L'Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal

Gustav Mahler,
Born in Kalischt, Bohemia, July 7, 1860; 
Died in Vienna, May 18, 1911

Symphony No. 8 (Symphony of a Thousand)

PART I: Hymn – Veni, Creator spiritus
PART II: Final Scene from Goethe’s Faust

“The Eighth is the greatest work I have yet composed, and it is so different in content and in form that I cannot even write about it. Imagine that the universe bursts into song. We no longer hear human voices, but those of planets and suns which revolve.” (Gustav Mahler)

 A 75th anniversary calls for a truly special musical event, and there can be no more fitting a choice to open the OSM’s 75th  season than Mahler’s Symphony of a Thousand. 

The subtitle was not Mahler’s, though he can hardly have objected. When preparations for the world premiere were underway in Munich, the impresario Emil Gutmann coined the phrase as part of his publicity campaign. In fact, the performance, which took place on September 12, 1910 in the new Exhibition Hall, involved slightly more than one thousand musicians: 858 singers, 171 instrumentalists and one conductor (Mahler himself) for a total of 1,030. An ecstatic audience of 3,000 applauded.

This event marked the culmination of Mahler’s career as both conductor and composer. His young disciple Bruno Walter provided this account of that memorable evening: “The immense apparatus obeyed with devotion the master’s effortless direction. All performers were in a state of solemn exaltation, and this was true, above all, of the children, whose hearts he had captured from the beginning. It was a great moment when, greeted by the thousands who filled the giant hall, he took his place facing the thousand performers … and when his music invoked the creator spiritus by whose fires it had been generated with him, and when from all lips burst forth the yearning call of his life. … when the last note of the performance had died away, and the waves of enthusiastic applause reached him, Mahler ascended the steps of the platform, at the top of which the children’s choir was posted. The little ones hailed him with shouts of jubilation …”

At the first American performance six years later (Leopold Stokowski conducting The Philadelphia Orchestra), the forces were even a bit larger than in Munich (1,069). Big numbers make a big show, but they don’t necessarily lead to a better performance. For tonight’s concert, the oversized orchestra (including 22 woodwind and 24 brass players, mandolin, organ, piano, harmonium, bells and much more), row upon row of chorus members (a double mixed chorus, a boys’ choir and a girls’ choir) and a lineup of eight soloists all crowding the stage of Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier will more than adequately fulfill Mahler’s message of joy, his inspiring vision and the fervent affirmation of achievement following struggle, all relevant attributes for the launching of a celebratory symphony season. 

As was often the case with Mahler, autobiographical elements took a hand in the development of this symphony. He had more than once been beset with psychological blocks and self-doubts about failing inspiration. Each time it was a hymn of some sort that inspired him to continue. The Latin hymn Veni, creator spiritus  undoubtedly represented to the composer not just God or the Holy Spirit, but an invocation of divine love, the strength inherent in creation. The hymn itself, attributed to the medieval Hrabanus Maurus (Archbishop of Mainz, 776-856), celebrates the descent of the Holy Ghost upon the apostles at Pentecost.  

The two parts of the symphony reveal enormous differences. The text of the first part is in Latin, that of the second in German. The first is in modified sonata-allegro form while the second is a kind of free fantasy closely following the text. The choral and vocal work in Part I is that of a solid and exalted mass; that of Part II is highly varied and often unreal, as if coming from another world. Part I is monumental, while Part II is mostly quiet, intimate and mystical. Yet, despite the differences, a strong sense of thematic unity infuses the two sections. Melodic cells carry over from the first to the second part, and in basic ideology the two parts are related by their textual message - man's longing for eternal life.

The symphony opens with a tremendous outburst - a fervent appeal to the “creator spiritus.” This short melodic cell is repeated in the brass and occurs in three different rhythms and meters within five bars of music. This opening hymn is stated by both full choirs and tossed back and forth between them. At the words “Imple superna gratia,” the solo singers are introduced. A brief re-statement of the “Veni, creator spiritus” is followed by an orchestral passage in preparation for the softly-intoned “Informa nostri corpori,” which is accompanied by improvisatory-sounding violin solos. 

A new section, in quicker tempo, features nervous fragmentation of the “Veni” theme in muted horns. The feeling of awe and fear is heightened by the use of tolling bells. Seven vocal soloists re-affirm the text of  “Infirma nostri corporis” to new thematic material.  Suddenly, at the words “Accende lumen sensibus,” there is a terrific outburst from the unison double chorus in E major, accompanied by full instrumental forces. Next a short passage conveys a sense of fierce rage through repeated downward scales in the strings while the vocal forces engage in energetic proclamations. The longest section of the movement consists of an extensive double fugue (“Ductore sic te praevio”) in which Mahler exploits his contrapuntal abilities to the hilt. The boys’ choir can be heard cutting through the thick texture of full orchestra and two mixed choirs. When this fugal passage has run its course, the soloists once more come to the fore (“Da gaudiorum praemia”). The final pages of Part I are marked by a crescendo of enthusiasm and a “rush to the finish” with all the choirs, the organ and full orchestra pouring forth massive blocks of E-flat major chords.

Part II opens in striking contrast to the jubilant outpourings of Part I.  The longest passage for orchestra alone occurs here - a highly atmospheric symphonic description of the lonely mountain landscape imagined by Goethe for the final scene of Faust, Part II. The short melodic idea played by the cellos in the opening bars is actually just a minor version of the “Accende lumen” of Part I. The music begins in a mood of hushed reverence, but later becomes restless, even anguished. This passage is probably the most characteristically Mahlerian in the whole symphony.  

At long last, the first choral entry arrives, heard in the hesitant, tentative voices of the Anchorites (hermits).  The sublime, mysterious music suddenly turns brighter upon the entry of Pater Ecstaticus, who describes his mystic ecstasy in faster tempos, greater urgency and rising melodic lines. A brief trumpet fanfare precedes the text of Pater Profundus, whose music is characterized by widely ranging lines and many leaps. Nervous, improvisatory lines in the violins and yearning horn calls accompany the singer's passionate cries “from the lower region.” Two lightweight choruses - Angels and Blessed Boys - enter separately, and soon afterwards sing simultaneously, welcoming Faust to the upper spheres. The next chorus is for the Younger Angels (“Jene Rosen”), a passage that inevitably recalls the sound world of Mahler's early symphonies and songs in its smooth, graceful, lively quality.

Following an orchestral interlude come the More Perfect Angels (“Uns bleibt ein Erdenrest”), whose accompaniment again involves the rhapsodical, improvisatory solos for viola and violin. To a theme heard first in the woodwinds back in the orchestral introduction to Part II, Young Angels sing a sprightly, faster and more brightly-colored phrase (“Ich spür' soeben”) and Dr. Marianus, “from the highest, purest cell of the mountain,” sings a hymn to the Virgin in grandiose, sweeping lines, echoed by a solo horn.  Then comes one of the most magical moments of the entire score - an ethereal violin theme with gentle ripples of harp accompaniment gives a vision of heavenly beauty. The chorus welcomes the appearance of Mater Gloriosa as she “soars into view.” Three penitents each sing a passage of sacred scripture, finally joining in a trio.

The last soloist to enter is now heard: Gretchen as a penitent. Mater Gloriosa calls Gretchen up to the higher spheres dolcissimo (“Komm, komm”). Dr. Marianus praises Mater Gloriosa effulgently to a hymn-like melody, while the chorus softly beckons Gretchen upwards. Celestial harp arpeggios complete the picture of heavenly bliss. The music gains in force and breadth, with lines soaring higher and higher. The end is in sight, but before the final apotheosis comes a brief, surprise return to the mystic realms suggested at the beginning of Part II. This is the Chorus mysticus, music of sublime beauty (“Alles Vergängliche”). Solo sopranos carry their lines to the top of the range; power, grandeur and intensity continue unabated until the joyous “Veni, Creator spiritus” is heard one final time.  In a blaze of glorious sound, the massed choirs, organ and full orchestra bring Mahler's colossal Eighth Symphony to its conclusion. 

Robert Markow