Date of composition: 1900-1905
Premiere: 24 January 1906 at the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow under the direction of the composer
Duration: 67 minutes
“There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery.” This is the central line spoken by Francesca and Paolo in Dante’s Divine Comedy. Moreover, the story raises fundamental questions: should one abandon oneself to passion, regardless of the consequences? Are our fates determined by our own choices or by circumstances? These themes resonated deeply with the creators of Francesca da Rimini. Both their love lives defied societal norms: librettist Modest Tchaikovsky, like his famous brother Pyotr, was homosexual, and Sergei Rachmaninoff had to endure humiliating bureaucratic procedures before he could marry his cousin. The fate of a couple who pay for their illicit passion first with their lives and then with eternal damnation clearly meant much to them. Work on Francesca da Rimini spanned five years, with Rachmaninoff completing it for his debut as a composing conductor at the Bolshoi Theatre in 1906. The story of the young, unhappily married Francesca Malatesta, her husband Lanceotto, and his brother Paolo had been suggested by Modest Tchaikovsky and condensed to its essence at Rachmaninoff’s request. A long prologue and a brief epilogue frame the central action.
The opening section depicts the poet Dante, guided by the shadow of his Virgil, his ancestor in antiquity, descending into hell—an infernal realm divided into nine concentric circles, narrowing like a funnel. The greater the guilt, the harsher the torment, the punishment always fitting the sin committed in life. Here, Rachmaninoff pulls out all the stops: the orchestra suffers and laments, howls and rages; the semitone step is omnipresent as the interval of pain. The choir hums wordless vocalises with mouth closed, like an instrument itself: “That was no song, it was a deep moan,” observed one contemporary review. In the second circle of hell, the lustful are buffeted by raging storms, a metaphor for the passions they surrendered to in life and must now endure for eternity. Dante questions a couple about their fate, and they – shadowy as their voices in hollow octaves – hint at their story with the line quoted above.
The main section flashes back to the dramatic events: Lanceotto, tormented by jealousy, plans to test his wife Francesca by returning early from a military campaign. His monologue and dialogue with Francesca form a harrowing study of a man losing his humanity. Throughout, the orchestra knows more than the characters themselves, revealing hidden motives and secret emotions; Francesca’s leitmotif shines forth gracefully and devotedly. Alone together, Paolo reads Francesca the story of Lancelot and Guinevere from Arthurian legend. There, the woman surrenders to the man, just as Paolo desires Francesca to do. She tries to sublimate her ardour: what is denied to us now awaits us in heaven. But Paolo seeks immediate fulfilment, and her resistance gradually crumbles. The ensuing kiss spans around 50 bars, perhaps the longest in music history, while impending doom looms. Sneaking up on them, the husband stabs the lovers from behind with such force that his dagger pierces both bodies at once. The “ghost storm” from the beginning resurfaces, the dying couple sings, “On that day, we read no further,” and one last time, the spectral choir invokes the sorrow born of lost happiness.