The friendship between
Fauré and Saint-Saëns lasted
sixty years; probably unique in terms
of duration between musicians and rare
in artists of any kind. The relationship
began as one of pupil and master, though
Saint-Saëns was only ten years
older than the younger man and it ended
as a relationship between compositional
equals, though one invariably tinged
by the element of the pedagogic which
remained a part of Saint-Saëns’s
epistolary armoury.
They met at the École
Niedermeyer in 1861 when Fauré
was sixteen and the first letters date
from 1862. These early letters are jesting,
bantering, with plenty of gallantry
regarding the ladies. Saint-Saëns
calls his favourite pupil "my fat
cat" and "fat wolf."
Gradually, as Fauré rises in
eminence topics broaden and deepen.
They wonder when they can meet up, meetings
often destined to be thwarted by circumstance;
invitations to dine are accepted or
postponed; concert tickets are offered
for performances; conservatoire politics
looms large. Both had difficult marriages
and in the few surviving letters from
Fauré’s wife reading between
the lines is not difficult; editorial
expansion serves only to make clearer
what is implicit. Saint-Saëns’s
letters to her were unfailingly kind
and he offered the family a telescope
– he was a keen stargazer and once went
to Spain just to see an eclipse.
A temporary falling
out came over the foundation of the
Société Musicale Indépendante
in 1909. By this time Fauré had
risen to the position of Director of
the Conservatoire in Paris, and a Member
of the Institut, and accepted
the Presidency of the SMI which had
been founded by three of his advanced
pupils, Ravel, Schmitt and Koechlin.
Saint-Saëns railed against these
"little anarchists" and urged
Fauré to sever links. The exchange
comes via Émile Vuillermoz; the
letters the two wrote on the subject
seem not to have survived. But friendly
relations were soon resumed, in spite
of the older man’s known objections.
They argued about composers,
naturally. They fell out over Berlioz.
Fauré castigated the "stupid
admiration" people felt for anything
Berliozian. Saint-Saëns admitted
his faults ("flabbergasting")
but was more generous. Saint-Saëns
was resolutely anti- Franck and anti-Debussy.
By 1915 he was calling En blanc et
noir an atrocity. Saint-Saëns
was also ambivalent about his pupil’s
later music and was clearly vexed by
its modernity; for all Saint-Saëns’
humility toward Fauré, and it
was clearly genuine, he was too honest
to dissemble and yet too subtle to admit
the truth straight out. So he praised
those aspects of Pénélope
(dedicated to him) that he could (staging,
performances) whilst refraining from
comment on much to do with strictly
musical matters. To others he told the
truth.
He remained, though,
a model teacher and a perceptive, thoughtful
friend. He was assiduous in ensuring
Fauré’s scores were accurate
- Fauré was a lax proof reader
- and it shouldn’t be forgotten that
the older man frequently performed Fauré’s
music in public, sometimes giving premieres.
He was solicitous towards the younger
man’s progress, helping him find his
feet socially and professionally in
Paris and helping to secure commissions.
In all respects then the two managed
the transition from teacher to friend
with exemplary ease.
The English edition
of the Letters, translated by J Barrie
Jones, to whom Fauréans owe such
a debt, carries with it the editing
of Jean-Michel Nectoux to whom admirers
are similarly beholden. Both translator
and editor contribute important introductions
and there are numerous footnotes; some
have been amended slightly or expanded
by Jones for English readers. Excellently
clear reproduction allows some of the
letters to be presented in the plates
and there are a number of postcard portraits
of the leading figures in the correspondence.
The only false note in the translation
is in a letter Saint-Saëns wrote
to Camille Bellaigue, which is quoted
in the Editor’s introduction. "Over
the top" is a rather infelicitous
phrase.
This is an important
addition to Fauré studies and
its appearance in an English edition
is a significant event. It’s been carried
through, as Saint-Saëns himself
wrote in a 1915 farewell to his pupil,
Toto corde tibi [With all my
heart].
Jonathan Woolf
