Fauré: Requiem
Fauré’s Requiem, a favorite of choruses everywhere, is unusual in that it omits the Dies irae, that terrifying centerpiece of the Requiem masses of Mozart, Berlioz, and Verdi.Rather, the imagery is of untroubled slumber: that Faure lingers again and again on the word “requiem,” Latin for rest, is no coincidence nor is the predominance of movements with serene texts (Sanctus, Pie Jesu, Agnus Dei, In Paradisum).About half the words come from less familiar passages in the Latin services for the dead, though in this and other respects, Faure’s Requiem is squarely in line with the traditions ofFrench funeral music. You should indeed endeavor to picture the Paris church of the Madeleine when you hear this work, for it was within that imposing though anachronistic edifice that Faure spent much of his career, where the work was first performed, and where it served as the music for Faure’s own funeral.
The composer’s view of death is conveyed in the prevailing
homophonic textures and by the muted colours of the
orchestration, which relies strongly on the sonorities of
subdivided violas, cellos, bassoons, French horns, and the
quieter ranks of the organ. The organ, supporting the structure,
walks along in neo-Baroque fashion but for occasional
eruptions of grander material. For the rest of the orchestra,
it’s largely a matter of counting rests. The two trumpets are
used, sparingly, merely to enrich the French horn textures;
flutes and clarinets appear only in the Pie Jesu, with trombones
and timpani in the Libera me alone. Moreover, though harp-like
arpeggios abound in the accompaniment figurations, the harps are
to be hard only in the Sanctus, Pie Jesu, and In Paradisum. (The
explanation for this lopsided orchestration lies partly in the
long genesis of the work over three distinct version, of which
you need be concerned only with the third.)
Faure’s Requiem is, then, a soothing, almost passive composition.
Note how often, for example, material is presented boy the tenor
section in unison of striking naivete. The movements tend to be
simple rounded structures. In the second, for instance, the solo
baritone has, in the middle, a splendid Hostias intoned over
pulsating strings, with on either side the imitative Domine Jesus
Christe. The great movements are the Libera me -likewise for the
baritone soloist, a stirring, noble march of reassurance in the
face of reckoning -and just before it the Agnus Dei, a lullaby
for tenors with a recollection of the opening Requiem toward the
end.
The celestial movements (Santus, Pie Jesu with the single appearance of the soprano soloist, and In Paradisum) are a little syrupy, with the high violins, angelic sopranos, and harps all but inevitable in music of this sort. The French tend to think of paradise in pastel hues; there’s always a harp and an organ to be heard, and women and children. Either you like this kind of thing or you don’t; Faure manages it about as well as any.
There’s something private and quietly personal about Faure’s Requiem, perhaps the result of his having undertaken to compose it during the period when he lost both parents. Not all of us are heroes enough to merit the heroic Requiems of Berlioz or Verdi anyway: this tender work is a Requiem for everyman.