. For Hans Eggebrecht, the second Nachtmusik reflects the heterogeneous assemblage of a Viennese “soundwalk”: Mahler walks through the town, in the evening, at night, and takes in all the music he can hear: happy violins, quivering mandolins, guitar, and the clarinet, the voices of all the other instruments, Schrammel music, strummed pianos—​and then he walks on, happy, filled with beauty. There are other sounds, melodies, and strains from the left and from the right. There is also the Opera house, music from the Volkstheater, and at the end the coffee-​houses close, the music fades, the lights go out, night falls.85

Jens Malte Fischer also heard resonances of Viennese Schrammelmusik. For him, “there is no denying that the two solo instruments, the guitar and mandolin, recall the popular Viennese idiom of Schrammelmusik, and bring an element of consacrée toute; ni de ce que signifiait la nuit de lune et le jet d’eau de la troisième ‘scène nocturne,’ l’‘Andante Amoroso.’ . . . Elle a un sourire contraint . . . Des regards gênés, à droite et à gauche. . . . [E]‌lle se sent observée par nous tous! Elle s’inquiète donc de cela, la malheureuse! . . . Et elle n’éprouve donc nulle pitié pour cet homme de génie, terrassé et comme emmailloté de son œuvre, qui râle à peu près d’amour devant elle.”   Revers, “Return to the Idyll,” 46.   Revers, “The Seventh Symphony,” 388. 84   About the Nachtmusiken as “disruptive presence,” see Peattie, Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 143–​44, mentioned earlier. 85   Hans Eggebrecht, Die Musik Gustav Mahlers (Munich: Piper, 1982), 50. Translated by Peter Revers in “Return to the Idyll,” 43. 82 83

188  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

inappropriate drollery to the movement as a whole.”86 The movement may well be in the spirit of a serenade, but it contains disturbing, humoristic elements that threaten its status, which meets Revers’s interpretation of the second Nachtmusik as an interrupted serenade. In other words, this movement seems to offer two different levels of expression, or two distinct layers in the discourse: the first as an engaged, sincere, and seductive song; and the second as external, disturbing, and comical, as if the one serenading were observed by an outsider. La Grange writes about the movement’s “impersonal” and “objective tone,” and about its “fake innocence.”87 Mahler would be speaking here “in the third person, with an impassiveness and objectivity that are absolutely new in his work.”88 Similarly, Jungheinrich, while considering that the second Nachtmusik belongs to the “idyllic” realm of Mahler’s œuvre, proposes to hear the opening “motto,” to which I return later, as a “narrative, introductive formula,” as a “once upon a time” figure that introduces a certain distance in the musical discourse and brings a “quasi spatial element” into the music.89 As discussed earlier in connection with the first Nachtmusik, the idyll is not experienced in the present tense but rather as a recollection of the past. Peter Davison agrees: The anachronistic presence of guitar and mandolin sets the events in another age, and because a particular serenade would never employ both instruments it suggests the remembering of many serenades. The second Nachtmusik is not so much intimate as about intimacy . . ., a serenade about all serenades.90

  Jens Malte Fischer, Gustav Mahler (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2011), 459. Schrammelmusik was usually performed with two violins, a contraguitar (with two necks), a clarinet, and sometimes an accordion. 87   HLG3, 871; and La Grange, “L’Énigme de la Septième,” 14. 88   La Grange, “L’Énigme de la Septième,” 14. By contrast, the author hears the passage in E♭ minor (and not B♭ as stated in HLG3, 872) with Theme D2 (m. 211), as a “subjective moment.” 89   Jungheinrich, “Nach der Katastrophe,” 194: “The idyll presents itself as a recollection, as ‘déjà-​vu,’ as a vision.” Kofi Agawu also described the opening gesture as a “once-​upon-​a-​time” figure, “because it was the first thing we heard and because it enacted a conventional attention-​calling gesture by rising an octave.” Agawu, “The Narrative Impulse in the Second Nachtmusik from Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in Analytical Strategies and Musical Interpretation:  Essays on Nineteenth-​and Twentieth-​Century Music, ed. Craig Ayrey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 227. 90   Peter Davison, “Nachtmusik II: ‘Nothing but Love, Love, Love’?,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler: A Symposium, ed. James Zychowicz (Cincinnati: University of Cincinnati, 1990), 89–​97: 93. 86

Nachtmusiken : 189

Taking a similar stance, Julian Johnson (questionably referring to both Nachtmusiken as “serenades”) posits that their “framed and conventional kind of lyricism” places the expressive voice “in quotation marks.”91 The opening cadence “frames the story that follows it,” functioning as a “distancing device” in order to produce a “self-​conscious historicism that obtrudes oddly amid the obvious modernisms of the Seventh Symphony.” Johnson concludes his assessment of the Nachtmusiken as follows: These movements are presented as pieces of musical make-​believe but are always self-​conscious about their own status. They undermine their own pastiche with inappropriate harmonic and contrapuntal subtlety and unexpected changes of musical voice. The abruptness of mood change, from nonchalant to urgent, from sentimental to desperate, has a rather unnerving effect, quite at odds with the idea of a serenade. As is often the case in Mahler, the fabrication of the discourse is revealed in the ending, as the constituent elements fragment, like a machine falling apart, leaving only dismembered parts on the workbench.92

Johnson’s metaphor of the machine falling apart can be applied to the ending of the first Nachtmusik as well, which, as suggested earlier, evokes both a mechanical and a natural world. The second Nachtmusik is articulated around a perceived opposition between a sincere declaration in the first person and a narrative in the third person. But is there such a thing, we may ask, as an innocent and sincere serenade, which would unfold within a single level of discourse? Any serenade implies a certain distance, if we agree that its main function is seductive. There must be an element of calculation, a desire to please. A serenade is not a “disinterested” piece, it is conceived to produce a certain effect; and the distance perceived in the second Nachtmusik could precisely express this aspect of the genre.

  Julian Johnson, Mahler’s Voices: Expression and Irony in the Songs and Symphonies (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 124. 92  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 124. 91

190  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Form and Substance

Formally, the movement follows an ABA′ structure, where the A sections are in rondo form93: 1–​8: 8–​98 (Fig. 175): 99–​258 (Fig. 187): 259–​64: 264–​353 (Fig. 207): 354–​90:

Intro-​Cadence A (A1 [Int-​Cad]–​A2 [Int-​Cad]–​A1 [Int-​Cad]–​B–​A1) B (dev. A1–​C). Trio (D1–​D2–​D1). Dream chords Intro-​Cadence A′ (A1–​B–​A2 [Int-​Cad]–​A1–​B–​A1) Coda

The “Intro-​Cadence,” as I call the “once-​upon-​a-​time” opening gesture, appears seven times throughout the movement, only in the A sections (and before them). The development section (B) brings new material, including Theme C (m. 126), which is connected to the broken-​scale motive found in the Finale (i3) and in the first Nachtmusik (in Theme B2). The trio section concludes on a “dream chords” section, moment of suspended time before the reprise of the Intro-​Cadence leading to the A′ section. There is a general agreement on a formal tripartite division of the piece, with a first section ending at m. 98 (Fig. 187), a second developing the old material and presenting a new thematic group (trio), and a varied restatement of the initial section at m.  264 (Fig.  207).94 Kofi Agawu, however, understands the movement as an ABA′ structure with a B section starting at m. 187 (Fig. 197), where my trio section begins.95 Indeed, the new lyrical theme beginning at m. 187, in B♭ major, offers a stronger contrast with what precedes. But the passage beginning at m. 99, even if based on previously heard material, introduces a particular atmosphere and signals a transition toward a new section. As Agawu notes, the use of different terms to designate the movement’s sections—​“development,” “recapitulation,” “trio,” “main section”—​suggests a sonata form, a scherzo-​trio form, and a rondo form at the same time.

  See Appendices F4 and M4.  Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt, 148–​51. Floros follows Swarowsky’s analysis (which is close to my own layout), but slightly diverges in his overall division of the piece into five sections: main section (A), development and trio (corresponding to my B section), recapitulation, and coda. See Floros, The Symphonies, 204. Peter Davison suggests two possible readings for the movement, both as a sonata form and as an “expanded ternary form.” See Davison, “Nachtmusik II,” 90. The ABA schema is unclear. See also Davison, “The Nachtmusiken,” 52. 95   Agawu, “The Narrative Impulse in the Second Nachtmusik,” 226–​41. 93

94

Nachtmusiken : 191

Attempting to escape the difficulties posed by the use of traditional formal schemes in a Mahlerian context, Agawu proposes a division of the first 55 measures of the piece into ten “units,” or “minimally meaningful musical ideas,” that are meant to provide a “more neutral approach to segmentation.” I take a similar approach in my analysis of the Finale. The Intro-​Cadence has both an introductory function and a strong concluding character, which announces the double function of In-​betweens in the Finale (Ex. 6.9).96 Ex. 6.9  Nachtmusik II, Intro-​Cadence vl. I solo

strings

i2

i1

sf espr.

dim.

As Hans Swarowsky pointed out, this “motto” forms the thematic reservoir of the whole movement.97 The Serenade theme A1, as well as its accompaniment, are both motivically derived from this opening gesture: Ex. 6.10  Nachtmusik II, accompaniment to A1 (Cl. and Bsn.); Theme A1 i3 < i2

C1. Acc. Bsn.

7

a1

i1 dim. i1 dim. i1 rep.

d2 i3

i3

A1

  On this double function of the Intro-​Cadence, see Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt, 148; Agawu, “The Narrative Impulse in the Second Nachtmusik,” 240; and Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move,” 405. The Intro-​Cadence melodically resolves the first time on F (m. 4); but the second time the resolution is displaced to the oboe part (m. 26); and the third time it does not resolve (m. 38). 97  Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt, 148. 96

192  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

The arpeggiated triad with an added sixth composing the clarinet part (i3) is derived from cell i2 (sketching the one step–​one third descent), and announces the melodic contour of Motive B (m. 56).98 The descending four-​ note scale of the bassoon is a rhythmic diminution of cell i1. Beside the guitar and harp parts in the accompaniment, the only new element is the cell d2, that will appear later in the Trio theme D2 (mm. 211). On some level, the fact that the Serenade theme A1 and its accompaniment are built on common motivic material blurs the traditional distinction between “melody” and “accompaniment.”99 A1 begins with repeated notes, which play an important structural role in the whole work, but even more strikingly in the mandolin and guitar parts of the second Nacthmusik.100 Both the accompaniment and the theme start in a consonant atmosphere, in F major, soon troubled by the dissonant chord heard at m. 11—​an F minor triad with an augmented fourth (B♮). After this dissonant intrusion, A1 keeps oscillating between F major and F minor until the reprise of the theme (m. 17), in a similar way that the March theme of the first Nachtmusik fluctuates between C major and C minor. Swarowsky remarks that while A1 is motivically omnipresent, since its constitutive cells appear everywhere in the piece (the repeated notes a1, i1, and i3), its counterpart A2 (m. 28) is more autonomous, being less related to other motives, and is heard only twice in the movement (mm. 28 and 284).101 In fact, Motive B, a descending arpeggio preceded by an accented dotted quarter note, takes the place of A2, since the sequence A1–​B becomes much more frequent than the pair A1–​A2. Motive B, whose briefness contrasts with the melodic length of A1 and A2, originates from the accompaniment figure of Theme A1 (i3). As we shall see, B takes growing importance in the second Nachtmusik and it turns out that the only extant sketches related to this movement concern this motive.

  i2 is close to cell b3 which, as we have seen, appears in the first Nachtmusik (Theme B2) and in the Finale (Theme B); see Ex. 6.4. 99   See Dieter de la Motte in Musikalische Analyse (Kassel:  Bärenreiter, 1990), 107. Quoted in HLG3, 870. 100   Besides Theme A1, repeated notes are prominent in Motive B (guitar) and in Theme C (mandolin). As mentioned in Chapter 2, repeated notes are also salient in VII/​1 (the opening chord repeated on a slow dactylic rhythm), VII/​2 (Introduction, T1) and VII/​5 (Intro, TA, C, In-​betweens, Inserts, Cancan). 101  Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt, 149. 98

Nachtmusiken : 193

Wagnerian Echoes

Several scholars hear Mahler’s Intro-​Cadence as an allusion to Wagner’s Tristan. For Peter Davison, the second Nachtmusik was “composed in the shadow” of Tristan and expresses a “parodistic denial of its intensity.”102 Indeed, these opening gestures share common features (Ex. 6.11). Ex. 6.11 Wagner’s Tristan and Mahler’s Nachtmusik II

Wagner’s and Mahler’s openings begin with strings alone playing a large ascending interval that reaches a high F (celli in Tristan and violin in the Nachtmusik), followed in both cases by a stepwise descent; and the half-​ diminished chord—​or minor triad with an added sixth—​is the expressive center of the phrase, then releasing its tension in a decrescendo. Despite these similarities, though, Davison notes that compared to the “painful stab of the Tristan chord and the intoxication of the Liebestod, music of less frankness and intensity inevitably sounds commonplace”: The colloquial familiarity of Mahler’s opening bars, the soothing resolution of the dissonance, and the outlines, at least, of periodic thematic structure belong to a more innocent sound world, but one that, in a post-​Wagnerian context, has an ironic naïveté.103

Similarly, Stephen Hefling hears the Intro-​Cadence as an “ironic allusion” to the Tristan prelude, because “no Wagnerian angst will disturb Mahler’s indirect discourse on love.”104 Stephen Gordon goes further, interpreting

  Davison, “Nachtmusik II,” 89.   Davison, “Nachtmusik II,” 89. 104   Hefling, “From Wunderhorn to Rückert,” 125. 102 103

194  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

the second Nachtmusik as a “critique of Wagner and post-​Wagnerians” by alluding to the “effusive expressions of Wagner and Strauss, and thus by re-​ interpreting them to comport a more tender representation.”105 Indeed, Mahler’s first measure fugitively recalls the beginning of Tristan, but does it really allude to Wagner’s opera? The “Blitz” Wagnerian reminiscence is forgotten as soon as the voices leave the half-​diminished chord, since the resolution of the harmonic and melodic progression in an authentic cadence (except that the bass does not resolve to the tonic) has nothing further to do with Tristan. The violin solo has to reach a high F “mit Aufschwung” (“with elan”), on a sforzando espressivo, and when the other strings enter, we are transported into a chamber music setting, a string quartet soon joined by a few woodwinds, guitar, and harp. If this setting takes us far away from Wagner’s orchestra in Tristan, it does bring us closer to Wagner’s chamber piece “par excellence”:  the Siegfried Idyll (1870).106 From a letter to Alma Mahler, we learn that on October 7, 1909, in Amsterdam, Mahler planned to conduct Wagner’s Faust Overture, the Siegfried Idyll, and the Meistersinger overture followed by his own Seventh Symphony.107 The first two works were eventually dropped from the program, and Mahler conducted only the Meistersinger overture before his own Seventh.108 Given the strong connections between the Seventh and Meistersinger, Mahler’s early decision to include the Siegfried Idyll in the program encourages further comparisons. As is the case with Tristan, the echoes of Siegfried Idyll that resonate across the second Nachtmusik are so ephemeral that they do not seem meant to be heard (or maybe only grasped unconsciously, as Hans Sachs heard Walther von Stolzing’s new song in Meistersinger). The most immediate common feature between both pieces is the chamber-​orchestra setting. The private character of the Siegfried Idyll, an essential part of its conception, is reflected in Mahler’s Nachtmusik, and they both refer to the genre of the serenade.109  Steven Gordon, Mahler’s Seventh Symphony, Modernism, and the Crisis of Austrian Liberalism, PhD dissertation (University of California, Los Angeles, 1998), 207. 106   Davison was the first to suggest the parallel. His demonstration focuses on similarities in the formal structure of the pieces and leaves aside motivic connections. See Davison, “Nachtmusik II,” 90. 107   See AME, 309, letter dated October 1, 1909, Amsterdam. 108   See “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” eds. and trans. Karen Painter and Bettina Varwig, in Mahler and His World, 316. Further in Chapter 9. 109  The connections between the Siegfried Idyll and the opera Siegfried complicate the matter, as Wagner transported a work meant to be played privately in the public sphere. As we shall see in Chapter 9, the transition from the nocturnal and private world of the second Nachtmusik to the noisy daylight of the Finale can be compared to the passage between Act II and Act III in Meistersinger. 105

Nachtmusiken : 195

Several gestures in Mahler’s movement briefly evoke the Siegfried Idyll. In fact, the opening of the second Nachtmusik has as much, or as little, in common with the Siegfried Idyll as with Tristan (Ex. 6.12). Ex. 6.12 Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll and Mahler’s Nachtmusik II (Intro-​Cadence)

In both cases the first violins (solo in Mahler) start with an ascending octave reaching the downbeat, joined by the rest of the string quartet on the second beat, and the predominance of parallel sixths in Wagner is reflected in the upper voices at the end of Mahler’s Intro-​Cadence. This is the extent of their similarities, since Mahler’s first collective sound, the Tristan chord, sharply contrasts with the consonance of Wagner’s first bars. Thus, the beginning of the second Nachtmusik fugitively recalls both Tristan and the Siegfried Idyll, located at two extremes of the Wagnerian spectrum: the expression of intense erotic desire on one side and the quiet serenade to domestic love on the other. In a way, this kinship with two opposed worlds almost cancels the meaning that can be associated with these reminiscences; echoes of the Siegfried Idyll undermine resonances of Tristan. The second brief recollection of the Siegfried Idyll appears in the third section of the second Nachtmusik (A′), after a restatement of the main theme (Ex. 6.13). We hear this progression only once in the movement.110

  The kinship with the Siegfried Idyll at this specific place in Mahler’s Nachtmusik was noted by Gordon in “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” 244. 110

196  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 6.13 Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll and Mahler’s Nachtmusik II

Wagner’s characteristic ascending melodic contour “semitone–​ minor third–​fourth” harmonized with a stepwise descending bass (with a V2–​I6 harmonic progression on the ascending fourth) appears as such in Mahler’s Nachtmusik, with one major difference: the harmonization of the third scale degree (Wagner’s upper C on the second beat is the seventh of a half-​ diminished chord, whereas Mahler’s upper G at m. 301 is the sixth of a 46  chord). Both passages are framed, each in their own way: in the Siegfried Idyll, this new theme is introduced after a moment of suspended time, created by the dominant pedal followed by a long trill on B♭ moving to B♮. In the second Nachtmusik, the passage is harmonically isolated: what precedes it is in F major, then we have a D dominant ninth chord at m. 300 which, instead of resolving to G minor, moves to a V in E♭ major. The V2–​I6 progression in E♭ major sounds out of context, since it is immediately followed by a dominant chord in F major, which brings us back where we were before this insertion. Agawu also hears this moment as an “interpolation”: Beginning in F major, it slips into E♭ major before returning to F. The move to E♭ develops the profile of an interpolation or purple patch, a momentary intrusion of another “voice,” a “crack” in the tonal narrative.111

The framing of this ascending gesture supports its interpretation as a musical recollection, as the brief intrusion of another “voice.” My final example (Ex. 6.14) concerns a striking passage in Mahler’s second Nachtmusik, occurring just before the recapitulation (m. 253).

  Agawu, “The Narrative Impulse in the Second Nachtmusik,” 233.

111

Nachtmusiken : 197

Ex. 6.14  Wagner’s and Mahler’s “dream chords”

The immobility and stillness of these moments provoke a temporal suspension. In that respect, they are comparable to In-​betweens in the Finale, calling the listener’s attention to what is about to follow. Here, however, our attention is not called by an authoritarian and loud voice but through silence. Mahler’s and Wagner’s harmonic progressions are similar: the initial major chord slips to its minor relative, and then moves to a major triad (one step higher in Mahler, one fifth higher in Wagner). Mahler’s progression could be analyzed as a VI–​ii–​V in D minor, except that we never hear the tonic. The last chord, an A major triad, stays suspended until we hear the ascending octave on F played by the first violins, signaling a reprise of the refrain and the return to F major (m. 259). As was the case in the precedent reminiscence of the Siegfried Idyll (Ex. 6.13), this passage is placed in harmonic parentheses, sounding as a brief excursion outside F major. This progression, which appears only once in Mahler’s Nachtmusik (as though to emphasize its unique status in the piece), returns several times in the Siegfried Idyll.112 Harmonically, this passage is at the beginning of a chain of modulations by thirds (mm. 60–​73). It starts in B major (the first chord in my example is heard as the dominant of B major, and the last as the dominant of D♯ minor) and moves by thirds up to C♯: BM–​D♯m–​F♯M–​ A♯m–​C♯M. Even if Mahler’s and Wagner’s progressions are not identical, they produce a similar sliding or shifting effect, the effect of a pivotal space used to travel into another dimension, and are both orchestrated for strings (accompanied by the harp in Mahler), marked piano or pianissimo.113   At mm. 60 and 69; 114; 319 and 329 (these two last instances mirror mm. 60 and 69). Ex. 6.14 shows their first occurrence. In the central occurrence (m. 114) the chords behave slightly differently since they move by thirds (BM–​G♯m–​EM). 113  The arpeggios played by the harp at m.  253 in Mahler are similar to those played by violas and violins at mm. 140–​43 in the Siegfried Idyll. 112

198  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Both passages, in Mahler’s Nachtmusik and in Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll, recall the motive associated with Walther’s dream song in Meistersinger Act III. In scene 2, Hans Sachs teaches Walther how to translate his “beautiful dream” into a song, eventually christening it “The blessed Morning-​Dream Interpretation Song” (Die selige Morgentraum-​Deutweise).114 As Kevin Karnes noted, Sachs’s mentions of Walther’s dream is accompanied by an “otherworldly, nonfunctional (and thus nonrational, in a tonal context) progression E major–​A♭6–​E♭ Major, articulated pianissimo.”115 In all three cases, this “dream” progression by thirds, shifting through common tones, is used to signify the intrusion of another voice—​the voice of Walther’s unconscious mind in Meistersinger, or the voice of Wagner in Mahler’s Nachtmusik. But Wagner is not the only voice that can be heard in the second Nachtmusik. The opening gesture also recalls Robert Schumann’s “Träumerei,” for example.116 This common perception of the Nachtmusik’s opening phrase as a “déjà-​entendu” reflects the universality of a “once upon a time” formula. About the web of references that may be traced in the second Nachtmusik, Agawu notes that it enables the listener to construct a hearing that is not merely a direct, linear traversal of two temporal points, A and Z, but a halting, highly variegated journey in which forward, backward, and sideways references force us to revise our sense of beginning and ending, thus enriching the auditory experience. Intertextual hearing makes for a less hegemonic narrative; it is more like movement through a temporalized network in which the listener builds an intricate web of relations around text and intertext.117

  Meistersinger Act III, sc. 4 (651/​1. The first number represents the page number in the Peters/​Dover score, and the second the measure number). See Chapter  2, “Structure”; Chapter  8, “Pastoral” in “Form and Content”; and Chapter  9, “E minor to C major: From Night to Day.” 115   Kevin Karnes, “Wagner, Klimt, and the Metaphysics of Creativity in fin-​de-​siècle Vienna,” JAMS 62, no. 3 (2009), 674. 116  Schumann, Kinderszenen no 7. Both pieces are in F major, they have a similar gesture “defined by an ascending octave leap (F–​F),” and the “climactic melodic note” (A in Schumann’s reprise, F in Mahler) is harmonized with a B at the bass. Agawu, “The Narrative Impulse in the Second Nachtmusik,” 235. Agawu makes other associations with Beethoven, Schubert, and Handel; as well as with the last song of Mahler’s Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (at mm. 4–​7) and the Adagietto of the Fifth Symphony, mm. 30–​32 (at mm. 308–​10). Monika Tibbe notes a quotation of the fourth Kindertotenlied (m. 19ff ) at mm. 32–​37 of the second Nachtmusik. Tibbe, Über die Verwendung von Liedern und Liedelementen in instrumentalen Symphoniesätzen Gustav Mahlers (Munich: Katzbichler, 1971), 115. 117   Agawu, “The Narrative Impulse in the Second Nachtmusik,” 236–​37. 114

Nachtmusiken : 199

In the context of a work showing an evident preoccupation with rhetorical devices—​more specifically with beginnings and endings—​this remark is particularly relevant. The Intro-​Cadence, as we have seen, has a “double meaning as beginning and ending,” to borrow Agawu’s formulation. “When will the movement (properly) begin? Where are the points of closure?” he asks?118 In “Mahler on the Move,” Mitchell concludes his observations on the second Nachtmusik with similar questions: One wonders if, from one point of view, part of Mahler’s strategy was to see how much meaning and material could still be got out of a traditionally conceived cadence, hence the role allotted to those unforgettable first bars. . . . But the serenade—​if it was ever Mahler’s intention to write one—​has never materialized. Perhaps the opening cadence is, in fact, how the ‘serenade’ that we have never heard, ended? Or is this too paradoxical and ironic a gesture even for Mahler?119

Where does it begin, where does it end (a typical Meistersinger question), is Mahler’s beginning actually an end? We will come back to these questions at the end of the journey, as they should be placed in the broader context of the work, in relationship with the rhetorical gestures that pervade the Finale.

Serenade or Non-​Serenade?

Returning to the interpretation of the Nachtmusik as a whole, what kind of serenade are we dealing with? Does it represent, as some understand it, a declaration of love? Or is it rather, as Davison suggests, a commentary on the genre of the serenade, a “serenade about all serenades”? For Mitchell, the piece questions the validity of the genre: The scene seems to be set for a nocturnal, romantic episode for which Mahler outwardly at least had prepared familiar ground. But like everything else in the symphony, though the trappings and furnishing of romanticism are in place, and expectations raised, what in the event we actually come to experience is not only far removed from convention but more often than not contradicts it or hangs a question mark over it, as if Mahler were asking of himself, and thence of ourselves, his audience, whether serenading, as it has been conducted in the past, is any longer meaningful.120

  Agawu, “The Narrative Impulse in the Second Nachtmusik,” 240.   Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move,” 406. 120   Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move,” 404. 118

119

200  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

This serenade strikes Mitchell by the absence of a fundamental aspect, the very condition for its existence: there is no “irresistible tune, immediately memorable, singable melody.”121 Although Mitchell’s definition of a serenade is narrow, it reveals a feeling often expressed about this piece, that this serenade would be a “non-​serenade,” or, as Johnson puts it, that its significance would lie “as much in what it is not as in what it is.”122 Returning to Wagner’s voice, we may hear “allusions” to Tristan and the Siegfried Idyll as “non-​allusions,” or as flashes of recollections that would both associate Mahler’s movements with these pieces and turn away from them. Erotic desire, domestic love—​the second Nachtmusik offers a shifting vision of the idyll, where the serenade begins seven times and is always undermined by comic repetition.

Preliminary Sketches for the Second Nachtmusik

There is no extant sketch or draft clearly connected to the second Nachtmusik. On a page in the Vienna sketchbook, however, Mahler seems to have been exploring the melodic and harmonic potential of a short motive that plays a significant role in the second Nachtmusik. This page, folio 7r, is located in the back section of the sketchbook, which mostly contains fragments presenting subtle connections to the Sixth, Seventh, and Ninth symphonies.123 The Vienna Sketchbook (Folio 7r) At first sight, this brief motive may seem too common to be identified with a specific movement in Mahler’s works. This descending arpeggio preceded by a dotted half or quarter note (motive g) can be found, among other places, in the Finale of the Sixth Symphony and in the first and fourth movements of the Seventh (Ex. 6.15).124

  Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move,” 405.  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 120–​21. Johnson makes this comment about both Nachtmusiken. 123   See Appendix MS1 . Folio 7r has been also discussed in Chapter 5, in conjunction with the Moldenhauer folio 1v, showing material for the Finale of the Seventh. 124   For motive g, see Appendix MSk. 121

122

Nachtmusiken : 201

Ex. 6.15  Vienna sketchbook fol. 7r, VII/​1, VII/​4, and VI/​4

This descending arpeggio appears under different forms in the Sixth and Seventh, each of them found on the sketchbook folio 7r: • Outlining a triad with an added sixth (sketchbook fol. 7r, m.  2; see Ex. 6.15, top: F♯–​E–​C♯–​A), as found in the second Nachtmusik (Motive B) and in the Finale of the Sixth (Ex. 6.15, bottom); • Outlining a gapped descending scale (sketchbook fol. 7r, m. 4, E–​D–​B–​A♯), as found in the first movement of the Seventh (Ex. 6.15, st. 2) and Finale of the Sixth (Theme A, m. 195).

While it makes only a furtive appearance in the first movement of the Seventh, this descending arpeggio is used as a structural element in the second Nachtmusik as Motive B, originating from the clarinet accompaniment to Theme A1 (Ex. 6.15, st. 3 on the right). Beginning as a brief expressive gesture (m. 56), it becomes progressively more essential to the development of

202  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

the piece, leading to its climax (mm. 319–​31, Fig. 214–​15). As in the Vienna sketchbook folio 7r, this “Graziosissimo” gesture is constantly repeated in the second Nachtmusik, as if hearing this motive once was not enough. This play with repetition, found both in the sketchbook and in the second Nachtmusik, suggests that folio 7r belongs to the preliminary sketches for this movement. Moreover, the triad with an added sixth is a recurrent sonority in the Seventh, beginning indeed with the first notes of the work: a B minor triad with an added major sixth (G♯). As discussed earlier, the melodic motion (♭)^6– ^5 , as well as the deceptive progression V–​♭vi, play an important role in the first Nachtmusik and in the Finale. Thus, despite its briefness and common aspect, this arpeggio (g) is crucial for the motivic identity of the Seventh. Significantly, it also recurs on the Moldenhauer folios, where it shows connections to both the Sixth and Seventh symphonies. The Moldenhauer Sketches (Folios 1r, 3v, 5v) As was the case in the Vienna sketchbook folio 7r, motive g is repeated several times on the Moldenhauer folios 1r, 3v, and 5v (Ex. 6.16).

Ex. 6.16 Motive g in the Moldenhauer fols. 1r, 3v, and 5v

To briefly recall the context of the Moldenhauer folios, 1r presents a fragment used in the first movement of the Sixth, 3v contains sketches for the Finale of the Seventh, and 5v unknown music. Motive g appears under the two different forms mentioned earlier—​the arpeggio unfolding a triad with

Nachtmusiken : 203

added sixth or a gapped descending scale—​on folios 3v and 5v. In fact, the gapped descending scale transposed at a lower octave on folio 3v (12/​1) is quite close to the passage shown in Ex. 6.15, from the coda of the Seventh’s first movement (mm. 507–​509). In addition, motive g outlines a sixth with “added” seventh on folio 1r and 3v (8/​2), a form which was already present in the sketchbook folio 7r (m. 3, see Ex. 6.15).125 On the Moldenhauer folios 3v and 5v, the descending arpeggio is combined with an ascending figure, which, once again, originates from the Vienna sketchbook folio 7r (Ex. 6.17). Ex. 6.17  Moldenhauer fols. 3v, 5v, and Vienna sketchbook fol. 7r Moldenhauer sketches, fol. 3v 8/1

Moldenhauer sketches, fol. 5v 1/1

Sketchbook, fol. 7r 3/3

4/5

5/3

a

  By “sixth with an added seventh,” I mean the descending motion G–​F–​C–​A, which can be heard as a sixth chord A–​C–​F reaching toward the seventh G. 125

204  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

In the sketchbook folio 7r, this ascending figure is contrapuntally combined with motive a, the deceptive progression discussed in Chapter 5 (Ex. 6.17, last system). Connections to the First Movement of the Sixth Besides motive g, the sketchbook folio 7r also displays a rhythmical variant of g, with a dotted quarter note instead of a half note (g′). This variant, as well as another one (g″, all in eighth notes), found their way onto the Moldenhauer folios (Ex. 6.18).

Ex. 6.18  Moldenhauer fol. 1v and Vienna sketchbook fol. 7r

Motive g′ has the same rhythm as motive a, prominent on the sketchbook folio 7r as well as on the Moldenhauer folio 1v (Ex. 6.18, syst. 1 on the right and bottom line). The variant g″ is followed by an ascending arpeggio, which recalls the gestures present on folios 3v and 5v (see Ex. 6.17). Motive g and its variants lie at the core of the material developed on the lower portion of the Moldenhauer folio 1v. As we have seen in Chapter 5, this “unknown” material on folio 1v is connected to the sketches for the Finale of the Seventh located on the upper section of the page; but it also clearly relates to the sketches for the second theme of the first movement of the Sixth Symphony on the recto of the leaf (fol. 1r).126

 See Chapter  5, Fig.  5.1. For a facsimile of the Moldenhauer folio 1r, see Appendix MS3  . 126

Nachtmusiken : 205

Two fragments on the Moldenhauer folio 1r relate to the so-​called Alma theme in the Sixth Symphony (Theme B): the first is shown in Ex. 6.19 (syst. 3), and the second in Ex. 6.16 (syst. 1). They both contain the main components of Theme B, the effusive stepwise ascent (b1) and the dotted arpeggiated descent (Ex. 6.19, upper system). Ex. 6.19  VI/​1 and VI/​4, Moldenhauer fols. 1r and 1v

206  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

This descent is similar to motive g, beginning with a dotted rhythm and unfolding through an alternation of conjunct and disjunct motions (thus showing both a gapped descending scale D–​C–​B♭–​G and a triad with added sixth C–​B♭–​G–​E). At the end of the Finale of the Sixth (mm. 582ff ), Theme B merges with the Finale’s main theme in a synthesis that contains motive g (Ex. 6.19, syst. 2). I now turn to the lower portion of Ex. 6.19. The sketch in pencil located at the bottom of the Moldenhauer folio 1r served as a basis for the longer, continuous sketch that occupies three systems at the bottom of folio 1v (st. 19–​20), and the lower half of folio 2r (st. 13–​24).127 This “unknown” music concentrates on an eighth-​note descending scale (conjunct or disjunct) beginning with a dotted quarter note (motive f). The melodic contour of motive f bears a certain relationship with the “descent” of the “Alma theme,” and harmonically, the shift from scale degree 5 toward ♯5 accompanying motive f (Ex. 6.19, syst. 4)  associates this “unknown” music with the “Alma theme” (see Ex. 6.19 top for Theme B, and syst. 3 for the sketch on folio 1r). As we have seen in Chapter 5, motive f also recurs in the Vienna sketchbook (on fols. 4v, 5r, and 5v).128 In fact, f′, a variant of f found on folio 5v, beginning with a descending fourth, connects f with the main theme of the first movement of the Sixth (Theme A). Thus, motive f in the Moldenhauer sketches does not only relate to the secondary “Alma theme,” but also to the primary theme of the first movement. The main point, here, is that this “unknown” material can be motivically and harmonically associated with the first movement of the Sixth Symphony, as much as it relates to the second Nachtmusik (with motive g).

What Do Sketches Tell Us about the Nachtmusiken?

Besides the “boat letter” to Alma, Mahler did not leave any clue on the dating of the Nachtmusiken. In the case of the second Nachtmusik, the extant compositional materials come down to a descending arpeggio, which does not allow us to clearly establish the chronology of the compositional process. In a way, the briefness of the sketches fits with the abstract language of the second Nachtmusik, and, as noted earlier, the repetition of this arpeggio motive in the Vienna sketchbook and on the Moldenhauer sketches supports the idea that these pages constitute early sketches for this movement. In other words, the sketches do not only show a brief motive belonging to the second

  On fol. 1v, the passage is introduced by motive b′ that was found in the Vienna sketchbook on fol. 7r (Ex. 6.19, last syst.). 128   See Exs. 5.12 to 5.14. 127

Nachtmusiken : 207

Nachtmusik, but they also explore the repetition and transposition of that motive, which is a feature that remained in the finished version of the Seventh. Going further, I would argue that the sketches, in this case, draw attention to the importance of this brief motive for the whole structure of the piece. As discussed in Chapters 5 and 6, the back section of the Vienna sketchbook contains sketches that bear connections of various strength with

• The first Nachtmusik (fols. 2v, 3r) • The second Nachtmusik (fol. 7r) • The first movement of the Seventh (fol. 3r, 7r) • The first movement of the Sixth (fols. 4v, 5r, 5v, 7r) • The Finale of the Sixth (fol. 3r, 7r)

In addition, I have shown how the material in the Vienna sketchbook (particularly fols. 3r to 7r) relates to the Moldenhauer folios,129 which present sketches that can be associated with

• The Finale of the Seventh (fols. 1v, 2v, 3r, 3v) • The first Nachtmusik (fols. 4r, 5r) • The second Nachtmusik (fols. 3v, 5v) • The first movement of the Sixth (fol. 1r)

Even though the sketch evidence is thin concerning the Nachtmusiken, the material bearing connections with these movements is displayed in conjunction with sketches for the Sixth Symphony, both in the Vienna sketchbook and in the Moldenhauer sketches. This grouping supports the hypothesis that Mahler composed the Nachtmusiken while he was finishing the Sixth in the summer of 1904, and that the earliest sketches for the Finale date from that same year. ✽ ✽ ✽

The Nachtmusiken may have been both composed during the summer of 1904. A  close examination of the preliminary sketches suggests, however, that Mahler began working on the Finale as well, and the strong structural, harmonic, and motivic connections tying the first Nachtmusik to the Finale nuances the common grouping of the Nachtmusiken on one side, and the outer movements and the Scherzo on the other. In fact, each Nachtmusik has more in common with the Finale than with each other—​except that they both follow the pattern “introduction leading to collapse,” the second Nachtmusik offering a much more civilized version of the fall, with its charming Intro-​ Cadence gesture.130 The first Nachtmusik plays on the combination between   This comparison is laid out in detail in Appendix CSk.   See Fig. 2.2.

129 130

208  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

sounds of nature (cowbells) and circus music, two elements that also recur in the Finale, but separately. The second Nachtmusik is located midway between the peaceful atmosphere of the Siegfried Idyll and, as we shall see later, Beckmesser’s tragi-​comical serenade in Meistersinger. Each in their own way, Mahler’s nightmusics reinvent the idyll with humor, daring us to imagine the cows riding on a carousel and the serenading lover tripping on the stairs of Tribschen, with an outcome potentially comical or dramatic (like the pattern “introduction leading to collapse,” both ironic and depressing). It is now time to turn to the sarcastic dance with the devil that lies in-​between the two Nachtmusiken.

C h a p t e r   7    

Scherzo

This is a Dance of Death, as seen in old frescoes. . . . Death plays the violin, inviting people to dance, as sooner or later all of them must. . . . The clattering of bones, baleful laughter, ghostly dancing, all can be recognized here. Mahler has painted a fragment of medieval legend with the colors of the modern orchestra. In this movement there is nothing real; it is a reflection of yesterday’s world, peopled with ghosts. —​Willem Mengelberg1

Willem Mengelberg’s description of the Seventh’s central movement emphasizes the main issues addressed in this chapter:  musical and darkly humorous aspects of death, and the idea of unreality, which question the status of the movement in terms of substance.

Dancing Death (“Der Teufel tantz es mit mir”) The Scherzo of the Seventh is not the only one to invoke the figure of dancing death. That of the Fourth Symphony, for example, entitled “Todtentanz” in the program for the 1904 performance in Amsterdam, requires the solo violin to be tuned one tone higher (“scordatura”) to make it screeching “as if Death were fiddling away,” in Mahler’s words.2 Death playing the fiddle is a

  Mengelberg left a complete program for the work, partly based on Mahler’s remarks during the rehearsals for the Seventh in Amsterdam (October 1909). Quoted in HLG3, 864. 2   NBLE, 162; NBL, 179 (“wie wenn der Tod aufspielt”). See Constantin Floros, Gustav Mahler: The Symphonies (Portland: Amadeus Press, 1997), 122. “Todtentanz” is missing in the autograph score and in the first printed edition of  1902. 1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

210  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

recurrent topic throughout the nineteenth century, both in visual arts (as in Arnold Böcklin’s Self-​Portrait with Fiddling Death, 1872) and in music (Camille Saint-​Saëns’s Danse Macabre of 1874, among others). The image of Death as musician and dancer haunts Mahler’s scherzi up to the unfinished Tenth Symphony, as he wrote on a draft for the second Scherzo: “I am being driven by the devil,” literally, “the devil is dancing it with me.”3 Like a passage of the first movement of the Ninth Symphony, the Scherzo of the Seventh is marked “Schattenhaft” (“shadowy”).4 Mengelberg added the expression “nightmarish,” or “ghostly nightpiece” (“Geisterspuk Nachtstück”) in his conducting score.5 Indeed, the ghostly atmosphere of the Scherzo contrasts with the relative nocturnal peace of the Nachtmusiken. Mengelberg’s comment that the dance is unreal, intangible because it is only a reflection of another world, recalls Mahler’s description of the Scherzo of the Second Symphony: If, at a distance, you watch a dance through a window, without being able to hear the music, then the turning and twisting movement of the couples seems senseless, because you are not catching the rhythm that is the key to it all. You must imagine that to one who has lost his identity and his happiness, the world looks like this—​ distorted and crazy, as reflected in a concave mirror.6

The dance of ghosts ends in collapse, which contrasts with the pattern “dance leading to collapse” enacted in a comical way in the last movement of the Seventh.

Collapses

While collapses are theatrical in the Finale, they take the form of a gradual fragmentation of the musical voice in the Scherzo. The Waltz theme C disintegrates three times on a distorted woodwind figure bearing particular performance instructions (Table 7.1).   “Der Teufel tanzt es mit mir” is found on the Particell draft for the fourth movement of the Tenth, published in facsimile by Paul Zsolnay (1924). 4   See IX/​1 at Fig.  13. “Schattenhaft” does not appear in the fair copy of the Seventh; only in the copyist’s score (p. 121, online access through ÖNB catalog, cf. Appendix MS8 ). The fair copy displays the following inscription:  “In stetig fortlaufender Bewegung /​In den Anfangstakten noch etwas zögernd” (“In steadily constant movement /​in the opening measures still hesitating”). The printed score keeps only the second sentence. In the copyist’s score, besides “Schattenhaft,” Mahler also added “Fliessend, aber nicht schnell,” which is still found in the printed score. 5   See NKG, 321. 6   NBLE, 43. 3

Scherzo : 211

Table 7.1  Collapses in the Scherzo Scherzo

Preliminary draft

Fair copy

Copyist’s score

m. 154 m. 398 m. 474

[doodle] —​ —​

—​ kreischend grell

kreischend kreischend grell

The first two times the collapse is marked kreischend, “screeching,” and the third time grell, “piercing.”7 The fair copy bears these indications for the second and third collapses (kreischend and grell), but not for the first.8 Although Mahler decided later to mark the first collapse kreischend as well, the passage is already signaled in the preliminary draft for the Scherzo with a doodle shaped as a modern warning sign (see Fig. 7.3).9 This sign draws attention to the descending oboe line, which will eventually constitute the first collapse of the movement. The second collapse (m. 398, Fig. 161) has further consequences, as it leads to a brutal pizzicato fffff in the cellos and double basses, where Mahler instructed the players to hit the strings so strongly that they “strike the wood.”10 These performance instructions were added by Mahler in the copyist’s score. In the fair copy, the pizzicato is only indicated with ff, without specific instruction.11 For Julian Johnson, who explored Mahler’s sonic strategies for expressing the fragmentation or loss of the musical voice, this moment in the Scherzo of the Seventh stages the “silencing of the voice through violence.”12 By contrast, the coda of the movement collapses by progressively disintegrating the Waltz theme, which, according to Johnson’s categories, is an instance of the voice “falling apart,” “dissolving away.”13

 William Ritter refers to these “piercing cries” in the movement with a Swiss word referring to children’s shrill cry (“siclée” in Swiss French). See Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” unpublished book chapter, August 1912, in William Ritter chevalier de Gustav Mahler:  Ecrits, correspondance, documents, ed. Claude Meylan (Bern:  Peter Lang, 2000), 163: “ ‘siclées,’ a word of my country that does not have any equivalent in French and which speaks so well for itself. It alone can express certain hissing sounds and demonic high-​pitch clamors.” 8   See copyist’s score, 139, for the kreischend addition. 9   See also Appendix MS5  . 10   At m. 401, “So stark anreißen, daß die Saiten an das Holz anschlagen.” 11   See copyist’s score, 166. 12   Julian Johnson, “The Breaking of the Voice,” Nineteenth-​Century Music Review no. 8 (2011), 182. 13   Johnson, “The Breaking of the Voice,” 184. 7

212  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Structure The scherzo section (A) is stated four times, twice before the trio (B) and twice after14: 1–​71: 72–​159 (Fig. 120): 160–​78 (Fig. 131): 179–​260 (Fig. 134): 261–​92 (Fig. 144): 293–​400 (Fig. 148): 401–​73 (Fig. 161+3): 474–​504:

A1 scherzo (Themes A, B, C) A2 scherzo (A, B, C)–​Collapse 1 kreischend Transition B trio (Themes D1, E, D2) A scherzo (false statement) A3 scherzo (A, B, C)–​Collapse 2 kreischend–​pizz. fffff A4 scherzo + trio Coda–​Collapse 3

The main characteristic of the Scherzo’s formal design is the combination of scherzo and trio material at the end of the movement (mm. 417ff ). In fact, the trio section is already invaded by scherzo elements at its first appearance. Each phrase of the trio’s first theme (D1) is punctuated by the kreischend gesture belonging to the scherzo material; and the trio’s second theme (E) is a waltz modeled on the scherzo’s waltz (C), as well as on the theme Transition A of the first movement.15 The return of scherzo material after the trio has been interpreted in different ways (mm. 261–​92, Fig. 144). The passage is marked “wieder wie am Anfang” (“again as in the beginning”) and displays a combination of the introduction and Theme A, followed by Theme B. Hans Swarowsky considers it as still part of the trio, while Constantin Floros places here the beginning of the restatement of the main section.16 However, Theme B is quickly interrupted by another introduction, marked again “wieder wie zum Anfang” (m. 293); and this time we hear a complete restatement of the scherzo material (A3). Accordingly, the first “wieder wie am Anfang” (m. 261) does not

  See Appendix F3. “Trio” is indicated in the score at m. 179.   See Appendix M3. For the proliferation of the kreischend figure, see Talia Pecker Berio, “Perspectives of a Scherzo,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler: A Symposium, ed. James Zychowicz (Cincinnati: University of Cincinnati, 1990), 83. 16   Hans Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt:  Schriften über Werk und Wiedergabe, Stil und Interpretation in der Musik, ed. Manfred Huss (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1979), 146; and Floros, The Symphonies, 200. La Grange follows Swarowsky’s formal schema (HLG3, 864–​65). 14 15

Scherzo : 213

represent the true recapitulation of the scherzo section and is better regarded as a “false statement.”17 The third statement of the scherzo (A3) collapses on the kreischend oboe figure ending on the fffff pizzicato of the celli and double basses (m. 401). This brutal gesture initiates the mixture of scherzo and trio material characteristic of the last statement (A4), the intrusion of the Weltlauf (course of the world) and sarcastic dance into a pastoral world.18 A privileged space usually reserved for the idyllic voice is thus exposed to decay, just as sounds of nature in the first Nachtmusik reveal their potential to turn into mechanical sounds (symbol of the Weltlauf) with the beginning of the Scherzo.19 The fffff pizzicato functions as a physical gesture foreshadowing the violence of the encounter between scherzo and trio material, which ultimately provokes the disintegration of the movement.

A Web of Motivic Material

The Scherzo’s motivic material is more closely integrated than that of the other movements in the Seventh. In fact, all themes in the Scherzo contain variants of the tenor horn cell heard at the very outset of the Seventh (ia): a5 in A, b4 in B, c3 in C, d2 in D1 and D2, and e1 in E.20 Four thematic parts can be distinguished in the scherzo section: introduction, A, B, and C, all motivically related. The introduction appears as the germ of the Weltlauf theme A, as if it were sketching A. The Klagend (“lamenting”) theme B is heard as a new counterpoint to A (m. 38) and is built on common material; and the Waltz theme C derives from B.   Pecker Berio calls it a “false recapitulation” in “Perspectives of a Scherzo,” 88. I do not follow her assessment of mm. 401ff as another “false recapitulation”: we have here a true restatement of the scherzo material, combined with elements from the trio. 18   On the “Weltlauf,” see Chapter 6, “Sounds of Nature” in “The First Nachtmusik.” 19   On Mahler and the notion of “idyll,” see Chapter 6. See also Peter Revers, “Return to the Idyll:  The Night Pieces in Gustav Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in Colloque International Gustav Mahler:  25, 26, 27 Janvier 1985, (Paris:  Association Gustav Mahler, 1986), 40–​51; and Thomas Peattie, Gustav Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 109–​14 and 139–​48. Peattie notes that in Mahler’s early symphonies, “the ‘idyllic’ voice is most frequently evoked in the context of the Scherzo,” whereas in the Sixth and Seventh symphonies it intermittently pervades the other movements (111) and “constitutes a relentlessly intrusive presence” (140). See also Julian Johnson, Mahler’s Voices: Expression and Irony in the Songs and Symphonies (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 207–​15. 20   See Appendix M3. 17

214  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

The introduction, described by William Ritter as a “game of iambic burps,”21 sketches a mechanical move progressively defined tonally (A–​B♭, chromatically ascending up to A–​D) and rhythmically in a way that recalls a passage in Paul Dukas’s symphonic poem The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (1893), subtitled “Scherzo after a Ballad by Goethe.”22 The rhythmic hesitation, the melodic contour directed from dominant up to the tonic, and the orchestration are similar, with woodwinds in the low register—​bass clarinet in Mahler, contrabassoon in Dukas—​and timpani, horns, celli, and double bass (see Sorcerer’s Apprentice at Figs. 6–​7). As in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, the movement progressively sketched in Mahler’s Scherzo can be heard as the awakening and animation of the enchanted broom. Once the mechanics start functioning, the perpetuum mobile is launched, the course of the world is running, and nothing can stop it. Indeed, when the apprentice attempts to smash the broom with an axe it appears to be immortal and multiplies, until the Sorcerer puts an end to the enchantment. A similar process is at work in Mahler’s Scherzo: little by little, the shy stammering of the introduction sketches an infinite movement that expands with the addition of contrapuntal voices. Thus, when the first melodic theme of the Scherzo appears, the Klagend theme B, the Weltlauf theme A is still present underneath (m. 38), running as a busy engine.23 For Theodor Adorno, Theme B combines the “barrel-​organ   Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 162: “jeux de rots iambiques au début,” and Ritter apologizes: “Again, I apologize for the vile expression. But when Mahler introduces a scatological touch, my expression follows him.” Ritter alludes here to the sound produced by the horns and clarinets in the low register (bass clarinet and clarinet in B♭, at mm. 5–​11). The writer tells the story of the bassoon player (he surely meant clarinet player) who, at the Munich rehearsals, was supposed to produce this “noise” but could not. He would play it timidly, as discreetly as possible. Mahler then clarified his instructions, but this musician, who “felt ridiculed,” could not play the sound without excusing himself with a hand gesture, as if to say “It’s not my fault.” Ritter takes this event as a sign that the audience, as well as the musicians, were not ready to fully appreciate Mahler’s orchestral extravagance. 22   Mahler conducted L’Apprenti Sorcier in New York, on November 25–​26, 1909. See “Mahler and France,” in The Mahler Companion, eds. Donald Mitchell and Andrew Nicholson (Oxford and New  York:  Oxford University Press, 1999), 148–​49; and “Mahler as Conductor: The New York Philhamornic Performances,” in The Mahler Broadcasts 1948–​1982:  The New  York Philharmonic. Booklet Mahler in New  York:  Essays, Reviews, Interviews, and Chronologies, 121. 23   Theme B is marked klagend in the fair copy at m. 108, but not at m. 38, where it is marked “mit klagendem Ausdruck.” This is changed to klagend in the copyist’s score (see at p. 125). 21

Scherzo : 215

grinding of the world’s course with that which expressively mourns it,” as if the mourning subject (Theme B) was merged with the cause of mourning (Theme A).24 Similarly the trio, locus of the idyllic voice and privileged space for remembering, is constantly invaded by what it is trying to escape: the idea of death.25 The Waltz theme C can be heard as the sequel of the Klagend theme B, as C is mainly based on motives concluding B:  the descending figure b4, which, as mentioned earlier, is derived from the opening tenor horn solo in the first movement (cell ia) and appears in all of the Scherzo’s themes in varied forms; and b5, the broken-​scale motive that plays a significant role in the whole symphony.26 The Waltz theme C is not only closely related to B, but also to the trio Waltz theme E, whose constitutive elements all derive from C.27 The Waltz theme C thus makes the link between the scherzo and the trio, based on common motivic material: besides the cells (d2 and e1) derived from the initial tenor horn figure (ia) common to all themes in the Scherzo, the kreischend gesture concluding themes D1, E, and D2 can be heard as a distortion of the broken-​scale motive present in Themes B and C. Despite this strong motivic relationship, the trio nonetheless offers the illusion of a pastoral interlude contrasting with the violence of the scherzo. The Waltz theme E, for example, is a light and distinguished counterpart to the heavy Theme C, “bitter waltz theme of macabre and rakish character,” in Ritter’s words, “the waltz of the damned witch!”28 The final combination of scherzo and trio material in the last statement (A4) reveals the degree of intimacy of their connection: the pastoral flavor of D1 and D2 and the

 Theodor Adorno, Mahler:  A Musical Physiognomy, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 10. 25   On the pastoral as a privileged space for remembering, see Julian Johnson, Out of Time: Music and the Making of Modernity (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), ch. 1. 26   The motivic connection between B and C led Swarowsky to label them as “IIa” and “IIb,” arguing that their main difference would be modal (Theme B is in D minor, Theme C in D major). Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt, 147. Karl Weigl, however, heard C as a “new countertheme” (“Gegenthema”), which has a clear waltz-​like character. “Gustav Mahler. VII. Symphonie in E moll,” in Mahlers Symphonien, ed. Edgar Istel (Berlin: Schlesinger, 1910), 146. The broken-​scale motive appears in each movement except the first: b4 in Theme B2 in VII/​2; Theme C in VII/​4; and the introduction (i3) and Transition A (ta1) in  VII/​5. 27  Cell e1 is a variant of c3, e2 of c, and e3 of c1. See Appendix M3. 28  Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” in William Ritter chevalier, 162:  “Un thème de valse amer et d’un macabre canaille. La valse de la sorcière damnée!” 24

216  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

charming beginning of a Viennese waltz (E)  all fall down, distorted like the kreischend moments of the scherzo. The idea of death not only intrudes into the idyllic space of the trio: it belongs to its very substance, just as the Weltlauf constantly undermines the lamenting Theme B. As we will see, the closely entangled motivic organization of the Scherzo can also be observed in the extant compositional materials.

Sketches and Drafts The only source of compositional materials clearly related to the Scherzo is the incomplete preliminary draft belonging to the Bruno Walter collection, located at the New York Library for the Performing Arts, to which I will turn shortly. Besides this draft, the Vienna sketchbook contains materials that could be interpreted as preliminary sketches for the Scherzo.

The Vienna Sketchbook (Folios 8v–​13r)

Six pages in the sketchbook contain scherzo-​like material in : folios 8v, 9r, 9v, 10r, and folios 12v and 13r.29 Folios 8v and 9r display a continuous sketch in A minor that relates to folios 12v and 13r, as indicated by the cue sign “Seite X” (“page X ”) found on the top of folio 8v and transferred onto folio 12v. Folios 9v–​10r show another continuous sketch in a different key, D major, to which I return later. Three main motives can be distinguished in the sketch in A minor (a, b, and c, Ex. 7.1).

  See Stephen Hefling, “‘Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken’: Mahler’s Seventh Symphony Sketchbook,” in Mahler Studies, ed. Stephen Hefling (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1997), 176 and 190. Fols. 10v, 11r, and 11v, all crossed out in blue pencil, present a sketch for the coda of the first movement of the Seventh (mm. 495–​522). Folio 12r corresponds to VII/​1, mm. 50–​55. See Appendix MS1  . 29

Scherzo : 217

Ex. 7.1  Vienna sketchbook fols. 8v, 9r, and 12v

None of these motives presents any clear motivic connection to the Scherzo of the Seventh. Two of them, however, point toward another Scherzo, already mentioned at the beginning of this chapter—​in the Fourth Symphony. The melodic contours of motives c and a recall the solo violin in this Scherzo (Ex. 7.2). Ex. 7.2  Fourth Symphony, Scherzo, solo violin

Moreover, the descent G–​ F♯–​F♮–​E♭–​D♭/​♮–​ C that can be followed in the upper pitches of the solo violin is similar to the one found in the first measures on folio 12v:  A–​G♯–​G♮–​F♯–​F♮–​E etc. (see Ex. 7.1, last system). This motivic kinship with the Scherzo of the Fourth, labeled “Todtentanz” by Mahler in 1904—​the year which saw the beginning of focused work on the Seventh—​adds another strand to Mengelberg’s description of the Scherzo of the Seventh as a “Dance of Death”; and we can imagine that Mahler chose not to use this material because of its kinship with the Fourth Symphony. The continuous sketch on folios 9v and 10r (Figs. 7.1 and 7.2) is built on similar motivic material (especially motive c), but of a contrasting

218  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Fig. 7.1  Vienna sketchbook fol. 9v. KHM-​Museumverband, Theatermuseum Vienna. VK 905 BaM

Fig. 7.2  Vienna sketchbook fol. 10r. KHM-​Museumverband, Theatermuseum Vienna. VK 905 BaM character. The chromaticism and melodic contour of these pages recall the kreischend figure of the Scherzo of the Seventh (see Fig. 7.1 at m. 8, Fig. 7.2 at mm. 1–​2).30   See Appendix M3.

30

Scherzo : 219

This furious waltz is comparable to Theme C, also in D major. Even though nothing allows to use these correspondences as evidence that we are in presence of preliminary sketches for the Scherzo of the Seventh, we can speculate that this may be the case: the folios containing scherzo-​like material are located after the pages presenting connections to other movements of the Seventh (fols. 2v–​7r), and sketches for the first movement are found between the two sets of sketches (fols. 10v–​12r).

Preliminary Draft for the Scherzo

The draft occurs on two oblong leaves of different sizes, both sides of the full leaf (fol. 1)  and one side of the half-​leaf (fol. 2).31 It is in a Particell format on three or four staves, continuous from folios 1r to 2r. As outlined earlier, the scherzo section is repeated four times, twice before the trio and twice after: A1: mm.  1–​71 A2: mm.  72–​159 [Trio B] A3: mm. 293–​400 A4: mm. 401–​504 A2, A3, and A4 are variations of A1, but A4 is varied in a more radical way than A2 and A3, since it is combined with trio material. Most parts of the scherzo material are sketched on these two leaves: the Weltlauf theme A, the Klagend theme B, and the Waltz theme C on folios 1r and 2r; and the introduction on folio 1v.32 In fact, sketches for A1, A2, and A3 are superimposed on each other in this draft:

 New  York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Bruno Walter collection: microfilm (*ZBT-​673 n°2) and manuscript (JOB 85-​6). See Appendix MS5 for a description and facsimile ; and see Chapter 3, “Musical Evidence.” 32   The new critical edition of the Seventh erroneously mentions that fol. 1v contains sketches corresponding to mm 13ff (= Theme A). See NKG, 315. 31

220  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

1v A1 (intro m. 1–​12) 1r syst. 1: A2 (m. 86–​97) syst. 2: A3 (m. 335–​47) syst. 3: A3 (m. 348–​61) syst. 4: A3 (m. 362–​76) [A2 (m. 116–​31)] [A1 (m. 55–​69)]

2r syst. 1:  A2 (m. 132–​43) [A3 (m. 377–​80)] syst. 2: A2 (m. 144–​60)

Folio 1r displays sketches mainly corresponding to A2 and A3. The continuation of A2 is found on folio 2r (Fig. 7.3). The indication “Skizzen Einleitung” (“sketches introduction”)—​or possibly “Skizzenbuch Einleitung” (“sketchbook introduction”)33—​found on the top of folio 2r, with an arrow pointing at m. 5 (near the word “Krotenser,” to which I will return), corresponds to the end of A1, where the introduction interrupts Theme C (m. 72). The * sign marked before “Skizzen[buch] Einleitung” is repeated below system 2, where Theme A  is sketched. Since folio 1r starts directly with Theme A, “Einleitung” could refer to Theme A, and not to the actual introduction, which was sketched in pencil on folio 1v, possibly after 1r and 2r were completed. In what follows I focus on two particularities of the draft that each show different aspects of Mahler’s compositional process. My first example displays a particularly tangled superimposition of different statements—​that is, different “versions” of the scherzo section. The second reveals the close connection between the Weltlauf theme A and the Klagend theme B, between Adorno’s “barrel-​organ grinding of the world’s course” and what “expressively mourns it.”34

  Edward Reilly reads “Skizzen.” See Gustav Mahler: Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, eds. Donald Mitchell and Edward Reilly (Amsterdam: Rosbeek Publishers, 1995), 79; but “buch” is legible under “Skizzen.” See Fig. 7.3 (fol. 2r). 34  Adorno, Mahler, 10 (see note 24 earlier in this chapter). 33

Fig. 7.3  Scherzo draft fol. 2r. New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Music Division, Bruno Walter Collection. JOB 85-​6 (Digital Collections)

222  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Scherzo Statements on the Draft Let us first compare the end of Theme A in A1 and A2 (Ex. 7.3).

Ex. 7.3  Scherzo statements A1, A2, A3, and draft fol. 1r

A2 develops the neighboring motive a2 played by the oboes in A1 (m. 24 and mm. 98ff ).35 As shown in Ex. 7.4 (st. 3), this development is a variant of both themes A and B: a descending second (a4 and b) followed by a dotted cell (a5 and b4) connected to the tenor horn cell in the first movement (ia), and an ascending scale similar to b2.

 Motive a2 plays on both the ascending second, highlighted in the introduction (i1), and the descending second that characterizes the beginning of Theme B. 35

Scherzo : 223

Ex. 7.4  Scherzo statement A2 (A/​B variant); Themes A and B

Formally, “A/​B variant” would rather correspond to the end of Theme A, since the Klagend theme B follows at m. 108. But motivically this variant is as close to Theme A as it is to Theme B. Returning to Ex. 7.3, statement A3 is a combination of A1 and A2, superimposing the end of Theme A with this “A/​B variant.” Motives a2 and a3 are played here simultaneously (m. 335), whereas a3 was following a2 in A1. What does the draft tell us about the composition of this passage? The corresponding passage starts at the end of system 1 on folio 1r (see Ex. 7.3 and Fig. 7.4). At first sight, the sketches are closer to what is found in A3: a2 is aligned with a3 and we find traces of both the end of Theme A and “A/​ B variant.” The end of Theme A can be traced from staff 5 down to staff 8. “A/​B variant” appears in a slightly different form in A2 and A3, and we find both versions of this measure superimposed in the sketches, on staves 5 and 6.36 Thus, Theme A and “A/​B variant” appear together in the draft. However, it is difficult to determine if they were meant to be played simultaneously, as is the case in A3, or if Mahler simply tried out different ideas with the same bass, on separate staves.37 Mahler used three or four staves for   The version in A2 (G–​F♯–​C), sketched on staff 5, is in parentheses.   The superimposition of a2 with a3 in the draft was not sketched at the same time, since staff 4, m. 1, has been added after staves 5 to 7. See Appendix MS5 and Fig. 7.4. First, the double line linking the four staves together (st. 4–​8) is not continuous, as opposed to the three other systems on fol. 1r. (Mahler first linked st. 5–​7 together, and then connected them to st. 4). Second, the slur starting st. 1, m. 12 (end of system 1), connects the F on st. 5, not on st. 4. Finally, systems 2, 3, and 4 are each separated by an empty staff, which could have been the case also between systems 1 and 2, before Mahler decided that he needed an additional staff in the second system. Starting from st. 4, m. 3, the barlines are continuous, which shows that Mahler started to use st. 4 at this point, between m. 3 and 4. 36

37

Fig. 7.4  Scherzo draft fol. 1r. New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Music Division, Bruno Walter Collection. JOB 85-​6 (Digital Collections)

Scherzo : 225

different purposes: either to elaborate a three or four part counterpoint, or to sketch different ideas which were not supposed to be played together. This example shows that what appears in the sketches cannot be identified with one of the scherzo’s statements in particular, but is rather a combination of the first three statements (A1, A2, and A3). This combination reflects the relationship between the scherzo’s statements in the final version, as they are all variants of each other. Beside the interrupted barline at the beginning of the second system (see Fig. 7.4), it is difficult to determine the order in which Mahler sketched the different layers that can be observed on the page, especially on the second system. The pencil on staff 4 (after the arrow), the lighter color of the ink on the third staff, and the quicker handwriting suggest that Mahler did not sketch the four staves at the same time. The Weltlauf and the Lament Another feature of this draft needs to be emphasized: the genetic relationship between the Weltlauf theme A and the Klagend theme B. As shown in Ex. 7.5, Theme A is slightly varied melodically and rhythmically in A2. But what mainly distinguishes Theme A in A2 is the new counterpoint played by the horns:

Ex. 7.5  Theme A in statements A1 and A2

This counterpoint is related to both Theme B and to “A/​B variant” (Ex. 7.6).

226  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 7.6  Counterpoint to A, “A/​B variant” and Theme B 86

cpt to A 100 A / B var. 38 B

Turning now to the draft, let us consider first folio 1r, staves 1 and 3 (See Ex. 7.7 and Fig. 7.4). Mahler certainly wrote on these staves (in ink) before scribbling in pencil on staff 2.38 The melodic line of Theme A as it appears in A2 is sketched on the upper staff, while the bass on the lower staff—​a harmonic oscillation between D and A—​is found in both A1 and A2, more or less varied. The connection with A2 is reinforced by what is scribbled on st. 2 in pencil (with corrections in ink), a combination of the counterpoint to Theme A in A2 with Theme B (Ex. 7.7).39 Ex. 7.7  Draft fol. 1r, sts. 1–​3

Since the last notes of Theme B are crossed out (B♭ at m. 5 and B♭–​C–​ ♭ B –​A–​G at m. 6), it seems that Theme B was sketched first and then replaced by the counterpoint supporting Theme A in A2. The sketch on staff 2 reveals the relationship between the horn part supporting Theme A in A2 and Theme B. It is hard to tell whether Mahler started from this counterpoint superimposed upon Theme A to build Theme   The insert on st. 2, m. 9, confirms that st. 3 was already filled out when Mahler was writing on st. 2. 39   As in other examples, I only transcribe what is necessary for my argument. In this case, I omit the melodic line sketched in pencil an octave above on staff  2. 38

Scherzo : 227

B, or if he tried to superimpose Theme B upon Theme A after having composed B; but, in any case, the superimposition of A and B worked for him, since both themes keep appearing together, A being a usual counterpoint to B,40 and B being a counterpoint to A in A2 (m. 86ff ). The examples discussed earlier provide insight into Mahler’s use of preliminary drafts. The three or four staves are used here as a working area, to try out different ideas, variations, and combinations. A draft in Particell format does not necessarily present a continuous section elaborated in a counterpoint of three of four voices; it can also function as a reservoir of material, from which Mahler was able to elaborate different versions of the scherzo section. Verbal Inscriptions The preliminary draft for the Scherzo displays several verbal notations, such as “Belfast” and “Wörth” on folio 1r (Fig. 7.4, syst. 3). While there is no immediate connection between Mahler and the city of Belfast, “Wörth” could refer to the Wörthersee on which Mahler was rowing when he imagined the beginning of the Seventh, or to the village Maria-​Wörth by the same lake.41 “Krotenser,” on folio 2r (see Fig. 7.3), may also refer to a location. Several lakes in Bavaria and Austria bear the name “Krottensee” (or “Krotensee”), and one in particular could be relevant: a very small lake located between the Mondsee and the Wolfgangsee, close to the Attersee, where Mahler spent his early summer retreats. (As it turns out, this Krottensee bears another association with Viennese music, since it is very close to the village St. Gilgen by the Wolfgangsee, where Anna Maria Walburga Pertl, mother of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, was born). Following this logic of place names, the word crossed out at the bottom of folio 2r could read “Pempelfort,” which is a part of the city of Düsseldorf.42 Whatever specific meaning they had for Mahler, these inscriptions seem to function as key words designating a particular section or theme in the

 In A1 at m. 38ff, A2 at m. 108ff, and A3 at m. 345ff.  Natalie Bauer-​ Lechner reports that in 1899, while bicycling around the Wörthersee with Mahler’s sister Justi to find a summer house, they both met Anna von Mildenburg at Maria-​Wörth. Mildenburg persuaded them to accompany her to Maiernigg, where Mahler eventually chose to build his summer house (completed for the summer of 1901). See NBLE, 133. The draft of the Rückert song “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” (1901) is dated “MW 16. Aug. 1901” at the end, which Hefling proposes to read as “Maria-​Wörth” (Morgan Library & Museum, M214. L716). 42   See NKG, 315. 40 41

228  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Table 7.2  Inscriptions on draft folio 2r Draft fol. 2r

Syst. 1 End of  C = m. 132-​43 (A2) [m. 377-​80 (A3)] End of  C (m. 70–​71) End of C = draft (m. 132–​43) End of  C (m. 377–​80)

A1 A2 A3

“Sketches introduction” “and here no 6 one more time the whole /​ without ‘Wörth’  ” Intro A2 (m. 72–​85) —​ Theme B (m. 381–​88)

Syst. 2 C with B = m. 144–​60 (A2) —​

ends on Intro + A, transition to Trio

C with B = m. 144–​60 Fragments C

Kreischend then transition to Trio Kreischend then A4

—​

Scherzo. “Wörth” is written under the Klagend theme B, and “Belfast” appears above the Waltz theme C. Accordingly, the indication “ohne Wörth” (“without Wörth,” see Fig. 7.3 on the right) on folio 2r could mean “without Theme B.” In fact, as shown in Table 7.2, Theme B appears at the corresponding place in the draft in A3 (m. 381), but not in A1 nor in A2. As mentioned earlier, the indication “sketches introduction” on top of system 1 corresponds precisely to what happens in A1, when the end of Theme C is followed by a reprise of the introduction (m. 72). The indication “Und hierauf n° 6 “ (“and here no. 6”) on folio 2r probably refers to the cue numbers traced in blue pencil on the left side of both leaves (61/​2, 8, and 9).43 At this place, Mahler was apparently considering adding a section 6 that was preceding folio 1r, numbered 61/​2. If “6” points at the introduction (sketched on folio 1v), we could read “and here no. 6 one more time the whole” in conjunction with “sketches introduction,” as referring to the introduction to A2 heard at m. 72 (see Table 7.2).44 These written indications show that, at this compositional stage, Mahler was mapping out the structure of the movement. Blue numbers also appear in other sketches and drafts, including the Partitur for the first movement and the unknown “Presto in F major.”45 This draft confirms Hefling’s observation that Mahler, like Richard Wagner, usually started sketching a two-​part   For 61/​2 Kubik reads “63,” which is unlikely (NKG, 315). Reilly proposes “6i,” without offering any explanation. See Facsimile of the Seventh, 79. 44   The lost number “7” could be on the missing half of fol. 2. 45   Morgan Library & Museum, New York (M214. U58a). The best example for these blue numbers is the unknown Scherzo and Trio, numbered from “1” to “12.” Wienbibliothek im Rathaus, Vienna (MHc 14564). See ch. 3, note 63. 43

Scherzo : 229

counterpoint, melody and bass, before filling out the middle part.46 As noted earlier, Mahler used several staves to try out different ideas—​or different versions of the same idea—​and in this case, he retained most of his ideas in the final version and deployed them in his four scherzo statements.

Walpurgis Night “In this movement there is nothing real, it is a reflection of yesterday’s world, peopled with ghosts,” commented Mengelberg (quoted at the beginning of this chapter). In a similar way, Adorno declared the Seventh to be existing in the “shadow” of the Sixth Symphony.47 These views raise the question of substance: what is the Seventh made of, if not only from recollections of other works and times? Mengelberg’s description of the Scherzo as reflecting memories of a past world conveys a notion of critical distance, also implied in Julian Johnson’s reading: [The Scherzo] negates the waltz model on which it is built through a constant disruption of its meter; it negates the idea of musical voice through fragmentation of orchestration and motif, confining itself mostly to veiled sonorities and scurrying, unindividual figures; and it negates the periodic units implied by the form through moments of sudden eruption and collapse.48

Like the second Nachtmusik, which has been interpreted as a serenade “about all serenades,” this movement also appears to be built on the negation, or critique, of previous traditions.49 Referring to the tradition of commentary in Jewish culture, Talia Pecker Berio argues that, in Mahler’s scherzi, more than in any other form, Mahler’s vocation to commentary comes forth most explicitly: commentary on his own music and on that of others, commentary on pre-​existing forms and on the commonplaces that populate them.50

  Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 184. See, for example, the first and the last systems of fol. 1r. 47   See Chapter 1, “The ‘Problems’ of the Seventh.” 48  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 142. 49   On the second Nachtmusik as a “serenade about all serenades,” see Peter Davison, “Nachtmusik II: ‘Nothing but Love, Love, Love’?,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler:  A Symposium, ed. James Zychowicz (Cincinnati:  University of Cincinnati, 1990), 93; quoted in Chapter 6. 50   Pecker Berio, “Perspectives of a Scherzo,” 75. The author interprets the variation processes at work between motives as commentary: “Every new pattern can be seen as a commentary on a previous one.” Ibid., 76. 46

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Like the second Nachtmusik, the Scherzo would be essentially commenting on the conventions of the genre. This idea resonates with the perception of the Seventh as more “objective” than other Mahlerian works, particularly when compared to the subjective and tragic voice of the Sixth. The Seventh’s Scherzo in particular, for Deryck Cooke, shows Mahler “standing outside the music.”51 In Goethe’s play Faust, Mephistopheles and Faust stand outside the action in a similar way, when they observe the witches’ Sabbath during Walpurgis Night. Demons dancing at the sound of music confront us, again, with the image of a musical death. “Come closer to this little mountain,” Mephistopheles tells Faust, “It is as amusing as the Vienna Prater”!52 Mephistopheles’s association of Walpurgis Night with the Prater makes the connection between death and pleasure. From 1766, when Emperor Joseph II officially declared the Prater center of public leisure, the area became the central place of amusement and excitement in Vienna. With its theaters, freak shows, circuses, puppet shows, prostitutes, and children’s attractions, the Viennese park contained (and released) repressed desires and a human tendency for madness in all its forms—​“Always this desire for madness,” exclaims Mephistopheles, “Nur immer diese Lust zum Wahn!” Death playing the fiddle “invites people to dance, as sooner or later all of them must,” wrote Mengelberg. Indeed, death plays with us, as much as we play with her. Goethe’s sorcerer’s apprentice defies death when he infuses unanimated objects with life (the same broom Mephistopheles offers Faust to climb the mountain). The godlike creator/​magician takes power over life and death until the created object escapes its creator, provoking a catastrophe. This key moment of Goethe’s poem (in Dukas’s musical setting), when the enchanted broom becomes animated, is precisely what we hear at the beginning of the Scherzo of the Seventh: the mechanical move has been set in motion, driving the never-​ending course of the world until the ultimate collapse. Even the “lyrical expression” in the Scherzo, notes Johnson, “often marked klagend or divided between unlikely voices, leads only to collapse.”53 The three Nachtstücke of the Seventh all lead to collapse, but through different means:  in the first Nachtmusik, sounds of nature quickly collapse on the major-​minor motto of the Sixth; the ghostly dance of the Scherzo disintegrates into nothingness; and the charming serenade casually falls down each time an opening gesture is sketched. Situated between the two

  Deryck Cooke, Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to His Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 90. 52   Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust, Part I, sc. 21 “Walpurgis Night,” 4210. 53  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 144. 51

Scherzo : 231

Nachtmusiken, the Scherzo shares affinities with each of them. The perpetuum mobile of the Weltlauf derives from the sounds of nature (triplets) heard in the first Nachtmusik, which reflects the tension between the mechanical and natural worlds. At the other end, the dance of death may not be fully forgotten in the second Nachtmusik, which favors the sonority of the solo violin.54 Fiddling death cannot be heard in the Scherzo, but is it hiding behind a charming façade in the next movement? Is Death ultimately serenading us in the second Nachtmusik?

  The Intro-​Cadence is played by a violin solo several times, as well as Motive B and the melancolisch passage that breaks off at m. 88, among other instances. 54

Chapter 8

First Movement

At the first stroke of the oars the theme (or rather the rhythm and character) of the introduction to the first movement came to my mind—​and in four weeks the first, third, and fifth movements were completely finished. —​Gustav Mahler1

What is the character, literally the “manner” (“die Art”) of this introduction, that triggered Mahler’s creative process and allowed him to complete the Seventh? After an examination of the constitutive elements of this beginning and their contradictory interpretations, I concentrate on the emotional center of the first movement, the Durchbruch. If this moment appears to be structurally fundamental in the final version, sketches reveal that the movement was far from being built around it, since it was inserted at a rather late stage of the compositional process. The relationship between genesis and interpretation is further explored at the end of this chapter, where I discuss the impact of Mahler’s boat story on our understanding of the work and the striking common features between several compositional narratives.

Beginning of the Seventh The character of this beginning is determined by a specific harmony, rhythm, and theme: a B minor triad colored by an added sixth (G♯), repeated pianissimo on a slow dactylic rhythm (long–​short–​short). On this floating ground, a tenor horn solo intones a dark melody unfolding the initial harmony.  Translation emended from Gustav Mahler:  Letters to His Wife, eds. Henry-​Louis de La Grange and Günther Weiss, coll. Knud Martner, rev. and trans. Anthony Beaumont (London: Faber and Faber, 2005), 356. See Chapter 3. 1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

First Movement : 233

“Mystical Chord”

Paul Bekker refers to the opening sonority of the Seventh as a “mystical sound”: “Langsam,” the solemn rhythm sounds in the dark register of the strings and woodwinds. . . . [O]‌ne could think of a funeral march, but the harmony awakens other ideas. It is a strange, floating, mystical sound [“mystischer Klang”]: B minor with the added major sixth G-​sharp, pedantically speaking the half-​diminished seventh chord on G-​sharp in first inversion as a six-​five chord.2

I return to Bekker’s opposition between the funeral rhythm and the “floating” harmony later and concentrate, for the moment, on this “mystical” harmony. Indeed, the minor triad with a major sixth is an inversion of the half-​ diminished Tristan chord, used in a particular way in Wagner’s operas from Lohengrin. As Alfred Lorenz noted, the Tristan chord appears closely spaced in a low register in Parsifal, which gives it a darker color.3 Because of its multiform aspect (“even more ambiguous than in Tristan”) and “shimmering light,” Lorenz named it the “mystical chord” (“mystischer Akkord”), using precisely the same term as Bekker.4 The chord is the harmonic seal of the Magic motive (Zaubermotiv) in Parsifal, which is not only associated with Klingsor, but also with Kundry’s seduction of Amfortas (as related by Gurnemanz in Act I), as well as of Parsifal in Act II, there using the same pitches as at the beginning of Tristan (F–​G♯/​A♭–​B/​C♭–​D♯/​E♭). As Laurence Dreyfus has pointed out, however, the mystical chord is not confined to the realm of Klingsor’s magic. The same chord is heard (on the same pitches) when Christ’s crucifixion is mentioned, and it punctuates the B major section of the Good Friday Spell.5 The crucifixion is musically signaled by the Communion motive in minor, which reveals the intimate connection between  Paul Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien (Berlin:  Schuster & Loeffler, 1921), 242. Translation by Kelly Dean Hansen, Gustav Mahler’s Symphonies by Paul Bekker (1921): A Translation with Commentary (PhD diss., University of Colorado at Boulder, 2012), 551. 3   Alfred Lorenz, Das Geheimnis der Form bei Richard Wagner: der musikalische Aufbau von Richard Wagners “Parsifal,” vol. 4 (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1966), 30. See also William Kinderman, Wagner’s Parsifal (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 101 and 116–​17. 4  Lorenz, Das Geheimnis der Form, 32 and 43. Lorenz’s Parsifal volume was written in 1933, after Bekker’s Mahlers Sinfonien (1921). Bekker’s and Lorenz’s use of the same term to qualify the same chord may be a coincidence, but is possible that Bekker’s use of the term inspired Lorenz for his Wagner analyses. 5   Laurence Dreyfus, “Music and the Unseen:  Narrative Paradigms in Parsifal,” The Wagner Journal 7/​3 (2013):  38–​52 (particularly p.  49). The Crucifixion is mentioned in Act II by Kundry (“Ich sah Ihn, Ihn, und lachte,” pp. 395–​96 in the Peters 2

234  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

this theme and the Magic motive: a triad reaching toward the sixth (major for the Communion, diminished for the Magic motive).6 Thus, Klingsor’s magic and the magic of Good Friday are not located in opposite worlds, and the suffering inflicted by erotic desire can turn into “compassionate suffering leading to redemption.”7 In fact, the melodic triad ascending toward the sixth pervades the motivic material of Parsifal,8 a feature which also characterizes Mahler’s Seventh. Besides the “mystical chord” of the first movement, closely spaced in a low register, the Nachtmusiken both insist on the oscillation between scale degrees ^5 and ^6. The March theme (A1–​A2) in the first Nachtmusik repeatedly highlights the sixth in C, hesitating between the major and the minor (A♭ or A♮). Similarly, the trio themes B1 and B2 both accentuate the neighboring motion E♭–​F–​E♭ in A♭ major. In the second Nachtmusik, Motive B outlines a triad with a sixth under different forms, including the minor triad with a major sixth of the “mystical chord”; and the material from which B derives, the clarinet accompaniment of the serenade theme, unfolds a major triad with major sixth.9 On a larger scale, the tonal pairing of C major and its flat sixth A♭ major at work in the first Nachtmusik and in the Finale is structurally fundamental in Parsifal, symbolizing the realm of the Grail. Even more significant are the tonal associations of B minor and major in Parsifal with the first movement of the Seventh, which begins in the key associated with Klingsor (B minor) and modulates, before the recapitulation, to the key opening the Good Friday Spell scene (B major). As will be discussed later, Mahler’s Durchbruch moment in B major includes the motivic material of the B minor introduction, just as Wagner’s Communion motive contains the suffering of Amfortas and a concealed relationship with Klingsor’s Magic motive. The opening of Mahler’s Seventh does not so much allude to Wagner’s Tristan, as has been suggested,10 but rather recasts the Tristan chord in a way orchestral score); and in Act III by Gurnemanz (“Ihn selbst am Kreuze,” p. 523). Good Friday: Act III, Gurnemanz, “Das ist Karfreitagszauber, Herr!” (p. 518).   Dreyfus, “Music and the Unseen,” 50–​51; and Lorenz, Das Geheimnis der Form, 47.   Dreyfus, “Music and the Unseen,” 50. 8  See Kinderman, Wagner’s Parsifal, 100–​ 101; and see Chapter  2, “External connections” in “Structure.” 9   See Appendices M2 and M4; and see Chapter 6, “Connections between the first Nachtmusik and the Finale” in “The first Nachtmusik.” 10   See Steven Gordon, Mahler’s Seventh Symphony, Modernism, and the Crisis of Austrian Liberalism (PhD diss., University of California, Los Angeles, 1998), 59. As Stephen Hefling notes, the chord is also close to the major triad with added sixth that Mahler used so extensively in the Rückert Lied “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,” 6

7

First Movement : 235

similar to its use in Parsifal. The close position of the “mystical chord” at the beginning of the Seventh, the key of B minor, and the sinuous melody of the tenor horn—​descending and ascending like the Zaubermotiv—​are ingredients evoking the figure of Klingsor, the dark magician who subverts nature, turning his garden into a place of dangerous erotic seduction.11

Nature’s Roar

The association of the Seventh’s first movement with the idea of nature, supported by Mahler’s boat story, is reinforced by the composer’s characterization of the tenor horn theme:  “Here nature roars,” he told Richard Specht.12 The choice of the verb is striking. We are away from bird songs and cowbells; nature is rutting. This comment resonates with the sexual associations of the Tristan chord, and in this case the combination of sex and nature leads to Klingsor. Self-​castrated, Klingsor cannot “roar” any more but uses the Flower Maidens to perform sexual activities that lie beyond his scope. Nature can be deceptive, and flowers easily turn into manipulative seductresses. This conflation of nature and sexuality, at the center of Parsifal Act II, is reflected in Mahler’s description of the tenor horn theme. Writing about the Seventh’s opening, Thomas Peattie notes a similar violence in this evocation of nature: The otherness of this unusual instrumental timbre immediately unsettles the listener, establishing in the work’s opening measures a scenario in which nature is an intrusive force that comes from outside the work.13

Nature can become an incontrollable force, which Klingsor uses to subdue the Knights of the Grail. Ultimately, the violence of natural instincts will be transcended in Parsifal, in a similar way that the Seventh’s roaring introduction will be transfigured later in the first movement.

as well as in Das Lied von der Erde. See Hefling, “From Wunderhorn to Rückert and the Middle-​Period Symphonies,” in The Cambridge Companion to Mahler, ed. J. Barham (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 126. 11  The tenor horn initial cell ia (descending F♯–​D–​G♯) also recalls the motive heard in Tristan Act II on “Herz an Herz dir, Mund an Mund.” My thanks to Seth Monahan for bringing this to my attention. 12   “Hier röhrt die Natur.” See Richard Specht, Gustav Mahler (Berlin: Schuster & Loeffler, 1913), 299. Hefling translates this as “Here nature roars like a stag in rut” in “From Wunderhorn to Rückert,” 125. 13  Thomas Peattie, Gustav Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 2015), 140.

236  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Funeral March?

The tenor horn appears only in the first movement, mainly associated with the introduction’s first theme.14 Paul Bekker insists on the strangeness of this timbre: In this harmonic mist sounds a calling brass theme of a particular kind, such as Mahler had never invented yet. It does not have the sharp fanfare-​like incisions of the beginning of the Third Symphony. Going up and down through the intervals of the seventh chord gives it something vague, searching, an expression of longing [Sehnsuchtausdruck], but free of complaint or sentimentality. The tenor horn, usually not used in the symphonic orchestra, plays here solo. The trombone would have been probably too massive and clumsy, the horn would not have given enough strength to its sound. A “great sonority” is prescribed. The structure shows such a germinal strength and magnificence in the linear movement, that one could almost speak about a new melodic style.15

Indeed, the beginning of the Seventh recalls the Stimmung of the Third Symphony’s introduction, with its slow dactylic rhythm and overall dark atmosphere.16 But it differs in significant ways. The dactylic rhythm traditionally carries funeral associations, as in, for example, the Finale of Mahler’s Sixth Symphony.17 It is also the case in the Third Symphony’s introduction, clearly evoking a funeral march. In the Seventh, however, the funeral atmosphere suggested by the dactylic rhythm is undermined by its surroundings.18   Except at m.  350, where the tenor horn plays a motive from the secondary Theme B. 15  Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien, 242. The choice of the tenor horn may have been inspired by Pfitzner’s use of this instrument in his opera Die Rose vom Liebesgarten, which Mahler conducted in 1905, the year of the Seventh’s completion. The tenor horn is an instrument in B♭ that resembles a tenor Wagner tuba, not to be confused with the instrument called “tenor horn” in Great Britain (“alto horn” in the United States, “Althorn” in Germany, in E♭ or in F). The tenor horn used by Mahler is similar to the instrument called “baritone horn” in the United States and in Great Britain. 16   See the Third Symphony, first movement, mm. 27ff. 17  See Karl Weigl, “Gustav Mahler:  VII. Symphonie in E moll,” in Mahlers Symphonien, ed. Edgar Istel (Berlin:  Schlesinger, 1910), 137 (“trauermarchartige Rhythmen der Streicher”). La Grange also notes the association of the dactylic rhythm with death (HLG3, 857). 18  Comparing the introductions to the Third and Seventh symphonies, Lewis Smoley finds that while the funeral march in the Third sounds terrifying, it is “hardly dark and tragic or frightening [in the Seventh]. “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony: Inscrutible Enigma or Obvious Parody?” Wunderhorn 4/​1 (2005): 4. 14

First Movement : 237

Bekker, for example, notes that the ambiguous harmony of the “mystical chord” “awakens other ideas [Vorstellungen].” For Vera Micznik, the “hovering” tenor horn theme “invalidates the ‘funeral march’ formula in the low strings.”19 The tenor horn melody is quickly followed by a carefree march (IB, m. 19), as if to erase the memory of any funeral association. And when the main theme of the movement enters (m. 50), the hurried dactylic rhythm has completely lost its solemn character, now evoking a warlike horse ride.

Night or Day?

The first movement has been perceived either as a “tragic night” or a luminous day, which shows that there is no agreement on the funeral characterization of the introduction.20 Willem Mengelberg’s conducting score shows the following notation, at the beginning of the first movement:  “primary violence of tragedy/​Death, (War) metaphysical,” which brings us back to the brutal side of nature evoked by Mahler’s comment on the tenor horn theme.21 Mengelberg’s program for the first movement develops this aspect: This concerns night, a tragic night. No stars, no moonlight, no celebration, no happy people, no quiet sleep. It is the reign of the power of darkness, which Mahler expresses as a violent force, stubborn, brutal, and tyrannical. There are moments where we hear the unshakeable hope of humanity, and its suffering. In these moments lies the tragedy of life, which ardently longs for light and love, if only . . .! The particular colors of the instrument Mahler uses solo (the tenor horn), the heavy, falling character of the intervals in the principal theme, the angular rhythm, the mobility of the accompaniment, all these express tyrannical rules. The solo declares:  ‘I am the master here! I  shall impose my will!’ Without this image, the music of this movement is incomprehensible.22

The last line is telling: Mengelberg did not believe that this music could be understood in its own terms. It is difficult to evaluate to what extent these remarks were inspired by Mahler and how far Mengelberg distanced himself

  Vera Micznik, “Mahler and the ‘Power of Genre,’” Journal of Musicology 12, no. 2 (1994): 148, note 46. 20   See Chapter 2, “Night and Day” in “Main Interpretive Leads”; and Chapter 9, “E minor to C major: From Night to Day.” 21   See NKG, 320. “Die Elementare Gewalt der Tragik/​Tod, (Krieg) metaphysisch.” As mentioned earlier, Mengelberg’s annotations in his score, as well as his “program” for the Seventh, were apparently inspired by Mahler’s own comments during the rehearsals for the Seventh in October 1909. See Chapter 7, note 1. 22   Quoted in HLG3, 854–​55. 19

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from the composer’s indications in order to shape his own interpretation of the symphony. Putting these remarks in relation to Mahler’s rutting image offers, again, a vision of the violent laws of nature. Taken together, these comments present a coherent picture of the Seventh’s beginning; but the music resists the superimposition of a single image. The “mystical chord” creates more confusion than darkness, the heavy dactylic rhythm is quickly shaken by a nonchalant march, and the tenor horn theme is, as Bekker put it, “searching” rather than imposing its will. Like Mengelberg, Richard Specht used the epithet “tragic” to qualify the first movement,23 which may relate to its frequent association with the Sixth Symphony. Bekker, on the contrary, writes on the first movement in terms of light and day. In his view, The three night pieces . . . are framed by two diurnal pieces, full of dazzling light. The first movement is the glowing light, which breaks through from the aspiring dawn into brightness. The Finale is a radiant day. Both movements are Dionysian apotheoses. They not only belong together through character, they are also thematically connected. The main theme of the opening movement becomes the leading force in the last part of the Finale, and radiates at the end in a sparkling glimmer.24

In opposition to Mengelberg, who described the movement as a struggle in darkness, Bekker depicts a sunrise that ultimately leads to the full and strong light of the Finale. His analysis emphasizes the division between the three middle movements on the one hand, pieces that reach the top of “miniaturist art,” and the outer movements on the other, where the “leading forces act.”25 Whether interpreted as a radiant light or a tenebrous night, the early reception of the Seventh—​inspired, at least partly, by Mahler’s own comments—​perceived the first movement in the realm of the uncontrollable side of nature, either as a violent battle or as a Dionysiac procession; which

  Richard Specht, “Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” in Der Merker 2 (1909): 1: “. . . the first movement fighting in tragic battles.” Elsa Bienenfeld used this term as well:  “A tragic character dominates the first and last movements.” Neues Wiener Journal, November 10, 1909, quoted in “Mahler’s German-​ Language Critics,” eds. Karen Painter and Bettina Varwig, in Mahler and His World, ed. Karen Painter (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002), 325. 24  Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien, 238. Bienenfeld also refers to Dionysos in her characterization of the Seventh’s outer movements. See Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 325. 25  Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien, 240. “Die tragenden Kräfte wirken in den Ecksätzen.” He also describes the movement as a “natural phenomenon” (Naturereignis, 251). 23

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brings us back to Wagner’s Klingsor, a character illustrating this association of primary instincts with the laws of nature.26

Partitur for the First Movement

The orchestral draft for the first movement shows that the crucial components of the work’s beginning—​the specific timbre of nature’s “roar,” the instrumentation of the “mystical chord” and the location of the allusion to the Finale of the Sixth Symphony—​were still evolving when Mahler was orchestrating the movement.27 First, the tenor horn part was initially meant for alto trombone. Although the orchestral draft bears the indication “Tenor horn” in the nomenclature, it also says “alto trombone” (under “tenor horn”) and the part is written in F, which does not correspond to the key of the tenor horn (B♭). “Tenor horn” has been added by Mahler in several places in the Partitur, which confirms that this particular instrument was not his first choice.28 In the fair copy, as well as in the copyist’s score, the part is written for “tenor horn (or tenor tuba).”29 Mahler’s hesitation over the choice of the instrument playing the initial theme shows that, as John Williamson commented, he was

  Incidentally, William Ritter associates Mahler with Klingsor in his recollections of the Seventh’s Premiere in Prague, in September 1908, when describing the Mahlers:  “Obviously this tall, beautiful blonde creature in the company of that gaunt and feverish little imp, swarthy and wooly-​haired, genius as he was, tended to make us think, not for the first time, of those enchantments by means of which, in the Middle Ages, various Klingsor figures (but not emasculated, these ones!) had been able to captivate those too-​seductive women of whom Kundry was the ultimate incarnation.” See Ritter, “Quelques souvenirs sur Gustave Mahler,” Vie Art Cité, Lausanne, 1946, in William Ritter chevalier de Gustav Mahler: Ecrits, correspondance, documents, ed. Claude Meylan (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000), 35. Translation from HLG4, 229. 27   New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Bruno Walter Collection (JOB 85-​5; Microfilm: * ZBT 673 n°6). Digital access: New York Public Library, Digital Collections, Music Division, “7. Symphonie, I. Satz.” See Appendix MS6 and Chapter 3. 28   See the Partitur at m. 32 (“tenor horn in B,” ink); m. 194 (pencil); m. 338 (“alt. pos.” in nomenclature and “tenorhorn” added in blue pencil). 29   “Grosser Ton” is added in ink at the beginning of the part in the copyist’s score. Mahler was also concerned with finding a very good tenor horn player, as shown in Mengelberg’s inscriptions on his conducting score: “ein sehr gutes Tenorhorn (nicht Baryton, da ersteres grösseren Ton /​hat u. schärfer klingt)” (NKG, 320). 26

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“looking for a sound that would stand out from the ordinary brass section, a distinctive voice that would launch a new vision.”30 Second, the four sounds of the “mystical chord” (B–​F♯–​G♯–​D), orchestrated for woodwinds and strings in the final version, were initially also distributed between the four horns. Mahler ultimately chose to save the brass instruments for later (m. 6), maybe to emphasize the contrast between harmony and melody in order to highlight the uniqueness of the tenor horn solo.31 As shown in Ex. 8.1, Mahler first gave the motive derived from the “mystical sound” (mm. 7–​8) to the oboe and clarinet, then added the flute before trying the trumpet (in F). Ex. 8.1  First movement and orchestral draft

  John Williamson, “Mahler and Episodic Structure: The First Movement of the Seventh Symphony,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler: A Symposium, ed. James Zychowicz (Cincinnati: University of Cincinnati, 1990), 37. 31   The horns enter at m. 6 in the fair copy. 30

First Movement : 241

The draft provides a trace of this change, since Mahler wrote on the flute staff at a later time (in pencil) and marked “Trumpet?” above the staff at m. 7. Finally, the Partitur shows that the quotation from the Finale of the Sixth Symphony, which occurs clearly in the recapitulation (m. 340), already appears as a counterpoint to the unfolding of the tenor horn theme in the introduction (m. 7, see Ex. 8.1, st. 4). In the finished version, Mahler placed the quotation of the Finale of the Sixth in the recapitulation, combining the tenor horn and trumpet parts of the draft (mm. 7–​8). As discussed in Chapter 5, this quotation is foreshadowed in the introduction of the Seventh by the tenor horn (mm. 13–​15), although less clearly than in the recapitulation.32 That the most emblematic instrument of the Seventh alludes to the Finale of the preceding symphony only reinforces the relationship between these two works. This foreshadowed allusion is also present in the draft (m. 13), and thus, Mahler’s earlier conception of the Seventh’s introduction contained more allusions to the Sixth than the finished version.

Form and Content While the first movement can be analyzed in terms of sonata form, several aspects complicate this interpretation. The main point of disagreement concerns the location of the development. Hans Swarowsky places it at m. 145 (three after Fig. 18), where we hear the main theme inverted; and Constantin Floros at m. 174 (six after Fig. 21).33 Although Swarowsky begins his development section at m. 145, he places the “real development” at m. 228 (four after Fig. 28), since the first section of his development (mm. 145–​227) is a variant of the exposition. The central passage of the movement (mm. 256–​337), a pastoral episode leading to a striking Durchbruch (breakthrough) in B major, has provoked the most intense reactions in the critical reception since 1908. The structural importance of this B major episode supports an analysis of the movement as an A A′ B A″ structure without insisting on specific sonata form designations34: 1–​49: 50–​144 (Fig. 6):

Intro (IA, IB, IC) A: A, TA, B (lyrical)

  See Exs. 5.4 and 5.5. See VI/​4 at mm. 30–​33.   See Hans Swarowsky, Wahrung der Gestalt: Schriften über Werk und Wiedergabe, Stil und Interpretation in der Musik, ed. Manfred Huss (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1979), 137 and 139; and Constantin Floros, Gustav Mahler:  The Symphonies (Portland:  Amadeus Press, 1997), 193. 34   See Appendix F1. I indicated sonata form categories between brackets in F1, to acknowledge the legacy of this form in the movement. Swarowsky proposes another 32 33

242  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

145–​255 (Fig. 18+3): A′: A, TA,  B -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​ 256–​337 (Fig. 32): B Center: pastoral episode (IB′), Durchbruch (B major) -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​ 338–​72 (Fig. 42+3): Intro 2 (IA, IC, B) 373–​494 (Fig. 46+4): A″: A, TA,  B 495–​547 (Fig. 62-​4): Coda The emotional center of the movement is not a development, but rather an excursion into another dimension, which challenges sonata form terminology. Three main themes are exposed in the introduction: the tenor horn theme (IA), the quick march (IB) and a military variant of IA (IC).35 Even if IC is a variant of IA, they are sufficiently distinct in character to be considered as two different themes.36 The difference between them is not always clear though, and what happens at m. 32 is a good example of what Swarowsky calls a “psychological trick”: the slow dactylic rhythm of the introduction leads us to expect the tenor horn theme (IA), but the melody is that of its variant IC, which prefigures the Allegro theme (A) with its initial descending fourth.37 The tenor horn theme (IA) holds a special position within the movement, because it never reappears in its developed form. Its presence is reduced to the initial cell ia (the dotted descending seventh). The counterpoint to IA heard at m. 12, which starts as an imitation on IA and then quotes the Finale of the Sixth, takes predominance over IA.38 The quick march (IB) plays a fundamental role in the movement, since its metamorphosis (IB′) will constitute the main motivic substance of the pastoral episode. Section A  follows a similar structure, with two main thematic groups (A and B) bridged by a transition theme (TA). This transition theme, foreshadowing the waltz of the Scherzo’s trio section (E), contains elements from both A and B: it is characterized by a double descending fourth (variation of the initial tenor horn cell ia), accompanied by a descending structural division to complement his analysis using sonata form: since he divides the development into three sections, and since his recapitulation starts only at m. 373, he can regroup the sections by three, with two overlaps: intro–​exp.–​development I, then development I–​II–​III, then development III–​recap.–​coda. Wahrung der Gestalt, 140.

  See Appendix M1.   Floros assimilates IA and IC in The Symphonies, 194. 37  Swarowksy, Wahrung der Gestalt, 138. 38   At the reprise of the introduction, for example (mm. 338 and 358). At m. 338, the tenor horn melody is played by the contrabasses. 35

36

First Movement : 243

chromatic figure that belongs to B. As in the first movement of the Sixth, the march-​like first theme (A), energetic and combative, is contrasted by a second lyrical theme (B), agent of the Durchbruch moment, carrying the possibility of transcendence. The introduction returns in B minor after the Durchbruch (m. 338), transformed without the added sixth G♯—​and more on this will be said later.39 As discussed earlier, the trombones make here a clear reference to the Finale of the Sixth (mm. 340–​42), infusing the first movement of the Seventh with the tragedy associated with the last movement of the Sixth. The following duet between the tenor horn and the trombone (mm. 347–​51) conveys the darkest atmosphere of the movement, soon relieved by a glimpse of hope. The tenor horn, until now only associated with its opening Theme IA, plays with the circling figures of the lyrical Theme B, leading to an outburst in B major (m. 354–​5). This recollection does not last though, quickly transformed into the familiar major-​minor motto of the Sixth Symphony, settling the association with tragedy. These two measures (354–​55) reenact, in a condensed form, the Durchbruch’s fall from B major to B minor (at m. 338). This second introduction leads to the recapitulation of Theme A (m. 373), first in E minor, then “Grandioso” in E major, resolving the fall from major to minor that occurred after the Durchbruch.

Center of the Movement (mm. 256–​337)

Let us now focus on this emotional center of the movement, organized as follows40: 256

/​ 266

/​ 298

313

317

/​ 338

Pastoral (IB′) /​solo vln. (A, B), IB /​Pastoral (IB′) cad. BM Durchbruch /​Int. (Bm)

The first pastoral episode, interrupted by a violin solo playing variations of Themes A and B, eventually leads to a peaceful cadence in B major, serving as an introduction to the Durchbruch moment.   Since Floros considers the introduction to be part of the exposition, his recapitulation begins at m. 338. For Swarowsky, the return of the introduction at m. 338 gives the “impression of the reprise” but is actually still part of the development because, as opposed to the beginning, the thematic material is further developed. See Wahrung der Gestalt, 139–​40. Therefore, the reprise is first simulated (“angespielt”) and only later fully accomplished, at m. 373. 40   Swarowsky considers this episode (mm. 258–​316) as the center of the development. See Wahrung der Gestalt, 139. 39

244  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Pastoral The pastoral episode is initiated by a trumpet call outlining an augmented triad (F♯–​D–​B♭, m. 254), variant of the initial cell ia, functioning as a signal for a change of atmosphere. This call is not a new sound in itself, since it appears several times earlier in its ascending and descending form (starting from m. 249), as variants of the cell ia. Thus, the motive used to signify a shift away from the musical present into another dimension is a most familiar one, heard at the beginning of the symphony and that will appear, more or less varied, in each movement. This signal remains present throughout the whole episode, as a reminder that we did not completely leave the non-​ pastoral world.41 The pastoral is built on the introduction’s second theme (IB), a quick march transformed here into a meditative woodwind chorale marked feierlich, “solemn” (IB′, m. 258).42 The chorale lands on a major triad with an added sixth in E♭ major, transfiguring the initial “mystical chord” from minor to major. Here the carefree and detached march becomes nostalgic, but later in the symphony the opposite happens: in the Scherzo, the melancholic descending cell of the tenor horn (ia) turns into a clumsy waltz theme (E). The pastoral episode is interrupted by a varied form of the main theme (A), marked “subito Allegro I” (m. 266), which can be heard as a return to the busy world of the Allegro section. But right before this interruption, we have a “dream chords” sequence (m. 262) such as the one encountered in the second Nachtmusik, which I compared with similar sequences in Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll and in Meistersinger.43 With Parsifal in mind, the progression from A♭ major to F minor to D♭ major (m. 264–​65) also evokes the beginning of the Grail theme in A♭ major, moving from I (A♭M) to vi (Fm) and IV (D♭M). The dream chords have the ability to bring the music to an almost complete stillness, going from pp to ppp, ritardando, morendo. At this point, in suspended time, the main theme of the movement re-​ enters, shaking a peaceful silence. The violin solo combines elements from the horse-​ride Theme A with the lyrical Theme B, and shortly after the quick march reappears (IB, m. 284), as a reminder that the sublime can turn back to trivial at any moment. The quick march descends in the low register by steps, and there, when the contrabasses and celli reach the low G (m. 288),

  See at mm. 262, 300, 308, 312, 324, etc.   As Peattie notes, the breath mark after the first chord at m. 258, which was noted only in the copyist’s score and not in the fair copy, has the effect of a vocal utterance. Peattie, The Fin-​de-​siècle Metropolis: Memory, Modernity, and the Music of Gustav Mahler (Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University, 2002), 146. 43   See VII/​4, mm. 253–​58; and see Ex. 6.14. 41

42

First Movement : 245

Fig.  8.1  Partitur for VII/​1, mm. 283–​88. New  York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Music Division, Bruno Walter Collection. JOB 85-​ 5 (Digital Collections) Mahler wrote “Steine pumpeln ins Wasser” (“Stones plop in the water”) in the draft score (Fig. 8.1).44 As Edward Reilly noted, the underlining of “stones” may indicate that “Mahler was trying to suggest a special kind of sonority by having the bass instruments perform pizzicato and arco simultaneously.”45 Stones plopping in the water also convey the idea of a fall, which corresponds closely to the global gesture of this passage: from the high B♭ tremolo held by the violins at the outset of the pastoral episode (m. 256), the suspended chorale is brought back to earth by the violin solo, the line descending to the low range of the double basses when the stones are falling into the water. It quickly climbs up back to B♭, where the pastoral episode resumes its meditation. The second part of the pastoral episode (m. 298) leads to the emotional climax of the

  The inscription reads: “N.B. C[elli] und B[ässe] 1. Hälfte arco /​2. Hälfte pizz. /​ Steine pumpeln ins Wasser” (“N.B. Celli and double basses first half arco /​second half pizz. /​stones plop in the water”). This division of the lower strings between arco and pizzicato is retained in the final version (see at m. 284). 45  Edward Reilly, “The Manuscripts of the Seventh Symphony,” in Gustav Mahler:  Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, eds. Donald Mitchell and Edward Reilly (Amsterdam: Rosbeek Publishers, 1995), 80. 44

246  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

movement, the Durchbruch moment in B major built on the secondary theme (B), that struck listeners from the Seventh’s first performance. Durchbruch Moment This ecstatic moment is introduced by a brass chorale outlining an authentic perfect cadence in B major, marked “sehr feierlich” (“very solemn,” m.  313). “Suddenly, the dark prevailing mood abates,” writes Felix Adler: There is a harp glissando—​and to the listener it seems as if the day has suddenly broken. All the warmth and fervor which the orchestra is capable of expressing soaks into him; it is as if the heavens have been permitted to open.46

William Ritter’s reaction to the harp glissando is similar (“Oh! This harp glissando that suddenly opens up vistas on a new world”47), as well as Richard Specht’s commentary: It is impossible to go into details; we are aware only of the hugely climactic coda, and an indescribably impressive passage of the development section in which, out of the mysterious darkness of a silent, secretive mood, bright evanescent harp glissandi lead into a radiant B major.48

As Donald Mitchell remarks, “There was scarcely a critic at the premiere who did not praise this one bar’s effulgence (b. 317). Here at least critical opinion was unanimous and positive.”49 Hermann Danuser points out that reviews often use metaphors of “light,” “heaven,” and “peace” to describe this passage.50 Deryck Cooke describes it as a “visionary interlude—​a wonderfully calm choral-​like passage with high   Felix Adler, Bohemia, September 20, 1908. Translated by Mitchell, “Reception,” in Facsimile of the Seventh, 43. 47  William Ritter in Courrier Musical, October 15, 1908. Quoted in Mitchell, “Reception,” 39. 48   Richard Specht, Neue Freie Presse, September 20, 1908. Translated by Mitchell, “Reception,” 48. 49  Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move:  His Seventh Symphony,” in Discovering Mahler: Writings on Mahler, 1955–​2005, ed. Gastón Fournier-​Facio (Rochester: Boydell & Brewer, 2007), 396–​97. 50  Hermann Danuser, “Erkenntnis oder Verblendung? Zum Problem des Sachgehaltes polemischer und apologetischer Musikkritik—​ am Beispiel einiger früher Rezeptionzeugnisse zu Mahlers Siebten Symphonie,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler: A Symposium, 114. See also Peter Revers, “The Seventh Symphony,” in The Mahler Companion, eds. Donald Mitchell and Andrew Nicholson (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 399. In Der Merker, Specht writes about a “Himmelvision” (“Mahlers Siebente Symphonie,” 3). 46

First Movement : 247

strings tremolando and mysterious fanfares.”51 Floros goes further, assimilating the idea of heaven with religion: “The motivic symbolism and the instrumentation—​the music in general—​all show clearly that the development ends with a religious vision.”52 There is an agreement on the idea that this B major moment functions as the transcendental climax of the movement. The music moves upward, whatever meaning is ascribed to the idea of heaven. If the pastoral episode was not free from intrusions of the Weltlauf, this moment is. In fact, instead of being interrupted by conflicting elements, this B major passage includes them—​the military Theme IC (m. 319), the march IB (322) and the opening tenor horn cell ia inverted—​encompassing the real world to transcend it. The question that needs to be asked, at this point, concerns the function of this moment within the first movement. Is it a dramatic resolution, a fulfillment, or rather an interruption? As John Williamson has noted, each apparition of the lyrical Theme B is interrupted before it can reach closure.53 Thus, in a way, the Durchbruch allows Theme B to fulfill its expressive potential, even though harmonic resolution is here again denied at the last minute. For Julian Johnson, this non-​resolution prevents the fulfillment of Theme B. This moment takes on gestural character, its proposition of lyrical attainment compromised by the exaggeration of its own material and tone. This is entirely fitting for what is, in the context of this movement, an interpolated episode, pointing to a content as yet unrealized, as is underlined by this lyrical episode being cut off by the grim return of the Adagio funeral march. Once again, the intensity of the lyrical passage is no parody, but in straining beyond itself it exposes its own artifice and underlines its own constructed nature.54

In other words, the expressive gesture and lyricism of the Durchbruch demand a full realization of its content, denied by the abrupt return of the

  Deryck Cooke, Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to His Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 90. 52  Floros, The Symphonies, 198. Wolfgang Stähr does the same:  “A harp glissando enchants (verzaubert) the scene; an ethereal, elusive, and detached part in B major opens its heavenly doors.” See Stähr, “VII. Symphonie in E-​moll,” in Gustav Mahler Symphonien:  Entstehung–​Deutung–​Wirkung, ed. Renate Ulm (Kassel:  Bärenreiter, 2001), 206. 53   Williamson, “Mahler and Episodic Structure,” 33. 54  Julian Johnson, Mahler’s Voices:  Expression and Irony in the Songs and Symphonies (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 120. 51

248  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

introduction in B minor. The lack of closure would thus invalidate the transcendental potential of the moment and reduce it to an “interpolated episode.” Johnson hears the expressivity of the passage as “exaggerated,” but it is worth noting that the first violins must play “without expression” (“ohne Ausdruck”) at m. 320, so as to avoid any excess of sentimentality in performance. Like Johnson, Peattie insists on the intrusive aspect of this idyllic passage.55 The pastoral space interrupts the flow of the musical present, but is itself also interrupted by a return of the Weltlauf (violin solo); thus, as in the Finale, the interruption-​within-​the-​interruption blurs the boundaries between the inside and the outside. Adorno’s notion of Durchbruch, inspired by Paul Bekker, reflects well the double aspect of such moments.56 Discussing the end of the development in the first movement of the First Symphony, Adorno describes the breakthrough preceding the recapitulation as a “rupture” that “originates from beyond the music’s intrinsic movement, intervening from outside.”57 Adorno cites the pastoral episode in the first movement of the Seventh as a “suspension” moment, but does not qualify the B major passage as a Durchbruch.58 In terms of motivic material, this moment does not come from outside, since it brings together almost all of the movement’s themes: the lyrical Theme B, the quick march IB, the military variant of IA (IC) and the opening tenor horn cell appearing in each movement (ia). But as James Buhler defines it, a Mahlerian breakthrough is an “unforeseen event, a sudden turn toward transcendence from an expected formal trajectory of tragedy.”59 The first movement is, indeed, threatened by the shadow of the Sixth Symphony through the constant presence of the major-​minor motto, tragic touch reinforced by

 Peattie, Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 142; and see Chapter 6, “Sounds of Nature” in “The First Nachtmusik.” Peattie notes that compared to the posthorn episode of the Third Symphony’s Scherzo or to the cowbells episode of the Sixth’s first movement, the pastoral episode in the Seventh is rather brief  (141). 56   Adorno’s use of the term Durchbruch is indebted to Paul Bekker. For a discussion of the breakthrough in the first movement of the First, see Bekker, Gustav Mahlers Sinfonien, 44, 45, 62. 57  Theodor Adorno, Mahler:  A Musical Physiognomy, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 4–​5. See I/​1, 9 after Fig. 25. For a discussion of the Durchbruch in the Finale of the First Symphony, see James Buhler, “Breakthrough as a Critique of Form: The Finale of Mahler’s First Symphony,” 19th-​ Century Music 20 (1996): 125–​43. See also Bernd Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls: Untersuchungen zum Finalproblem in den Symphonien Gustav Mahlers (Tutzing: Schneider, 1978), 51–​89. 58  Adorno, Mahler, 6. 59   Buhler, “Breakthrough as a Critique of Form,” 129. 55

First Movement : 249

the dark key of B minor, unexpectedly transfigured in B major at this specific moment.60 Like Johnson, Peattie interprets the sudden return of the B minor introduction (m. 338) in a pessimistic way. In this view, the lack of a tonic in B major, at the end of the Durchbruch, renders the whole process pointless:

There is perhaps nowhere in Mahler’s music that illustrates so clearly the composer’s own statement that “music must always contain a yearning, a yearning for what is beyond the things of this world.” But like the pastoral space that it extends, this yearning is ultimately in vain. As the music moves towards a long-​expected resolution, it takes a more focused turn as the violins push downward in a deliberate and studied unison towards the tonic. And then, without warning, the introduction reappears, reduced here to a shadow of its former self. By stripping the original sonority of its “added” sixth, as well as by reducing the orchestral forces, the halting fanfare loses much of its original glow. The starkness of this brutal return is unprecedented in the context of the movement suggesting that the attempt to transcend both the mundane and the earthly is destined to end in defeat. . . . Taken as a whole then, the enormous affective power of this passage is generated by the tension between hopeful yearning and the impossibility of attaining transcendence.61

The unexpected arrival of the familiar introduction is experienced as a return to the starting point, and appears unacceptable after what should have been a transfigurative moment. True, the major triad with added sixth present in the first part of the pastoral episode (m. 259) becomes minor again, after the Weltlauf interruption (m. 266). Moreover, the introduction returns in B minor, darker than its first appearance at the beginning of the work, and “stripped” of its added sixth G♯. Peattie sees there a loss of its original touch, but we could also hear it as a simplification process. As a raw B minor triad, the chord is freed from its tortured Tristan chord implications. Following Lorenz’s view of the “mystical chord” in Parsifal, the absence of the chord is as significant as its presence, and its absence brings clarity and light in the drama.62 As discussed earlier, B major is the key marking the baptism of Parsifal in Act III and the first section of the “Karfreitagszauber” in Act III, the “Good Friday Spell.”63 In Wagner’s drama, this moment symbolizes the rebirth of nature and the promise of resurrection. Mahler’s movement thus begins in Klingsor’s key (B minor) and reaches transcendence in

 Danuser considers this moment as a Durchbruch in “Erkenntnis oder Verblendung?,” 116; as does Johnson in Mahler’s Voices, 283. 61  Peattie, Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 142–​43. Quotation from NBLE, 130. 62  Lorenz, Das Geheimnis der Form, 44. 63   See Kinderman, Wagner’s Parsifal, 273–​74. 60

250  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Table 8.1  Genesis of the Durchbruch Location:

m. 308

m. 317

m. 338

m. 340

Score Partitur (version 1)

Cad. BM Cad. BM

Durchbruch —​

BM BM

Partitur (version 2)

Cad. BM

[insert]

/​Intro Bm Intro BM (“no G♯/​ Bm in case of insert”) Intro Bm

BM

Parsifal’s resurrection key (B major), which supports the idea that this striking moment did, in fact, fulfill its function, even without a proper tonal resolution.64 After all, the “grim” return of our starting point, B minor, quickly shifts toward B major (m. 340), even if the constant play between minor and major prevents any stable modal settlement; and this instability is confirmed by the presence of the major-​minor motto from the Sixth Symphony (m. 354–​55). In fact, the Durchbruch did succeed in transforming reality, as E minor becomes E major (m. 394, and then at the end). The success or failure of a transcendent moment should not be evaluated only by examining its conclusion.

Durchbruch (Not) in the Partitur

We do not have any early sketch for this Durchbruch. But the orchestral draft for the first movement provides fascinating information about the composition of this passage. It shows that the emotional climax of the movement was inserted at a late stage of the compositional process, when Mahler was at work on the orchestration of the movement. On the Partitur, the chorale-​like cadence in B major concluding the pastoral episode was initially directly followed by the reprise of the introduction (m. 338) in B major, not minor (See Table 8.1 and Fig. 8.2). Mahler first planned to have the B major triad with the added sixth, before crossing out the chord in blue pencil and writing “kein Gis” (“no G♯,” bottom right), which, as discussed earlier, removes the harmonic ambiguity of Lorenz’s “mystischer Klang.” The introduction was sketched in B major on the orchestral draft, but “in case of insertion,” Mahler wrote in blue pencil, it should be  The Durchbruch of the Finale of Mahler’s First Symphony is closely connected to Parsifal, since it prepares the arrival of the “Grail theme” (mm. 631–​36). See Stoll Knecht, “Mahler’s Parsifal,” The Wagner Journal 11, no 3 (2017): 4–​26. 64

Fig. 8.2  Partitur for VII/​1, mm. 308–​16, B major cadence. New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Music Division, Bruno Walter Collection. JOB 85-​5 (Digital Collections)

252  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

“B minor.”65 This insertion corresponds precisely to the Durchbruch moment. Therefore, inserting this climatic moment in major after the cadence implied, for Mahler, that he would have to change the mode of the reprise into minor, as if the Durchbruch had to be isolated, or framed, by a modal change. Let us concentrate now on the moment preceding the insertion, the cadence in B major. The encircled measures on the draft show that the upper voice was originally doubled by the bassoons (see Fig. 8.2). The harp glissando in B major that “opens vistas on a new world” was already there, but the new world was lacking, since it opened up on the well-​known introduction—​ albeit transfigured, in B major.66 This peaceful authentic cadence—​and especially the harp glissando, this “magical” gesture reflecting a metaphorical ascension—​functions as a preparation for the arrival of a much awaited ecstatic moment. However, Mahler’s “visionary moment” was a late addition in the process of composition. It turns out that Adorno’s definition of the Durchbruch as a rupture “intervening from outside” is entirely à propos, in the sense that the passage found its place later in the compositional process.

Sketches and Drafts Mahler’s compositional materials for the first movement are distributed in two main sources: the Vienna sketchbook and the orchestral draft (Partitur) discussed earlier. In addition to these, there is an unidentified draft that could be related to the first movement.

The Vienna Sketchbook (Folios 30v–​27v and 10v–​12r)

The seven pages used in the front section of the sketchbook (fols. 30v–​27v) all contain material that was entered in the first movement of the Seventh, except for one page (fol. 29r)67: Front section: 30v: VII/​1 Intro: Theme IA (“Boat sketch”) 30r: id. A: Theme B (mm. 118–​28) 29v: id. Theme B (mm. 119–​31) 29r: VII/​5 Theme TA (mm. 87–​95) [2 pp. torn out]   “H-​moll im Fall der Einlage.” See Fig. 8.2, bottom of the page.   William Ritter, see note 47 earlier in this chapter. 67   See Appendix MS1 . For a discussion and transcriptions of these pages (fols. 30v–​27v and 10v–​12r), see Stephen Hefling, “‘Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken’: Mahler’s 65

66

First Movement : 253

28v: 28r: 27v:

VII/​1 A″:  Theme TA (mm. 436–​49) and A:  Theme IB (mm. 136–​40) id. A: Theme IB, Theme A (mm. 141–​48) id. Intro: Theme IA (“Anfang”); A: Theme TA (mm. 79–​83)

All of these pages were crossed out in blue pencil to indicate that Mahler carried these sketches into the next compositional stage—​ except folio 30v, probably because it was replaced by folio 27v. These two pages, both displaying a sketch for the Seventh’s introduction (IA), will be discussed in the next section. Folios 30r and 29v show a continuous sketch for the lyrical Theme B, as it appears in section A (m. 118). The theme is sketched here in F major, and not in C major, and folio 29v bears the indication “Es dur probieren” (“try E♭ major”). As discussed in Chapter 5, folio 29r contains a sketch for the theme Transition A in the Finale. It is at this point in the sketchbook that two leaves were torn out, before the pages were numbered on the upper right corner. Like the Paris sketchbook leaves, these two folios were probably torn out at some point by Mahler himself. Since folio 29r relates to the Finale and folio 28v to the first movement, it is possible that the two missing leaves contained material related to one of these movements.68 The sketch on folio 28v continues onto folio 28r, and the neat handwriting suggests, as Hefling notes, that it was entered in one go.69 The first measures of folio 28v roughly correspond to the return of Transition A in the “recapitulation” (A″, mm. 436–​49), with a different meter ().70 After the double bar, we have a sketch for the quick march IB (mm. 136–​ 40), which almost takes up where folio 29v left off (m. 131). This sketch continues onto folio 28r (mm. 141–​48) where we find, in the last three measures, the March theme A marking the beginning of my section A′, without its inversion, imitations, and augmentation found in the score. These imitations were actually elaborated when Mahler was at work on the orchestral draft, since at this point (mm. 145ff ) the composer inserted

Seventh Symphony Sketchbook,” in Mahler Studies, ed. Stephen Hefling (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 169–​216.   Hefling notes that the curved lines in the left margin on fol. 28v were meant to connect the page to the preceding one, which may have contained the preceding measures (before m. 436 in VII/​1). 69   Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 201. 70   The chromatic accompaniment of Transition A is missing here; but it appears on fol. 27v. 68

254  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

an upright folio working out this contrapuntal passage in Particell format.71 Thus, the sketches found in the front side of the Vienna sketchbook (fols. 30v–​27v) contain most of the thematic material of the first movement: the tenor horn theme IA, the quick march IB, the March theme A, Transition A, and the lyrical Theme B. Four pages (fols. 10v to 12r) in the back side of the Vienna sketchbook also show material used in the first movement, all crossed out in blue pencil except folio 12r: Back section: 10v: 11r: 11v:

VII/​1 id. id.

Coda: mm. 495–​504 mm. 505–​11 mm. 512–​22

12r:

id.

A: Theme A (m. 50–​55)

The first three pages (fols. 10v to 11v) display a continuous sketch that corresponds to most of the coda. It is the longest sketch in the sketchbook, surprisingly close to the final version. The coda begins with the military Theme IC (m. 495), noted on folio 10v with the tenor horn theme (IA) as a counterpoint, which did not remain in the final version. What follows on folio 11r shows an interesting detail: the descending arpeggio which plays a significant motivic role in the second Nachtmusik (Motive B) is already present in the sketch (mm. 507–​509 in the score). The sketch stops on folio 11v, just before the final section of the coda starting at m. 523. This final coda section begins with the horse-​ride Theme A in E minor (m. 523), and it is, actually, what we have on folio 12r, except that the sketch shows a full statement of Theme A, such as it appears for the first time in the movement (m. 50). As Hefling points out, it is the “first clear annotation of the main theme” in the sketchbook.72 Thus, he concludes, “ ‘ma fin est mon commencement’ aptly describes the genesis of the movement’s principal subject,” as the order of the sketches in the back section of the Vienna

 The page following the Particell (mm. 173ff ) is inscribed with “Einlage Blatt” (“insert leaf ”) in the upper left corner. Beside the online access to the Partitur (LPA), the Particell leaf is reproduced in Edward Reilly, “The Manuscripts of the Seventh Symphony,” 81. 71

  Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 211.

72

First Movement : 255

sketchbook suggests that “Mahler did not sketch the main theme in its first presentation until after he had worked out the climactic version of it that would ultimately occupy the latter part of the recapitulation (mm. 495ff ).”73

Unidentified Draft

This unidentified draft, located at the Morgan Library & Museum in New York, displays three systems of sketches in ink (Fig. 8.3).74 Above the first system, in the middle, Mahler wrote “Coda der Themen” (“coda of the themes”). Susan Filler, who examined this draft in connection with two other drafts (a Scherzo with Trio in C minor and a Presto in F major), proposed to group this “Coda der Themen” with the “Presto in F major.”75 It seems that, at some point, these drafts were held together. However, when Alban Berg studied these sketches, the “Coda der Themen” was not with the “Presto,” or else he would surely have mentioned it in his comments.76 The Presto is in F major, like the second Nachtmusik; and the Scherzo and Trio are built on a balance between C minor and A♭ major, like the first Nachtmusik. Moreover, at some point, the theme of the scherzo is combined with the trio theme, as in the Scherzo of the Seventh.77 It is possible that Mahler, at some point, considered using these movements in his Seventh, until he wrote two movements in the same keys, which would become the two Nachtmusiken.   Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 204.   Unidentified Draft B, Morgan Library & Museum, New York (M214. U58b). See Appendix MS10  . 75   Susan Filler, “Gustav Mahler’s Unknown Scherzo in C minor and Presto in F major,” Naturlaut 2 (2003): 2–​6; and “Unfinished Works of Mahler: The Scherzo in C minor, the Presto in F major, the Tenth Symphony, and Comparative Arguments for “Performing Versions,” in Perspectives on Gustav Mahler, ed. Jeremy Barham (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 437–​56. These manuscripts were first published in facsimile in Renate Hilmar-​Voit, Symphonische Entwürfe: Faksimile nach Skizzen aus der Wiener Stadt-​und Landesbibliothek und der Pierpont Morgan Library New York (Tutzing: H. Schneider, 1991). Susan Filler clearly considers the “Coda” as part of the “Presto” group, since she describes the manuscript as a “three pages” document. La Grange’s Appendix 1Ea, concerning these unknown sketches, contains a mistake:  the description following the title “Allegro energico” corresponds to a blend between this “Coda der Themen” and the actual “Allegro energico,” which is another unidentified draft (HLG4, 1561). 76  Berg’s cover mentions only two separate leaves corresponding to the two folios of the “Presto in F-​dur.” Unidentified Draft A, Morgan Library & Museum, New York (M214. U58a). 77   See Filler, “Gustav Mahler’s Unknown Scherzo in C minor and Presto in F major,” Naturlaut 2 (2003), 4. 73

74

Fig. 8.3  Unidentified Draft B, “Coda der Themen.” Bequest of Mrs. Wolfgang Rosé. Morgan Library & Museum, New York. M214. U58b. Photograph: The Pierpont Morgan Library.

First Movement : 257

That Mahler returned to these unknown movements later is suggested, according to Berg, by the presence of blue numbers added more recently in the margins.78 Whereas the leaf labeled “Coda der Themen” does not present any particular relationship with the “Presto” material, it might relate to the first movement of the Seventh.79 There is no striking motivic link, but the timpani pedal on a dotted rhythm, as well as the dotted figures at the upper voice, using ascending and descending fourths and fifths, bring to mind several passages in the first movement: the descending “chains of fourths” (mm. 105ff and 456ff, further on this in Chapter 9), imitations on Theme A (mm. 149ff and 379ff ), and the end of the coda (mm. 523ff ). The  meter also recalls the beginning of the coda (mm. 495ff ), for which we have an entry in the Vienna sketchbook (fols. 10v–​11v).80

(Auto)biography, Genesis, and Interpretation Let us return to the introduction of the Seventh Symphony. Mahler’s boat letter tells us something about the conception of this introduction, and this narrative can be taken as a starting point to discuss two questions. First, as an account of the composer’s own creative process, the boat story could be considered as a form of “compositional autobiography,” used to readdress the much-​debated question of the role of biography in the reception of Mahler’s works.81 How   See Berg’s comments on the cover accompanying the Presto and Scherzo (SBW MHc 14564). “The many blue orientation numbers appear to stem from a more recent time, which leads one to suppose that Mahler thought of using the thematic material of these old sketches later (maybe in the Tenth). But actually he did not carry this further!” 79   Filler first transposes the Coda in F major (it is in D, presumably major in the sketch), and then modifies the rhythm of the Presto melody, in order to show how “the two lines can actually be played together” in “Gustav Mahler’s Unknown Scherzo in C minor and Presto in F major,” 4. My thanks to William Kinderman for drawing my attention to a possible connection with the Seventh. 80   The kind of paper that Mahler used for this sketch does not appear frequently in his compositional materials (no colophon, 20 staves). This paper is darker than Mahler’s usual paper, and the staves are not printed regularly on the page. The other example of this type belongs to the Moldenhauer sketches (fol. 3), which contains unknown music on one side, and sketches for the Finale of the Seventh on the other side (see Appendix MS3  ). 81   Peattie mentions the “continued prominence of biography” in the reception of Mahler’s music in Mahler’s Symphonic Landscapes, 156 and 179. See also Vera Micznik, “The Farewell Story of Mahler’s Ninth,” 19th-​Century Music 20 (1996): 144–​66. 78

258  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

does biographical evidence impact our interpretation of the work? The scope of this question extends beyond my purpose here, and I  focus on a particular case of “compositional autobiography”—​that is, on what Mahler verbally expressed about his own creative process. Second, the boat story brings us back to one of the main issues at stake in this book: the relationship between genesis and interpretation.82 Is there a connection between Mahler’s narrative and the music? Does this story change the way one perceives the beginning of the Seventh? In other words, how does the genesis of the work affect our understanding of the finished work?

Impact of Mahler’s Narrative

Several commentators react to Mahler’s boat story when they describe the initial atmosphere of the Seventh, which shows that this narrative can have a significant impact on the way the music is heard.83 Wolfgang Stähr, for example, struggles to reconcile the picture of Mahler rowing on a boat, on a bright summer day, with the beginning of the Seventh, which he hears as “oppressing” and “tenebrous.”84 Thus, Stähr’s knowledge about the genesis of the Seventh does not help him make sense of the work because it contradicts his interpretation. Donald Mitchell, on the contrary, clearly acknowledges the influence of Mahler’s narrative on his interpretation of the work. “With what we know of the inception of the introduction,” he writes, “Mahler himself on the move across the lake, I hear the movement afresh, . . . as the onset of a journey.”85 Presenting Mahler as a musical traveler, Mitchell postulates that it was the trip across the lake, and specifically the rhythm of the oars, that . . . enabled him to overcome the block that had prevented him from finishing the symphony.  .  .  .  Thus it was that the new symphony came—​almost literally—​to be

  See Chapter 2, “Genesis.”   For a more detailed discussion of these commentators’ reactions, see Stoll Knecht, “‘A Key that Unlocked the Symphony’s Opening’:  Reflections on the Genesis of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in Texts and Beyond:  The Process of Music Composition from the 19th to the 20th Century, ed. Jonathan Goldman, Ad Parnassum Studies 8 (2016), 21–​42. 84   Stähr, “VII. Symphonie in E-​moll,” 205. For a similar stance, see also John Williamson, “The Structural Premises of Mahler’s Introductions: Prolegomena to an Analysis of the First Movement of the Seventh Symphony,” Music Analysis 5, no. 1 (1986), 52: “The movement ♯6/​5–​♯6/​5 at the opening of the Seventh lends a slightly comic edge to the exalted invocation, one not apparent in the traditional and authoritative account of the introduction’s genesis.” 85   Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move,” 399. 82 83

First Movement : 259 launched by a cross-​lake trip. . . . The pronounced rhythm that opens the movement was also the beginning of a typical Mahlerian journey . . . punctuated by . . . here and there watery noises.86

Mitchell identifies the initial dactylic rhythm in the symphony with the rhythm of the oars just because this musical idea emerged at this specific moment, which raises the question of how one does row in dactylic rhythm. (Even if Mahler, according to Bauer-​Lechner, was making “widely irregular strokes,” rowing in dactyls must still be difficult.)87 The author uses the passage in the orchestral draft marked “Stones plop in the water” to confirm this interpretation, suggesting that this passage was inspired by “watery noises” heard on the boat (Fig. 8.1). In Mitchell’s view, this dactylic rhythm is not only the beginning of the work itself. It is also identified with the beginning of Mahler’s physical journey on the lake, the beginning of his compositional journey, and the beginning of our journey as listeners of the work. According to Mitchell, we are all, like Mahler, in progress toward the same goal: the end of the symphony (presumably all on the same boat, on the Wörthersee).88 The linearity of all these acts, fitting the image of Mahler traveling on water from point A to point B, ensures a continuity and a perfect match between the composer and his music, between the genesis of the work and the symphony in its finished form, and between Mitchell’s interpretation and its object, the Seventh symphony.

Searching for the Boat Sketch

Such a continuity is not only sought between Mahler’s narrative and the music in its finished form; but also between the narrative and physical traces of Mahler’s compositional process, sketches and drafts. Hefling proposes to identify the sketch drawn on the first page of the front section in the Vienna sketchbook (fol. 30v, Fig. 8.4) as the “boat sketch.”89   Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move,” 398.   Bauer-​Lechner notes that Mahler had a fine sense of rhythm, but could not “walk two successive steps at the same pace . . . rowing in a boat is even worse, for he makes wildly irregular strokes. . . . He becomes quite furious if his rowing companion . . . bumps roars with him.” NBLE, 82. 88   Mitchell, “Mahler on the Move,” 399. The author postulates that “the idea of narrative was absolutely basic to his formal thinking; we depart at the beginning of one of the symphonies and arrive at our destination only at the end of its finale” (397). 89   Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 187; and “From Wunderhorn to Rückert,” 125. See also NKG, 314. A transcription of folio 30v can be found in Hefling, “Ihm in die Lieder zu blicken,” 186. 86

87

260  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Fig. 8.4  Vienna sketchbook, fol. 30v. KHM-​Museumverband,Theatermuseum Vienna. VK 905 BaM As mentioned earlier, it is the only page in the front section that has not been crossed out by Mahler, probably because it was superseded by the sketch on folio 27v, which bears the marking “Anfang” (Fig. 8.5). The melodic sketch on folio 27v is closer to the final version than the one on folio 30v. However, the rhythm here is twice as long as it is in the score, and in this respect folio 30v is closer to the final version. The progression of Lorenz’s “mystical chord” from B minor to C♯ minor, in particular, is already present on folio 30v. The question of whether this specific sketch could constitute a physical evidence of Mahler’s boat story has been much debated. Could folio 30v be the “boat sketch”? Did Mahler write this down in his pocket sketchbook right after stepping out of the boat—​or even while he was still on the boat, as has been suggested?90 Mitchell thinks not, arguing that the earliest sketch that would constitute a graphic evidence of this inspiration should be “essentially rhythmic”; and that this sketch is “too thematic” to be a transcription of this rhythmic idea. This leads him to conclude that, maybe,

  Colin Matthews claims that “this folio contains what was surely Mahler’s very first sketch for the opening of the first movement,” adding that it may have been made “while Mahler was still on the boat.” Matthews, Mahler at Work: Aspects of the Creative Process (New York and London: Garland Publishing, 1989), quoted in Mitchell, “Chronology,” in Facsimile of the Seventh, 22, note 14. 90

First Movement : 261

Fig. 8.5  Vienna sketchbook, fol. 27v. KHM-​Museumverband,Theatermuseum Vienna. VK 905 BaM Mahler did not find it necessary to sketch the oars’ rhythm that came to him on the eventful boat trip, but simply retained it in his creative imagination as the key that would unlock the symphony’s opening.91

In this view, the boat moment that triggered Mahler’s imagination and allowed him to complete the Seventh would have left no written trace, and the quest for the origins of the Seventh, for a physical “proof ” of Mahler’s narrative—​maybe in order to validate an interpretation based on the boat story—​would remain unsatisfied. But more importantly, the beginning of the Seventh is here identified as the key that “unlocked” Mahler’s compositional process, as well as Mitchell’s interpretive act. The question is not so much to find the earliest sketch Mahler made for the Seventh, since the two Nachtmusiken were composed before the other movements. What seems to be at stake here is rather to find a physical trace of the “trigger moment” that launched the creative act, even if it is not the chronological beginning of Mahler’s work on the symphony. In other words, the boat moment would be the “true” beginning of Mahler’s journey, since it allowed him to carry his creative work to the end.

  Mitchell devotes a long footnote to this issue in the commentary to the Facsimile of the Seventh, “Chronology,” 22, note 14. 91

262  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Composers and the Creative Act: Biography and Myth

Returning once again to Mahler’s boat story, it is time to step back and address the broader question of the nature and function of compositional narratives. Chris Walton recently compared several narratives of inspiration moments, exposing their inconsistencies and contradictions.92 In Walton’s view, composer’s narratives are tales meant to fulfill, most of the time, pragmatic demands; they mainly exist to manipulate the composer’s image and the interpretation of their works. But through sketch studies, which Walton considers to be a “more reliable witness of the creative process,” musicologists can eventually unravel the truth and expose these tales as fabricated lies.93 A well-​known example of such fictive narrative is Wagner’s version of the genesis of Parsifal. The composer woke up one morning in Zurich, in April 1857, to find the “sun shining brightly . . ., the garden blooming, the birds singing.” “I suddenly said to myself that it was Good Friday . . . and from the idea of Good Friday I  quickly sketched out an entire drama in three acts.”94 Later, Wagner admitted that “it was not Good Friday at all—​just a pleasant mood in Nature which made me think, ‘This is how a Good Friday ought to be.’ ”95 We may take this comment as a confession that he lied in the first place, but we may as well focus on what really matters here: Wagner was inspired by the idea of Good Friday, and the fact that it was not really Good Friday is not particularly relevant. In a way, composers’ own interpretations of their creative act constitute a significant part of the genesis of the work, to a similar extent that the “content” of the work is not easily divided from its interpretation. Like any interpretive act, compositional narratives re-​create the genesis of a work. While these narratives should be evaluated against the backdrop of other evidence, dismissing them as “lies” that are necessarily misleading for any serious genetic study seems to miss an important point.96   Chris Walton, Lies and Epiphanies: Composers and Their Inspiration from Wagner to Berg (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2014). 93  Walton, Lies and Epiphanies, 7–​8. See also Chapter 2, “Genesis.” 94   Richard Wagner, My Life, trans. Andrew Gray, ed. Martin Gregor-​Dellin (New York: Da Capo Press, 1992), 547. 95   Cosima Wagner: Die Tagebücher 1869–​1883, 2 vols., eds. Martin Gregor-​Dellin and Dietrich Mack (Munich and Zurich:  Piper, 1976-​77), vol. 2, 335, April 22, 1879. Kinderman’s translation in Wagner’s Parsifal, 52. Moreover, Wagner moved to his “refuge” in Zurich on April 28, 1857, and Good Friday took place almost three weeks before that. 96   See my review of Kinderman’s Wagner’s Parsifal in The Wagner Journal 10, no.  1 (2016): 80–​84. 92

First Movement : 263

Comparing Mahler’s boat story with another of Wagner’s inspiration myths is particularly enlightening. In Mein Leben, the autobiography dictated to Cosima Wagner between 1865 and 1880, the composer tells us how he began working on the music for Das Rheingold. In September 1853, Wagner was traveling in Italy and stayed in La Spezia, small town in the south of Genova. Returning home in the afternoon, I stretched out dead tired on a hard sofa, to await the long-​desired hour of sleep. It did not come; instead I sank into a sort of somnolent state, in which I suddenly felt as if I was sinking in rapidly flowing water. Its rushing soon represented itself to me as the musical sound of the E♭ major chord, which continually surged forward in a figured arpeggiation; these arpeggios appeared as melodic figurations of increasing motion, yet the pure E♭ major triad never changed, and seemed through its persistence to impart infinite significance to the element in which I was sinking. Feeling as though the waves were now roaring high above me, I awoke in sudden terror from my half-​sleep. I recognized instantly that the orchestral prelude to Das Rheingold, as I  had carried it about within me without ever having been able to pin it down, had risen up out of me; and I also quickly grasped how things were with me:  the vital steam would not flow from without, but only from within. I immediately decided to return to Zurich and begin the composition of my great poem.97

Mahler’s boat story is strikingly close to Wagner’s watery dream: 1. Both composers are travelers returning home when their “revelation moment” occurs, which can be seen as a move toward the inner self; 2. The moment that precedes the revelation can be compared to the initial chaos preceding the creation of the world in a cosmogony:  both composers are waiting in vain for sleep or inspiration, they are in a static state comparable to a shapeless chaos; 3. Both composers are in touch with water: Wagner sinks in it in his dream, Mahler rows on it. Pursuing the comparison with a creation myth, water can be seen as the primeval abyss, as part of the initial chaos; 4. The revelation moment happens like a creatio ex nihilo:  a musical idea is “instantly recognized,” or suddenly emerges, in both cases from the sound or moves of water;

  Richard Wagner, Mein Leben:  Erste authentische Veröffentlichung, ed. Martin Gregor-​ Dellin (Munich: List, 1963), 580. Quoted in and translated by Warren Darcy, Wagner’s Das Rheingold (Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 1993), 62. John Deathridge demonstrated that, in fact, Wagner conceived the Prelude in its final form only after composing the whole drama. Deathridge, “Cataloguing Wagner” in The Richard Wagner Centenary in Australia, ed. Peter Dennison (Adelaide: University of Adelaide, 1985), 185–​99. 97

264  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony 5. Finally, in both cases the compositional mind is unified by a single element giving birth to a new musical world: Wagner’s spirit is filled with an E♭ major chord and Mahler is obsessed with a dactylic rhythm. The creation process starts, and the primeval chaos becomes order.

It seems that the main function of these compositional narratives is not to describe a creative act in terms of chronology, but rather to establish the foundations of the work, functioning as a creation myth. Just as a cosmogony explains the actual state of things by telling how the world came to be, Mahler’s and Wagner’s narratives can be viewed as founding myths that contribute to the meaning and coherence of finished works. One could go further and draw a parallel between the almost magical, or divine, aspect of the creative impulse in both narratives and the justification of the order of the world, in a creation myth, through a story telling how this order was originally established by divine forces. An origin myth explains the present state of a world, and therefore helps us in making sense of it, by narrating its birth. Similarly, understanding the origins of a creative act provides some kind of coherence to the finished work; and this may be what we, as scholars of the creative process, are after, when tracking down evidence to help us write the genesis of an artwork. Composers attempt to tie up their works with their lives to form a whole, just as biographers are tempted to make order in their subject’s lives to build a coherent narrative. Mahler started his compositional work on the Seventh before the revelation moment on the boat, since, at this point, two whole movements of the symphony were already composed. However, in the boat story, he felt the need to emphasize his conception of the beginning of the work, as Wagner did in his Italian vision. For these two composers, this moment was highly significant in their creative process and they both acknowledged its fundamental role for the work to be completed. In a way, these compositional histories begin twice:  there is a chronological beginning and a revelation moment—​when everything really began—​identified by both composers as a crucial point in the process.98   Michael Beckerman notes that “some things begin twice,” referring particularly to musical genres involving an Overture (a first beginning) followed by a second beginning, when the soloist enters or when the curtain rises. “The Strange Landscape of Middles,” in The Oxford Handbook of the New Cultural History of Music, ed. Jane Fulcher (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 163. Novels often emphasize such moments, taking place after the “first” beginning of the story. In Alain-​Fournier’s Le Grand Meaulnes, for example, the narrator states at the end of chapter two: “And at this point everything began.” 98

First Movement : 265

What I want to suggest here is that composers’ narratives on their own compositional process can draw attention to the fact that the genesis of a work is not as linear as we might be tempted to see it. If a Mahler symphony clearly exceeds the boundaries of a teleological listening, with its constant intertextual references, a nonlinear hearing of the finished work can inspire a multidimensional view of the Seventh’s genesis, where the story begins more than once and does not clearly end when Mahler put his pen down, since the performance history of the work participates in its constant recreation.

Chapter 9

Die Meistersinger in the Seventh Symphony

I tell you, what a piece [“das ist ein Werk”]! If the whole of German art were to disappear, it could be recognized and reconstructed from this one work. It almost makes everything else seem worthless and superfluous. —​Gustav Mahler1

So declared Gustav Mahler to Natalie Bauer-​Lechner in November 1899, when he was rehearsing the first uncut production of Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg in Vienna.2 These words strongly resonate with Hans Sachs’s nationalist speech at the end of the opera, in which he exhorts the people to “honor their German Masters,” so that “even if the Holy Roman Empire should dissolve into mist, there would yet remain sacred German art.”3 By analogy, for Mahler, if German art were to disappear, one could reconstruct it from Meistersinger, which would make this work the essence of German art. Wagner’s operas always held a privileged position in Mahler’s conducting repertory. Starting with his engagement in Leipzig in 1886, he systematically made his debuts with a Wagner opera.4 Meistersinger in particular was   NBLE, 137.   This chapter is an expanded version of my essay in Rethinking Mahler, ed. Jeremy Barham (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 105–​25. The conductor Hans Richter had already restored some of the traditional cuts, but Mahler brought back all the music that was still missing. See HLG2, 195, note 111. 3   “Zerging’ in Dunst das heilige römische Reich, uns bliebe gleich die heilige deutsche Kunst!” Meistersinger, Hans Sachs, Act III, Scene 5. 4   Lohengrin in Leipzig (August 3, 1886); Das Rheingold (in Hungarian) in Budapest (January 26, 1889); Tannhäuser in Hamburg (March 29, 1891); Lohengrin in Vienna (May 1

2

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

Die Meistersinger in the Seventh Symphony  :  267

among the most performed works during Mahler’s tenure at the Vienna court opera.5 His rendition of this opera in Prague in 1885, for the first time uncut, had been widely acclaimed. Mahler went on conducting Meistersinger each year between 1891 and 1895 when he was in Hamburg, and, shortly after becoming Director of the Vienna Court Opera in 1897, he performed uncut versions of the Ring and Tristan, followed by Meistersinger in 1899.6 As Hugo Wolf commented enthusiastically, “For the first time—​as with this whole Ring cycle—​we could hear things that nobody had heard before.”7 The Meistersinger-​like quality of the Seventh’s Finale has been noted by commentators since its first performance in 1908, and as we have seen in Chapter 1, Mahler’s reference to Wagner lies at the core of the Finale’s negative reception.8 As if to reinforce the perception of this connection, Mahler chose, on one occasion (on October 7, 1909 in Amsterdam), to perform the Meistersinger overture before his own Seventh. It was the last time Mahler ever conducted his Seventh Symphony.9 This concert could have turned out as a whole Mahler-​Wagner program, since Mahler initially intended to include Wagner’s Faust Overture and the Siegfried Idyll as well.10 While the Meistersinger reference has been duly noted, the question of the nature and function of this allusion at the core of the symphony has not been explored in depth. This question is the subject of this chapter, along with the broader implications of these Wagnerian references for my interpretation of the symphony as a whole. I argue, first, that Mahler’s clear gesture toward Meistersinger in the Finale prompts the listener to hear other elements 11, 1897); Tristan in New York (January 1, 1908). Mahler conducted his first Wagner opera in Prague, on September 27, 1885 (Tannhäuser).   See Knud Martner, “Mahler im Opernhaus,” in Neue Mahleriana: Essays in Honour of Henry-​Louis de La Grange on His Seventieth Birthday, ed. Günther Weiss (Bern: Peter Lang, 1997), 191–​99. 6   See HLG2, 195. 7   On the 1897–​1898 Ring cycle in Vienna, see NBLE, 98–​101. 8   See, for example, Robert Hirschfeld, Wiener Abendpost, November 5, 1909, quoted in Mitchell, “Reception,” in Gustav Mahler: Facsimile of the Seventh Symphony, eds. Donald Mitchell and Edward Reilly (Amsterdam:  Rosbeek Publishers, 1995), 61–​62; or Deryck Cooke, Gustav Mahler:  An Introduction to His Music (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1988), 91. See Chapter 1, “The Finale” in “The ‘Problems’ of the Seventh.” 9   Knud Martner, Mahler’s Concerts (New York: Kaplan Foundation, 2010), 239. 10  See AME, 309; and “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” eds. and trans. Karen Painter and Bettina Varwig, in Mahler and His World, ed. Karen Painter (Princeton:  Princeton University Press, 2002), 316. See Chapter  6, “Wagnerian Echoes” in “The Second Nachtmusik.” 5

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Meistersinger Overture Theme A (mm. 1–27)

Intro. (mm. 1–6) A1–A2 (mm. 7–23)

Theme B (mm. 40–58)

PAC (mm. 20–23) PAC (mm. 54–58)

Fig. 9.1 The Meistersinger overture and Mahler’s Ritornello theme throughout the whole symphony in relation to Wagner’s opera. Mahler’s use of quartal harmony in the first movement, for example, resonates with a particular passage in Meistersinger, Act II. Second, the connections between these two works crystallize around the character of Beckmesser, the pedantic critic who initially claims to know what makes art meaningful, but whose own music is ultimately perceived as meaningless. On a general level, the two works are built on similar sets of oppositions: tradition versus innovation, night versus day, and meaningful versus meaningless art.11 The subtle echoes of Meistersinger in the Seventh are most easily heard against the backdrop of Mahler’s blatant references to Wagner in the last movement.

The Meistersinger References in the Finale The Ritornello theme is divided into two sections (A1 and A2) that often conclude on a strong authentic cadence.12 At the beginning of the Finale, the ritornello is introduced by a few measures (mm. 1–​6). Formally, the first twenty-​three measures of the Finale may be heard as a condensed and transformed version of the first part of the Meistersinger overture, where the positions of the constitutive elements are inverted (Fig. 9.1). Mahler’s Ritornello theme (A1 and A2) deliberately points toward the Meistersinger opening theme; the ritornello’s introduction shows traces of a distant connection with Wagner’s Theme B; and the perfect authentic cadence closing the ritornello clearly alludes to the cadence ending the initial section of Wagner’s overture. I begin by examining some details of the sonic

  See Chapter 2, “External Connections” in “Structure.”   See Appendices F5 and M5, and Chapter 4, “The Finale’s Nine Sections” in “Form and Content.” 11

12

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relationship between Mahler’s ritornello and Wagner’s opening theme (Ex. 9.1).13 Ex. 9.1  Wagner’s Theme A and Mahler’s Ritornello theme (A1 + A2)

Mahler’s theme shares several characteristics with Wagner’s: the same key (C major), the same meter (), and the same rhythmic progression for three measures. Moreover, both themes are built on related thematic material: a descending fourth (wa in Wagner, a in Mahler); the dotted cells wa1 and a1, whose relationship is revealed when they appear for the second time (A1 m. 9, lower staff, and A m. 5); the cells wb and b, sharing a similar melodic contour and the same rhythm; and an ascending scale (wc and c). Each section of Mahler’s theme offers a different variation on Wagner’s theme. The first section (A1) contains all of Wagner’s cells, varied to a certain

  In order to distinguish Wagner’s cells from Mahler’s, I labeled Wagner’s with a “w” (“wa,” “wb,” and “wc”). 13

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degree, except the ascending scale wc. The second section (A2) quotes a shortened version of Wagner’s theme (where cell wb has been omitted), which actually appears, rhythmically varied, in Meistersinger Act I, when the congregation begins the chorale “Da zu dir der Heiland kam” (Ex. 9.1, bottom line).14 Mahler quotes the theme in a varied form already used by Wagner, but leaves a trace of this transformation:  the omitted cell (wb) appears two measures later (A2 m. 18), in a diminished form (wb’), hidden within the ascending scale c.15 The Wagnerian material is transformed, but the similarity of critical parameters—​key, meter, rhythm, thematic material, and orchestration—​strongly associates Mahler’s ritornello with Wagner’s overture. That this intertextual allusion to Meistersinger in the ritornello was both intentional and meant to be heard is borne out by Mahler’s decision to perform Wagner’s overture before his own Seventh in Amsterdam. In fact, this allusion is so unmasked that it resonates retrospectively, in a way, on the whole symphony, inviting us to hear other, more subtle connections. At the beginning of the Finale, the ritornello is introduced with a few measures that relate to Wagner’s Theme B in a subtle way (Ex. 9.2). Ex. 9.2  Wagner’s Theme B and Mahler’s introductions in VII/​5 and VII/​1

  In this variant of the opening theme, wb does not appear between wa and wc, but the combination of wa and wc can be seen as an augmented variation of wb (where the descending fourth replaces the descending third). This cell wb is also an important component of the lyrical Theme B in the first movement of the Seventh (see especially mm. 126–​27). 15   Mahler did not use his own variant (b), but instead directly quotes Wagner’s cell (wb). 14

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The connection is barely audible, but these two “fanfare” motives are actually built on similar material—​a dactylic cell (long–​short–​short) on repeated notes followed by a major ascending arpeggio—​and orchestrated in a similar way (brass and woodwinds). The presence of Wagnerian material can be traced here, but it is radically transformed, which questions the very existence of this connection. Moreover, the dactylic cell opening Mahler’s Finale is a rhythmic reminiscence of the opening of the Seventh’s first movement (Ex. 9.2, st. 3), which could suggest that the referential aspect of this introduction is only internal. Harmonically, the Finale’s introduction also recalls the Seventh’s initial B minor triad with an added sixth (G♯) by playing on the oscillation between B minor and G major (the minor sixth). I propose to hear Mahler’s accelerated and harmonically unstable opening in the Finale as a transformed version of the stable, solemn, and diatonic theme heard in Wagner’s overture, marked sehr gehalten and bearing the weight of a long tradition.16 This connection fits well into Mahler’s use, in his Finale, of music mainly associated with the Mastersingers’ Guild in Wagner’s opera, and I  return to this question later. In fact, by alluding to both Wagner’s Mastersingers’ march (Theme B) and to the “funeral” march of the Seventh’s beginning, the Finale’s introduction refers to the topic of the solemn march or procession, becoming warlike through tempo acceleration. In the first movement, the main theme (A)  transforms the character of the dactylic rhythm in a similar way. Returning to the obviousness of the Meistersinger allusion, the connection is even stronger in the endings of Wagner’s Mastersingers theme and Mahler’s Ritornello theme (Ex. 9.3).17

 This theme goes back to the medieval repertoire of Meistergesang. See Curt Mey, Der Meistergesang in Geschichte und Kunst (Leipzig: Hermann Seemann Nachfolger, 1901), 166. 17   In this example the upper voices are notated an octave lower. 16

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Ex. 9.3  Wagner’s and Mahler’s PACs

Both cadences arise from an ascending scale (wc and c) immediately followed by its inverted and diminished form. Mahler’s descending scale (c inv.) has the same pitches as Wagner’s—​except for the F♯—​but it is placed differently with respect to the bass motion, and represents different scale degrees. In my previous example the differences between Mahler’s and Wagner’s motives were more striking than their similarities. Here, on the contrary, Mahler’s gesture toward Wagner is so audible that it almost conceals his transformation of the borrowed material. These cadences are built on similar material, but they do not have the same structural function. In Meistersinger, the cadence concludes an important part of the overture. In the Finale of the Seventh, the cadence appears directly at the end of the Ritornello theme, and its excessively affirmative character, reinforced by accents on each note, seems disproportionate to its position in the musical progression; it comes too quickly to fulfill the need for a strong closing. Besides, as we have seen in Chapter  4, this cadence appears so often throughout the movement that it seems eventually to lose its conclusive strength.18 Mahler not only alludes to this Mastersingers’ cadence in the Finale, but, twice in the movement (mm. 127 and 546), the concluding cadence expected between each section of the Ritornello theme (cf. mm. 14–​15) is replaced by a deceptive motion: the dominant seventh chord in C major moves to a vi+♯6 (or ♯iv65 ) half-​diminished chord in its first inversion—​the same chord that opened the Seventh—​instead of resolving to the tonic. The first occurrence is displayed in Ex. 9.4 (mm. 127–​28).19   Five times, see Appendix F5 and Table  4.3. The “unobtrusive” PAC at mm. 134–​36 uses melodic turns that recall Wagner’s archaic style in Meistersinger, especially when the music evokes the Mastersingers’ Guild. 19   I refer to specific passages in Meistersinger, Act I, II, and III, with the page number in the Peters/​Dover orchestral score, followed by the measure number on that page. 18

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Ex. 9.4  Deceptive cadences in Mahler’s ritornello and Meistersinger III, 5

This progression plays a crucial role in Meistersinger Act III: it is part of the harmonization of the “Wahn” motive, the first few notes heard in the Prelude to Act III, which eventually become the main motive for Sachs’s “Wahn” monologue (III, 1).20 This deceptive progression appears in different keys throughout the opera, but is found in C major—​just as in Mahler’s Finale—​shortly after the end of Walther’s prize song (III, 5, see Ex. 9.4). The crowd joins in to urge Walther’s victory, and the harmony sits on a G dominant seventh chord moving to ♯iv7 (here with F♯ at the bass) instead of resolving to the tonic. The harmonic progression is identical in both cases, as well as the trill on the leading tone B resolving to C. The close relationship between these two passages is clearly audible, but here, again, the Wagnerian material is reinterpreted. In Meistersinger, the half-​diminished chord interrupts the authentic cadence, but the transition is made softly, pianissimo, dolcissimo, and rallentando. In Mahler’s Finale, however, the half-​diminished chord abruptly negates the expected resolution: the piano dynamic quickly leads to a fortissimo on the vi+♯6, with added accent markings. In Meistersinger, this progression is clearly associated with Sachs, and Mahler’s use of it in the middle of his own “Mastersinger theme”—​the ritornello—​resonates with the idea, suggested in Wagner’s opera, that Sachs

 Sachs’s acknowledgment that there is “Madness, madness, madness everywhere,” as Mephistopheles commented in Faust (see Chapter 7, “Walpurgis Night”), is musically underlined by the Tristan chord, in a similar way that Klingsor’s magic and erotic world is in Parsifal. 20

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represents the essence of an accomplished Mastersinger, who acknowledges the value of both tradition and innovation.21 The dotted rhythm, the melodic contour, and the pedal in the Finale’s theme Transition A (mm. 23–​37) also recall certain passages associated with the Mastersingers’ Guild—​especially Kothner’s coloratura in Act I, Scene 3 (when he recites the Tabulatur, the Mastersingers’ Tables of the Law), or a passage in Sachs’s “Wahn monologue” alluding to the Meistersinger tradition.22 Indeed, it is tempting to relate the overall archaicism of Mahler’s Finale (mostly in the ritornello material, as well as Transition A) to Wagner’s archaicist style in Meistersinger.23

Beginnings and Ends

The first part of Wagner’s overture mainly exposes themes that will be associated with the Mastersingers’ Guild throughout the opera.24 By using this material in his ritornello, Mahler alludes to the traditional side of Meistersinger, to the tradition of “sacred German art.” This tradition is represented by two opposing characters in the opera:  on the one hand, Beckmesser, the self-​appointed guardian of conventions and rules, who dismisses Walther’s song because it is “meaningless” (“unsinnig”); on the other hand, Sachs, the cobbler-​poet, who eventually shows how meaningful Walther’s innovative art is because it sounds “so old, and yet so new” (II, 3). Beckmesser represents the pedantic aspect of tradition, and Sachs its wisdom. The idea of tradition in Mahler’s Seventh seems to be mostly represented in caricature, and therefore by Beckmesser, rather than by Sachs. In fact, even when the latter is evoked, as in the deceptive cadence discussed earlier, the allusion is made in caricature, “à la Beckmesser.” Mahler not only transforms the Wagnerian material itself, but also its function in the form. The positions of Wagner’s constitutive elements in the musical narrative are inverted in Mahler’s ritornello (Fig. 9.1), which thereby alters their original function. We have a similar inversion on a larger scale: in Mahler, a ritornello referring to an operatic overture is endlessly repeated in

  About cadences in the Finale of the Seventh, see Chapter 4.   Respectively, 189/​10ff and 488/​3ff. Bernd Sponheuer also noted the “Meistersinger spirit” of this theme. Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls: Untersuchungen zum Finalproblem in den Symphonien Gustav Mahlers (Tutzing: Schneider, 1978), 368. 23   Sponheuer also makes this association in Logik des Zerfalls, 367. 24   Except Walther’s theme, which appears only once in the overture (mm. 27–​ 38). Like Beckmesser’s serenade, Walther’s theme makes an extensive use of melodic fourths. 21

22

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the last movement of the symphony. Wagner’s beginning becomes Mahler’s ending. Introductions and cadences, or beginnings and endings, constitute the main substance of Mahler’s references to Meistersinger in his Finale. The ritornello’s introduction leads to a theme clearly referring to an operatic overture, and these two successive openings prompt the expectation that the curtain will rise and that a story will be enacted on stage. Instead, these beginnings lead directly to a strong concluding gesture. The whole symphony is characterized by frequent intrusions of these rhetorical moments that seem to announce important structural points in the musical flow, but without really leading anywhere.25 Johnson notes that this overtly “rhetorical” aspect of the Seventh is not limited to the Finale, but pervades the whole symphony: A symphony in which no movement is immune from the constant presence of artifice, the exposing of musical material and language for what they are—​received linguistic formulae, building blocks of musical grammar, habits of speech in which the romantic notion of expression persists intermittently.26

“Even in the first movement of the Seventh,” adds Johnson, “which presents itself as the most straightforwardly symphonic, there is too much symphonic rhetoric.” The main characteristic of these rhetorical markers is their double function, introductory and concluding at the same time. The Finale’s introduction is a good example of this ambiguity: it has a concluding character but also functions as an introduction. The Intro-​Cadence of the second Nachtmusik is another example, a “once upon a time” formula that comes back seven times in the movement, like the Finale’s ritornello, blurring boundaries between beginnings and ends (Where does it begin and end? Does the story begin several times?)27 The prominence of rondo form in the symphony contributes to this circular image—​an endless circle which makes us lose track of  time. As discussed in Chapter  4, cadential gestures in the Finale evoke the Meistersinger overture, the Finale of Mozart’s Entführung aus dem Serail and that of Offenbach’s Orphée aux Enfers (since the In-​betweens point toward both the Entführung and the Cancan motives). In short, Mahler alludes to German opera, singspiel, and French operetta, but mainly to their beginnings and

  See Chapter 4, “Cadencing” in “Form and Content.”  Julian Johnson, Mahler’s Voices:  Expression and Irony in the Songs and Symphonies (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 120. 27  See Chapter  6, end of the section “Wagnerian Echoes” in “The Second Nachtmusik.” 25

26

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endings, either to the moment of announcement, or to the summing up, to a joyous ending wrapping up the story. With Meistersinger in mind, Mahler’s play on the use of formal markers in the Seventh evokes Beckmesser’s outraged reaction to Walther’s trial song in Act I: Where to begin, when there was no beginning or end to it? . . . Who might find an end there? . . . I will accuse him only of “blind meaning” (“blinde Meinung”); Could a meaning be more meaningless?28

And the Masters answer: “It was completely meaningless! I must admit it was impossible to predict its end,” and later they ask, “Who calls this singing?” According to the Mastersingers, a song must be clearly marked with a beginning and an end in order for it to be meaningful. In other words, an artwork must be understandable rationally, and structural markers function as guarantee of musical meaning.29 The Mastersingers’ comment that the listener should even be able to “predict the end” recalls a passage from Eduard Hanslick’s treatise On the Musically Beautiful: “We recognize the rational coherence of a group of tones and call it a sentence [Satz], exactly as with every logical proposition we have a sense of where it comes to an end.”30 Beckmesser’s claim that Walther’s trial song is “meaningless” because it has “no beginning nor end” implies that the meaning of music lies in its form, which can be taken as a caricature of Hanslick’s view of musical form, as exposed in his treatise: the content of music consists of “tonally moving forms” (“tönend bewegte Formen”). The character of Beckmesser, it should be recalled, had been first named “Hanslich” before becoming “Sixtus Beckmesser,” drawing an evident connection between the Marker and Hanslick.31 But Hanslick’s notion of form has little to do with Beckmesser’s discourse on form in Meistersinger. For Beckmesser, form is an empty box, a package made according to fixed rules.  Act I, Scene 3:  “Konnt’ ein Sinn unsinniger sein?” The fact that Walther starts each verse of his song with the words “Fanget an!” (“Begin!”) does not help Beckmesser figuring out where the song starts. 29   Hans Sachs’s “Flieder Monologue” advocates another view of the artwork: “I feel it, and cannot understand it,” sings Sachs about Walther’s song. “No rule could contain it. . . . It seemed so old, and yet was so new.” II, 3, “Was duftet doch der Flieder.” 30  Eduard Hanslick, On the Musically Beautiful, trans. Geoffrey Payzant (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1986), 30. Originally published in 1854. 31  The character of the Marker, unnamed in Wagner’s first prose draft for Meistersinger (1845), becomes “Hanslich” in the second prose draft (1861) and “Sixtus Beckmesser” in the draft of the libretto, completed in January 1862. 28

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Hanslick writes specifically against this view: “The forms which construct themselves out of tones are not empty but filled; they are not mere contours of a vacuum but mind giving shape to itself from within.”32 Since form and content are not separable for Hanslick, a form cannot be deprived of content.33 In the discourse that Wagner put in Beckmesser’s mouth, however, Hanslick’s concept of form has been emptied of its content. If Hanslick’s first critiques of Wagner were enthusiastic, his tone changed in 1858 with a review of Lohengrin. From this point on, the wrestling match between them never stopped:  Hanslick was writing caustic critiques of Wagner’s works, while Wagner, right after having caricatured Hanslick in Meistersinger, openly attacked him in the afterword added to the second edition of Das Judentum in der Musik in 1869. Returning to the Finale of the Seventh, Mahler’s particular use of introductory and concluding gestures could be interpreted in the light of Beckmesser’s compositional lesson. It is as if Mahler, by saturating his symphony with rhetorical markers, was exploring Beckmesser’s statement that beginnings and ends can provide musical meaning. But, instead of shaping the musical discourse and making it more intelligible formally, Mahler’s use of structural markers questions their traditional function, thereby revealing the limits of Beckmesser’s lesson.34 At the same time, these markers are not necessarily empty boxes devoid of their meaning, they can be taken as pure theatrical gestures fulfilling a true function: to announce what follows. I see another parallel between Mahler and Beckmesser. At the end of Meistersinger, Beckmesser steals the poem of his rival Walther, thinking that it was composed by Master Hans Sachs, and because of his inability to read Sachs’s handwriting, his deficient memory, and alleged lack of poetic talent, he makes slight changes in the initial text that have considerable impact on the overall meaning of the poem. The Marker omits a letter

 Hanslick, On the Musically Beautiful, 30.   Music “possesses form and content inseparably,” and “in music there is no content as opposed to form, because music has no form other than the content.” Hanslick, On the Musically Beautiful, 80. About form and content in Mahler’s Seventh, see also Chapter 1, “Reception.” 34   As seen in Chapter 4, Martin Scherzinger and Jonathan Kramer have shown that, in the Finale, Mahler makes an extensive use of traditional structures only to question their meaning, although neither writer suggests a relationship with the presence of Meistersinger in the Seventh. See Scherzinger, “The Finale of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony:  A Deconstructive Reading,” Music Analysis 14, no.1 (1995):  76; Jonathan Kramer, “Postmodern Concepts of Musical Time,” Indiana Theory Review 17, no. 2 (1996): 34. 32 33

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here, adds one there, inverts two syllables,35 does not demarcate the words correctly;36 and the story of Adam and Eve in Paradise becomes the story of a gleaming man hanging from a tree, looking at a woman who is as pale as a cabbage. We may wonder how Mahler perceived Beckmesser’s interpretation of the poem, and if the idea that local changes deeply affect the meaning of the whole appealed to him. In a way, Mahler and Beckmesser both “borrow” material from another composer and radically transform its original meaning—​and I will return to the potential implications of this comparison. If Beckmesser-​the-​Critic is a caricature of a traditionalist on some level, the serenade of Beckmesser-​the-​Composer in Act II provides the thematic material for the most dissonant moment of the opera, the riot that breaks out on St. John’s Eve in the streets of Nuremberg, culminating with a striking quartal harmony that originates in the melodic fourths of his song, themselves derived from the tuning of his lute.37 I suggest that Mahler’s use of quartal harmony in the Seventh (especially in the first movement), often perceived as one of the most “innovative” aspects of the work, was—​at least partly—​inspired by the music performed by the most traditionalist of Wagner’s characters.38

Quartal Harmony in the Seventh and Meistersinger The First Movement of the Seventh

The tenor horn cell heard at the very beginning of the Seventh (ia), which appears in most themes of the symphony, is gradually transformed throughout the slow introduction of the first movement; and just before the   For example: “Mit Augen zwinkend, der Hund blies winkend” (“blinking its eyes, the dog blew wavingly”), instead of “Mit Augen winkend, die Hand wies blinkend” (“with eyes glistening, her sparkling hand gestured toward”). 36   “Morgen ich leuchte” instead of “Morgenlich leuchtend” (“In the morning I glow” instead of “Morning was aglow”). 37   The instrument played by Beckmesser in Meistersinger is a particular kind of lute, which is tuned like a guitar but sounds an octave higher (E3–​A3–​D4–​G4–​B4–​E5). Standard Renaissance six-​course lutes were usually tuned on G2–​C3–​F3–​A3–​D4–​ G4, with a major third between the third and the fourth string (on a guitar, the third is between the fourth and the fifth string). 38  See HLG3, 847. In a paper comparing Mahler’s Seventh Symphony and Schoenberg’s Kammersymphonie, op. 9, Christopher Williams proposed Meistersinger Act II as a precedent for the use of quartal harmony. 35

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Allegro section (mm. 45–​46), the descending seventh is divided into two symmetrical fourths (ia′, Ex. 9.5, line 2).39 At this point, three trumpets enter in imitation, and melodic fourths are gradually stacked over an F♯ pedal, building the chord F♯–​B–​E–​A. Ex. 9.5  VII/​1, end of the introduction (mm. 45–​50)

In terms of tonal relationships, this fourth-​chord (F♯–​B–​E–​A) functions as a dominant seventh chord with a suspended fourth in E minor (B–​E–​F♯–​ A, here inverted to F♯–​A–​B–​E), which resolves to B–​E–​A♯ (m. 48) instead of the expected dominant chord (F♯–​A–​B–​D♯). If we keep the resonance of the F♯ in the bass, since it is a pedal, this B–​E–​A♯ could be heard as a V of V in E minor ([F♯]–​B–​E–​A♯), where the suspended fourth (B) would be heard simultaneously with its resolution, the major third (A♯). This B–​E–​A♯ itself resolves to an E minor tonic chord by simply shifting A♯ to B (already heard in the previous chord), when the main theme of the movement enters (m. 50/​Fig. 6). To summarize, this progression (mm. 47–​50) could be interpreted as a dominant chord with a suspended fourth that does not resolve, moving to an altered pre-​dominant chord (V of V) resolving directly to the tonic without passing through the dominant. But, at the same time, the “bass” (or the lowest voice, since there is no real bass here) moves by fourths (F♯3–​B3–​E4; see trumpet 3 at mm. 47–​50), which sounds like a pre-​dominant–​dominant–​tonic

  See Appendices F1 and M1. This double descending fourth is derived both from the initial cell ia and from the descending fourth a heard at m. 46. 39

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progression in E. In other words, the bass motion (ii–​V–​i) contradicts the harmonic progression (V–​♯II–​i).40 The contradictory aspects of this harmonic interpretation—​expected resolutions diverted, suspensions coexisting with their resolutions—​are balanced by the straightforwardness of contrapuntal motions. F♯–​B–​E–​A is a fourth chord produced by the successive entrances of the three trumpets, originating from the melodic activity. At m. 48, A shifts to A♯ and F♯ is no longer held. Two measures later, when the main theme of the movement starts, A♯ resolves to B and a real bass enters on E4 (cellos, m. 50). This particular moment in the introduction is developed throughout the movement, and fourth chords built the same way—​arising from chains of melodic fourths—​appear at crucial points in the musical form: in section A (m. 105ff ), in A″ (m. 456ff ), and in the coda (m. 531ff ). To briefly summarize what happens at these moments, the chain of fourths (deployed harmonically in the exposition and recapitulation, but not in the coda) has F♯–​B–​E–​A as common notes, and it is expanded later to C♯ in the exposition (C♯–​F♯–​B–​E–​A), and up to G in the coda (F♯–​B–​E–​A–​D–​G).

Meistersinger, Act II, Scene 7

The chaotic Finale of Act II is built on the theme of Beckmesser’s serenade, used as a cantus firmus.41 As Robert Bailey has shown, the climax of the riot is marked by successive fugal entries on pitches corresponding to the strings of Beckmesser’s lute, E–​A–​D–​G–​C (resolving to B, to follow the correct pattern of his lute, E–​A–​D–​G–​B–​E, Ex. 9.6).42

  Several elements in the melodic and harmonic texture are contradictory: for example, tpt. 2 has E4–​B3 while tpt. 3 has B3–​E4 at m. 48. Mahler plays on the double identity of the fourth: while this interval has an atonal potential, it is also strongly associated with tonal motion (D–​T). 41   But here most of the metrical misplacements of the song as performed by Beckmesser in Act II, Scene 6, have been corrected. 42  Robert Bailey, “Die Meistersinger Act II:  Syntax and Structure,” unpublished paper read at the International Wagner-​Verdi Congress, Ithaca NY, October 1984. The fugal entries start on the words “Auf, schreit zu Hilfe: Mord und Zeter, herbei!” (II, 7). 40

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Ex. 9.6  Meistersinger II, 7 “Auf, schreit zu Hilfe: Mord und Zeter, herbei!”

As in Mahler’s Seventh, a fourth-​chord built on an F♯ pedal (F♯–​B–​E–​ A–​D–​G–​C), arising from melodic fourths, is eventually resolved onto E (major in Wagner, minor in Mahler). But, as opposed to what happens in the Seventh, where expected resolutions are denied, Wagner’s fourth-​chord moves to a dominant seventh chord that resolves on the tonic of E major with the beginning of the serenade’s theme (C resolves to B, and the suspended fourth E resolves to D♯). Beckmesser’s serenade may have been a source of inspiration for Mahler’s use of melodic and harmonic fourths in the Seventh, but there is no direct allusion to it in the score. In fact, the connection appears more clearly in a sketch that did not make its way into the final version of the Seventh.

Preliminary Sketches in the Vienna Sketchbook Two pages in the sketchbook show striking connections to Beckmesser’s serenade (fols. 5v and 6v, see Fig. 9.2). As shown in Ex. 9.7, the upper voice on folio 6v (mm. 4ff ) strongly recalls the odd coloratura that ends each Stollen of the serenade (on “We-​e-​e-​e-​er-​ben”). Ex. 9.7  Vienna sketchbook fol. 6v and Beckmesser’s serenade

282  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Fig. 9.2  Vienna sketchbook, fol. 6v. KHM-​Museumverband, Theatermuseum Vienna. VK 905 BaM In the Vienna sketchbook, fifths replace the fourths of the serenade, but the melodic contour is the same.43 Going further, we could hear a relationship between the alternation of open fifths, in Mahler’s sketchbook, and the prelude that Beckmesser plays on his lute to calm his anxiety before starting his serenade (Ex. 9.7, syst. 2). Moreover, pairs of fifths are stacked together to build the chord C–​G–​D–​A–​E (at the end of syst. 1), related to the fourth-​chord built on the strings of Beckmesser’s lute: E–​A–​D–​G–​ (and C or B, depending on the context). In addition, folio 6v starts with the descending and ascending fourth found at the beginning of Mahler’s Ritornello theme—​but placed here on different scale steps—​suggesting a relationship between the “Beckmesser sketch” and the Finale of the Seventh. These stacked fifths not only appear on folio 6v, but also on the preceding pages, folios 4r to 6r (Ex. 9.8).

  Except for the second beat of m. 4 in the sketchbook (C6–​G5).

43

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Ex. 9.8  Stacked fifth chords in the Vienna sketchbook, fols. 4r, 5v, 6r, 6v

The key (C major), meter (, except fol. 4r) and square rhythm of these sketches could indicate that they were part of Mahler’s preliminary work on the Finale. Orchestral indications (“pizz” and “celli” on fol. 4r; “v” on 6r; “pizz,” “Viol,” “arco,” “II v” on 6v), however, suggest that these chords were meant to be played by the open strings, which brings to mind the guitar and mandolin used in the second Nachtmusik. Folio 5v begins with a melodic fragment that shares motivic connections with the first movement of the Sixth Symphony, the Finale of the Seventh, and also with Beckmesser’s serenade, even if the link is tenuous (Ex. 9.9).

284  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Ex. 9.9  Vienna sketchbook fol. 5v and Beckmesser’s serenade

This fragment was probably not conceived as an inversion of Beckmesser’s serenade, but, since the presence of this character is so strongly suggested on the following leaf (fol. 6v), the connection is worth noticing here as well.44 The fact that the clearest connection to Beckmesser is found in sketches of music that Mahler ultimately did not include in his symphony indicates that Meistersinger, and Beckmesser in particular, were part of Mahler’s compositional project at some point; even if, eventually, he chose to abandon some of these connections, leaving his obvious gesture toward Meistersinger in the Finale as the only audible trace of his experiences. Mahler may have left this Beckmesser material aside for purely compositional reasons (it did not fit in), but the question of his decision to keep the blatant reference to the Mastersingers’ Guild in the Finale and conceal his interest in Beckmesser’s music still needs to be asked.

E minor to C major: From Night to Day The E minor introduction to the Finale (mm. 1–​6) leads to the Ritornello theme in C major (mm. 7–​23). This recapitulates the tonal progression of the whole symphony, which starts with a first movement in E minor and ends with a Finale in C major.

From St. John’s Eve to St. John’s Day in Meistersinger

This path from E to C is also found in Meistersinger, at crucial points of the dramatic development. Act II ends on St. John’s Eve with the riot that follows Beckmesser’s serenade to Eva. Alone in his workshop, on St. John’s Day, Sachs reflects upon the causes of this collective madness: “God knows, how that befell! A goblin [‘Kobold’] must have helped: a glowworm could   Connections of this sketch with the Finale of the Seventh and first movement of the Sixth Symphony have been discussed in Chapter 5 (Ex. 5.14). 44

Die Meistersinger in the Seventh Symphony  :  285

not find its mate; it set the trouble in motion. It was the elder tree: St. John’s Eve [‘Johannisnacht’]! But now has come St. John’s Day [‘Johannistag’]!” (III, 1). Sachs’s evocation of the passage from St. John’s Eve to St. John’s Day is musically signaled by the modulation from E (major here) to C major (Ex. 9.10). Ex. 9.10  Meistersinger III, 1 “Wahn, Wahn, überall Wahn!”

This E may be heard as a reference to Beckmesser: it is the lowest string of his lute, and the fundamental of the fourth-​chord associated with its tuning (E–​A–​D–​G–​B, see Ex. 9.6). As noted earlier, the fugal entries leading to the climax of the riot closing Act II start on E and follow the pattern of Beckmesser’s strings. Right after the last fugal entry on B, we hear the serenade’s theme at the bass in E major. Moreover, Beckmesser’s leading role in the chaotic events on St. John’s Eve is recalled in the “Wahn” monologue by the theme of his serenade, heard when Sachs evokes the “Kobold” (goblin) that helped cause the riot.45 In the final scene of the opera, Beckmesser offers his own interpretation of Walther’s poem using much the same melody as that of his serenade to Eva. But whereas this melody was initially sung in G major (II, 6), it is now transposed to E minor. His performance arouses a moment of collective confusion: “My, what is this? Has he lost his mind? Did we understand correctly? What does this mean?” say the people and the Mastersingers (III, 5). Walther then sings his own prize song properly, in C major, and the crowd is unified by a common feeling of enlightenment (“Yes, indeed, I see, it makes a difference if one sings correctly,” and “What a difference the right words and the proper delivery make!”). This shift from E minor to C major evokes   494/​4. Sachs’s ascending fifth on “Ko-​bold” also points toward Beckmesser, since the first syllable of his name is usually reached by an ascending interval (see 116/​1, 185/​13, 392/​5). 45

286  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

the light overcoming the dark night imposed upon the people’s spirit by Beckmesser’s own interpretation of Walther’s poem.46 In a Wagnerian context, it is difficult not to mention another work where the shift from E minor to C major has a revealing power: the Ring. We hear this shift when Brünnhilde is awakened from her long sleep at the end of Siegfried (III, 3), and at the end of Götterdämmerung, when Siegfried is dying and remembers Brünnhilde (III, 2.  See Ex. 9.11):  “Brünnhilde! Holy bride (“Heilige Braut”)! Wake up! Open your eyes!” The E minor to C major progression heard on “Wach’ auf!” (“awake!”) is melodically expressed with an ascending fourth, which brings us back to Meistersinger (even if the harmonization is different). In the final scene of the opera (III, 5), the crowd greets Sachs with the motet “Wach’ auf!” using the same melodic cell: Awake! The dawn is drawing near; singing in the green grove is a blissful nightingale, its voice ringing through hill and valley; night is receding in the west, the day arises in the east, the morning’s ardent red glow penetrates the gloomy clouds. Hail! Sachs! Hail to you, Hans Sachs!

Ex. 9.11  Götterdämmerung III, 2 and Meistersinger III, 5

The light of the rising day clears the clouds at the end of Meistersinger, and Nuremberg salutes Sachs as Brünnhilde welcomes the sun in Siegfried (“Heil dir, Sonne! Heil dir, Licht!” III, 3).

Night and Day in the Seventh

As we have seen, the Seventh can be interpreted as following a path from night to day.47 According to William Ritter, Mahler himself used this

  Since the fugal entries of the riot follow the pattern of Beckmesser’s lute in the Finale of Act II, we also have a progression from E to C: E–​A–​D–​G–​C (which resolves to B). 47   See Chapter 2, “Night and Day” in “Main Interpretive Leads”; and Chapter 8, “Beginning of the Seventh.” 46

Die Meistersinger in the Seventh Symphony  :  287

metaphor to describe his work: “Three night pieces; bright daylight in the finale. As basis for the whole, the first movement.”48 Here, the first movement is not characterized in terms of night or day, which resonates with the critical lack of agreement over the Stimmung of the movement. At first sight, this path from night to day could be compared to the passage from “Johannisnacht” to “Johannistag” in Meistersinger, from the chaotic riot following Beckmesser’s serenade on St. John’s Eve to the bright St. John’s Day in C major that will celebrate Walther’s triumph. For Donald Mitchell, the relationship between Mahler’s and Wagner’s C major endings is “unequivocal”: It is well attested that Mahler himself referred to his last movement as ‘Der Tag’ and, as if to emphasize the point, he was known to perform the overture to Die Meistersinger as a pendant, so to speak, to his own Seventh, thus unequivocally clarifying the relationship between his concept of light and that of Wagner—​in both Wagner’s opera and Mahler’s symphony, night finally gives way to day, and both affirm C major.49

On some level, Mahler’s C major alludes to Wagner’s ending.50 But what does Mahler’s “bright daylight” really have in common with St. John’s Day in Meistersinger, which transforms chaos into order, confusion into enlightenment, and discord into unity? Wagner’s day in Meistersinger resolves the conflict between tradition and innovation (since Walther’s song “seemed so old, and yet was so new”), and, as Warren Darcy has suggested, between the individual and the society.51 But   “Trois morceaux nocturnes; au Finale, le grand jour. Comme base du tout, le premier morceau.” William Ritter, “La Septième Symphonie de Gustave Mahler,” Revue Musicale de la Société Internationale de Musique, Paris, November 15, 1908, in William Ritter chevalier de Gustav Mahler: Ecrits, correspondance, documents, ed. Claude Meylan (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000), 116. 49   Mitchell, “Reception,” in Facsimile of the Seventh, 73. 50   C major as a metaphor for the light is a common topic in the history of music. Sponheuer mentions a few examples in Haydn, Die Schöpfung; Mozart, Die Zauberflöte; Beethoven, Fifth Symphony, Fidelio; Weber, Der Freischütz; Brahms, First Symphony; Wagner, Siegfried; Strauss, Also sprach Zarathustra; Schönberg, Gurre-​Lieder. Sponheuer, Logik des Zerfalls, 355, note 6. 51   In Warren Darcy’s view, C major represents the social order threatened by individuals and the opera’s tension toward the final scene in C major is an attempt to restore this collective order, lost in Acts I and II. Darcy, “In Search of C Major: Tonal Structure and Formal Design in Act III of Die Meistersinger,” in Richard Wagner for the New Millennium: Essays in Music and Culture, eds. Matthew Bribitzer-​Stull, Alex Lubet, and Gottfried Wagner (New York: Palgrave, 2007), 111–​28. 48

288  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Mahler’s ordinary day, marked “Allegro ordinario,” leaves the listener with a feeling that certain expectations, prompted by the presence of strong rhetorical markers, are not to be satisfied in conventional ways. Indeed, the final cadence of the symphony, the one that “should” be perfect and authentic, goes wrong at the last minute: instead of the tonic expected after the dominant, the chord is augmented (C–​E–​G♯, which highlights the main tonal centers of the movement),52 before it is finally resolved on a C major triad. This final pirouette might be interpreted as another wink at Beckmesser, often characterized with an augmented triad in Meistersinger.53 The Marker always goes by the book, but somehow manages to misuse the rules because he misunderstands their true function. This augmented triad at the end of the Seventh, a very brief gesture lasting only a few seconds, can actually ruin the ending and encourage an ironic reading of the movement. Is the ending of the Seventh fulfilling, despite its last minute wink? For Peter Davison, this final cadence sounds like a “fatalistic question mark over the whole work.”54 It seems that as with the Durchbruch of the first movement, unsuccessful because of its lack of harmonic resolution, the Finale’s degree of resolution is mainly evaluated on the basis of its very ending. However, as I argued about the Durchbruch moment, this truncated cadence at the end of the Finale does not erase what precedes, the feeling of resolution provoked by the long oscillation dominant-​tonic in C major in the coda, loudly asserted by the whole brass section playing ff, bells, and cowbells. Moreover, the assimilation of the first movement’s main theme (A) to the Meistersinger theme (A1) in C major completes the minor to major transformation that began at the end of the first movement (Em to EM).55 If the per aspera ad astra trajectory of the Seventh is not equivalent to the full resolution brought by St. John’s Day in Meistersinger, its outcome is neither fully ironic.  The main key of the Finale is C major, but the relationships between C and its lower and upper thirds (A♭ and E) are emphasized as well (A♭ is the key of the second Theme B; E minor the key of the introduction). Moreover, the first cadence in the Ritornello’s theme, between A1 and A2, jumps on ♯III [E major] before moving to the dominant. 53   See I, 3; II, 6; III, 3 (pantomime) and 5. This augmented triad often resolves onto the stacked fourth chord built on the pitches corresponding to the strings of Beckmesser’s lute (E–​A–​D–​G–​B, but the bass is usually A). This progression appears particularly often in the pantomime scene, when Beckmesser steals Walther’s song in Sachs’s workshop (III, 3). 54   Peter Davison, “The Nachtmusiken from Mahler’s Seventh Symphony: Analysis and Re-​appraisal” (MPhil thesis, Cambridge University, 1985), 22. 55   M. 581, see Ex. 4.1. 52

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The passage from night to day in the Seventh, corresponding to the transition between the second Nachtmusik and the Finale, can be compared to the contrast between the private and the public sphere in Meistersinger. William Kinderman recently associated this shift in Meistersinger with another Mahler symphony, the Fifth, suggesting that the Adagietto and the Rondo-​Finale represent a transition from a subjective moment of isolation to a collective experience.56 We have a similar contrast in the Seventh, between the chamber-​music orchestration of the second Nachtmusik (and its echoes of the Siegfried Idyll) and the noisy brass chorale opening the Finale, evoking, as Julian Johnson put it, “the gathering of different groups of characters in an operatic crowd scene.”57 While Wagner’s intimate moment focuses on the character of Hans Sachs, Mahler’s second Nachtmusik would be rather Beckmesserian, with its mandolin and guitar instead of a lute.58 As shown in the fair copy, Mahler decided to include a mandolin in the second Nachtmusik only after he had composed the Meistersinger-​like Finale, which encourages this association with Beckmesser.59 There is something in Mahler’s serenade theme (A1) that recalls the rigid rhythm and awkward melodic contours of the Marker’s serenade.60 Peter Revers compared the “irritating interjections” of Mahler’s serenade with the way Beckmesser’s serenade is constantly interrupted, either by Sachs’s hammering or by his “own uncertainty.”61

 William Kinderman, The Creative Process in Music from Mozart to Kurtág (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2012), Chapter 4, particularly 130–​37. There is another possible parallel with Richard Strauss’s Sinfonia Domestica, which Mahler conducted in 1904 when he was at work on the Seventh, and which presents a nocturnal love scene interrupted by the morning (trumpet). See Peter Davison, “Nachtmusik II: ‘Nothing but Love, Love, Love’?,” in The Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler:  A Symposium, ed. James Zychowicz (Cincinnati:  University of Cincinnati, 1990), 95. 57  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 119. 58   As we have seen, Beckmesser’s lute is tuned like a guitar, but sounds an octave higher. 59  The mandolin is a late addition, since its part is sketched in pencil at the bottom of the pages in the fair copy. See Facsimile of the Seventh, 189, 196, 198, etc. 60   See Appendix M4. 61  See Revers, “Return to the Idyll:  The Night Pieces in Gustav Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” in Colloque International Gustav Mahler:  25, 26, 27 Janvier 1985 (Paris:  Association Gustav Mahler, 1986), 46. Lewis Smoley also mentions Beckmesser’s serenade in the context of the second Nachtmusik, in “Mahler’s Seventh Symphony: Inscrutible Enigma or Obvious Parody?” Wunderhorn 4, no. 1 (2005): 3. 56

290  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Constant or repetitive interruptions can be appalling for the one being interrupted, but comical for the observers. In Meistersinger and in Mahler’s Seventh, a constantly interrupted serenade gives way to collective chaos. The intimate moment ends in public disclosure; intimacy is exposed in full light and the seduction attempt is ridiculed. While the second Nachtmusik is at times comical from the side of the observer, specific moments ensure that the sincere and engaged aspects of the movement are maintained. The “dream chords” sequence in particular (m. 253), also found in the first movement at the beginning of the pastoral episode (m. 263), evokes the christening of Walther’s song in Act III.62 These passages are devoid of irony and distance, and they function as isolated moments of  hope.

Mahler and Beckmesser My analysis suggests that Mahler had Meistersinger in mind when he was at work on the Seventh; and that he was particularly interested in the character of Beckmesser. But what do we know about Mahler’s view of Beckmesser? The only documentary evidence we have is a remark, reported by Natalie Bauer-​Lechner, that he was dissatisfied with Benedikt Felix’s interpretation of this character in the 1899 Viennese production of Meistersinger. “Only one person could do it,” he shouted—​as he said already once about Mime—​ “Me!”63 Mahler’s earlier remarks about Mime are more explicit: Although I am convinced that this figure [Mime] is the embodied persiflage of a Jew, as intended by Wagner (with all the traits which he gave him: his petty cleverness, greed, and all the complete musically and textually excellent jargon), that should not be exaggerated and dished up so thickly here, for heaven’s sake, as it was by Spielmann—​especially in Vienna, at the “k.k Court Opera”; it is clearly laughable and a welcome scandal for the Viennese! I know only one Mime [we all looked at him curiously] and that is me! You will be surprised to see what lies in the part and what I could make of  it!64

  Hans Sachs, “Die selige Morgentraum-​Deutweise,” III, 4 (651/​1). See Ex. 6.14.   NBL, 146. This passage is not in the English translation; it is found only in the German text. Bauer-​Lechner does not mention the name of Benedikt Felix (see HLG2, 196). 64   NBL, 122. This is Carl Niekerk’s translation in Reading Mahler: German Culture and Jewish Identity in Fin-​de-​Siècle Vienna (New York: Camden House, 2010), 15. This passage also appears only in the German text. 62 63

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These remarks concern the Viennese Ring production of 1898. Mahler’s insistence on the need to avoid caricature in representing Mime recalls Wagner’s own description of this character in the text of Young Siegfried from 1851:

Mime, the Nibelung, alone. He is small and bent, somewhat deformed and hobbling. . . . There must be nothing approaching caricature in all this. His aspect, when he is quiet, must be simply eerie; it is only in moments of extreme excitement that he becomes exteriorly ludicrous, but never too uncouth.65

Julius Hey, who worked as a vocal coach in Bayreuth, reports that when Wagner was rehearsing the role of Siegfried with a young singer, he sang the role of Mime “through the entire act with a full voice!! . . . He created without caricatured awkward physical gestures a character of such sharp, strongly etched depiction, the likes of which one would perhaps never experience on the stage!”66 While Mahler acknowledged Mime as a Jewish caricature, he nevertheless insisted, as Wagner did, that the character should not be performed as a caricature. It seems that the “echt Deutsch” Wagner and the Jew Mahler were both excellent at performing Jewish caricatures without caricaturing them. Should we then extend Wagner’s and Mahler’s comments about Mime to Beckmesser, assuming that both considered this character as a Jewish caricature as well? The idea that Beckmesser embodies Jewish stereotypes has been widely debated since Theodor Adorno’s Versuch über Wagner (1952), in which he claimed that “all the rejects of Wagner’s works are caricatures of Jews.”67 On some level, Mahler’s treatment of Wagner in the Seventh Symphony parallels Beckmesser’s onstage performance, as both “borrow” musical material from another composer and radically transform its original meaning.   Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner, Volume II:  1848–​1860 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), 346. 66   Richard Wagner als Vortragsmeister, 1864–​1876: Erinnerungen von Julius Hey, ed. Hans Hey (Leipzig:  Breitkopf & Härtel, 1911), 110. Quoted in Katherine Syer, “From Page to Stage: Wagner als Regisseur,” in Richard Wagner and His World, ed. Thomas Grey (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009), 16. 67  Adorno, In Search of Wagner, trans. Rodney Livingstone (London and New York: Verso, 2005/​1981), 23. For followers of Adorno, see: Barry Millington, “Nuremberg Trial:  Is There Anti-​Semitism in Die Meistersinger?,” Cambridge Opera Journal 3 (1991): 247–​61; and Marc Weiner, Richard Wagner and the Anti-​Semitic Imagination (Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1995). See also Thomas Grey, “Masters and Their Critics:  Wagner, Hanslick, Beckmesser and Die Meistersinger,” in Wagner’s Meistersinger:  Performance, History, Representation, ed. Nicholas Vazsonyi (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2003): 165–​89, and Hans Rudolph Vaget, “Du warst mein Feind von je,” ibid., 190–​208. 65

292  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

Mahler’s musical allusions to the works of other composers, as well as to his own works, were often cited by his detractors as demonstrating a supposed lack of originality. As Karen Painter and K.  M. Knittel have shown, this critique, implicitly addressed to Beckmesser in Meistersinger, relates to anti-​ Semitic stereotypes such as those transmitted in Wagner’s Das Judentum in der Musik.68 Mahler may have seen, through Wagner’s treatment of this character, a reflection of his own caricature as depicted by his critics.69 The parallel between Mahler and Beckmesser was made specifically by one of Mahler’s singers during rehearsals of the Meistersinger Viennese production in 1899. La Grange reports that Theodor Reichmann, who was to sing Sachs’s part in the opera until he was fired, documented his stormy relationship with Mahler in his diary. There, on pages filled with “expressions of rage” and “furious interjections,” the singer refers to the tyrannical conductor as a “little Jewish Kobold” (“goblin”).70 Given the context, this could be taken as an allusion to Beckmesser, called “Kobold” in Sachs’s “Wahn” monologue at the beginning of Act III. It suggests two things: first, that Reichmann associated Mahler with Beckmesser; and second, that he perceived the character of Beckmesser as representing a Jew. The easily made connection between Mahler and Beckmesser may explain why the composer kept the blatant allusion to the Mastersingers Guild in the Finale without leaving any obvious traces of his interest in Beckmesser: it could be a way to claim allegiance to the “essence of German art” while downplaying his association with the Wagnerian Jewish caricature. As for other composers from Jewish background coming from Central Europe to Vienna, the question of their relationship to German culture—​or Deutschtum, Germanness—​is a crucial one.71 Carl Niekerk interprets the references to Meistersinger in the Seventh as a reaction against Wagner’s exclusive view of Germanness, suggesting that Mahler was proposing an alternate, more inclusive path to German culture.72 This view is mainly based on the   See Karen Painter, “Jewish Identity and Anti-​Semitic Critique in the Austro-​ German Reception of Mahler, 1900–​1945,” in Perspectives on Gustav Mahler, ed. Jeremy Barham (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 175–​94; and K. M. Knittel, Seeing Mahler: Music and the Language of Antisemitism in Fin-​de-​Siècle Vienna (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2010). 69   In her introduction to Seeing Mahler, Knittel mentions a Viennese cartoon, captioned “Mahler’s Metamorphosen,” dating from 1905—​precisely the year of the Seventh’s completion—​which shows Mahler dressed as several nineteenth-​century composers, including Wagner. 70   See HLG2, 195. 71   This topic is explored by David Brodbeck in Defining Deutschtum: Political Ideology, German Identity, and Music-​Critical Discourse in Liberal Vienna, The New Cultural History of Music (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). 72  Niekerk, Reading Mahler, 147–​52. More on this in the Conclusion. 68

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perceived antagonism between Mahler’s Jewish background and Wagner’s anti-​Semitism, and does not leave much room for the possibility that Mahler, like many other Jews raised in German culture at the end of the nineteenth century, could identify more with “Germanness” than with “Jewishness.” Mahler may have wanted to be on the side of “German art,” but he did transform Wagner’s version of the song contest.73 One could imagine the Seventh as a symphonic version of Mahler’s own interpretation of Beckmesser’s role, as if he was eventually showing us what he could “make of it” on stage. In this version of the story, Mahler casts doubt on this character’s supposed lack of artistic insight and creative talent. Through Mahler’s eyes, this figure reveals itself as a particular—​and rather unsuspected—​kind of innovator, whose art contains the germs of future developments in twentieth-​century music. This view foreshadows the way the German philosopher Ernst Bloch was to characterize Beckmesser’s prize-​song in his Literary Essays (1965):

Beckmesser’s text is like the first example of Dadaism or whatever else came out of word laboratories. . . . [Beckmesser] suddenly transgresses against convention—​ much more than the bold Stolzing and much less by previous arrangement.74

  On song contests, see Chapter 1, “The Cuckoo and the Nightingale” in “The ‘Problems’ of the Seventh.” 74   Ernst Bloch, “On the Text of Beckmesser’s Prize Song,” in Literary Essays (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, 1998), 183. This take on Beckmesser has been illustrated in Katharina Wagner’s provocative staging of Meistersinger in the 2007 Bayreuth production, where the conservative Beckmesser eventually appears as the real avant-​ garde artist, facing the conventional pop star Walther von Stolzing. 73

Conclusion

Mahler is a Shakespearean clown. —​William Ritter1

What the Genesis Tells Us Before discussing the ways in which the genesis of the Seventh Symphony enlightens or complicates the process of interpretation of the work, let us consider what musical and biographical evidence tells us about the chronology of the compositional process.

Chronology

This investigation began with the following pieces of information in hand: 1. According to Mahler’s “boat letter,” the two Nachtmusiken were composed before the other movements; and the idea for the introduction of the first movement allowed him to compose the first, third, and fifth movements during the summer of 1905; 2. According to William Ritter, Mahler was working on the first Nachtmusik and on the Sixth Symphony at the same time (probably in 1904); 3. The date on the orchestral draft for the first movement (“August 15, 1905, the Seventh is finished”) indicates that Mahler orchestrated the first movement last of all; 4. According to Alma Mahler’s recollections, Mahler made “Bauskizzen” for the Seventh in 1904.

What we did not know, at this point, was: 1. To what extent the biographical accounts were confirmed by the compositional materials;

  William Ritter, “Septième Symphonie,” unpublished book chapter (1912), in William Ritter chevalier de Gustav Mahler:  Ecrits, correspondance, documents, ed. Claude Meylan (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000), 137. 1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

Conclusion : 295 2. If the second Nachtmusik was also composed when Mahler was finishing the Sixth in 1904; 3. If Mahler already had some sketches at hand when he composed the first, third, and last movements in 1905; 4. In which order he composed the movements.

The grouping of sketches related to the Nachtmusiken with material that was incorporated in the Sixth Symphony, both in the Vienna sketchbook and on the Moldenhauer folios, suggests that Mahler composed these movements while completing the Sixth in 1904, which confirms Ritter’s account.2 He may also have began working on the Finale the same summer, which places the close connections between the first Nachtmusik and the Finale in a new light. Starting from folio 8v in the back portion of the Vienna sketchbook, we find “scherzo-​like” material (8v–​10r; 12v–​13r) framing sketches clearly related to the first movement of the Seventh (fols. 10v–​12r). These pages thus postdate the preceding folios (1r–​8r), which show more or less clear associations with other movements in the Seventh, with the outer movements of the Sixth and with the Finale of the Ninth.3 Since the front section of the Vienna sketchbook contains mostly continuous sketches for the first movement of the Seventh, it seems that Mahler began composing the first movement and the Scherzo at a later time, possibly in 1905; and that he finished orchestrating the first movement after the others, in August 1905.4 The connections between the Vienna sketchbook, the Paris sketchbook leaves, and the Moldenhauer sketches indicate that Mahler had at least two different sketchbooks at hand when he was working on the larger Moldenhauer leaves. Even if these folios generally show a later stage of the compositional process than the sketchbooks, it seems that the Vienna sketchbook was used both as a sketching and as a drafting area, since the front section mainly contains continuous sketches that are fairly close to the final version of the work. These findings support the idea that Mahler was going back and forth between different sketching and drafting surfaces and that one should not necessarily attempt to assign a specific stage of the compositional process to such documents.   See Appendix CSk for the correspondences between the Vienna sketchbook, the Paris sketchbook leaves, and the Moldenhauer folios. 3   See Appendix MS1  . 4   The sketchbook leaf labeled “Adagio VII” deserves further investigation. The juxtaposition of a sketch that Mahler seems to have meant to include in his Seventh, at some point, with a sketch for the Eighth Symphony, on the same leaf, is intriguing. See Chapter  3, “Ritter on the Composition of the First Nachtmusik” in “Autobiographical and Biographical Evidence.” 2

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Toward an Inclusive Definition of “Genesis”

Besides providing information on the chronology of the composition, the sketches for the Seventh enlighten the perception of the two main “problematic” issues at stake in the reception of the work: its relationship to the Sixth Symphony and to Wagner’s Meistersinger. These connections emerge with greater clarity in the “discarded” material, thus encouraging us to consider it as an integral part of the compositional history of a work and, to a certain extent, as part of its identity. To make an anthropomorphic comparison, we, as human beings, define ourselves as much by the paths we do not take as by the ones we choose. Similarly, a musical work is also defined by what it does not achieve, or by what it does not say. Ideas that do not end up in the finished version may still have played an important role in the making of the work; they probe the dividing line between “used” and “unused” materials. The genesis of a work, therefore, embraces the ensemble of compositional experiences that led to its completion. In Chapter 2, I also raised the question of the status of compositional narratives in genetic reconstructions. As we have seen in Chapter 8, these narratives belong to the genesis of the works as autobiographical reinterpretations, to a similar extent that a work is closely tied up to its reception and interpretation. These narratives function as creation myths and provide meaning to a work by narrating its birth. Instead of being used to establish the chronology of composition, they should be taken for what they are: clues that tell us where the story really began for the composer. Even if two whole movements were already composed when Mahler found the idea for the introduction of the work, even if this idea had been actually sketched before his inspirational moment on the boat,5 this moment nonetheless played an important role in the compositional process and allowed Mahler to complete the Seventh. Genetic histories have several beginnings and endings, in a similar way that Mahler’s Seventh plays with repetitive gestures of announcement and closure.

Genesis, Structure, and Interpretation

Let us return to the relationship between genesis, structure, and interpretation, and particularly to the ways in which the genesis of the Seventh enlightens or complicates an interpretation of the work. We have encountered several cases of correspondence between the genesis and the finished

  The cell opening the Seventh (ia) appears in the Vienna sketchbook on folio 3r, which was probably sketched before the “boat sketch” found at the beginning of the front side (fol. 30v). See Ex. 5.6. 5

Conclusion : 297

version: the “Cancan” insertion in a preliminary draft for the Finale, a passage sounding precisely like an insertion in the score; or the genetic connections between the Sixth and Seventh symphonies that are reflected in their finished versions. For example, the fact that the Seventh’s first Nachtmusik was composed during the same summer Mahler was finishing the Sixth appears to be traceable through their motivic connections.6 These cases give the illusion that an interpretation of the finished version can be validated by what we know of the genesis of the work.7 But knowing something of the compositional process does not always help make sense of the work. As we have seen, some scholars were troubled by the apparent lack of correspondence between Mahler’s boat story and the atmosphere of the first movement. Likewise, there might be something disturbing in knowing that the Durchbruch moment, the expressive and emotional crux of the movement, was inserted at a relatively late stage of the compositional process, into the orchestral draft.8 In a teleological view, the movement should have been built around this climax. This view seems to be contradicted by the knowledge that this crucial moment was not meant to be included at this specific place from the beginning. This is a fascinating case confirming that key passages can be elaborated at any stage of the creative process. Late thoughts sometimes function as building stones, not merely as additions to an existing construction. Thus, the relationships between genetic studies and analysis or interpretation, which are still considered “dangerous liaisons” in the field of sketch studies, remain complex and should not be taken for granted.9 A  reconstruction of a work’s genesis tells its own story, offering a picture that does not necessarily correspond to an assessment of the finished work. Genetic and analytical perspectives should be treated separately, but then considered in dialogue with each other, to offer a more complex picture of the work. Indeed, it is difficult to avoid examining the sketches in the light of the

  See Ex. 5.15 for the “Cancan” insertion; and Chapter 1, “The ‘Problems’ of the Seventh” for the connections between the Sixth and Seventh. 7   Friedemann Sallis discusses the case of scholars using sketch studies to confirm their analysis of the work in Music Sketches, Cambridge Introductions to Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015); ­chapter 9, particularly 164–​70. 8   See Chapter 8, “Durchbruch (Not) in the Partitur” in “Form and Content.” 9   See Sallis, Music Sketches, ­chapter 9. “Dangerous liaisons” is an expression used by Nicholas Marston in Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in E, Op. 109 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), 12. Quoted in Sallis, Music Sketches, 161. 6

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finished version, since we cannot ignore what we already know.10 But we can let these working documents speak for themselves and have a life of their own. In the case of Mahler’s Seventh, the preliminary sketches lead us to rethink its relationship with the preceding symphony, as well as to reevaluate the function of the Meistersinger references in the Finale. In other words, sketch studies can throw new light on crucial issues in the reception and interpretation of the finished work.

“Problems” of the Seventh The Sixth and Seventh Symphonies

As we have seen, the Seventh has been perceived as a consequence of the Sixth—​“music after the catastrophe.” But if the Sixth and Seventh were partly composed out of the same reservoir, in the same matrix (like twins, to use a biological metaphor), it becomes more problematic to refer to the Seventh as the sequel of the Sixth. Rather, their intertwined genesis suggests that these two works are, on some level, contemporary to each other. I argued that the ending of both works played a crucial role in the interpretation of the Sixth as “tragic” and the Seventh as “jubilant.” As it turns out, the node of opposition between these two works, their Finales, would have been conceived more or less at the same time, which places this opposition in a new light. In a way, the Sixth and Seventh function as a pair, one being the negative of the other. They can be seen as two different stories starting from similar beginnings, but ending in opposed worlds, showing how two symphonies coming out of a common compositional reservoir can develop musical material in opposing ways.

Mahler and Meistersinger

Chapter 9 showed that besides Mahler’s obvious gesture toward Meistersinger in the Finale, several other elements in the Seventh could be interpreted in relation to Wagner’s opera; and that these Wagnerian references cluster around the character of Beckmesser, especially in the preliminary sketches. If Wagner’s Mastersingers make their presence loud and clear in Mahler’s Finale, their trace can still be followed in the first movement of the Eighth Symphony (at Fig. 24). This fugitive but clear allusion to the beginning of  Marston proposes to adopt a “methodological distance” between sketch studies and analysis, in order to keep these two perspectives as separated as possible. See Sallis, Music Sketches, 173. 10

Conclusion : 299

the Meistersinger overture in the Eighth offers a fascinating counterpart to the Finale of the Seventh, creating a bridge between these two symphonies in spite of their fundamental differences. We may be in two contrasting worlds, but Beckmesser’s lute (evoked in Mahler’s mandolin) is still present in the Eighth. Here, the Meistersinger allusion is placed, as it were, in quotation marks, symbolized by a quick change of meter () and a new key (F♭ major). The reference sounds more intrusive in the Eighth than it does the Seventh, where the Wagnerian material is integrated into the musical fabric and presented in its “original” key (C major). As discussed in Chapter 1, Theodor Adorno drew a clear connection between these two Meistersinger references, qualifying the Finale of the Seventh and the Eighth as an “identification with the attacker.”11 I  have suggested interpreting this “attacker” as a reference to Wagner, implying that, in Adorno’s view, Mahler identified with the self-​ appointed messiah of German culture in the Seventh and Eighth symphonies. As early as 1913, Richard Specht made a remark about the Seventh’s Finale that raises similar questions. Evoking the movement’s “turbulent merriment and glad, sunlit, light-​hearted joy,” Specht heard “not so much Nuremberg folk as good Austrian Meistersinger who suddenly let fly for all they’re worth at the book of rules.”12 By appropriating Meistersinger, says Specht, Mahler transformed a German idiom into an Austrian one. Carl Niekerk also explored the idea of Mahler interpreting German culture through a different lens, but not Austrian this time: Mahler’s intention [in the Seventh] is to provide a rereading of the German cultural tradition that represents a new way of looking at German Romanticism, but also looks further back. . . . Here Mahler is interested in unearthing forgotten cultural and intellectual history, and Dutch culture seems to have played the role of catalyst. Mahler, I believe, was intrigued by Dutch culture as a symbol of what was marginalized and discarded within German cultural history.13

According to Niekerk, Mahler’s interest in Dutch culture would be reflected in his connections with Holland (where the Seventh was performed in 1909), and in Mahler’s possible allusion to Rembrandt’s Night Watch in the  Theodor Adorno, Mahler:  A Musical Physiognomy, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago:  University of Chicago Press, 1992), 139. See Chapter  1, “Too Much Wagner” in “The ‘Problems’ of the Seventh.” 12   Richard Specht, Gustav Mahler (Berlin: Schuster & Loeffler, 1913), 303. This is La Grange’s translation (HLG3, 880). 13   Carl Niekerk, Reading Mahler: German Culture and Jewish Identity in Fin-​de-​Siècle Vienna (New York: Camden House, 2010), 147–​48. 11

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first Nachtmusik. But how is the Finale to be interpreted then, with its excessively loud gesture toward Wagner, moving away from the intimacy of Dutch painting? It may be, Niekerk proposes, that Mahler is here “articulating his frustration with contemporary audiences, who loved the operas of Wagner and Lehár but despised Mahler’s own far more demanding symphonies.”14 The Finale would represent a return to the frustrations of daily life, including managing an opera house; a return to the center of German culture after a trip to the margins. Since Beckmesser was meant to be understood as a Jewish caricature—​and Niekerk leaves no room for doubt on this question—​the Meistersinger reference in the Seventh’s Finale “is to be read as a reference to Mahler’s Jewishness; here the Jewish composer takes up Wagner’s challenge to find a new road to German culture.”15 Seeing Mahler mainly through the lens of his Jewishness is highly problematic, for several reasons. To begin with, we do not know to what extent Mahler identified as a Jew, and what it meant for him to be Jewish. Mahler’s lifelong endeavors to perform Wagner’s operas, as well as his search for expressive means to enact the Wagnerian drama, culminating with his collaboration with Alfred Roller in Vienna, also challenge the simplistic opposition between “Mahler the Jew” and “Wagner the anti-​Semite.”16 It remains that Mahler’s references to Meistersinger in the Seventh are not expressed in the form of a respectful homage. How does Wagner fit in the broader picture of the work? As we have seen in Chapter 4, the Meistersinger march is constantly interrupted by foreign elements in the Finale: alla turca music with cymbals, percussion and triangle, a soft and slow French cancan (recalling Camille Saint-​Saëns’s poetic tortoises rather than the dancers of the Moulin Rouge), a Viennese minuet or circus music. Placing Wagner’s respectable Mastersingers next to the clowns is not an uncritical move, and we could interpret the strong intertextual aspect of the Seventh as a whole in the context of Wagner’s discourse on originality in art, musically and dramatically illustrated in Meistersinger, and explicitly addressed in Das Judentum in der Musik. In appropriating pre-​existing “texts” in the Seventh, including from

 Niekerk, Reading Mahler, 151.  Niekerk, Reading Mahler, 151. See also Chapter 9, “Mahler and Beckmesser.” 16   As Laurence Dreyfus has noted, there is a common tendency in Wagner (and Mahler) scholarship to “read Jews only as a Jew—​not, for example, as an artist and musician—​and in their eyes a Jew can have only one relation to Wagner, that is, to repudiate him categorically” (129). Dreyfus, “Hermann Levi’s Shame and Parsifal’s Guilt:  A Critique of Essentialism in Biography and Criticism,” Cambridge Opera Journal 6, no. 2 (1994): 125–​45. On Wagner and anti-​Semitism, see Chapter 9, note 67. 14 15

Conclusion : 301

his own Sixth Symphony, and providing them with a new meaning, Mahler challenges Wagner’s anti-​Semitic vision of “authentic” art. This interpretation raises fundamental questions about Mahler’s relationship to German culture. But making the Seventh a symphony essentially about Wagner, or about Mahler’s critique of Wagner, would not do justice to the multiplicity of layers coexisting in this work. Musical allusions in the nineteenth century, as Christopher Reynolds reminds us, was “fundamentally a form of play”; and this dimension is well reflected in the Seventh.17 There, Mahler plays with pre-​existing material, reinventing its function and meaning in a similar way that a clown diverts found objects from their traditional use (making a trumpet out of a watering can, for example). This poetic re-​imagination of familiar material is the hallmark of a certain type of comical spirit that lies, I argue, at the heart of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony.

From Tragedy to Comedy The preceding chapters examined the movements of the Seventh separately, and in the wrong order: the Finale, the Nachtmusiken, the Scherzo, and the first movement. Reverting this inversion, what kind of picture does emerge? What sort of movement does the Seventh follow, and how can it be qualified? As shown in Fig. 10.1, each movement integrates a different version of a collapsing pattern, which can be defined as “gesture to collapse.” This category has been already discussed in the context of the second, third, fourth, and fifth movements of the Seventh, but not yet in the first movement. The Seventh begins in B minor, on a minor triad with added sixth (first inversion of the Tristan chord). The key, harmony, and tenor horn melody, described by Mahler as “nature’s roar,” can be associated with the character of Klingsor in Parsifal, reflecting precisely the violent side of nature (sexual or “natural” instincts). At the center of the movement, the minor triad with a sixth becomes major (m. 258) and the “dream chords” sequence resonates with several suspended moments in Wagner: the christening of Walther’s song in Meistersinger, the Siegfried Idyll, and the Grail theme in Parsifal.18 The pastoral   Christopher Reynolds, Motives for Allusion: Context and Content in Nineteenth Century Music (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), 21. The author notes the Latin root “alludere” (to play) and the German word “Anspiel,” derived from “spiel” (“play”). 18   Julian Johnson does not believe that Wagnerian echoes in Mahler are particularly meaningful: “Echoes of Wagner are common enough in music by composers of Mahler’s generation, and plenty of commentators have pointed out superficial similarities.” Mahler’s Voices: Expression and Irony in the Songs and Symphonies (Oxford and 17

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is quickly interrupted by a solo violin (is fiddling Death passing by?), causing the major triad with a major sixth to return to where it started, in the minor mode. But this brief fall from major to minor does not prevent the arrival of the Durchbruch in B major, the key marking the baptism of Parsifal and the first section of the Good Friday Spell in Wagner’s opera. As discussed in Chapter 8, the Durchbruch’s resolution is diverted, interrupted by the return of the introduction in B minor. The mode is not clearly established though, quickly shifting back to major, and falling to minor again like the “major-​ minor” motto of the Sixth (m. 354). This B major-​minor motto encapsulates the fall of the Durchbruch toward the introduction, in a movement “transcendence to collapse.” The Durchbruch collapsed locally, but nonetheless had an impact on the outcome of the movement, ending in E major. The gesture of the first movement is overall ascending, even if the shadow of tragedy is lurking here and there, reinforced by motivic allusions to the Finale of the Sixth. In fact, the Durchbruch itself contains a sense of tragedy, which suggests another, crucial common feature with Parsifal. The motivic kinship between the Magic motive and the Communion Theme in Parsifal reveals intimate connections between the world of the Grail and Klingsor’s magic realm; Klingsor having himself attempted to become a Knight of the Grail. Similarly, in Mahler’s Seventh, the B major Durchbruch encompasses the world it seeks to transcend, as it consists of themes stemming from the B minor introduction. The major-​minor motto of the Sixth keeps reappearing in the first Nachtmusik, collapsing three times from the introductory sounds of nature. Collapses in the first and second movements thus remain in a tragic vein, foreshadowing the catastrophe of the Scherzo. At the end of the first Nachtmusik, sounds of nature are assimilated with the course of the world (Weltlauf), suggesting a connection between the natural and the mechanical worlds. Dance, in the Scherzo, ends in collapse, three times as well, leaving the dramatic realm to reach the sinister: life dissolves into dust, and death is silent. The second Nachtmusik speaks another language, proposing a gracious version of the “introduction to collapse” pattern. In the Intro-​Cadence, the fall is no longer tragic or sinister; it is charming. Meditative moments bring us back to Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll (“dream chords”), alternating with comical interruptions evoking Beckmesser’s serenade in Meistersinger. This polished surface is at times shaken by brief but repetitive incursions of the

New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 118 and 154. The significance of musical reminiscences in Mahler, writes the author, “lies in the broader stylistic reference they imply rather than in any individual work to which they may allude. What matters is precisely the sense of plural voices, extraneous currents from outside the confines of the work, rather than specific references.”

Parsifal (Grail)

Meistersinger Siegfried Idyll

Intro

Collapse

M-m motto (cf. VI)

Collapse

Dance

Weltlauf

3

Parsifal (Baptism, Good Friday)

Sounds of nature

2

M+6, Dream chords /int. solo vln. m+6 BM Durchbruch /Intro Bm-BM BM-m motto (cf. VI) Transcendence

Collapse

Fig. 10.1  From tragedy to comedy

Bm, m+6 cf. Klingsor Magic motive nature/sex allusion to Vl/4

1

Gesture

Tragedy

Death

Collapse

Gesture

solo vln.

Intro

Dream chords Collapse

Intro-Cadence (TR)

4

Dance

Theater, circus

Beginning-endings

lntro-Cadence

5

Collapse

Death playing the fiddle

Comedy

Collapse

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Tristan chord, suggesting that human and animal instincts are still at work. Introductions too quickly lead to cadences in the Finale, which mainly alludes to operatic overtures and endings. This theatrical version of the “introduction to collapse” pattern is too loud to be truly dramatic and rather evokes a band of clowns falling on top of each other. In each movement of the Seventh, a dynamic gesture is initiated, full of promises, but inevitably falls down; and the fall is either tragic, catastrophic, deathly, graceful (as a fall enacted by a dancer), or comical. The Seventh thus globally moves from tragedy toward comedy, and I return to this at the end.

Beginnings and Ends The question of beginnings and ends forms a thread in this book. This focus is at play on several levels: in the musical fabric of Mahler’s Seventh (introductory and concluding gestures), in Beckmesser’s discourse on meaningful art, in Mahler’s and Wagner’s retrospective compositional narratives (“This is how everything began”), and in our own search for the origins of the work. Understanding how a work was conceived reveals something about its identity. There seems to be an equation between “beginning,” “origin,” and “meaning,” as if the beginning were an opening that would reveal some deep truth about the work or world (“In the beginning, there was light”). Rhetorical gestures pervade the Seventh and take different forms in each movement; but they are particularly insistent in the Finale. Johnson perceives them as “received linguistic formulas” meant to expose the artificiality of language.19 In Chapter  9, I  proposed to interpret these gestures in the context of Beckmesser’s view of art in Meistersinger: a meaningful song must have a clear beginning and end. But even more than philosophical or aesthetic, the function of these announcements and loud endings is theatrical. As I suggested in the preceding chapters, the theatricality of the Seventh has more in common with operetta and circus than with opera, and several of its features, particularly in the Finale, resonate with key characteristics of the circus: the alternation of marches (military or funeral) and dances, the omnipresence of brass and percussion, and a tendency toward orientalism, to begin with.20 The juxtaposition of different national tropes sounding in the Seventh’s Finale (music associated with German culture, alla turca symbols,  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 120.   See Chapter 2, “Theater and Circus” in “Main Interpretive Leads”; and the end of Chapter 4. On orientalism at the circus, see Kim Baston, “Circus Music: The Eye of the Ear,” Popular Entertainment Studies 1, no. 2 (2010): 16. 19

20

Conclusion : 305

French cancan) is a crucial aspect of the circus: Barnum and Bailey, for example, advertised that “every Country and Nationality is represented by their best artists and attractions.”21 The relationship between mankind and nature is addressed through several perspectives in Mahler’s Seventh, but concentrates on the interaction between humans and animals (“nature’s roar” and cowbells), central in the circus. As suggested in Chapter 4, the Rondo-​Finale has a circular quality evoking a Viennese dance, a carousel, or a circus stage. Humans and animals turn around, dancing or chasing each other until dizziness occurs—​even Julius Fučík’s “Entrance of the Gladiators,” originally a military march which eventually turned gladiators into clowns, descends the chromatic scale in endless circles. The collective ending at play in operatic finales and at the circus can be understood as a metaphor for life: regardless of what happens in the show, lions, acrobats, clowns, and elephants have to live together. While the circus band prepares the audience for a spectacular moment, the ringmaster directs a rapid succession of numbers by snapping his whip, in a way that can recall conductors facing their orchestras. A caricature published in 1907 (Fig. 10.2) presents a “modern orchestra” conducted by the Ringmaster Gustav Mahler, and shows some circus-​like features (including an elephant singing by dubious means). Julius Korngold described Mahler’s Seventh as “too affable and too popular,” with “notes wearing their street or working clothes.” This “popular” element can be associated with the Prater in Vienna, home of fairs, circuses, carousels, and popular entertainment par excellence.22 Sonic symbols of the Prater resonate in the Seventh as a whole, drawing associations with the excessive, violent, and dark aspects of the Viennese amusement park. In Goethe’s Faust, Mephistopheles compares the Walpurgis night with the Prater: Always this desire for madness (“Wahn”)! Come closer to this little mountain: It is as amusing as the Vienna Prater And if I am not deceived, I am looking at a genuine theater. What is it showing?23

  See Chapter 2, “Theater and Circus” (Neue Freie Presse, November 25, 1900).   Julius Korngold, “Feuilleton:  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony,” Neue Freie Presse, November 6, 1909, in Painter and Varwig, “Mahler’s German-​Language Critics,” 330. Quoted in Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 129. 23   Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust, Part I, Scene 21, “Walpurgis Night,” 4210. “Nur immer diese Lust zum Wahn! /​Komm doch das Hügelchen heran,/​Hier ist’s 21

22

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Fig.  10.2 Theodor Zasche, “Das moderne Orchester,” in Illustrirtes Wiener Extrablatt (March 31, 1907). Fonds de La Grange, collection Mahler, Fondation de France. Deposited at the Médiathèque Musicale Mahler, Paris “Wahn,” the force at work during St. John’s Night in Meistersinger, is enacted at the circus. Taking its root from the antique world, the circus stages primeval fears and a human need for excess and savagery. It exposes the perennial “desire for madness” but, at the same time, as in lion taming, circus arts offer ways to control bestiality. The coexistence of humor and seriousness, laughter and fear—​as the Neue Freie Presse advertised, Barnum and Bailey offered a show that was “amusing, serious, exciting, and daring” at the same time—​is present in Mahler’s works in general, but takes a particular form in the Seventh. As we have seen, this double aspect is contained in humor and comedy, which conceals seriousness underneath.24 Clowns fall down to make the audience laugh, but the idea of the fall provokes fear in the trapeze number. The circus reminds us of the double identity of the fall, comical and tragic; and collapses reach both outcomes in the Seventh.

so lustig wie im Prater /​Und hat man mir’s nicht angetan, /​So seh ich wahrlich ein Theater./​Was gibt’s denn da?” See Chapter 7, “Walpurgis Night.”   See Chapter 2, “Mahler’s Humor.” Adler commented on this aspect in Mahler, who “makes use of humor as the basis of profound seriousness.” Edward Reilly, Gustav Mahler and Guido Adler: Records of a Friendship (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 39; quoted in Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 133. 24

Conclusion : 307

Beckmesser is Meistersinger’s clownish character, displaying both tragic and comical features. While his serenade is musically humorous, the fact that he cannot sing it in Act II because of Sachs’s constant interruptions makes it a failed serenade, with all the sadness conveyed by this idea. The pantomime in Act III, however, displays a form of humor based on music and gesture characteristic of the circus and of later slapstick movies.25 (To a certain extent, the symphonic genre also relies on music and gesture more than on words, and the conductor’s performance can be seen as a form of pantomime.) Besides alluding to Meistersinger on the surface, Mahler’s Seventh shares with it a deeply theatrical quality. In these two works, maybe more than elsewhere, Mahler’s and Wagner’s common taste for the theater prevails—​theater in the most spectacular, excessive, and playful sense. Mahler’s music “speaks to us as if what it said were true,” writes Johnson, but “at the same time, acknowledges its own artifice and its own sense of performance” by drawing attention to its framing devices.26 Mahlerian affirmative Finales in particular, which Adorno found too theatrical, can be interpreted as emphasizing the “as if ” category present in any form of art: rather than truly affirmative, these finales “perform” affirmation.27 What stands out in the Finale of the Seventh, however, is a more immediate expression of the excitement provoked by a theatrical show. More than revealing the artificiality of its artistic statement, the Seventh emphasizes the authenticity of theater and illusion. William Ritter described Mahler as a “Shakespearean clown,” putting his finger on a central aspect of Mahler’s music: humor and wit are used to unveil deep truths, which is precisely the privilege of the Fool in Shakespeare’s plays. ✽ ✽ ✽

It is time to return to the question posed in Chapter 2: to what extent does the ending of the Seventh provide meaning to the symphony as a whole? As we have seen, it seems that, particularly in the post-​Adornian reception of the Seventh, the failure of the Finale rebounded on the work as a whole; as   I think particularly of Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, and later of Jacques Tati’s and Pierre Etaix’s films. My new research project will investigate the function of sound and music in European clowning traditions, concentrating on key figures who performed at the circus, at the theater and in films. See Kim Baston, “Circus Music,” 7, on the focus on physical action in the circus. 26  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 265. The chapter is entitled “Performing Authenticity.” As an example of framing device, Johnson cites the solo violin of the second Nachtmusik, equivalent of “the traveling performer walking onto the makeshift stage with a placard announcing ‘Fourth Movement: Serenade!’ ” 27  Johnson, Mahler’s Voices, 282–​86. 25

308  :  Mahler’s Seventh Symphony

if a work, or a process, were mainly determined by its outcome. In a similar way, the Durchbruch moment in the first movement has been evaluated as a failure because its resolution was interrupted by the return of the introduction in B minor. Likewise, the augmented triad at the end of the Finale could suggest an ironic reading of the movement, as if this dissonance were a signal indicating that what precedes is not to be taken seriously. The question is, then: does the final circus of the Seventh invalidate the transcendental moment of the first movement? For Carl Niekerk it clearly does: “The final movement makes us forget about the core of the symphony, about the learning experience of these earlier movements.”28 I argue that it does not. The Rondo-​Finale of the Seventh does not weaken the sincerity of previous lyrical moments; the comical aspect of the Seventh does not cancel the tragic effect of the Sixth (and the Rondo-​Finale of the Fifth Symphony does not question the depth of the Adagietto). Briefly put, humor does not necessarily challenge the seriousness of what precedes. If tragedy wins in the Sixth Symphony, the Seventh shows that the pattern “dance leading to collapse” does not always end with death. It does so in the Scherzo, but its tragic collapse is replaced by clownish falls in the Finale. The hammer blows of the Sixth become figurative theatrical strokes in the Seventh—​trois coups frappés and the show can begin. Death may be around the corner, but the illusion of theater and the overjoy of the circus can prevail. Death may laugh at us, but we can laugh back, louder, and just keep dancing. Death may play the violin to make us dance to its tune, but we can counter-​ attack with the image of Beckmesser playing the lute. Humor, as enacted in Mahler’s Seventh, is taken as a form of sublimation, as a particular form of Durchbruch that can help us transcend the course of the world.

 Niekerk, Reading Mahler, 152.

28

A p pen d i x   A

Manuscripts and Editions of the Seventh Symphony

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

Vienna Sketchbook

[1903–​1905]

[1905]

[1904–​1905]

[Bauskizzen]

Sum. 1904

Ms. 7661 App. MS4

App. MS3

BSM

BSM

Mus. Ms. 7661

Mus. Ms. 22741

M.214.U58b

PML

“Coda der Themen” App. MS10

Moldenhauer sketches

MAH-​ms2 007, 010, 012

VK 905 BaM

Ref.

MMM

ÖTM

Location

Paris sketchbook leaves App. MS2

App. MS1

Mss.

Chronology

Sk3

Sk5

Sk2 = 007?

Sk1

Ref. NKG

VI/​1 (draft) VII/​5 (used)

VI/​1 VII/​5,  2 maybe  VII/​4 IX/​1 unidentified

Possibly related to VII/​1

VII/​5 unidentified (“Adagio VII”)

VII/​1, 5 (used) VII/​2, 4, maybe 3 VI/​1,  4 IX/​4  (used) unidentified

Architect sketches

Musical contents

Printed list of typographical errors and alterations, corr. Mahler App. MS9

1909 (after Oct.)

ÖNB (deposit IGMG)

L17.IGMG.17

Korr

EA-​P

[St-​UA]

[Handwritten orch. parts of the Premiere, 1908, rev., used until the fall 1909 in Holland]

First edition, Bote & Bock

[KorrF2]

[proofs for 2nd corrections]

1909

[KorrF1]

StV

[proofs for 1st corrections]

ÖNB

Mus.Hs. 29134

Copyist’s score (Stichvorlage) App. MS8

Aut

1906

Netherlands Music Institute, The Hague

Fair copy App. MS7

Winter 1905–​1906

JOB 85-​5

PE1 [PE2-​5]

LPA

Sk4

Partitur for 1 [2–​5 missing] App. MS6

JOB 85-​6

Aug. 15, 1905

LPA [PC1-​5]

Prelim. draft Scherzo App. MS5

[Particell for 1–​5]

Sum. 1905

“Septima finita”

Preliminary draft for VII/​3

1st ed., orch. material

Arr. 4 hands Bote & Bock (Casella)

Critical edition Bote & Bock (E. Ratz)

New critical edition, Boosey & Hawkes (R. Kubik)

1909

1910

1960

2012

Netherlands Music Institute, The Hague, Mengelberg Stichting

NKG

KGA

KlA

EA-​OM

MengDP

BSM: Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Munich IGMG: Internationale Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft, Vienna LPA: New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, New York MMM: Médiathèque Musicale Mahler, Paris ÖNB: Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna ÖTM: Österreichisches Theatermuseum, Vienna PML: Morgan Library & Museum, New York

Missing sources are indicated in [] (See NKG, 313). • Sept. 19, 1908: 1st performance in Prague, Mahler conducting • Other important performances: Munich (Oct. 27, 1908, Mahler); The Hague (Oct. 2, 1909, Mahler), Vienna (Nov. 3, 1909, Loewe).

Mengelberg’s conducting score, corr. Mahler (along with a list of corrections)

[GM-​DP]

[Mahler’s conducting score]

Oct. 1909

EA-​TP

Ref. NKG

First edition, pocket score

Ref.

1909

Location

Mss.

Chronology

Musical contents

A p pen d i x   B

Mahler Discography

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

2 Fried 1924 Berlin Staatsoper

–​

2 Konoye 1930 Tokyo

—

—​

—​

—​

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

—​

X

Sources: Peter Fülöp, Mahler Discography (New York: Kaplan Foundation, 2010) http://​gustavmahler.net.free.fr/​index.html

—​

1 Walter 1938 Wiener Phil. —​

2

—​

—​

—​

2 Walter 1947 NY Phil.

3

1 Boult 1947 BBC

3

5

1940–​1949

IX

Das Lied 2 Walter 1936 Wiener Phil.

1 Walter 1939 NBC

I

1924–​1939

5 Scherchen 1952 Wiener Phil. (Adagio)

4

15

5 Stokowski 1950 NY Phil.

5 Scherchen 1950 Wiener Symphoniker

5 Adler 1952 Wiener Symphoniker

7

23

6

12

17

1950–​1959

9

25

15

3

10

19

12

16

17

17

28

15

18

17

11

10

14

21

18

11

14

31

30

17

13

8

18

24

29

26

15

37

42

23

33

25

18

25

29

63

38

36

37

49

32

54

28

23

30

56

63

68

42

70

80

1960–​1969 1970–​1979 1980–​1989 1990–​1999 2000–​2014

114

152

115

68

98

147

197

194

128

192

253

TOTAL

A p pen d i x F

Formal Tables F1: Formal Table for the First Movement Location

1–​49:

Key

1 13 17 19 27 32 45 (6)

Bm (m+6)

50 79 91 99 105

Em BM

50–​144:

110 118–​33 134

A♭m Bm

Em

CM

Structure Int. A A′ B Int. A″ Coda

Intro

IA (tenor horn) (cf VI/​4) Concluding formula IB (quick march) IC (military var. of  IA) /​IC + accomp. IA Vertical 4ths

A [Exp.]

A (horse ride) TA (“sketch” waltz) hint at B A var. Chain 4ths (desc.) (A + TA) hint at B B (lyrical) /​IC + IB

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

316  :  Formal Tables

Location

Key

(18+3)

145–​255: 145 163 173 192 196 212

Em Bm

228 231 245 (32)

E♭M (M+6) A♭/​Fm/​D♭/​Cm Gm/​M

E♭m (m+6) BM

338–​72: 338 343 350 354 358 362 372

A′ [Re-​exp.]

Imitat. on A inv A TA, end IA Concluding formula B (+ head TA) /​IC var., B [Swarowsky: “real Dev.”] ia inv. B, TA, IB TA, B

B Center

256–​337: 256 258 263 266 284 287 298 304 308 313 (39) 317 324 330 335 (42+3)

Structure Int. A A′ B Int. A″ Coda

/​Fanfare 1 (Tpt.) Pastoral 1 (IB′) “Dream chords” /​A var. + B (solo vln.) IB var. [“Stones plop in water”] Fanfare 2 Pastoral 2 (IB′) a inv. (4ths) choral cad. (“sehr feierlich”) Durchbruch (B) IB, a inv. Climax 1 Climax 2 /​

/​Intro  2 /​Bm (no G♯), BM BM/​m

“Tempo der Einleitung” IA (cf. VI/​4) IC (ten. horn) B (ten. horn) M–​m motto (cf. VI) IA B + IB Climax

Formal Tables : 317

Location

Key

(46+4)

373–​494: 373 394 426 443 450 456 465 487 (62-​4)

Em EM BM

495

Em

495–​547: 507 509 512 523 531

GM EM

Em/​M

Structure Int. A A′ B Int. A″ Coda

A″ [Recap.]

A (augm.) “Grandioso” TA B A Chain 4ths (desc.) B (and a) IB

Coda

IC (military) TA Cf. VII/​4 Motive B B IC “Breit” Stretto on A Chain 4ths (asc.)

F2: Formal Table for the First Nachtmusik Location

Key

1–​29:

CM/​m

Structure ABACABA Intro Horn call (i1), answer (i2) M/​m collapse 1 (cf. VI)

CM/​m

A

28–​29 (72)

30–​82: 30–​37 38–​47 48–​54 55–​61 62–​69 70–​82

A1 March A2 T1 (transition) T1 + T2 A1 [cowbells cut] A2

318  :  Formal Tables

Location

Key

(79-​3)

83–​121:

/​A♭M

122–​40:

/​CM/​m

Intro (horn calls) Tam-​tam, cowbells Transition (T1)

141–​60:

CM/​m

A

161–​78:

Fm

83–​95 96–​105 106–​21 (83+5)

126 137–​40 (85+4)

141–​48 149–​60 (88+5)

169–​78 (91) 179–88: 187–​88 (92) 189–​211 (95+1) 212–​22

231–​37 238–​44 245–​61 (101)

262–​92: 262–​74 275–​93 280

B (Trio I)

B1 dancing in  + new cpt. B2 (circus) [cowbells cut]

A1 A2

C (Trio II)

Pastoral. “Revelge” rhythm Cm

Intro M/​m collapse 2

Cm

Pastoral theme C + “Revelge,” habanera

Em

Transition (cf. cell a VII/​1 inv.)

CM/​m

A

(96+2)

223–​61:

Structure ABACABA

A1 Transition A2 [cowbells cut] T1 + T2 /​A♭M

B (Trio I)

B1 B2 (circus) Cowbells (orch.)

Formal Tables : 319

Location

Key

Structure ABACABA

/​Cm

A

(105-​2)

293–​317: 293–​94 306–​11 312–​17 (108) 318–​43: 337–​41

Horn call Var. on A2 T1 + T2 CM/​m

Intro M/​m collapse 3

F3: Formal Table for the Scherzo Location

Key

1–​71: 1–​12 13–​37 38–​53 54–​71 (120)

Dm

72–​85 86–​107 108–​15 116–​59 154 (131) 160–​78

Dm

72–​159:

DM/​m

DM/​m

179–​209 210–​46 247–​60

Scherzo A1

Intro A Weltlauf B Klagend (+A) C waltz

A2

Intro var. A var. B Klagend (+ A) C waltz dev. Collapse 1 kreischend

Dm

Transition Intro + A distorted

DM/​m

Trio (B)

(134)

179–​260:

Structure A A B A A

DM

D1 pastoral E waltz (cf. TA VII/​1) D2

320  :  Formal Tables

Location

Key

Structure A A B A A

(144)

261–​92: 261–​76 277–​92 (148)

Dm E♭m

293–​312 313–​44 345–​60 361–​400 398–​400

Dm

293–​400:

DM/​m B♭m

(161+3)

401–​504: 401–​404 405–​16

Dm E♭M

417–​44 445–​63 464–​73 474–​504

DM/​m

“False statement” Scherzo Intro + A var. B

Scherzo A3

Intro var. A var. B C dev. Collapse 2 kreischend Pizz. fffff

A4

Intro A var. Scherzo + Trio: C + D2 E var. D2 Coda = Collapse 3

Formal Tables : 321

F4: Formal Table for the Second Nachtmusik Location

1-​8:

1–​3 4–​8 (175)

Key

Structure A B A′

FM

Intro-​Cadence (vln. solo) accomp. A1

8-​98:

A

99-​258:

B (dev.)

8–​17 17–​22 23–​26 28–​35 35–​37 38–​51 51–​54 56–​71 72–​75 76–​98 (187)

99–​113 114–​25 126–​49 138 150–​57 158–​65 166–​86

187–​210 211–​27 228–​35 244–​51 253

A1 serenade theme A1 var. Intro-​Cadence /​ (F: ob.) A2 serenade theme Intro-​Cadence /​ (no F) A1. dev. Intro-​Cadence Motive B (arpeggio) A1 inv. B + A1 inv.

A♭M Fm A♭M G♭M B♭M E♭m FM

a1 inv., rep. notes A1 inv. C rep. notes a1 inv. B A1 var. + B B + C A1 inv., rep. notes Trio D1 D2 D1 d1 becomes B “Dream chords”

322  :  Formal Tables

Location

Key

Structure A B A′

(207) 259–​64

FM

Intro-​Cadence

264-​390: 264–​78 276 277–​82 282–​91 292–​94 295–​306 311–​31 332–​40 341–​53 354–​90

FM

A′

A1 B inv. Intro-​Cadence A2 Intro-​Cadence A1 inv. B—​Climax A1 A1 inv. Coda

C, FM

DM

106–​15

/​CM

/​A♭M

CM

Key Em

(233) 79–​87 87–​99 100–​105

79–​115:

53–​78

38–​52

23–​37

7–​15 15–​23

7–​78:

Location 1–​6 (223)

A2 (PAC) /​TA C “Grazioso” Minuet-​like  (+TA) TA

Section 2

B (circus)

Ritornello theme: A1(PAC) A2 (PAC) (“Maestoso”) TA (ta1, ta2, ta3) March-​like Conclusion (PAC) “Coda-​like” gesture

Section 1

Stoll Knecht Intro (i1, i2, i3)

F5: Formal Tables for the Rondo-​Finale

Hauptthema b Nachsatzvariante C: Episodenthema 2 (Menuett-​Thema) Nachsatzmotive

A2: 2. Rit. (79–​99)

B: Episodenthema 1

Schlußgruppe

Nachsatz (c1, c2, c3)

Hauptthema a Hauptthema b

Sponheuer (1978) Introduction A1: 1. Ritornell (7–​52)

Variationsthema B

A (a2, a3) Variationsthema B Gegenstimme X

Couplet (53–​78) Theme C Variation (79–​119)

Variationsthema B (b1, b2, b3, b4) Abschulß

Refrain (1–​52) Intro. (e1, e2, e3) Refrainthema A: a1 a2 + a3 (wood.)

Part 1 (1–​119)

Swarowsky (1979) [part of Rit.]

2nd secondary theme

2nd Rit.

1st secondary theme

1st Rit. (1–​52)

Floros (1993/​1977) [part of Rit.]

189–​96 197–​209 210–​19 220–​38 239–​40 241–​45 246–​48

189–​248:

186–​88 (246+3)

(238) 120–​27 128–​35 136–​42 143–​53 154–​86

120–​85:

Location 116–​19 (237+4)

/​D♭, F CM Am, CM AM /​C♯ D♭M C♯/​F/​ C♯/​A

Am

Am CM, AM

CM /​Am CM

Key E, A, G, C

A2 (PAC) /​TA B C /​Insert “flott”/​ B + C+TA /​Insert “flott”/​

Section 4

In-​between 2

A1 (DC) /​A2 inverted (PAC) TA “Coda-​like” gesture B

Section 3

Stoll Knecht In-​between  1 (“Pesante”)

Part 2 (120–​267)

Swarowsky (1979) —​

Refrain (120–​52) Hauptthema a A (a1) [b lacking] a2 Nachsatz (c1, c2, c3) B Schlußgruppe Abschulß B1: Episodenthema 1 Couplet (153–​88) (155–​88) C Unisono-​Thema aus —​ den Nachsatzmotiven (cf. Kadenzfigur) A4: 4. Rit. (189–​209) Variation (189–​267) Hauptthema b A (a2, a3) Nachsatz B 2 B : Episodenthema 1 C1: Episodenthema 2 X /​interruption Einschub (addition) B + C 1 (241–​68)

A3: 3. Rit. (120–​54)

Sponheuer (1978) Kadenzfigur

1st sec. theme 2nd secondary theme

4th Rit.

Pesante: suggestion of unison theme

1st secondary theme

3rd Rit.

Floros (1993/​1977) Pesante

434–​38 439–​42

(268) 360–​67 368–​402 400–​402 402–​33 422

360–​442:

(259+3) 291–​306 307–​59

291–​359:

(256+5) 268–​82 283–​90

268–​90:

Location 249–​68 (254) 267–​68

/​B♭, FM /​B♭M G♭M B♭ (PAC) CM

/​AM . . . V /​G♭M

CV

/​CM

D♭M

Key AM,

A5: 5. Rit. (269–​306) (developmental) Hauptthema a Nachsatzmotive Unisono-​thema Menuett-​Thema

Sponheuer (1978) Unisono-​Thema

(Tempo I subito) /​A1  (PAC) /​Entführung Collapse 2 C+TA “Graziosissimo, almost Minuet” Cancan ta3

Section 7

A (a1) B X

B

C2: Episodenthema 2 Unisono-​Thema Nachsatzmotive

B Couplet (307–​59) C Variation (360–​445)

Refrain (268–​306) A

Part 3 (268–​445)

Swarowsky (1979) B

Hauptthema a Unisono-​Thema

A6: 6. Rit. (360–​402)

(Tempo I) Climax of  Rit. 5 /​A1+i1, i2+TA B (circus, new motives) B3: Episodenthema 1

Section 6

(Tempo I subito) A1+C+Entführ. TA Merged insert C+TA

Section 5

Stoll Knecht In-​between becomes Entführung motive Collapse 1

Unison theme

2nd sec. theme

Unison theme

6th Rit.

1st sec. theme

5th Rit.

Development-​like passage

Floros (1993/​1977) Unison theme

-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​ 506–​16 517–​35 536–​38

500–​505

492–​99 -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​

486–​91

(279-​3) 446–​54 455–​85

446–​538:

Location 443–​45 (278+2)

Section 8

Stoll Knecht In-​between 3

/​D♭M CM D♭M

/​B♭m

/​Theme A VII/​1 -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​ /​“Breiter” In-​between  4 -​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​-​ /​A VII/​1 + C C+TA Collapse 3

DM (ped V) A1 (incomplete) Dm/​C♯m/​Cm /​Theme A VII/​1 + TA + new motive /​BM /​Cancan “flott”

Key /​F♯, B, A, D

B + C2

/​Kadenzfigur

A7: 7. Rit. (446–​516) Coda (454) Hauptthema a Kopfsatzhauptthema+ Variant Menuetthema /​tanzhaft menuetth. Interrupts Zitatserie

Sponheuer (1978) Kadenzfigur

X

B

Variation (446–​538) A (a1) X

Part 4 (446–​590)

Swarowsky (1979) —​

theme 1st mvt 2nd sec. theme

Breiter

theme 1st mvt

Unison theme

theme 1st mvt

Floros (1993/​1977) Zurückhaltend (molto pesante) 7th Rit. (446–​454)

585–​90

566–​72 573 581

558

(290+2) 539–​45 546–​53 554–​57

539–​57:

Location

EM CM

CM

CM/​Am

Key

A1. Bells, cowbells Conclusion (PAC) A1 Theme A VII/​1 in major Coda-​like gesture

Coda

A1 + i1, i2 (DC) /​A2  (PAC) TA

Section 9

Stoll Knecht

Kopfsatzhauptthema

Schlußgruppe

Hauptthema a Hauptthema b Nachsatz (c1, c2, c3)

Sponheuer (1978) A8: 8. Rit. (539–​90)

A (a1)

A (a1) a2, a3 B

Swarowsky (1979) Refrain: 539–​90

Floros (1993/​1977) 8th Rit.

A p pen d i x M

Motivic Tables M1

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

M2

M3

M4

M5

A p pen d i x CS k

Correspondences between the Sketches

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

e

c

VIII/1

XI/4

a'

12v–13r

10v–12r

8r 8v–10r

7v

7r

6v

6r

5v

5r

4v

4r

3v

3r

2v

Back

28v–27v

29r

30–29v

Front

c

Stacked 5ths VII/5? Beckmesser

VI/1

VII/2

VII/2

VII/2

VII/1

VII/1

Vienna sketchbook

b' cf. VII/5 a

Scherzo-like

g'

g cf. VI/1, VI/4 VII/1, VII/4

f cf. VI/1

b-a cf. VI/4, VII/1 d

VII/5 (TA)

VII/2 VII/4? (g)

VII/2?

5r 5v

VII/5 (C)

VII/5 (480–82)

VII/5 (A1, coda-like) VII/4? (g)

XI/1

VII/5 (A1, A2, TA)

VI/1 (B)

4r

3v

3r

2v

2v

1v

1r

Moldenhauer sketches

App. CSk: Correspondences between the Sketches

for. 1r

MS. 012

MS. 010

MS. 007, fol. 2v

MS. 007, fol. 2r

MS. 007, fol. 1v

MS. 007, fol. 1r

VII/5 (517–25)

VII/5 (526–29)

VIII/1 (85–87)

Paris sketchbook leaves

unknown “Adagio VII’’

A p pen d i x M S k

Motivic Table for the Sketches

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

SYNOPSIS OF RICHARD WAGNER’S DIE MEISTERSINGER VON N Ü R N B E RG

Characters Mastersingers, including Hans Sachs (shoemaker), Veit Pogner (goldsmith) and Sixtus Beckmesser (town clerk and Marker) Walther von Stolzing, young Franconian knight David, Sachs’s apprentice Eva, Pogner’s daughter Magdalene, Eva’s nurse Nightwatchman, burghers of all Guilds, people

Setting Nuremberg, middle of the 16th century

Act I St. Catherine’s Church. The young Walther von Stolzing, newly arrived in Nuremberg, attempts to catch Eva’s attention and learns that she will be the prize of a song competition at the Feast of St. John (Scene 1). Walther resolves to enter the competition and asks David to teach him the Mastersingers’ rules of poetry (Scene 2). The Mastersingers assemble, Walther tells Pogner of his intention to enter the competition. Pogner announces that his “gift” to the winner of the trial will be his daughter, Eva. Walther begins his Trial Song, interrupted by Beckmesser, whose function is to mark errors. Walther storms out, leaving the Mastersingers divided (Scene 3).

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

346  :  Synopsis of Die Meistersinger

Act II Magdalene and David discuss Walther’s trial (Scene 1). Pogner is unsure how to handle the Mastersingers’ disagreement and Eva learns from Magdalene of Walther’s failure (Scene 2). In the “Flieder monologue” (“Was duftet doch der Flieder”), Sachs reflects upon Walther’s trial song: “It was so old, yet so new”; he can feel it but cannot understand it. If it displeased the Mastersingers, it greatly pleased him (Scene 3). Eva attempts to persuade Sachs to enter the competition, fearing that Beckmesser will win her. Magadalene plots with Eva to take her place at the window while Beckmesser will be singing his serenade, so that Eva could escape with Walther (Scene 4). Sachs prevents Eva and Walther from eloping at the last minute (Scene 5). Beckmesser appears, tuning his lute to serenade Eva, who is hiding nearby with Walther. Sachs interrupts Beckmesser’s serenade with a cobbling song (“Jerum, Jerum”). The cobbler agrees to let Beckmesser sing only if he can mark his mistakes with his hammer, so that shoes and serenade may both proceed. The hammered serenade eventually rouses the neighbors (Scene 6). More town folks join the collective quarrel, singing on the theme of Beckmesser’s serenade set as a cantus firmus. Walther tries again to escape with Eva, but Sachs restrains him and sends Eva back to her father’s home. Beckmesser is the last one to leave the scene of the riot, limping on fragments of his serenade (Scene 7).

Act III The following morning, Sachs is alone in his workshop. After David’s visit, Sachs reflects on the madness of the world (“Wahn, Wahn, überall Wahn,” Scene 1). Walther enters, telling Sachs about a wonderful dream. As the poet’s task is to interpret the “Wahn” disclosed in his dreams, Sachs teaches Walther how to compose a song following the Mastersingers’ rules. Wather composes two strophes (“Morgenlich leuchtend in rosigen Schein”) with Sachs’s help and they leave to change for the feast (Scene 2). Beckmesser enters Sachs’s workshop and stumbles upon the draft of Walther’s prize song copied by Sachs, left on the table. Hearing Sachs approaching, Beckmesser steals the poem, thinking that it was written by the cobbler. Sachs offers Beckmesser the poem as a present, warning him that it is difficult to interpret (Scene 3). Beckmesser hurries away and Eva enters, asking Sachs to fix her shoe. Walther comes in, transfixed by Eva’s gaze, and composes the third strophe of his song. The lovers fall into each other’s arms and Sachs sings about renunciation: he cobbles shoes and poetry for everyone but is left

Synopsis of Die Meistersinger : 347

with nothing. Magdalene and David enter and the five of them proceed to baptize Walther’s prize song, “The Blessed Morning-​Dream Interpretation Song.” Each of them express their own feelings in the quintet “Selig, wie die Sonne.” They all leave for the Festival Meadow (Scene 4). All gather on the meadow for the song contest: cobblers, tailors, bakers, apprentices, and the Mastersingers. The crowd greets Hans Sachs with the chorale “Wach’ auf.” Beckmesser is called first on the stand, offering a confused interpretation of Walther’s prize song. Reacting to the crowd’s growing puzzlement, Beckmesser points toward Sachs as the author of the song. The latter summons Walther to demonstrate a correct rendering of the poem. Walther’s song moves the crowd, the Mastersingers are convinced, and Eva crowns him with laurel and myrtle. Walther rejects the membership in the Guild, and Sachs ends with his famous address on German art: “Even if the Holy Roman Empire should dissolve into mist, there would yet remain sacred German art.” (Scene 5). Adapted from John Warrack, Richard Wagner: Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 38–​48.

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INDEX

For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–​53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages. Tables and figures are indicated by an italic t and f following the page/​paragraph number. Adler, Felix on first movement Durchbruch moment, 246 on joy in Finale, 113 on Mahler’s humor, 307n24 on reception of Seventh, 15 on significance of Seventh, 22–​23 Adler, Guido, 14, 68 Adorno, Theodor “absolute opera,” 50 affirmative movements critiqued by, 3–​4, 31–​32, 33–​34, 48, 120, 122, 307 on Eighth-​Seventh relationship, 33–​34n110,  299 Finale critiqued by, 20–​21, 120, 299 on first movement Durchbruch moment, 248–​49n56, 248–​49,  252 on first Nachtmusik, 176–​77n54 on Mahler’s collapsing moments, 48–​49 on Mahler’s “conductor’s music,” 17 on Mahler’s sense of theater, 49–​50 on marches vs. processions, 46 Meistersinger references critiqued by, 33–​34n110, 33–​34n112, 33–​34,  299 on Scherzo, 214–​15 on Seventh-​Sixth relationship, 26–​27, 229 on tonal themes and trajectory of Seventh, 36–​37, 46n26 Agawu, Kofi, 187–​88n89, 190, 196, 198n115, 198 allusions, musical, 3, 17, 32–​34, 50, 51, 100–​1, 120–​21, 301 (see also Seventh Symphony (Mahler), external connections Alma theme, Sixth Symphony, 134, 172, 195, 205, 206 “Andante amoroso,” 183–​84n70, 183–​84, 186

anti-​Semitism, 3, 33–​34, 291–​92, 299–​301 authentic cadences, 96–​97, 103, 110–​12, 268–​69,  277n34 autobiographical accounts. See compositional narratives “avant-​texte” vs. “draft,”  60–​61

 

Bahr-​Mildenburg, Anna, 79–​80, 227n41 Bailey, Robert, 280 Barnum and Bailey circus, 52–​53n51, 52–​53, 304–​5,  306 Batka, Richard, 14, 29 Bauer-​Lechner, Natalie on boat story and interpretation, 259n87 on Mahler’s composition-​conducting processes,  16–​17 on Mahler’s composition process, 69–​70,  78 on Mahler’s distrust of sketch studies,  71–​72 on Mahler’s humor, 53 on Mahler’s sketchbook use, 78 on Mahler’s tempo markings, 85–​86 on Mahler’s view of Beckmesser, 290 Wörthersee recollections, 227n41 Bauskizzen (architect drawings), 69, 294 Beckerman, Michael, 264n98 Beckmesser (Meistersinger) character analysis and function, 274, 285–​86, 299–​300,  307 as clown, 307 lute tuning, 278n37, 278 Mahler associated with, 292 Mahler’s view of/​interest in, 3, 284, 290 in Meistersinger references, 3, 32–​33, 34–​35, 41, 276–​77, 283–​84, 285, 287–​88, 289

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. Anna Stoll Knecht, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190491116.001.0001

362 : Index Beckmesser (Meistersinger) (cont.) serenade, 280–​82, 281f, 283–​84, 284f, 285, 289, 302–​4, 307 Beethoven, Ludwig van, 58, 71–​72, 79n45 beginnings. See also creation myths Mahler’s creation myth, 59, 62–​63, 64n2, 64, 67, 75, 236–​37 Mahler’s focus on, 62–​63 meaning and, 62–​63 multiple, 264n98, 264, 265, 296 beginnings and endings, 50, 304. See also beginnings; endings of symphonies in compositional narratives, 69–​70, 304 at the circus, 51–​52, 305 in Finale, 94, 112–​13, 274, 287–​88, 304–​5 genesis of works and, 69–​70, 304 introductory/​concluding gestures in, 50,  304–​5 in Meistersinger, 274, 276–​78, 304–​5 in second Nachtmusik, 190, 191n96, 191, 199 Bekker, Paul finale-​symphonies,  31 on first movement Durchbruch moment, 248–​49n56,  248–​49 on first movement funeral march, 236n15, 236 on first movement “mystical chord,” 233–​34n4, 233,  236–​38 on first movement night/​day, 238–​39 on first Nachtmusik features, 165 on Sixth-​Seventh contrasts, 28 triumphalist language for Seventh Finale, 31–​32,  114–​15 Berg, Alban comments on Paris sketchbook leaves, 81–​82, 141, 142n32 on Mahler sketches, 72–​73n23 on Moldenhauer sketches, 82, 83n63, 139, 150–​51n41,  181 premiere attended by, 14 on unidentified draft of first movement, 255–​57n78,  255–​57 Bienenfeld, Elsa critical review of Seventh, 19–​20, 21, 23 on first/​last movement tragedy, 114, 238n23 on joy in Finale, 48, 51–​52, 113 as only female music critic of her time, 19–​20n55

biographical accounts informing Seventh Symphony genesis, 64–​65, 68, 69, 71, 74–​75, 294. See also La Grange, Henry-​ Louis de; Ritter, William Bloch, Ernst, 293 “boat letter” chronology, 294 as “compositional autobiography,” 257–​58, 262,  263–​64 context of, 65–​66 as creation myth, 59, 62–​63, 67, 262, 264 genesis-​interpretation relationship and, 258 impact on hearing of music, 258 linearity/​nonlinearity reflected in, 69–​70,  75 Nachtmusiken composition and, 160n2, 160 reassurances to Alma in, 65–​66 vs. Ritter’s account, 67–​68 trigger moment described in, 59, 66, 67–​68, 130, 232 Wagner’s Rheingold narrative compared to,  263–​64 “boat sketch,” 130, 259, 296n5 boat story, Ritter’s account of, 64n1, 64n2, 64,  67–​68 Bodanzky, Arthur, 10n16, 10 breakthrough. See Durchbruch broken-​scale  motive effect/​function of,  92–​94 in Finale, 40n9, 92–​94, 95–​96, 97 in first Nachtmusik, 40n9, 164 in Scherzo, 40n9, 215–​16n26, 215–​16 in second Nachtmusik, 190 in Vienna sketchbook, 155–​57 Buhler, James, 248–​49

  cadencing in first Nachtmusik, 178 in second Nachtmusik, 190, 191n96, 191, 199 cadencing, in Finale, 92–​94, 99–​101, 110, 111t, 112–​13,  287–​88 authentic, 96–​97, 103, 110–​12, 268–​69,  277n34 deceptive, 96–​97, 103, 110, 178, 272, 273f Meistersinger references and, 268–​69, 272, 273f, 275–​76, 287–​88n52,  287–​88 cancan in Finale, 47, 50, 51, 100–​2, 103

Index : 363 Carnival of the Animals (Saint-​Saëns), 100–​1,  300–​1 Casella, Alfredo, 86–​87 circus beginnings and endings in, 51–​52 comedy and tragedy in, 51, 306 dark aspects of, 305–​6 excessive joy in, 51–​52, 122, 308 Finale references to, 50, 51, 122n94, 122,  304–​5 Mahler’s relationship to, 52n51, 52 music in first Nachtmusik, 51, 167, 177–​78,  207–​8 mankind-​nature themes in, 52–​53, 304–​5 national tropes in, 304–​5 operetta parallels with, 51 orchestra caricature, 305, 306f relevance for Seventh, 3–​4, 49, 308 theater and, 49, 304–​5 circus march, 51–​52 circus performances, 52n51, 52–​53 clown, 51, 52–​53, 294, 300–​1, 302–​4, 305,  306–​7 coherence of Seventh Symphony, 7, 62, 75, 112 collapse dance to (see dance to collapse) in Finale, 40, 49, 99, 100–​2, 114, 302–​4,  308 in first movement, 301–​4 in first Nachtmusik, 40, 49, 114, 164, 165, 175–​76, 230–​31,  302–​4 function in Seventh, 17, 48–​49 function in Sixth, 49, 308 gesture to, 301–​4, 303f introduction to, 164, 175–​76, 302–​4 patterns in Seventh, 301, 303f in Scherzo, 40, 49, 210, 211n7, 211, 211t, 230–​31, 302–​4,  308 in second Nachtmusik, 40, 49, 230–​31,  302–​4 tragedy and comedy in, 301–​4, 306 comedy. See also humor tragedy and, 5, 301–​2, 303f compositional history, see genesis of Seventh Symphony compositional materials. See also specific movements drafts (see drafts; drafts, preliminary; orchestral drafts)

fair copy (see fair copy) Finale interpretation and, 123 Sketches, see Moldenhauer sketches; Paris sketchbook leaves; sketches; Vienna sketchbook compositional narratives as autobiographical reinterpretations, 59–​60, 262, 264, 296 beginnings and endings in, 304 as creation myths, 264, 296 genesis and, 59 in genetic reconstruction of Seventh, 58, 59, 61 (see also “boat letter”) for Parsifal, 262 for Rheingold,  263–​64 vs. sketch studies, 59 “trigger moments” and, 58, 60, 261 compositional stages, 76n37, 76 composition process, see genesis of Seventh Symphony; Mahler, Gustav, composition process Cooke, Deryck critical review of Seventh, 21, 120 on first movement Durchbruch moment,  246–​47 on Meistersinger references, 32–​33 on Scherzo, 230 on second Nachtmusik, 186n80 copyist’s score (Stichvorlage) cowbell notations in, 103–​4n40, 167–​68n25, 167–​68,  168t first movement, 239–​40n29, 239–​40 Mahler’s use of, 77, 85, 86 Nachtmusiken, 86 Scherzo, 86, 210n4, 211 for Seventh Symphony, 85 for Sixth Symphony, 85n70 corrections of proofs/​printed editions, 77, 84–​85,  169 cowbells in fair copy and copyist’s score, 103–​4n40, 167–​68n25, 167–​68,  168t in Finale, 103–​4, 177–​78 in first Nachtmusik, 167–​68n25, 167, 168t, 170–​71, 175–​76n52,  177–​78 in mankind and nature interpretation, 45 in references to Sixth, 26n78, 26, 40 creation dark side of, 55–​56n62, 55–​56

364 : Index in Meistersinger references, 54–​56 in Parsifal references, 55–​56 in Scherzo interpretation, 55–​56 creation myths, 16–​17n42, 59, 62–​63, 64n2, 64, 67, 75n32, 75–​76, 264

 

dance, march and. See march and dance dance to collapse in Elektra (Strauss), 48, 49, 49n40 excessive joy and, 20, 48, 114 in Finale, 40, 48, 49, 308 in Scherzo, 40, 49, 302–​4, 308 in second Nachtmusik,  230–​31 throughout Seventh Symphony, 39f, 48, 302–​4,  303f dancing death in Fourth Symphony, 47–​48, 209–​10 in Scherzo of Seventh, 47–​48, 209, 210, 217, 229 Danuser, Hermann, 246–​47 Darcy, Warren, 287–​88n51,  287–​88 Davison, Peter on Finale cadencing, 288 on first Nachtmusik, 174n49, 176–​77 on second Nachtmusik, 187–​88, 190–​91n94,  193 day. See night and day death as dancer and musician, 209–​10 dancing death (see dancing death) fiddling death, 47–​48, 209–​10, 230–​31,  301–​2 in first Nachtmusik, 174 humor and, 54, 308 movement/​dance and,  47–​48 in 19th-​century art and music, 209–​10 deceptive cadences, 96–​97, 103, 110, 178, 272, 273f deceptive progressions, 125n7, 126, 272–​73 Derrida, Jacques, 112 “Der Tamboursg’sell” (Wunderhorn),  174–​75 Deutschtum (Germanness), 292–​93, 299 Diepenbrock, Alphons, 165–​66 Doktor Faustus (Mann), 176–​77n54 Dömling, Wolfgang,  169–​70 Downes, Olin, 18, 19 drafts. See also sketches vs. “avant-​textes,”  60–​61 blue numbers in, 83n63, 83, 84–​85n68,

228–​29, 228–​29n45, 255–​57, 255–​57n78 numbered by bifolia, 84n65 orchestral (see orchestral drafts) paper used for, 77–​78n40, 82n59 unidentified, 255–​57n75, 255n78–​57n79, 255–​57,  256f drafts, preliminary (Vorentwürfe) defined, 76 Mahler’s use of, 76 for Scherzo, 83, 216, 219, 220, 221–​26f, 222, 223–​25n37, 227, 228t “dream chords” in first movement, 244, 290, 301–​2 inner connections and, 38–​40 in Meistersinger, 41, 54–​55, 198 in second Nachtmusik, 190, 196, 197f, 198,  302–​4 in Siegfried Idyll, 41, 197–​98 Dreyfus, Laurence, 233–​34, 300n16 Dukas, Paul, 55–​56, 214, 230. See also Sorcerer’s Apprentice, The Durchbruch (breakthrough), in first movement of Seventh absent in Partitur, 250 form and content of, 241, 242–​43, 246–​50,  301–​2 genesis of, 250–​52, 250t, 297 in orchestral draft, 250, 297 reception of, 246 resolution of, 247–​48, 249–​50, 307–​8 tragedy in, 301–​2

  Eggebrecht, Hans, 187 Eichendorff, Josef von, 160n2, 160, 172, 175–​76,  184–​85 Eighth Symphony (Mahler) Alma Mahler on, 11 recordings of, 25 Seventh connections to, 33–​34, 65–​66, 67,  298–​99 sketches for, 72–​73n23, 72–​73, 81, 295n4 Elektra (Strauss), 48, 49n40 endings of symphonies. See also beginnings and endings impact on meaning, 35, 307–​8 Mahler-​Wagner connections, 287 problematic for Seventh, 2, 3–​4, 35, 54 Entführung aus dem Serail (Mozart), 47, 50, 97n24, 97, 98–​99, 100–​1, 103, 275–​76

Index : 365 “Entrance of the Gladiators” (Fučík), 51,  92–​94 Eulenberg pocket score, 86–​87 evidence, musical, see primary sources for Seventh Symphony genesis Exhibition Orchestra, 8–​9n9, 8–​9

 

fair copy (Reinschrift) cowbell notations in, 103–​4n40, 167–​68,  168t format of, 77 Mahler’s use of, 77, 84–​85n68, 84, 86 vs. orchestral draft, 77, 84 of Seventh, 84–​85n67, 84–​85, 210n4, 211,  239–​40 Faust (Goethe), 230, 305 Faust Kantate (Leverkühn), 176–​77n54 fiddling death, 209–​10, 230–​31 Fifth Symphony (Mahler), 34–​35, 186n80, 186, 289 Filler, Susan, 255–​57n75, 255–​57, 257n79 Finale, Seventh Symphony beginnings and endings, 94, 112–​13, 274,  287–​88 broken-​scale motive, 40n9, 92–​94, 95–​96,  97 cadencing (see cadencing, in Finale) collapses in, 40, 49, 99, 100–​2, 114, 302–​4,  308 composition of, 67–​68, 70, 123–​24, 158–​59, 206–​8, 294, 295 criticism of, 2, 20–​21, 25, 89–​90, 119–​20, 307–​8 (see also problems) early readings of, 28–​29, 31–​32 Fifth references in, 34–​35, 289 first movement and, 38, 39f, 128 first Nachtmusik and, 39f, 40, 162, 177f, 177n56, 177, 207–​8 form and content, 21, 90 genesis–​final form resonance in, 148,  296–​97 “in-​between” spaces in, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100–​1n35, 101–​2, 107, 109t interpretation of, 46, 48, 49, 50, 51, 113, 120, 121, 122n94, 122, 305, 308 interpretive views and approaches, 113, 119 as joyous and triumphant, 113, 119–​20 Meistersinger references in, see Meistersinger, Seventh Finale references to

Moldenhauer sketches, 82, 123–​24, 131, 133–​34, 135f, 136, 143, 146–​47, 147f, 148, 149–​51, 150f, 150–​51n41, 152f, 153, 154f, 154–​57,  207 national tropes juxtaposed in, 304–​5 Ninth Symphony connected to, 125 Paris sketchbook leaves, 123–​24, 140–​42, 143, 148, 157 Parsifal connections in, 41–​43, 178, 234 recurring motives, 125, 128 repeated notes, 40n9, 40 rhetorical gestures, 122 Scherzo and, 38, 39f, 40 second Nachtmusik and, 38, 39f, 40, 207–​8 sections of, 91–​103 Sixth Symphony connected to, 28, 30–​31, 124–​25, 128, 136, 158 tonalities, 36–​37, 37f, 38, 41n10 Vienna sketchbook, 123–​24, 131, 139, 140f, 155n46, 155–​57, 282–​83, 295 first movement, Seventh Symphony (auto)biography and, 257, 262 boat sketch, 259 collapses in, 301–​4 compositional chronology of, 232, 254–​57, 261, 294 composition of, 67–​68, 70, 239, 294, 295 copyist’s score, 239–​40n29, 239–​40 Durchbruch moment (see Durchbruch) fair copy, 84, 239–​40 Finale and, 38, 39f, 128 first Nachtmusik and, 38–​40, 39f form and content of, 241–​44 (see also Durchbruch) funeral march, 233, 236n15, 236 genesis of, 250–​52, 250t, 257, 297 interpretation of, 44–​45, 46, 47, 237–​38,  257 Meistersinger references in, 38, 41, 270f, 278, 279f military march, 242 “mystical chord,” 233–​34n4, 233, 236–​38, 239–​40, 244, 260 nature themes, 235, 301–​2 night and day, 44–​45, 237 orchestral draft, 83n63, 84, 228–​29, 239, 240, 241, 245f, 250, 250t, 251f, 259, 297 Parsifal connections in, 41–​43, 233–​34, 235, 238–​39n26, 238–​39, 249–​50,  301–​2

366 : Index first movement, Seventh Symphony (cont.) quartal harmony in, 278, 279f Scherzo and, 38–​40, 39f second Nachtmusik and, 38–​40 Sixth Symphony connections, 30, 239, 241, 243, 301–​2 structure of, 36–​37, 38–​40, 128, 241, 296 Third Symphony association with, 236–​37n18,  236–​37 Tristan connected to, 233–​35 unidentified drafts, 255–​57n75, 255n78–​ 57n79, 255–​57, 256f Vienna sketchbook, 128, 129–​30f, 130, 252, 253n68, 295 first Nachtmusik, Seventh Symphony. See also Nachtmusiken broken-​scale motive, 40n9, 164 collapses, 40, 49, 114, 164, 165, 175–​76, 230–​31,  302–​4 composition of, 67–​68, 69–​70, 71, 74–​75, 167–​68, 294, 295 connections to other movements, 38–​40, 39f, 101–​2n36, 162–​64, 167, 176–​77, 177f, 177n56,  207–​8 cowbells in, 167–​68n25, 167, 168t, 170–​71, 175–​76n52,  177–​78 Finale and, 39f, 40, 162, 177f, 177n56, 177,  207–​8 humor in, 207–​8 interpretation of, 44–​45, 46, 47, 49, 51, 172–​73,  176–​77 isolation theme in, 169–​70, 173 (see also idyll) major-​minor motto, 162–​63, 164, 165, 166, 174–​75, 230–​31,  302–​4 military sounds in, 173–​74 Moldenhauer sketches, 82, 150–​51n41, 181, 183f, 207 motivic components of, 177–​78 nature theme in, 170, 172–​74, 175–​77 Night Watch analogy, 165–​66, 299–​300 Parsifal references, 41–​43, 178, 234 second Nachtmusik and, 62, 161, 184–​85 Sixth Symphony connections, 162–​63n7, 162–​64, 163f, 164n11, 168, 180–​81, 206–​7, 294, 295, 302–​4 sonic juxtaposition in, 166–​67, 175–​76,  187 structure of, 40n9, 162n5, 162–​64, 165 tonalities, 36–​37, 37f, 38

“Träumerei” references, 198n115, 198 Vienna sketchbook, 179–​80f, 179, 180–​81,  207 Wunderhorn references in, 173, 174f Fischer, Jens Malte, 187–​88 Floros, Constantin on Finale, 91n8, 105–​6n45, 105–​6, 120–​21 on first movement, 241, 243n39, 246–​47 ritornello defined by, 92–​94n10 on Scherzo, 212–​13 on second Nachtmusik, 190–​91n94 “flott” inserts, 98, 99, 101–​2, 103, 148 form and content of Finale, 21, 47n31, 90, 95–​96, 98, 101–​2, 104, 120 Finale sections, 91–​103 of first movement, 241–​44 (see also Durchbruch) Meistersinger references and, 276–​77n33,  276–​77 of second Nachtmusik, 190 Fourth Symphony (Mahler), 92–​94, 209–​10, 217f, 217 Franklin, Peter, 22, 31–​32, 122n94 Fried, Oskar, 14, 24 Fučík, Julius, 51n47, 51, 92–​94, 305 funeral marches, 46, 47–​48, 233, 236n15, 236 Furtwängler, Willhelm,  24–​25

  genesis, definitions of, 56, 296 genesis of Seventh Symphony autobiographical evidence, 64–​65, 68, 70,  294–​95 biographical evidence, 64–​65, 68, 69, 70, 71, 294–​95 (see also La Grange, Henry-​ Louis de; Ritter, William) chronology, 67–​68, 69–​70, 71–​74, 73–​74n25, 131, 158, 294 completion date, 68, 70 compositional narratives and, 59, 296 (see also “boat letter”) Finale (see Finale, composition of ) first movement, 250–​52, 250t, 257, 297 interpretation and, 61–​63, 258, 294, 296, 297–​98,  304 linear/​nonlinear process, 62n78, 265 publication date, 86–​87n75, 86–​87 similarity to Sixth genesis, 74–​75

Index : 367 structure and, 60, 296 as “unusual,” 73 genesis of Seventh Symphony, musical evidence for, 75 compositional narratives and, 59 (see also “boat letter”) compositional stages and, 76n37, 76 conversations with Ritter, 64n1, 64, 71, 72 copyist’s score (see copyist’s score) corrections of proofs/​printed editions, 77 correspondence with Guido Adler, 68 correspondence with Alma Mahler, 73–​ 74n27 (see also “boat letter”) correspondence with Richard Strauss, 68, 289n56 drafts (see drafts; drafts, preliminary; orchestral drafts) fair copy (see fair copy) preliminary drafts (see drafts, preliminary [Vorentwürfe]) printed score, 86–​87 sketches (see Moldenhauer sketches; Ms. 7661; Paris sketchbook leaves; sketches; Vienna sketchbook) sparsity of, 75–​76n33, 75–​76 genetic studies, 56, 57, 60–​61, 297–​98 gestures of conductor, 307 introductory/​concluding, 304 (see also beginnings and endings) rhetorical, 122, 275, 304–​5 to collapse, 301–​4, 303f tragic/​comical,  301 Gielen, Michael, 167 Gordon, Stephen, 120–​21, 193–​94 “Grazioso” theme in Finale, 92–​94, 95–​96, 98, 99 in Paris sketchbook, 143–​45, 149 theatricality of, 122

  Hanslick, Eduard, 276–​77n33, 276–​77 harmony, quartal, see quartal harmony Hefling, Stephen “boat sketch,” 259 on first Nachtmusik, 164n11, 167 on Mahler’s compositional process, 69, 72n22, 157–​58n52,  228–​29 Mahler’s musical autographs

catalogued by, 76 on Ninth sketches, 126n8 on problems of Seventh, 7 on second Nachtmusik,  193–​94 on Sixth-​Seventh contrasts, 28 on sketchbook paper, 77–​78n40 on sketches, 57–​58, 69, 72n22 on Tristan chord in first movement, 234–​35n10 on “unborn thoughts,” 57–​58 on Vienna sketchbook, 80n49, 155n46, 155–​57, 253n68,  253–​55 Hey, Julius, 291 Hirschfeld, Robert, 33–​34 humor of clowns, 51, 307 death and, 54, 308 in interruptions, 290 vs. irony, 53–​54 of Mahler, 50, 53, 307 problem of, 54, 307–​8 in Seventh, 207–​8, 301, 306, 308 as sublimation, 5 tragedy and, 301–​2, 303f as transcendence, 308

  idyll, 172, 247–​48 “in-​betweens”. See also beginnings and endings: introductory/​concluding gestures in; interruptions broken-​scale motives in, 92–​94 common features of, 107, 109t in Finale, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100–​1n35, 101–​2, 107, 109t introductory and concluding function of, 90, 94, 96, 107 functions of, 107–​10 inscriptions, verbal, 227, 228t Internationale Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft,  86–​87 interpretation of Seventh Symphony. See also reception of Seventh Symphony; specific movements early “Cinderella” status of, 1–​2, 21 genesis and, 61–​63, 258, 294, 296, 297–​98,  304 Meistersinger connections (see Meistersinger) rhetorical gestures and, 275 Sixth Symphony connections and (see

368 : Index interpretation of Seventh Symphony (cont.) Sixth Symphony) interpretive views creation, 54 “critical” approach of the Finale, 119–​20 dance to collapse, 48, 308 excessive joy and victory, 113 mankind and nature, 45 march and dance, 47n30, 47 march and procession, 45 “metacritical” approach of the Finale,  119–​20 night and day, 44, 286 “orthodox” approach of the Finale, 119–​20 summary of, 42f theater and circus, 49, 304–​8 interruptions. See also “in-​betweens” in Finale, 96, 98, 100–​2, 103, 300–​1 in first movement, 247–​48, 301–​2 in first Nachtmusik, 161, 174 humorous function of, 290 in Scherzo, 220 in second Nachtmusik, 161, 187–​88, 290 intertextual aspect of the Seventh, 35, 112, 198, 265, 269–​70, 300–​1 irony, musical, 53–​54, 307–​8 isolation theme, 169–​70, 173 Istel, Edgar, 170

  Jewish caricature, 291–​93, 299–​300 Jewish identity of Mahler, 118, 291, 292–​93, 299–​300 Johnson, Julian on Finale’s structural polyphony, 121–​22,  289 on first movement Durchbruch moment,  247–​48 on Mahler’s circus references, 52–​53n52 on Mahler’s humor and irony, 53, 54 on Mahler’s use of framing, 307n26, 307 on Mahler’s Wagnerian references, 32, 301–​2n18 on mankind and nature interpretation of Seventh, 45 on Nachtmusiken, 189, 200 on rhetorical gestures, 275, 304–​5 on Scherzo, 211, 229, 230 joy in circus music, 51–​52, 122

collapse and, 20, 48, 114 excessive/​strained, 48, 113, 120, 122 in Finale, 48, 51–​52, 113 in the Seventh, 308 Jungheinrich, Hans-​Klaus on Meistersinger references, 32–​33 on second Nachtmusik, 187–​88n89,  187–​88 on Sixth-​Seventh relationship, 2, 28, 31

  Karnes, Kevin, 198 Keussler, Gerhard von, 10n16, 10 Kinderman, William, 60, 61n77, 61, 289 Kindertotenlieder (Mahler), 73–​74 Klagend theme, 213, 214–​15n23, 214–​16, 219, 220, 223, 225 Klemperer, Otto premiere attended by, 14 on premiere rehearsal/​revision period, 10, 11 on reception of Seventh, 15 Seventh Symphony conducted by, 24–​25n73,  24–​25 Kneif, Tibor, 169n28, 169–​70 Knittel, K. M., 291–​92n69, 291–​92 Korngold, Julius critical review of Seventh, 19n53, 19, 22, 305 on Eichendorff influence on Nachtmusiken, 160n2, 184–​85n74,  184–​85 on joy in Finale, 113 Kramer, Jonathan, 112, 277n34 Kubik, Reinhold, 10n16, 75–​76n33, 84–​85n67, 87, 143n33

  La Grange, Henry-​Louis de “circus” descriptor and, 4 on composition of Seventh, 71, 73–​74 on Finale, 95–​96n22, 105–​6n46, 120–​21 on first Nachtmusik,  166–​67 on “Lob des hohen Verstandes,” 34–​35n115 on Mahler’s marital issues, 11n19 on premiere reception, 15 on premiere rehearsals, 10n15, 11n19 on problems of Seventh, 6, 35 on Reichmann-​Mahler relationship, 292 on second Nachtmusik, 187–​88n88,  187–​88 on Seventh-​Sixth relationship, 27 on unidentified draft of first movement, 255–​57n75 Leverkühn, Adrian, 176–​77n54 “Lob des hohen Verstandes” (“Praise of the

Index : 369 Lofty Judgment”), 34n114–​35n115, 34–​35 Lorenz, Alfred, 233–​34n4, 233–​34 Löwe, Ferdinand, 24

  Mahler, Alma Berg’s review of Paris sketchbook leaves requested by, 81–​82 on composition of Nachtmusiken, 160n2, 172, 179–​80,  184–​85 correspondence with Gustav, 73–​74n27, 194 (see also “boat letter”) fair copy of Seventh bequeathed by, 84–​85n67,  84–​85 Finale performed for, 117 on reception of Seventh, 15 recollections of Seventh Symphony genesis, 68, 69, 294 on rehearsal/​revision period for Seventh, 10n16,  10–​11 Ritter’s impression of, 186 Mahler, Gustav compositional narrative (see “boat letter”) correspondence with Alma, 73–​74n27, 194 (see also “boat letter”) on cowbell use, 170–​71 cultural identity of, 12–​13, 118, 292–​93, 299–​300 on dancing death, 209–​10 Dutch culture interest, 299–​300 humor of, 50, 53, 307 Klingsor association, 238–​39n26 marriage to Alma, 11n19, 11n20, 11 Meistersinger conducted by, 266–​67 rehearsal style and process, 10n16, 10–​11,  12 relationship to German culture, 292–​93, 299–​301 relationship to theater and circus, 50, 52n51, 52, 294, 307 relationship to Wagner, 33–​34, 266–​67, 291–​93, 298, 299–​300 Ritter’s conversations with, 64n1, 64, 71, 72, Ritter’s language barrier with, 171n36, 171n37, 171 Seventh Symphony conducted by, 24, 194, 267 and sketch studies, 71–​72, 72n22 spontaneity of, 65–​66, 67

as “summer composer,” 62 view of/​interest in Beckmesser, 3, 284, 290 works by (see Eighth; Fifth; Fourth; Ninth; Second; Seventh; Sixth; Tenth; Third) Mahler, Gustav, composition process compositional stages, 76n37, 76 concurrent/​entangled compositions, 2–​3, 30, 62, 71, 73–​75, 158–​59, 295 conducting related to, 16–​17 creation myth, 16–​17n42, 59, 62–​63, 64n2, 64, 67, 75n32, 75–​76, 264 creative blocks, 69–​70, 73–​74 duration of (for the Seventh), 66 fair copy use, 77, 84–​85n68, 84, 86 for Finale, 140–​41, 147–​48, 153, 157–​58n51,  157–​59 like playing with bricks, 123, 127–​28, 148 linearity/​nonlinearity of, 59, 69–​70, 75, 265 for Scherzo, 223–​25n37, 223–​25, 226–​27,  228–​29 sketchbook use, 69, 71–​73, 76, 77–​78n40, 78, 80n50, 80, 81–​82, 295 “Spiritus Creator,” 66, 67, 78 spontaneity in, 65–​66, 67 tempo markings, 85–​86 unborn thoughts, 57–​58, 78 unfinished sketches in, 57–​58, 86–​87 Mahler Festival, Amsterdam, 24 Mahler Festival, U.S., 24–​25 mankind and nature, 45, 172–​73, 176–​77,  301–​2 Mann, Thomas, 53–​54, 176–​77n54 march and dance in first movement interpretation, 47n30, 71 as interpretive lead, 47 in Meistersinger references, 47 in Scherzo, 47–​48 in second Nachtmusik, 47 marches circus (screamers), 51–​52 funeral, 46, 47–​48, 233, 236n15, 236 military, 46n27, 46, 47, 51, 173–​74, 242 processions and, 45, 46 Marston, Nicholas, 297–​98n10 Martner, Knud, 100–​1n34 Matthews, Colin, 30–​31, 126n8, 260n90 McClatchie, Stephen, 33–​34n110

370 : Index Mein Leben (Wagner), 263 Meistersinger von Nürnberg, Die (Wagner), Mahler’s praise for, 266–​67 Meistersinger von Nürnberg, Die (Wagner), Seventh Finale references to, 268f, 268, 269–​72f beginnings and ends, 274 cadencing, 268–​70, 271–​72, 272f, 273f,  275–​76 as historical citation, 32–​34, 33–​34n110,  90 humor and play in, 33–​34n112, 34–​35 negative reception and, 32, 267, 299 Meistersinger von Nürnberg, Die (Wagner), Seventh Symphony references to Act II, Scene 7, 280, 281f Beckmesser parallels, 3, 32–​33, 34–​35, 54–​55, 267–​68, 274, 276–​78, 280–​84, 285–​86, 287–​88, 289,  298–​99 E minor to C major, 284 external connections, 41–​43, 50 Fifth association with, 34–​35, 289 in Finale (see Meistersinger, Seventh Finale references to) in first movement, 38, 41, 270f, 278, 279f inner connections, 38 interpretive leads and, 44–​45n18, 44–​45, 47,  54–​56 nature and function of references, 274, 276–​78,  298–​99 quartal harmony, 278 in second Nachtmusik, 198, 289, 302–​4 structure and, 38, 41–​43 theatricality, 307 tonal associations, 41, 44–​45n18, 44–​45 Vienna sketchbook and, 281–​84f, 281 Mengelberg, Willem on Dance of Death (Scherzo), 209, 210, 217, 229 fair copy of Seventh bequeathed by, 84–​85n67,  84–​85 on first movement, 237–​38 Mahler Festival organized by, 24 first Nachtmusik score annotations, 165–​66n15,  165–​66 night and day interpretation, 44–​45,  237–​38 Seventh Symphony conducted by, 24–​25 Micznik, Vera, 46n27, 236–​37

military marches, 46n27, 46, 47, 51, 173–​74,  242 Mime (Ring),  290–​91 minuet, Viennese, 47n31, 47, 95–​96, 98, 101–​2,  300–​1 Mitchell, Donald on boat letter and interpretation, 258–​59,  259n88 on chronology of Seventh composition, 73–​74n25 on endings of Mahler and Wagner, 287 on first movement Durchbruch moment, 246 Mahler’s musical autographs catalogued by, 76 on Mahler’s sketches, 69 on Mahler’s use of cowbells, 169–​70 on mobility in Seventh, 47, 258–​59 on reception of Seventh, 9n12, 9, 15–​16n38,  22 on second Nachtmusik, 199–​200 Moldenhauer sketches described, 82 Finale and, 82, 123–​24, 131, 133–​34, 135f, 136, 143, 146–​47, 147f, 148, 149–​51, 150f, 150–​51n41, 152f, 153, 154f, 154–​57, 207 first Nachtmusik and, 82, 150–​51n41, 181, 183f, 207 “flott” insert in, 148 Ninth Symphony connections in, 126f, 127–​28n11, 127f,  127–​28 paper used in, 82n59 Paris sketchbook leaves and, 82, 124, 140, 143–​48, 147f, 150f, 157, 158–​59 Reilly’s analysis of, 82–​83 second Nachtmusik and, 82, 155n45, 202f, 202, 204f, 204, 206–​7 Sixth–​Seventh connections in, 124–​25, 136, 158, 207, 295 “unknown”/​unused sketches in, 82–​83, 127, 134, 153, 158, 206 Vienna sketchbook and, 82, 124, 131, 133f, 135–​36, 136f, 137f, 140, 155–​57, 158–​59, 203f, 203, 204f, 204, 207 Moldenhauer sketches, folios 1r, 134f, 134, 136, 137f, 202f, 202, 205f, 205, 206 1v, 132, 133–​36f, 134–​36, 153–​54, 154f, 180f, 202, 204f, 204, 205f, 205, 206

Index : 371 2r, 127f, 127, 134f, 134n19, 135, 136 2v, 143, 146–​47, 147f 3r, 149, 150–​53f, 151, 152 3v, 148, 202f, 202, 203f, 203 4r, 150–​51n41, 181–​83, 183f 5r, 181, 182f 5v, 202f, 202, 203f, 203 Moll, Carl, 80n49, 80 Monahan, Seth, 29, 54n60, 112–​13n61 Morgan Library & Museum, New York, 81–​82, 83, 142, 142n32, 255–​57 motto, major-​minor, 26, 38–​40, 139, 162–​63, 164, 165, 166, 174–​75, 230–​31, 243, 248–​50,  301–​4 Ms. 7661, 82, 123–​24, 153, 157–​58, musical evidence, see genesis of Seventh Symphony, musical evidence for “mystical chord,” 41–​43, 233–​34n4, 233–​34, 236–​38, 239–​40, 244, 249–​50, 260

 

Nachtmusiken. See also first Nachtmusik;second Nachtmusik inclusion of two, 86 incompatibility of, 62 naming of, 160n3, 160–​61 pairing of, 160 simultaneous composition of, 160n2, 160,  207–​8 sketches for, 206 nature themes in first movement, 235, 301–​2 in first Nachtmusik, 170, 172–​74, 175–​77 Niekerk, Carl, 166n18, 292–​93, 299, 308 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 120–​21 night and day in Finale, 284–​86 in first movement interpretation, 44–​45,  237–​38 in Meistersinger references, 44, 284 in Nachtmusiken,  44–​45 in Scherzo, 44–​45 nightmusic, embodiment of, 161, 184–​85,  207–​8 Night Watch, The (Rembrandt), 165–​66, 299–​300 Ninth Symphony (Mahler), 31, 210 Moldenhauer sketches, 126f, 127f, 127–​28n11,  127–​28 sketchbook, 79, 126n8 in Vienna sketchbook, 125n7, 125, 126f,

126n8, 295

 

Offenbach, Jacques, see Orphée aux Enfers operetta, 50–​51, 100–​1, 275–​76,  304–​5 orchestral drafts (Partiturentwurf) compared to fair copy, 77, 84 dated, 68, 84 of first movement, 83n63, 84, 228–​29, 239, 240, 241, 245f, 250, 250t, 251f, 259, 297 Mahler’s use of, 68, 77 Orphée aux Enfers (Offenbach) conducted by Mahler, 100–​1n34 Seventh Symphony references to, 50, 100–​1,  275–​76

  Painter, Karen, 15–​16n38, 291–​92 Paris sketchbook leaves Berg’s comments on, 81–​82, 141, 142n32 described, 81 Finale, 123–​24, 140–​42, 143, 148, 157 format of, 81, 140–​41 Moldenhauer sketches and, 82, 124, 140, 143, 146–​47, 147f, 148, 150f, 157, 158–​59 Ms. 007, 81, 140–​43, 143n33, 144f, 147f, 157 Ms. 010, 81, 140–​43, 148, 149f, 150f, 152f Ms. 012, 72–​73, 81, 140–​41, 142–​43 Parsifal (Wagner), Seventh Symphony references to in Finale, 41–​43, 178, 234 in first movement, 41–​43, 233–​34, 235, 238–​39n26, 238–​39, 249–​50,  301–​2 in first Nachtmusik, 41–​43, 178, 234 interpretive views and, 45, 55–​56, 233–​34, 273n20,  301–​2 in second Nachtmusik, 41–​43, 234 tonal associations, 41–​43n12, 41–​43n13, 41–​43, 45, 55, 233–​34, 273n20, 301–​2 Wagner’s compositional narrative for, 262 Particell (short score) format, 76, 83, 84, 146, 157–​58, 219, 227, 253–​54 Partitur, see orchestral draft Peattie, Thomas on Adorno’s critique of Seventh, 21n59 on conflicting interpretations of Seventh, 18n49 on cowbells in Nachtmusik and Sixth, 169 on first movement, 235, 244n42, 247–​ 48n55, 247–​48, 249

372 : Index Peattie, Thomas (cont.) on first Nachtmusik, 173 landscape view of Finale, 121–​22 on Mahler’s “idyllic” voice, 213n19 on Proust’s madeleine moment, 67n8 Pecker Berio, Talia, 212–​13n17 “pesante” passages, 96, 99, 107, 109t Prague Concert Pavilion, 8f,  8–​9 Prater, Vienna, 52, 52n50, 230, 305 preliminary drafts. See drafts, preliminary premiere of Seventh Symphony, 8–​10 as “bilingual” concert, 13 delayed publication and, 7–​8n8, 7–​8 political context for, 9–​10, 12–​13 Prague Concert Pavilion, 8f,  8–​9 rehearsals for, 10n16, 10 primary sources for Seventh Symphony genesis, see genesis, musical evidence for “problems” of Seventh Symphony, 2 enigmatic nature of, 1–​2, 6–​7, 21–​22,  23–​24 Finale, 2, 3–​4, 25, 30, 32, 35, 54, 89–​90,  119–​20 genesis and, 62, 75 genesis-​interpretation relationship and, 62–​63, 296, 298 as interpretive keys, 3 intertextual character and, 35 (see also intertextual aspect of the Seventh) Meistersinger references in Seventh Finale, 3, 32–​34 (see also Meistersinger, Seventh Finale references to) questionable coherence of, 7, 62, 75, 112 Sixth, association with, 2–​3, 26–​30 (see also Sixth Symphony, relationship to Seventh) Proust, Marcel, 67n8, 67

  quartal harmony in first movement, 267–​68, 278, 279f in Meistersinger,  278–​80

 

Ratz, Erwin, 86–​87 reception of Seventh Symphony conflicting interpretations, 18n49, 22 critical reviews, 2, 15, 18, 19–​21, 25 early reception, 1–​2, 15–​16n38, 15–​16, 17–​19, 21, 28

Finale as joyous and triumphant, 113 lack of program, 22, 23 post-​Adornian reception, 23 problems identified (see “problems” of Seventh Symphony) Redlich, Hans, 62, 75n32, 86–​87 Reichmann, Theodor,  292 Reilly, Edward on documentation of Seventh genesis, 75–​76n33 on “stones plop in the water,” 245–​46 on Mahler’s copyist scores, 85 on Mahler’s fair copies, 84–​85 Mahler’s musical autographs catalogued by, 76 on Mahler’s numbering of draft pages, 84n65 Moldenhauer sketches analyzed by, 82–​ 83n60, 82–​83, 150–​51n41, 155 on Paris sketchbook leaves, 143n33, 143 Seventh–​Ninth connection identified by, 127 Reiner, Fritz, 24–​25n74 “Revelge” (Wunderhorn), 174f, 174 Revers, Peter on Beckmesser references, 289 on first Nachtmusik,  172–​74 on musical diversity of Seventh, 43 on second Nachtmusik, 187 Reynolds, Christopher, 301 Rheingold, Das (Wagner), 263–​64 rhetorical gestures, 32–​33, 106–​10, 122, 199, 275, 277, 287–​88, 304–​5 (see also “in-​ betweens”; “flott” inserts) Ring, Der (Wagner), 44–​45, 266–​67, 286f, 286, 291 ritornello theme in Finale authentic cadences in, 110, 111t, 271, 272f deceptive cadences in, 110, 111t, 272, 273f locating, 90–​91, 91n8, 92 Meistersinger connections, 268f, 268–​70, 269f, 271, 272f, 272, 273f,  273–​74 in Moldenhauer folios, 153, 154–​55 rondo form and, 90–​91, 105–​6 in sectional analysis, 92–​95, 96–​97, 98, 99–​101,  103–​4 Ritter, William boat story account, 64n2, 64, 67–​68

Index : 373 on Finale, 94–​95 on first movement Durchbruch moment, 246 on first Nachtmusik, 71, 162–​63n7, 164, 171, 294 interpretive views of Seventh, 44–​45, 46, 47 on language barrier with Mahler, 171n36, 171n37, 171 Mahler as Shakespearean clown, 294, 307 Mahler associated with Klingsor, 238–​39n26 on Mahler’s compositional process, 16–​17n42,  16–​17 Mahler’s conversations with, 64n1, 64, 71, 72 on Mahler’s night and day metaphor,  286–​87 narrative description of Seventh, 116, 117 praise for Seventh, 6, 15–​16, 17, 18 on premiere, 11n19, 11, 12–​13, 14 on Scherzo, 211n7, 214n21, 214, 215–​16 on second Nachtmusik,  185–​86 on Sixth-​Seventh relationship, 27–​28, 180–​81,  294 triumphalist language of Seventh Finale, 31–​32, 115n70,  115–​18 Roller, Alfred, 300 Rondo-​Finale, see Finale rondo form defined, 90–​91n7 in Finale, 90–​91, 104, 177 (see also ritornello theme in Finale) in Nachtmusiken, 162n5, 162–​63, 177

 

Sachs (Meistersinger), 44–​45, 54–​55, 194–​95, 198, 273–​74, 276n29, 284–​85 Saint-​Saëns, Camille, 209–​10, 228–​29. See also Carnival of the Animals Sallis, Friedemann, 57–​58, 296–​97n7 Schaefer, Hartmut, 82–​83n61 Scherchen, Hermann, 25 Scherzinger, Martin, 110–​12, 277n34 Scherzo, Seventh Symphony broken-​scale motives, 40n9, 215–​16n26,  215–​16 collapses in, 40, 49, 114, 210, 211n7, 211, 211t, 230–​31, 302–​4, 308 as commentary, 229–​30

composition of, 67–​68, 220, 223–​25, 294, 295 copyist’s score, 86, 210n4, 211, 211t creation and, 55–​56 dance to collapse in, 49, 302–​4, 308 dancing death in, 47–​48, 209, 210, 217, 229 fair copy, 86, 210n4, 211, 211t “false recapitulation” in, 212–​13n17, 212–​13 Finale and, 38, 39f, 40 first movement and, 38–​40, 39f Fourth Scherzo connections, 217f, 217 Klagend theme in, 213, 214–​15n23, 214–​16, 219, 220, 223, 225 march/​dance and,  47–​48 motivic material in, 213, 216–​19 night/​day and,  44–​45 preliminary drafts, 83, 216, 219–​22, 221–​ 26f, 223–​25n37, 227, 228t Nachtmusiken and, 207–​8 structure of, 212–​13 tonalities, 36–​38, 37f verbal inscriptions in draft, 227, 228t Vienna sketchbook, 83n62, 216, 217–​18 Walpurgis Night, 229 Schoenberg, Arnold, 14n33, 17–​19, 106–​7,  183–​84 Schumann, Robert, 198n115, 198 Schuricht, Carl, 24–​25 screamers (circus marches), 51–​52 secondary sources for Seventh Symphony genesis, see genesis of Seventh Symphony: biographical evidence; La Grange, Henry-​Louis de; Ritter, William second Nachtmusik, Seventh Symphony (see also Nachtmusiken) beginnings and endings in, 191n96, 191, 199 broken-​scale motive, 40n9, 190 cadencing in, 190, 191n96, 191, 199 collapses in, 40, 49, 230–​31, 302–​4 composition of, 67–​68, 69–​70, 71, 72, 74–​75, 206–​7, 294, 295 Fifth Symphony and, 186n80, 186 Finale and, 38, 39f, 40, 207–​8 first movement and, 38–​40 first Nachtmusik and, 62, 161, 184–​85 humor in, 207–​8

374 : Index second Nachtmusik, Seventh Symphony (cont.) interpretation of, 44–​45, 47, 49, 184, 199, 207–​8, 230–​31,  302–​4 interruption in, 161, 174, 187–​88, 290 Intro-​Cadence, 49, 164, 190, 191f, 191n96, 191,  193–​94 love declaration vs. ironic serenade, 184, 199 mandolin and guitar in, 85, 183–​84, 187–​ 88, 283, 289 Meistersinger connections to, 198, 289,  302–​4 Moldenhauer sketches, 82, 155n45, 202f, 202, 204f, 204, 206–​7 Parsifal references in, 41–​43, 234 Siegfried Idyll connections in, 194–​95n109, 194–​96, 195–​96f, 197, 198, 200, 302–​4 Sixth Symphony connections to, 26n77, 200–​2, 204, 205f, 205, 206–​7, 295 structure of, 40n9, 190–​91, 197n112, 197 tonalities, 37f, 37–​38, 192 Vienna sketchbook, 200, 201f, 206–​7, 254 Viennese soundwalk, 187–​88 Wagner references in, 193 Second Symphony (Mahler), 210 serenade Beckmesser, 280–​82, 281f, 283–​84, 284f, 285, 289, 302–​4, 307 second Nachtmusik as, 180–​81, 184–​85, 187–​ 88, 189, 199 “Seven Seals, The” (Nietzsche), 120–​21 Seventh Symphony (Mahler) compositional materials (see under specific movements) genesis of (see genesis of Seventh Symphony) inner connections, 38, 39f (see also specific movements) interpretation of (see interpretation of Seventh Symphony; interpretive views) movements (see Finale; first movement; first Nachtmusik; Scherzo; second Nachtmusik) performances of, 8–​10, 24n69, 24–​25 (see also premiere of Seventh Symphony) “problems” of (see “problems” of Seventh Symphony) publication of, 7–​8n8, 7–​8, 24n69, 24–​25, 86–​87, 86–​87n75

reception of (see reception of Seventh Symphony) recordings of, 24–​25n73, 25n75, 25 structure of (see structure of Seventh Symphony) tragedy–​comedy movement in, 301, 303f Seventh Symphony (Mahler), external connections. See also musical allusions Carnival of the Animals (Saint Saens), (see Carnival of the Animals) Entführung aus dem Serail (Mozart), (see Entführung) Meistersinger (Wagner) (see Meistersinger) Orphée aux Enfers (Offenbach) (see Orphée aux Enfers) Parsifal (Wagner) (see Parsifal) Siegfried Idyll (Wagner) (see Siegfried Idyll) Sixth Symphony (Mahler) (see Sixth Symphony) Sorcerer’s Appentice (Dukas) (see Sorcerer’s Apprentice ) summarized, 39f, 41, 42f, 50 Tristan (Wagner) (see Tristan) Wunderhorn (Mahler), 173, 174f Siegfried Idyll (Wagner), 194–​95n109, 194–​96, 195–​96f, 197, 198, 200, 302–​4 Sixth Symphony (Mahler) Alma theme, 134, 172, 195, 205, 206 collapses in, 49, 308 copyist’s score, 85n70 interpretation of, 2, 29, 31, 47–​48, 49, 308 Ms. 7661, 157–​58 sketches, 82 Sixth Symphony (Mahler), relationship to Seventh concurrent/​entangled composition, 2–​3, 30, 62, 71, 73–​74, 158–​59, 295 contrasts between, 27–​28, 30 cowbells and, 26n78, 26, 40, 169–​70 in Finale, 28, 30–​31, 124–​25, 128, 136, 158 in first movement, 30, 239, 241, 243, 301–​2 in first Nachtmusik, 162–​63n7, 162–​64, 163f, 164n11, 168, 180–​81, 206–​7, 294, 295,  302–​4 genesis similarities, 74–​75 Moldenhauer sketches, 124–​25, 136, 158, 207, 295 problems identified in, 2, 21–​22, 25, 29, 298

Index : 375 on same folio leaves, 158 in second Nachtmusik, 26n77, 200–​2, 204, 205f, 205, 206–​7, 295 Seventh coexisting with/​as companion to, 2–​3, 58, 298 Seventh as “in the shadow”/​ consequence/​sequel, 2–​3, 26–​27, 28–​ 31, 229, 298 thematic connections, 26f, 26n77–78, 26–​27, 27n81, 38–​40, 49 tragedy–​comedy movement,  301–​2 Vienna sketchbook, 124–​25, 128f, 128–​31, 136, 137–​40f, 138, 139–​40, 158, 200, 201f, 207, 295 sketches (Skizzen) and sketchbooks. See also drafts; specific movements and folios analytical approaches, 297–​98n10, 297–​98 annotations, 126n8, 139 (see also drafts: blue numbers; verbal inscriptions) architect drawings (see Bauskizzen) Beethoven’s use of, 58, 79n45 determining relevance and significance of, 56, 57, 58, 61 discarded, 1, 56, 57, 58–​59, 124–​25, 158–​59,  296 for Eighth Symphony, 72–​73n23, 72–​73, 81, 295n4 in Mahler’s compositional process, 69–​ 70, 72–​73, 77–​78n40, 78, 80n50, 80, 81–​82, 228–​29,  295 Moldenhauer sketches (see Moldenhauer sketches) for Ninth Symphony (see Ninth Symphony [Mahler]) ordering of, 76n36, 76, 83 paper used for, 77–​78n40, 82n59, 257n80 Paris sketchbook leaves (see Paris sketchbook leaves) unfinished, 57–​58,  86–​87 unidentified, 82–​83,  87–​88 Vienna (see Vienna sketchbook) sketch studies analysis and, 60, 60–​61n74, 297–​98n10,  297–​98 vs. compositional narratives, 59, 296 limitations of, 59–​60 Mahler’s distrust of, 58, 71–​72 purposes of, 75, 297–​98 questions posed in, 60–​61

trust in, 59–​60 Smoley, Lewis, 236–​37n18, 289n61 sonata form, 104, 190–​91, 241 Sorcerer’s Apprentice, The (Dukas), 55–​56, 214, 230 Specht, Richard on Finale, 92–​94n12, 92–​94n14, 94–​95,  299 on first movement, 238, 246 Mahler’s comments about nature to, 235 on mobility in Seventh, 47 on Seventh rehearsal process, 10n16 on Sixth-​Seventh relationship, 27n81, 27 triumphalist language for Seventh Finale, 31–​32,  118–​19 “Spiritus Creator,” 66, 67, 78 Sponheuer, Bernd on Finale, 91n8, 92–​94, 94n16, 104–​7, 106t, 120 interpretive stances identified by, 119–​20 (see interpretive views: “critical”; “metacritical”; “orthodox”) ritornello defined by, 92–​94n10 on Sixth-​Seventh relationship, 27, 129 Stähr, Wolfgang, 246–​47n52, 258 “Ständchen” (Eichendorff ), 172n40, 172,  175–​76 Stefan, Paul, 14, 47, 170 Stichvorlage, see copyist’s score St. John’s Eve and Day (Meistersinger), 278, 284, 285f, 306 Strauss, Oscar, 14 Strauss, Richard, 48, 68, 289n56 structure of Seventh Symphony, 36. See also specific movements genesis and, 60, 296 inner connections, 38, 39f, 41, 86–​87, 101–​2n36 interpretive leads, 44 (see also interpretive views) movements, 36 tonal trajectory, 36–​37, 37f Swarowsky, Hans Finale analysis, 91n8, 94–​95n18, 95–​ 96n22, 105–​6n46, 105–​7, 106t on first movement, 241n34, 241, 242, 243n39 ritornello defined by, 92–​94n10 on Scherzo, 212–​13, 215–​16n26

376 : Index Swarowsky, Hans (cont.) on second Nachtmusik, 190–​91n94, 191, 192

 

Taaffe, Eduard von, 9–​10 Tenth Symphony (Mahler), 25, 47–​48, 81–​82, 81–​82n56, 141, 142, 209–​10, 255–​57n78 theater in Finale interpretation, 50, 51, 121, 122n94, 305 relevance for Seventh, 3–​4, 49, 304–​5, 307 Third Symphony (Mahler), first movement of Seventh and, 236–​37n18, 236–​37 tragedy–​comedy movement in Seventh Symphony, 301–​2, 303f “Träumerei” (Schumann), 198n115, 198 “trigger moments” in boat letter, 59, 66, 67–​68, 70, 130 compositional narratives and, 58, 60, 261 Tristan (Wagner) conducted by Mahler, 9–​10, 266–​67 first movement connection to, 38–​40, 233–​35, 234–​35n11, 249–​50,  301–​2 second Nachtmusik references to, 38–​40, 193f, 193–​95, 200, 302–​4 “Tristan chord,” 38–​40, 195, 233–​35, 234–​ 35n10, 249–​50, 266n20, 301–​4

  “unborn thoughts,” 57–​58, 78

  verbal inscriptions (on draft for the Scherzo), 227, 228t Vienna sketchbook “boat sketch,” 130, 259–​60, 260–​61f, 296n5 described, 79 Finale and, 123–​24, 131, 139, 140f, 155n46, 155–​57, 282–​83,  295 first movement and, 128, 129–​30f, 130, 252, 253n68, 295 first Nachtmusik and, 179–​80f, 179, 180–​81,  207 “last sketchbook” story, 80n49, 80 Meistersinger references in, 281–​84f, 281 Moldenhauer sketches and, 82, 124, 131, 133f, 135–​36, 136f, 137f, 140, 155–​57, 158–​ 59, 203f, 203, 204f, 204, 207 Ninth Symphony and, 125n7, 125–​26, 126f, 126n8, 295

Scherzo and, 83n62, 216, 217–​18 Scherzo-​like material in, 216, 217f, 217–​18, 218f, 295 second Nachtmusik and, 200, 201f, 206–​7,  254 Sixth–​Seventh connections in, 124–​25, 128f, 128–​31, 136, 137–​40f, 138, 139–​40, 158, 200, 201f, 207, 295 stacked fifth chords in, 282, 283f term use, 79n47 “unknown” music in, 124–​25, 136, 157, 158 Vienna sketchbook folios 2v, 180f,  180–​81 3r, 125–​26f, 125, 128f, 128, 129, 130–​31f, 131, 132, 133f, 179–​80f, 179, 180–​81 3v, 135, 136f, 179, 180–​81 4v, 136, 137–​38f, 138 5r, 138f, 138 5v, 139, 140f 6v, 281f 7r, 131–​33f, 131, 132, 200, 201f, 203–​4f, 203, 204 7v, 125, 126f, 179, 180f, 180 8v, 216, 217f 8v–​13r,  216 9r, 216, 217f 9v, 217–​18, 218f 10r, 217–​18, 218f 10v–​12r,  252 12v, 216, 217f 27v, 260, 261f 29r, 135, 155n46, 155–​57, 156f 30v, 259–​60, 260f 30v–​27v,  252 Wagner, Katharina, 293n74 Wagner, Richard anti-​Semitic stereotypes conveyed by, 3, 33–​34, 291–​92, 299–​301 on last movements, 89 on Mime, 291 Parsifal compositional narrative, 262 Rheingold compositional narrative, 263–​64 relationship to German culture, 292–​93 Wagner, Richard, works of, see Meistersinger; ParsifalRing; Rheingold; Siegfried Idyll; Tristan Walpurgis Night, 229, 305 Walter, Bruno, 10–​11, 12–​13, 14, 24–​25 Walton, Chris, 262

Index : 377 Weigl, Karl on Finale, 92–​94n12, 92–​94n14, 94–​95 on Nachtmusiken, 160n2, 162n5, 174–​75, 184–​85n74,  184–​85 Weiss, Günther, 11n19 Weltlauf (course of the world) defined by Adorno, 173, 173n45 in first movement, 246–​48, 249–​50 in first Nachtmusik, 213, 302–​4 in Scherzo, 175–​76, 213, 230–​31

theme (Scherzo), 213, 214–​16, 219, 220, 225 Williamson, John, 239–​40, 247 Wunderhorn, 173, 174f

 

Zasche, Theodor,  306f Zöphel, Emil, 85n71, 85 Zychowicz, James, 22, 59