After some descending passages in thirds and sixths—one of the characteristic[260] effects in Brahms's style—the theme is repeated in the violins with richer scoring. The descending passage returns and this time leads to the entrance of a subsidiary theme in F minor. In measures 50-51 occurs one of those cases of melodic germination which entitles Brahms to be called a genuine creative artist. The melody with its dashing, Hungarian zest sounds like something brand-new and yet is logically derived from the main theme by diminution, e.g.
This is real poetic creation, it being the prime object of a poet to create in music something out of apparent nothing. After these vivacious developments the first part ends with a slight repetition of the main theme. The middle part, beginning measure 71, in 6/8 time and in the enharmonic key of B major (E-flat = D-sharp) is noteworthy for its rhythmic swing, bold syncopations and contrasted accents; see especially measures 97-107. At the beginning of the third part there is an effective blending of the rhythm which has just prevailed with the graceful lines of the first theme. The fabric is made up of effective changes, modulatory and rhythmic, in the material from the first part. At the Coda, più tranquillo, there is a delightful reminiscence of the rhythm of the middle portion carried out to the very end by the double basses.[261]
The Finale is one of the most thrilling perorations in music; not a perfunctory close, but a veritable Apotheosis of victorious aspiration, giving an irresistible contrast to the first movement. Whereas, before, there was nothing but conflict, now all is triumphant joy. This movement is laid out on a vast scale, with a wealth of material, including a long Prelude with a distinct theme of its own and an extended Coda. The body of the movement is in abridged sonata form, i.e., there is a complete Exposition with first, second and closing themes, and the usual Recapitulation, but no Development proper. This lack is made good by considerable variation and expansion in the first part of the Résumé. The Prelude begins Adagio with some strains which, like smouldering embers, remind us of the sinister motto of the first movement—note the same dissonant tones A-flat and F-sharp. The following measures are of indefinite nature, beginning piano and pizzicato as if a great body were gathering headway slowly. The pace gradually quickens and we are led through a series of impetuous stringendo runs to a ff chord which, accompanied by a ff roll on the kettle-drums, sounds like a clap of thunder and which, as the reverberations die away, ushers in a most moving theme[262]—given out forte and sempre passionato on the horn over a pp muted tremolo on the strings with a background of pp trombones, e.g.
This inspired passage[263] has been eloquently described by W.F. Apthorp as follows:
"Amid hushed, tremulous harmonies in the strings, the horn and afterward the flute pour forth an utterly original melody, the character of which ranges from passionate pleading to a sort of wild exultation according to the instrument that plays it. The coloring is enriched by the solemn tones of the trombones, which appear for the first time in this movement. It is ticklish work trying to dive down into a composer's brain, and surmise what special outside source his inspiration may have had; but one cannot help feeling that this whole wonderful episode may have been suggested to Brahms by the tones of the Alpine horn, as it awakens the echoes from mountain after mountain on some of the high passes in the Bernese Oberland. This is certainly what the episode recalls to any one who has ever heard those poetic tones and their echoes. A short, solemn, even ecclesiastical interruption by the trombones and bassoons is of more thematic importance. As the horn-tones gradually die away, and the cloud-like harmonies in the strings sink lower and lower—like mist veiling the landscape—an impressive pause ushers in the Allegro."
After the flute has repeated this theme there is an interpolation of an important choral-like phrase (referred to above), e.g.
for it is later used as the climax of the Finale—in fact, of the whole work—and its tone of religious fervor, accentuated by the scoring for trombones and bassoons, is a clear indication of the ideal message which Brahms meant to convey. The body of the movement, Allegro non troppo ma con brio, begins with a majestic, sweeping theme[264] of great rhythmic vitality and elasticity announced by the strings, e.g.
It is at once repeated with richer scoring and then some exciting transitional passages lead, after a slight phrase taken from the chief theme of the prelude, to the second theme, animato, in G major, e.g.
This has some rhythmical expansion and then a quieter part, dolce e piano, beginning measure 71. Some rushing ff passages bring us, in measure 107, to the brilliant closing theme with its staccato, triplet rhythm. The Exposition ends in E minor, in measure 122, after a series of forte, staccato chords. The Recapitulation begins at once after two modulatory chords, and though sufficient stress is laid on the first theme, there is so much development of previous material that it serves for both the customary second and third parts. A good deal of adverse criticism has been expended on this portion of the movement and it is possible that Brahms's remarkable technique in handling his material ran away with him. But the music is always striving toward some goal, and even if it has to plough through desperate seas, there is no weakness or faltering. This part of the work is not beautiful in the popular sense of the term, but no one can fail to be impressed with its character. A climax is finally reached, in measure 224, with a fortissimo statement of the chief theme of the prelude, and then, after this has cooled down, diminuendo e calando, the second theme enters in the home key. The rest of the recapitulation corresponds closely with the exposition. The Coda begins, in measure 306, with a shadowy outline of modulatory chords, as if slumbering forces were slowly awakening; and, becoming more crescendo and stringendo, reveals its full glory at the Più Allegro. This portion, based on quickened phrases of the first theme, seems charged with superhuman energy, and mounting higher and higher culminates in a majestic proclamation of the choral-like motto of the prelude, e.g.
On hearing this it always seems as if the heavens above us really opened. The rest of the Coda is a scene of jubilation with ever more life and light. The dissonant tones of F-sharp and A-flat try to lift their heads but this time are crushed forever by the triumphant fundamental chords of C major, e.g.
The movement, in keeping with its serious message, ends with a prolonged and brilliant Plagal Cadence in which the double basses and the trombone surge upward with elemental power.
Sonata for Violin and Pianoforte
Of Brahms's three Sonatas for violin and pianoforte, respectively, in D minor, A major and G major, that in A major has been selected to give some idea of his chamber music, on account of the spontaneous appeal of its melodies and because its performance is possible for fairly well equipped executants. In many respects the D minor Sonata is the greatest of the three, but it is a work exceedingly difficult of execution and interpretation. The A major Sonata needs few comments, as the music speaks for itself. The work is in three movements, the first in complete sonata-form with the two customary themes, each of distinct lyric charm and hence eminently suited to the singing qualities of the violin; the second movement a fusion of the two normal middle ones, and the Finale a Rondo, freely treated. The first movement, Allegro amabile, begins with a suave theme, e.g.,
the first interval of which, a descending leap from the third to the leading tone, always seems to make a distinct appeal.[265] After the customary transition appears the second theme, announced by the pianoforte in measure 50, e.g.,
showing Brahms's fondness for contrasted rhythms—three notes to a beat in one hand against two in the other. After a repetition by the violin there is a spirited closing theme in measure 75, of great importance later. The Development, one of Brahms's best, manifests real organic growth; there is nothing labored or perfunctory. It is based on the first theme and the closing theme of the Exposition, e.g.
The Reprise beginning in measure 158, shows the usual treatment. The Coda, from measure 219, is long and, like codas of Beethoven, has features of a second development. The movement ends with brilliant arpeggios in the pianoforte against octaves and double stops in the violin. In the second movement, Andante tranquillo, in F major, Brahms fuses[266] together the moods usually associated with the slow movement and the scherzo, playing one off against the other; the slow theme appearing three times—at its final appearance with eloquent modulations—and the rapid one twice, with contrast gained the second time through pizzicato effects on the violin. The two themes are as follows:—
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
The short, dashing Coda is based on the vivace theme, with sonorous chords on the violin, both pizzicato and arco.
The Finale, Allegretto grazioso, is a convincing example of how such a rigid form as the Older Rondo can be freshened up and revitalized by the hand of a master, for the main theme, e.g.
has such genuine melodic life that we always recur to it with pleasure and yet at each appearance it is so deftly varied that no monotony is felt. The two episodes afford stimulating contrasts and need no comment. The main theme at its third appearance is in the subdominant key, with effective rhythmic modifications. The movement is a remarkable illustration of idiomatic style for each of the instruments: the violin part, sustained and cantabile; the pianoforte part, broken up and of remarkable color and sonority. The last page of the Coda, almost exclusively in double stops for the violin, brings a rousing close to a masterpiece.
Ballade in G minor for Pianoforte
(See Supplement No. 60)
Although the most important factor in Brahms's pianoforte pieces is Brahms himself, a careful examination of his works in this field shows that his style is fashioned from an intelligent, and by no means slavish assimilation of important features in the works of his great predecessors. Thus we find the same melodic warmth as in Schubert, the rhythmic vitality and massive harmony so prominent in Schumann and the extended arpeggios and chords, the color and richness, peculiar to Chopin. From among the numerous and beautiful compositions of Brahms for solo pianoforte we have selected the Ballade in G minor because it represents a somewhat unusual and hence seldom recognized side of his genius—the specifically dramatic. When a composer calls his piece a Ballade, as in the case of compositions so entitled by Chopin and Liszt, we may assume that there is some dramatic or subjective meaning behind the notes; and the hearer is at liberty to give play to his own imagination and to receive the message as something more than music in the ordinary abstract or absolute sense. From the inner evidence of this Ballade of Brahms it seems to the writer[267] not too fanciful to consider it a picture of a knight-errant in medieval times setting out on his adventures. Observe the vigorous swing of the opening theme in that five-measure rhythm so dear to Brahms. But in the middle portion, in the romantic key of B major,[268] the woman appears—perhaps some maiden imprisoned in a tower—and she sings to the knight a song of such sweetness that he would fain forsake duty, battle, everything! The contrast of opposing wills[269] is dramatically indicated by an interpolation, after the maiden's first appeal, of the martial theme of the knight, as if he felt he should be off instead of lingering, enchanted by her song. Notwithstanding a still more impassioned repetition of the song, the Knight is firm, tears himself away and continues on his course; how great the wrench, being clearly indicated by the unusual modulations in measures 72-76. The enchanting song, however, still lingers with him and he dwells with fond regret upon bygone scenes and dreams which were unattainable. In this piece is seen Brahms's aristocratic distinction in the treatment of program music. The subject is portrayed broadly—there are no petty details—and the music itself, to anyone with a sensitive imagination, tells the story clearly. Hence a detailed poetic interpretation is out of place, since only to the suggester would it have meaning.
So many of Brahms's pianoforte compositions are of great beauty and significance that, although space is lacking for further comment on definite examples, we urge the music-lover to study the following: the second Intermezzo[270] in B-flat minor of op. 117, perhaps the most beautiful single piece Brahms has written—remarkable for its rhythmic texture and for the equalization of both hands, which was one of his chief contributions to pianoforte style; the second Intermezzo of op. 119, the middle part of which is significant for the extended arpeggio grouping for the left hand (Brahms following Chopin's lead in this respect); the sixth Intermezzo of op. 118, a superb piece for sonority and color; the third Intermezzo in op. 119, (grazioso e giocoso) and the B minor Capriccio op. 76—both in Brahms's happiest vein of exuberant vitality; the sixth Intermezzo in op. 116, a beautiful example, in its polyphonic texture, of modernized Schumann; and, above all, the mighty Rhapsodies in E-flat major, op. 112 No. 4 and the one in G minor op. 79—this latter, one of Brahms's most dramatic conceptions, and an example, as well, of complete sonata-form used for an independent composition.
Song—Meine Liebe ist grün wie der Fliederbusch
(See Supplement No. 61)
Whatever Brahms is or is not, he is universally recognized as an inspired song-composer and those who do not know his songs are cut off from one of the greatest joys music has to offer. As Huneker so well says, "Although his topmost peaks are tremendously remote, and glitter and gleam in an atmosphere almost too thin for dwellers of the plains, in his songs he was as simple, as manly, as tender as Robert Burns." In Brahms's songs we cannot say which is the most significant factor: the words, the vocal part or the accompaniment; all go together to make up a perfect whole. Brahms had discernment in the selection of texts suited to inspire poetic creation. His melodies are always appropriate to the spirit of the words, yet truly lyric and singable, and the accompaniment catches and intensifies every subtle shade of meaning. If any one factor is of special beauty, however, it is the instrumental part; for here Brahms's great genius in pianoforte style came to the fore and in utilizing every resource of the instrument to glorify the spirit of the text, he is a worthy successor of Schubert, Schumann and Franz. Note how in this song the passionate glow of the poem is reflected in the gorgeous modulations and sonority of the pianoforte part. Especially remarkable is the interlude between the stanzas, with its wealth of dissonances and waves of flashing color. After this surely no one can say that Brahms had no feeling for sensuous effect, at any rate on the pianoforte. Other famous songs of Brahms which should be familiar to the student are the following: Wie Melodien zieht es mir, Feldeinsamkeit, Minnelied, Von ewiger Liebe, Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer, Sapphische Ode, Vergebliches Ständchen. An excellent essay on Brahms as a song composer will be found in the preface to the Forty Songs of Brahms in the Musician's Library (The Oliver Ditson Company).
The foregoing illustrations have made clear, we trust, the inspiration and power of Brahms's varied message. His music, therefore, must be approached reverently, sympathetically and with an earnest desire for a better understanding, for Brahms is veritably a giant.
CHAPTER XVII
CÉSAR FRANCK
BEFORE an appreciation of the significant works and influence of César Franck can be gained, it is necessary to have a broad historical perspective of what had been the trend and the limitations of French music prior to his career. Since the time of Couperin and Rameau, musical composition in France had been devoted almost exclusively to opera—with its two types of grand opera and opéra-comique—and in this field there had been some French musicians of real, though possibly rather slight, genius: Philidor, Méhul, Grétry, Boieldieu, Hérold and Auber. One searches in vain through French literature for great symphonies, string-quartets, violin sonatas or pianoforte compositions of significance. Berlioz, as we have seen, had composed a number of orchestral works; but, from the standpoint of absolute music, even these rather beg the question as they are so extremely programmistic, dramatic or even theatric. This one-sided development of French music was chiefly caused by the people's innate fondness for the drama, and by the national genius for acting, mimicry and dancing.
Prior to the advent of Franck there were two important pioneers in the broadening tendency which finally became noticeable, Saint-Saëns and Lalo. For great assimilative power, for versatility, for clarity of expression and a finish and finesse peculiarly French, Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-still living) is certainly one of the most remarkable musicians of the nineteenth century. His works are numerous, always "well-made" and, though lacking in emotional depth, by no means without charm and grace. They comprise ensemble works: trios, etc., several concertos and symphonies and four symphonic poems. Of these, the third concerto for pianoforte, with its Bach-like introduction, the third violin concerto, the two symphonic poems, Le Rouet d'Omphale and Phaëton and, in particular, the third symphony in C minor, still hold their own. Whatever Saint-Saëns has to say is well said; and if the French have modified their previous opinion that the only vehicle for musical expression was the opera, it is largely through the influence of his compositions. This C minor symphony, first performed in London in 1886, shares with Lalo's symphony in G minor (1887) the claim to be, in all French literature, the first instrumental work of large scope free from programmistic tendencies. Saint-Saëns[271] and Lalo fairly popularized the Sonata form and their works are worthy of great respect; since, through them, the public became accustomed to symphonic style and was prepared for the subsequent greater works of Franck, d'Indy and Chausson. Although not so versatile as Saint-Saëns nor so varied in output, Eduard Lalo (1823-1892) should decidedly not be overlooked. He was of Spanish origin and this racial strain is noticeable in the vivacity of his rhythm, in the piquant individuality of his melodies and in his brilliant and picturesque orchestration. His characteristic work is represented by a series of Concertos and Rhapsodies in which he employs Spanish, Russian and Norwegian themes. He did not escape the French predilection for operatic fame and his best work is probably the well-known opera Le Roi d'Ys, from which the dramatic overture is often played separately. His G minor symphony, however, will always be considered an important landmark in the development of French instrumental music.[272]
César Franck (1822-1890) was a composer of such innate spirituality that to analyze and classify him in a formal manner seems well-nigh irreverent. His music once heard is never forgotten, and when thoroughly known is loved for all time. Nor is an elaborate biographical account necessary; for Franck, more than any other modern composer, has been fortunate in that his life and works have been sympathetically presented to the world by a distinguished contemporary, his most famous pupil d'Indy—himself a gifted composer and a man of rare literary powers. His biography of César Franck (in French and in English) should certainly be read by all who would keep abreast of modern tendencies. Franck's message, however, is so remarkable and his style so individual, that a few definite comments may be made concerning the structural features of his work and the essential attributes, thereby expressed, of his inspiring personality. Franck was a Belgian born at Liège—one of that long line of musicians who, though born elsewhere, have become thoroughly identified with French thought and standards; and there is much in his music which finds a parallel in the literary qualities of another Belgian artist, Maeterlinck, for in both is that same haunting indefiniteness, that same symbolic aspiration. Nothing in Franck is rigid, square-toed; his music is suggestive of a mystic idealism, the full expression of which, from its very nature is unattainable. Franck's outward life was simple, without excitement or diversion of any kind. When he was not giving lessons or composing, he was active in the service of the Roman Catholic Church, in which he was a devout believer. For a number of years he was organist at Sainte Clotilde, and his style thereby was influenced strongly. A distinct note of religious exaltation runs through much of his music; for Franck was a fine character, of spotless purity of life and of such generosity and elevation of soul that his pupils looked upon him as a real father and always called him "Pater Seraphicus." He was universally acknowledged to be the greatest improviser on the organ since Bach himself. Even Liszt, who heard him in 1866, left the church, lost in amazement; evoking the name of the great Sebastian as the only possible comparison.
Franck's services to the development of music are twofold: 1st, as an inspired composer of varied works, which are more and more becoming understood and loved; 2d, as a truly great teacher, among his notable pupils being d'Indy, Chausson, Duparc, Ropartz, and the gifted but short-lived Lekeu. In Franck's music, fully as remarkable as the content—the worthy expression of his poetic nature—is its organic structure. He was the first composer of the French School to use adequately the great forms of symphonic and chamber music which had been worked out hitherto by the Germans: Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, etc. If during the last thirty years, composers of the modern French School have put forth a number of instrumental works of large dimensions (chamber music, symphonies, symphonic poems and pianoforte sonatas), it is to Franck more than to any other man, by reason of his own achievements in these fields and his stimulating influence on others, that this significant fact is due. A striking feature of Franck's music is the individual harmonic scheme, fascinating because so elusive. He was a daring innovator in modulations and in chromatic effect; and has, perhaps, added more genuinely new words to our vocabulary than any one since Wagner. The basis of Franck's harmony is the novel use of the so-called augmented harmonies which, in their derivation, are chromatically altered chords. These are resolved by Franck in a manner remarkably free, and are often submitted to still further chromatic change. In revealing new possibilities he has, in fact, done for these chords what Wagner did for the chord of the ninth. Any page of Franck's music will exemplify this statement, and as an illustration we have cited, in the Supplement, the first part of the Prelude in E major. A life-long student of Bach and Beethoven, Franck believed—as a cardinal principle—that great ideas were not enough; they must be welded together with inexorable logic. And so his chief glory as a musical architect is the free use he makes of such organic forms as the Canon, the Fugue and the Varied Air. Franck was likewise a pioneer in establishing in a sonata or symphony a new conception as to the relationship of the movements. This he effected by the use of what may be called "generative motives" which, announced in the first movement of a work, are found with organic growth, modulatory and rhythmic, in all the succeeding portions. Such a method of gaining unity had been hinted at by Beethoven in his Fifth Symphony, was further developed by Schumann and Liszt and, since the example of Franck, has become a recognized principle in all large cyclic works. The following estimate of his music by F. Baldensperger is worthy of citation. "The contemplative character of Franck's music which explains his entire technique is rare at the epoch in which his life was cast, an epoch of realism, generally inspired by a taste for the picturesque and the dramatic. Posterity will place César Franck in a niche similar to that of Puvis de Chavannes, whose inspiration, indifferent to all worldly solicitations, flowed willingly, like that of Franck, into the paths of reverie, and pursued its way like a beautiful river of quiet waters, undisturbed by waves or rapids, and reflecting the eternal calm of the sky."
As representative works[273] we have chosen, for analytical comments the D minor Symphony (Franck's only work in this field), the Sonata for violin and pianoforte and the Symphonic Variations for pianoforte and orchestra. Franck has also composed a very beautiful Quintet for strings and pianoforte—considered by some the most sublime chamber work of recent times; a String Quartet, notable for its interrelationship of themes and movements; two elaborate compositions for pianoforte solo, the Prelude, Chorale and Fugue (the fugue showing a masterly combination of strict fugal style and free form) and the Prelude, Aria and Finale; a wealth of organ works—the three Chorales being of special beauty—and several Symphonic Poems of lesser importance. His purely vocal works, oratorios and church music lie outside the province of this book.
The Symphony[274] in D minor is in three movements; the first in complete and elaborate sonata-form, the second a fusion of the two customary middle movements, and the Finale (though fundamentally on a sonata-form basis) an organic summing-up of the chief themes of the entire work. The first movement begins, Lento, with the main theme proper (thesis) the motive[275] of which is the foundation of the whole work, e.g.
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
The phraseology of the theme is noticeable for its flexibility; since the first phrase is expanded to five measures and the second phrase (antithesis), with a descending motive, to seven, e.g.
The harmony of this second phrase illustrates a striking feature in Franck's style, namely the fact that his resolutions seldom come out as expected but, instead, drift imperceptibly into other channels. In measure 13 there begins a long series of modulatory developments of the main theme—of a preludial nature—but not a mere prelude in the ordinary sense. That this entire opening portion is the main body of the work is seen by a comparison with what takes place at the beginning of the recapitulation. In measure 29, allegro non troppo, we begin with a presentation of the motive in the usual first-movement mood. The answering phrase, antithesis, is now quite different; and, in measure 48, is developed—with some new contrapuntal voices—to a half cadence in F minor. This whole portion, both the Lento and the Allegro, is now repeated almost literally (the one slight change being in measures 56-57) in this new key, a minor third higher than the original. To begin a first movement in this way, i.e., with such a strong contrast of moods is very novel and striking, but as Franck was a devoted student of Beethoven, it would seem that, by presenting his theme in different strata, he was simply expanding the practise[276] of that master in order to impress his message upon the listener's memory. The repetition of the Allegro part now leads through some rich modulations to the entrance of the second theme, in measure 99. This lovely melody, characteristic of Franck's tenderness,
is noteworthy for the imitations between the violins and the 'cellos and basses. It shows, furthermore, that peculiar quality in Franck's style which comes from his elusive modulations. In measures 109-110 we are at a loss to tell just what direction the music will take when almost miraculously, in measure 111, we find ourselves in D-flat major—in which key the whole theme is now repeated. Some stimulating modulations bring us, in measure 129, to a most energetic and aspiring melody, considered by some another part of the second theme, but which certainly has the note of a closing theme and also the structural position of a closing theme, e.g.
It is developed with great brilliancy through a series of mediant modulations, in which the originality of Franck's harmonic scheme is very apparent. The exposition ends with some dreamy, pianissimo reminiscences of the closing theme in the mediant keys of F, D and B major, delicately scored for the wood-wind instruments and horns. The development begins, in measure 191, with the motive of the closing theme which, combined with other phrases from the exposition, is used persistently in the bass for a number of measures. The material is developed climactically until, in measure 229, we find an impressive treatment of the second descending phrase of the first theme—originally in augmentation and later in diminution, e.g.
and
The rest of the development is clearly derivable from material already presented. After a final ff climax there begins, in measure 287, a series of beautiful entries pp of the closing theme for the clarinet, oboe and flute. This is the spot in a sonata-form movement where appears the hand of the master; for the excitement of the free fantasy must cool down without entirely dying out, and there must also be a fresh crescendo of energy for the restatement of themes in the part following. Franck handles the situation with convincing skill; and some climactic measures, in which the main theme hints at the return, lead us, in measure 333, to the recapitulation. This is one of the most powerful and eloquent parts of the movement, for the whole first theme is presented canonically—the announcement in the trombones, tuba and basses being answered, a half measure later, by trumpets and cornets. The rest of the recapitulation, with necessary modulations and slight expansion, corresponds closely to the first portion. The coda, beginning after the same echo-effects heard at the close of the exposition, is founded on one of the counterpoints of the first subject, e.g.
Gathering headway it leads to an imposing assertion fff, in canon form, of the main motto which concludes, with a widely spaced chord, in the brilliant[277] orchestral key of D major.
The second movement begins with a series of subdued, pizzicato chords (for strings and harp) which establish the mood and later furnish the harmonic background for the main theme. This haunting melody, announced—in measure 16—by the English horn and afterwards strengthened by the clarinet and flute, is clearly derived from the motto of the first movement, e.g.
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
and is a notable example of the free phraseology and long sweep peculiar to Franck. Although extending 32 measures it never loses its continuity, for every measure grows inevitably from what has preceded. It begins with two identical eight-measure phrases; the second of which, with a different harmonic ending, is varied by a cantabile counter theme in the violas—causing thereby, with the upper voice, some delightful dissonant effects. The last eight-measure phrase, also varied by a counterpoint in the 'cellos, ends with a characteristic, Franckian modulation; keeping us in suspense until the last moment, and then debouching unexpectedly into B-flat major. In this key there follows a long-breathed, cantabile melody—at first for strings alone, but scored with increasing richness. It abounds in modulatory changes and expresses, throughout, the note of mystical exaltation so prominent in Franck's nature. It ends in measures 81-86 with an eloquent cadence, largamente and pianissimo, in B-flat major and is followed by a partial restatement of the first theme; thus giving, to this portion of the movement, a feeling of three-part form. Then, after some preliminary phrases, begins the piquant theme in G minor, in triplet rhythm, which takes the place of the conventional Scherzo, e.g.,
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
for, as we have stated, the structural feature of this movement is the fusion of the two customary middle movements. This theme, mostly pp (con sordini and vibrato)—daintily scored for strings and light wood-wind chords—closes, in measures 131-134, with a cadence in G minor. The following portion, beginning in E-flat major, but often modulating—its graceful theme sung by the clarinets, dolce espressivo, answered by flutes and oboes—e.g.,
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
evidently takes the place of a trio and is one of the most poetic parts of the movement. After some effective development there is a return, in measure 175, to the G minor scherzo-theme in the strings; soon joined, in measure 183, by the slow theme on the English horn—the structural union of the two moods being thus established, e.g.
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
The rest of the movement is a free but perfectly organic improvisation on the chief melodies already presented. It is richly scored, with dialogue effects between the several orchestral choirs; especially beautiful are the two passages in B major, poco più lento, scored pp for the complete wood-wind group and horns. The closing measures have lovely echoes between wood-wind and strings, and the final cadence is one of the most magical in all Franck; holding us off to the very last from our goal and finally reaching it in a chord of unforgettable peace and satisfaction, e.g.
The Finale in D major, allegro non troppo, is a remarkable example in modern literature of that tendency, growing since Beethoven, not to treat the last movement as an unrelated independent portion but, instead, as an organic summing up of all the leading themes. This cyclic use of themes—transferring them from one movement to another—is one of Franck's important contributions to musical architecture. The movement has two themes of its own, e.g.
and at first proceeds along regular sonata-form lines, i.e., with an exposition, development and recapitulation. After vigorous summons to attention the first theme is given out by the 'cellos and bassoons. It is expanded at some length, repeated ff by the full orchestra, and then after bold modulations leads, in measure 72, to the second theme in B major, happily called by Ropartz the "theme of triumph."[278] After a quieter portion of sombre tone in B minor we reach, in measure 124, an interpolation of the slow movement theme, e.g.,
sung by the English horn against a triplet accompaniment in the strings; the fundamental beat—the time now changed from 2/2 to 3/4—preserving the same value. Now we begin to foresee that this theme is to be the climax of the whole work. In measure 140 the development proper is resumed; based, at first, on some modulatory and imitative treatment of the first theme and followed by two ff sostenuto announcements of the jubilant second theme. After these have subsided there are a number of measures (più lento) of a shadowy outline, developed from preceding melodic phrases. The pace gradually quickens, the volume of sound increases and we are brought, through a series of pungent dissonances and stimulating syncopations, to a brilliant assertion of the first theme in D major. This again waxes more and more eloquent until it bursts into a truly apocalyptic proclamation of the slow movement theme for full orchestra which, closing in D major, is the real climax of the movement and indeed of the work. Franck, however, still wishes to impress upon us some of his other thoughts—they are really too lovely not to be heard once more—and so, after an intermediary passage consisting entirely of successive ninth chords,[279] there is a reminiscence of the whole closing theme of the first movement now for low strings alone—the violins playing on the G string—later for the wood-wind and finally echoed by the high strings ppp. As this fades away we reach one of the most inspired passages of the whole work—in its mood of mysterious suggestion truly indescribable. Over a slow elemental kind of basso ostinato there appear first the dramatic motto and then other portions of preceding themes, as if struggling to come to the light. A long exciting crescendo leads to a complete statement of the main theme of the Finale, with a canonic treatment of which the work ends, e.g.
That both the first and last movements end with canons is indeed noteworthy; Franck thus clearly showing his belief that in no other way than by polyphonic imitation could such intensity of utterance be gained.
Sonata for Violin and Pianoforte in A Major
This Sonata ranks with those of Brahms as being among the great works in its class. Some of its lovers, in fact, would risk an unqualified superlative and call it the greatest. It certainly is remarkable for its inspired themes, its bold harmonies, its free and yet organic structure and for that sublime fervor which was the basis of Franck's genius. It is, in two respects, at least, a highly original work: in the unusual moods of the several movements, and in the relationship between the two instruments. For although it is a violin sonata, the emphasis in many respects is laid on the pianoforte part which requires great virtuoso power of performance,—the violin, at times, having the nature more of an obligato. There are four movements, the first in abridged sonata form, i.e., there is no development; the second in complete and elaborate sonata form; the third, a kind of free rhapsody, supplying an intermezzo between the third and fourth movements and organically connected with the Finale. This, in free rondo-form, with a main theme of its own treated canonically, sums up the chief themes which have preceded. The work exemplifies Franck's practise of generative themes; for d'Indy claims[280] that the whole structure is based on three motives, e.g.,
the rising and falling inflexion of which he typifies by what is called a "torculus" ()! Whether such minute analysis is necessary for the listener may be open to question; but it is true that in hearing the work one is struck by the homogeneity of the material. The first movement is an impassioned kind of revery—in a mood more often associated with the slow movement, in character somewhat like the beginning of Beethoven's C-sharp minor Sonata. After some preludial ninth chords the dreamy first theme is given out, molto dolce, by the violin, supported by rich harmonies on the pianoforte, the use of the augmented chords being prominent, e.g.
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
Some natural expansion and development lead, in measure 31, to the broad and vigorous second theme, sempre forte e largamente, announced by the pianoforte, e.g.
This ends in F-sharp minor and is at once followed by a closing portion, i.e., a repetition of the second theme with an elaborate arpeggio accompaniment and some fragmentary phrases of the first theme on the violin. Its last measures[281] are striking for the bold use of augmented chords and for the wide spacing which gives an organ-like sonority. The recapitulation, beginning in measure 63 with still richer harmonization, is almost identical with the exposition; the second theme appearing logically in the home key. The closing measures of the coda, which starts in measure 97, illustrate Franck's genius in the chromatic alteration of chords.
The second movement, in a structural sense the most normal of the four, speaks for itself. It is stormy and dramatic, with a number of passages marked passionato and molto fuoco, and presents a rather unusual side of Franck's quiet nature. The two themes are strong and well contrasted: the first for the pianoforte, the second for the violin, e.g.
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
The development begins at the quasi lento, measure 80, with the second (b) of the generative motives which is to play an important role in the Fantasia and the Finale. It is rather broken up into sections, but holds the interest through its unflagging rhythmic vigor and daring dissonances. Franck's contrapuntal skill is shown here in the closing measures (130-134) where a phrase from the second theme on the violin, dolcissimo espressivo, is united with a phrase of the first theme on the pianoforte, hinting at the return. The recapitulation, beginning in measure 138, is perfectly normal and leads to a coda which, becoming more and more animated, ends with brilliant bravura effects for each instrument.
The third movement, entitled Recitative-Fantasia, is notable for its long declamations for the violin alone, and for its introduction of a theme from the preceding movement and of one to be repeated in the Finale. Thus the organic relationship between the various movements is shown and is still further emphasized in the Finale. The mood is often very impassioned (once fff) and dramatic, with several passages specifically marked. This music alone, which sounds like nothing before or since, would stamp Franck as an absolutely original genius. In measure 53 appears a long pianissimo meditation by the violin on a phrase—the second generative motive (b)—from the preceding movement, supported by beautifully spaced arpeggio chords on the pianoforte, e.g.
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
In measure 71 occurs the first appearance of the bold theme which is to be twice used for episodes in the Finale, e.g.
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
The closing cadence[282] of the movement, one of the most original and truly beautiful in all literature as it seems to the writer, furnishes a marvellous contrast to the stormy measures immediately preceding.
The Finale is perhaps the most spontaneous canon in existence, an imitative dialogue between the two instruments; this form (which is often rigid and mechanical) being used so easily that it seems as if each instrument were naturally commenting upon the message of the other. Observe also the sonorous background provided for the violin melody by the widely spaced chords on the pianoforte, e.g.
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
The first episode, beginning in F-sharp minor at measure 38, is based on the third generative phrase (c) brought over from the Fantasia and embroidered by running passages (delicato) on the violin. This leads to a return of the canonic first theme which, with an interchange of statement and answer and with free modulations, is developed to a brilliant climax—the canon still persisting—in the dominant key of E major. Some transitional modulations, in which the excitement cools down, bring us to the second episode, in B-flat minor. This at first develops the phrase (b) from the middle part of the second movement, e.g.
and later, also in the bass, a phrase from the main theme, e.g.
It is soon followed by a bold entrance of the dramatic theme from the Fantasia which, twice presented—the second time grandioso—leads to a thrilling cadence in C major. The third and last refrain is a complete restatement of the original canon and closes in A major with a still more brilliant imitative treatment of the passage formerly in the dominant. The last measures—with the high trill on the violin and cutting dissonances on the pianoforte—are far too exciting for mere verbal description.
Symphonic Variations for Pianoforte and Orchestra
This is one of Franck's most significant works, containing all his individual characteristics: melodic intensity, novel chromatic harmony and freedom of form combined with coherence. Franck always claimed that the variation form, rightly treated, was a perfect medium for free, imaginative expression; surely this work is a manifestation of his belief. A careful study will justify the statement that his style is founded on that of Bach and Beethoven; for the naturalness of these melodic variations can be compared only with the Passacaglia in C minor, and the general structure of the work finds its prototype in the Finale of the Heroic Symphony. It is a set of free variations, or rather organic transformations of two themes; the first sombre, entirely in the minor, the second brighter, with some passing emphasis on the major. The variations are not numbered and there are no rigid stops; though, of course, when objective points are reached, there is natural punctuation. The two themes, as follows—a striking example of Franck's peculiar harmonic scheme—should be carefully studied, e.g.
The work opens with a series of restless dotted notes for the strings ff which diminish and retard to an entrance of the first theme, più lento, for the pianoforte; the two phrases of which are interrupted by a passage, somewhat modified, from the introduction. Some preludial measures, expanding the material presented, bring us at B[283] to a premonitory statement of the second theme pp (in wood-wind and pizzicato strings) over a muffled roll of the kettle-drums on C-sharp, e.g.
Then follows a long rhapsodic presentation of the first theme for pianoforte solo—the melody in octaves and the accompaniment in the widest arpeggios possible. This passage is one of great sonority and reveals clearly the influence of the organ upon Franck's style. Some further measures of general development, containing at E a reminiscence of the first theme, bring us (after an elaborate half-cadence on the dominant of F-sharp minor) to the entrance of the second theme. Now that all the melodic material has been presented, Franck allows it to grow and blossom. In the first variation at F we have phrases of the second theme broken up into a dialogue between strings, wood-wind and pianoforte; and in the second at G the violas and 'cellos sing the whole second theme accompanied by some ingenious figuration on the pianoforte. This is followed at H by a brilliant amplification for the solo instrument, lightly accompanied on the orchestra, of phrases already heard and leads at I to a fortissimo orchestral tutti in D major—the next variation—which proclaims a portion of the second theme. This is developed with great power on both instruments and is combined, nine measures after J, with a variant of the first theme. At K there is a bold treatment of the second theme (sostenuto) for oboes and clarinets against rushing octaves on the pianoforte.
At L we have some further development of the second theme, the melody being in the strings with a background of broken triplet chords on the pianoforte. We now reach at M—molto più lento—the most poetic variation of the work. All the 'cellos, dolce e sostenuto, sing the second theme in the rich key of F-sharp major, the closing phrases answered by the wood-wind; while the pianoforte supports them with coloristic, arabesque-like broken chords containing a melodic pattern of their own. At N the 'cellos continue with phrases from the first theme, the accompaniment being in extended arpeggios against a background of sustained strings (ppp con sordino). A climax is gradually reached which ends, smorzando, with a descending chromatic run on the pianoforte, followed by a long trill on C-sharp which ushers in the closing portion of the work. The structure, as a whole, is divided into three main portions: the first preludial, the second sombre and often meditative—largely in the minor—the third entirely in the major and of extraordinary brilliance and vivacity. At the Allegro non troppo after the trill, we find a variant of the first theme for the 'cellos and basses in F-sharp major, e.g.,
[[Listen (MP3)] [MusicXML]
accompanied by broken chords on the pianoforte and wood-wind. This is followed at P by a free treatment for pianoforte, con fuoco, of the first theme which develops at Q into a most pianistic presentation (in the upper register of the instrument) of the phrase just announced by the 'cellos. In the fifth measure after R the basses begin, pizzicato but forte, a modified statement of the second theme, accompanied by a new counter melody on the pianoforte, dolce ma marcato, e.g.
This leads into a brilliant climax for orchestra alone based on the first theme which, at the very end, modulates to E-flat major. Then follows an episodical portion of unusual beauty—a long, dreamy passage, dolce rubato, for solo pianoforte, in which the first theme is merely hinted at in shadowy outlines, e.g.
Abounding in fascinating modulations and coloristic effects it shows Franck's genius equally for real melodic germination with an avoidance of all perfunctory manipulation of his material. This leads, four measures after T, to an entrance pp in the wood-wind, of a variant of the first theme. Due to the effect of contrasted accents the passage is most exciting—two rhythms being treated at once. A climax for full orchestra brings us at V to a repetition of the former pianoforte presentation of the first theme, followed as before, at W by the counter-melody against the second theme, forte, in the basses. The first theme, now in complete control, is here proclaimed most eloquently in antiphonal form between the full orchestra and pianoforte, e.g.
The work ends with a rapid iteration, molto crescendo, of the first motive—in diminution. Now that we have reviewed the entire composition, there is one feature worthy of special emphasis. The structure as a whole (as we have stated) is clearly divided into three main parts; but when we examine the third part by itself, we find that it follows the lines of the sonata-form. For there is a first portion, with a main theme in F-sharp major, and a second theme—the new melody—in D major; the passage for pianoforte in E-flats major stands for the development, and the movement concludes with a distinct third portion, both first and second theme being in the home key. Thus the structure represents a carefully planned union of the variation form and the sonata-form which were special favorites of Franck. The work, which, after earnest study, will surely be enjoyed and loved, ranks with the Istar Symphonic Variations by d'Indy and the two sets on themes from Paganini by Brahms as the acme of what the variation form may indeed be when treated by a master.