Cesar Franck (1822-90)
Piano Quintet in F minor (1879)
Cesar Franck wasn’t exactly a late bloomer, but he is mostly know for a series of pieces he composed over the last fifteen or twenty of his sixty-seven years. The mammoth Piano Quintet in F minor dates from this period (as do the Symphony in D minor, Violin Sonata, and Symphonic Variations), written in 1879 after Franck hadn’t composed any chamber music in over a quarter of a century.
That it’s a big piece is evident from the opening bars of the first movement: Franck wrote an impassioned, dramatic introduction that starts with doubly-dotted rhythms in the first violin. The piano responds with a flowing, expressive figure of its own. Eventually, these two musical ideas are heard together before the music moves into the main, sonata form section of the movement.
The first theme of this faster section is derived from the opening violin motive of the introduction: a descending scale with dotted rhythms now transformed from the strict gesture we first heard into something a bit freer. It’s followed by a second theme that is a bit more relaxed in terms of rhythm – think of it as a corresponding motive to the piano’s original material. This isn’t necessarily the most interesting tune in the piece, but it’s straightforward enough to serve as the departure point for lots of harmonic adventures throughout the movement.
Indeed, the development and recapitulation are both filled with queasy chromaticism, as well as huge dynamic and expressive contrasts. The movement concludes in a state of emotional exhaustion over a steady patter of eighth notes in the piano.
The second movement is also cast in a sonata form, though, in many ways, it feels much less intense than the opening movement. Even so, the unstable harmonic language of this music, especially its shifts from minor to major and back again with little warning, nicely emphasize the music’s persistent mood of unfulfilled longing.
For the finale, Franck returned to the unsettled, spastic temperament of the first movement, beginning with a repeated tremolo figure that’s passed between the violins while the piano responds with a descending bass line. Eventually, all the strings join in on the movement’s first main tune, which – like the first movement – features a dotted rhythmic pattern. Since the strings are in unison, the music’s textures are remarkably clear: the piano only supplies a rapid accompaniment of triplet eighth notes.
The movement’s other principal melody is given to the piano alone; the strings here are relegated to an accompanimental figure. This second tune features a peculiar harmonic progression showcasing augmented triads. Extensive developmental sections – symphonic, really – ensue before all the material is restated and the quintet ends with a strikingly abrupt coda. The music may conclude in F major, but the closing cadence hardly feels like a triumphant arrival.
The premiere of Franck’s Quintet in January 1880 must rank as one of the strangest musical affairs of the 19th century. In the event, the pianist (and dedicatee) was the composer Camille Saint-Saëns, who sight-read his part, and liked what he was playing less and less as the performance wore on. Afterwards, as Franck came to the stage to congratulate the players and accept the audience’s applause, Saint-Saëns angrily marched off, embarrassed to have been involved with the piece at all: officially, he took issue with the music’s many modulations, though perhaps the score’s unbridled sensuality – and Franck’s none-too-subtle infatuation at the time with one of his students (who Saint-Saëns may or may not have shared feelings for) – was too much for him.
© Jonathan Blumhofer
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