Mahler's Seventh
An Enigma, or Unique Work?
by Stan Ruttenberg
Even die-hard Mahlerites like to denigrate the Seventh. Deryck Cooke, for example, in his book on the symphonies, accuses Mahler of writing, in the last movement, "music that he despised the most — "Kappelmeistermusik." A good friend, and in fact my Mahler mentor, said of this movement — "It is badly composed." Others are puzzled by it — it seems so "un-Mahlerian."
Donald Mitchell, in his extensive writings on Mahler, pays little attention to the Seventh. However, he recently wrote an extensive essay on the Seventh, called "Mahler on the Move: His Seventh Symphony," having been inspired, he said, by a performance at Salzburg, conducted by Claudio Abbado. Here is a short excerpt from the introduction:
"Is it the case that all great composers turn out to have given birth to a 'problem child' among their works? If so, then there can be little doubt that it is Mahler's Seventh Symphony that fits the bill. In terms of public reception and affection — and, indeed comprehension — it has to be conceded that the Seventh has remained something of an enigma, though in fact the critical reception it was given at its premičre in Prague, in 1908, was generally positive, even enthusiastic. It was later performances elsewhere that seemed to arouse patent bewilderment, scepticism and hostility. However, although the Vienna premičre was not conducted by Mahler himself, it prompted a letter to him from Arnold Schoenberg who, up to this point, had been notably reserved in his response to Mahler's music. This, oddly, was contrary to the almost unbounded respect and admiration Schoenberg's own pupils — among them Berg, Webern and Erwin Stein — had for Mahler, the man and his works.
"I have often wondered how it was that the conservative composer who was Schoenberg co-existed with the radical composer of the same name. Was it the radical Mahler who, for an appreciable period, Schoenberg found problematic? Whatever the reason for the paradox, the moment came when, by way of a much earlier positive impression (in 1904) of the Third Symphony, the younger composer's doubts, for the first time, were altogether stilled. The work that finally precipitated a dramatic change in attitude was the Seventh. This is how the letter of 29 December 1909 — it has since become famous — ended:
As for which movement I liked best: All of them! I cannot prefer any one to the others. Perhaps I was rather indifferent at the beginning of the first movement. But anyway only for a short time. And from then on steadily warming to it. 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. It was an extraordinarily great treat. I simply cannot understand how I was not won over to this before.
"Schoenberg's 'conversion', and that it was the Seventh that specifically activated it, has proved to be of historic significance. For here, surely, we have the 'radical' Schoenberg — and by 1909, the date of his letter, Schoenberg had already embarked on his revolutionary Expressionist period (Erwartung, for example, was composed in the same year) — reacting to a symphony that, as time has shown, has to be counted among Mahler's most radical and still provocative works.
"Today, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, it has become virtually received opinion that the Seventh represents Mahler at his most 'modern', as one of the prime makers of the 'new' music that was to startle the world post-1900; and I have no doubt that it was the then novel presence of the fourth [interval] that suggested to listeners that the old euphony was on the brink of abandonment; add to that the peculiarly shrill and piercing character of Mahler's instrumentation of the first movement, for the woodwind especially, and it is scarcely surprising that the symphony's problematic reputation has persisted."
Later in this essay, Dr. Mitchell makes the argument that Mahler was a great traveler, in his music, that is. There always seems to be a goal towards which Mahler is striving. Thus, in the Seventh, Mahler's journey from the aspects of night towards the day, and finally getting there in a blaze of glory, fits this notion.
An English colleague, Tony Duggan, who writes record reviews for an internet site, has quite the opposite of Cooke's view of the Seventh, and especially the final movement. Here is what he says, as introduction to his overview of recordings of this work:
"The Seventh Symphony is often talked of as Mahler's least popular work, the one even some die-hard supporters have problems with. But it needn't be like that. Indeed it shouldn't be like that. You can't take Mahler ŕ la carte, and to those who say this is the Mahler symphony they pass on I say they're missing an important chapter in his musical life story and, most important of all, the experience of one of the most extraordinary pieces of music he ever wrote...
"The first music he wrote straight after finishing the deeply tragic and grandly sinister Sixth was the second movement of the Seventh. Seen like this, the movement emerges as a kind of therapy for all the terror, pain and catastrophe in the former and, I think, gives vital clues to the latter. Not only that, since movements 2 and 4 were composed first, it was movements 1, 3 and 5 that had to wait another year before being completed, and Donald Mitchell even brings forward evidence that the first movement may have been written last of all. So I believe the fact of the two Nachtmusik movements "in search of a symphony" for a whole year clinches it that it's THEIR mood that must be taken as paramount here, along with the Scherzo third movement which is another Nachtmusik in all but name.
"So, to the extent that any work of Mahler's middle period is "about" anything, this is a symphony about Night and responses to it. But this is too often taken to mean that 'Night' for Mahler means emotional darkness: night as metaphor for tragedy and despair. This is not necessarily so. Night is also Evening when we relax and turn off from the day; Night is when we sleep for refreshment; Night is when we dream, and most dreams are not nightmares. There is also one more important aspect to Night and that's the promise of the return of Day followed by the Day itself. The two outer movements, the first and fifth, set this frame for the pattern of 'Night and the return of Day' and the three central movements depict what Night can hold: convivial evenings with friends, walks at dusk, telegrams from Vienna, news of loved ones far away, and (in the 4th movement) nights of love. Also that all-important promise that a new day will finally come. I may be being more descriptive and programmatic than Mahler would want me to be, but I don't think a little imagination here can do any harm.
"People often cite the Scherzo third movement as proof that Mahler is, in fact, still in nightmare territory. Maybe he is and maybe they have a point, but don't you find the spooks and ghosts in the Scherzo rather stylised, not meant to be taken too seriously, especially when framed by their counterparts? It's a view not universally accepted, but it's one I'm prepared to defend, even though I can be persuaded otherwise in the presence of one particular approach to the work and by one particular conductor. But that is often the way when cracking the Mahlerian 'code'.
"The riotous pageant of the last movement is a problem for many. There are plenty of explanations as to what Mahler was aiming for in a movement that can seem out of place, but success in performance certainly depends on making the movement emerge naturally out of what has gone before and by playing it for all it's worth: no apologies for its weaknesses, whatever the philosophy behind the conductor's conception of the rest. It's a collage of colour, energy and celebration. It's 'the return of Day' into which you can read what you wish. As with the Scherzo, there is another explanation which can underpin the most exuberant of performances… There are links to other works and composers here too. There's a near quote from Lehar's The Merry Widow, which premiered in December 1905 and which Mahler and his wife enjoyed [actually, probably not, because The Merry Widow was composed while Mahler was composing the Seventh in a different part of Austria —SR]. There is also, I think, a reference to Mozart's Il Seraglio. And, of course, there is Wagner's Mastersingers of Nuremberg with its celebratory major chord optimism [opening scene in the Church, and also just before the Song contest scene—SR]. In early performances Mahler actually preceded the symphony with the Overture, perhaps as a kind of balance with the last movement [actually, only in his last performance of the Seventh—SR]. Try playing Wagner's overture and then Mahler's symphony and see how the Wagner sets up what you are going to be aiming at by the time Mahler's work ends—a fact Mahler surely meant us to understand.
"Since I believe Mahler is in more relaxed mood in the Seventh, he can also take time to experiment. Hence the wonderful orchestration, the exotic instrumental plumage, the feeling of the orchestra pushed to some kind of limit and quite often, as a result, broken down into unusual groupings. So let the wonderful sounds wash over you, pick out the colours and textures that you like and have a good wallow. Mahler is showing off but in so doing is showing himself attached to the new trends bubbling around him which would usher in the worlds of Schoenberg and his associates. No surprise that this is the work that convinced Schoenberg of Mahler's greatness. One other aspect of the special orchestration as a sidelight is that a lot of it is very detailed and 'thick'. I think this becomes almost an unconscious metaphor for the times. Webern is around the corner and his use of extreme formal compression, the antidote to what Mahler represented, is about to impinge. So Mahler's Seventh is the old Viennese style at its limit, the textures almost sickly, like the sickly society they came from and, like them, pregnant with change."
Mention is also made in the literature that Mahler was influenced by Rembrandt's famous painting "The Night Watch," which Mahler saw on his many visits to Amsterdam. As is so often the case, once a "good story" starts, it is too often picked up as "true history." Here is what Henry-Louis de La Grange wrote to me about this matter:
"Rembrandt's painting is mentioned by Mengelberg in his 'program' which he claims to be based on Mahler's own statements during the October 1909 rehearsals. But more important still is the statement below by Alphons Diepenbrock, who was a dear friend and loyal admirer of GM, and who attended the Amsterdam rehearsals and also discussed the work with Mahler. He recalls the composer's reluctance to provide 'keys' or programmatic associations for his Nachtmusik I: 'It is not true that he [Mahler] had tried to depict the 'Night Watch'. He mentioned this picture only as a point of comparison. It is a night walk, and he says himself that he was thinking of a patrol (Scharwache). Besides, he says something different each time. What is certain is that it is a march in a fantastic kind of chiaroscuro, hence the analogy with Rembrandt. The fantastic colours are enough in themselves to carry the imagination back into the past, suggesting a tableau of soldiers and mercenaries."
Thus, let us forget the controversies about this work and just enjoy it as a joyous romp.
Note: Those with quick ears will recognize in the first movement a tune that resembles uncannily the much later popular tune, Copa Cabana, which also appears in the final movement. Then, in the second movement there is a direct allusion to one of the march tunes in the first movement of Mahler's Third. In the final movement, we certainly hear almost a direct quote from Die Meistersinger (the opening chorus in Act I, and also at the end of the singing of a portion of the final version of Walter's Prize Song just before the principals leave for the Song Contest.) Moreover, one might think one hears an allusion to Lehar's Merry Widow Waltz, in a much slower tempo; however, this cannot be so as both Mahler and Lehar were hard at work in the same summer, in different parts of Austria, on these two works. Mahler and Alma, however, liked to dance to the Merry Widow Waltz, and there is the story that after attending a performance, Alma went to a music store, found the score and memorized it, and played it at home for Gustav on her piano. With just a little imagination, one also hears a passage somewhat like Baa Baa Black Sheep, and the end of the Snickersnee patter song from Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado:
To sit in solemn silence in a dull dark dock,
In a pestilential prison, with a life-long lock,
Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock,
From a cheap and chipper chopper on a big black block.
This work was introduced in London in 1885, and Mahler was in London some ten years later to conduct two cycles of Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen at Covent Garden. Perhaps he attended a revival performance of Mikado?
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