The case of Francesca da Rimini
A murder for eternity

After the Madonna and the odd character from the Bible, Francesca da Rimini might be one of the most-represented women in the world of art; her story has inspired no fewer than fourteen operas, seven stage plays, at least fifteen famous paintings and so many lesser-known works that it would be simply impossible to list them all. One of the most captivating musical versions is by Sergei Rachmaninoff – which is on the programme in mid-January with the Berliner Philharmoniker and Kirill Petrenko.

Some time between 28 February 1283 and 1286, two bodies were discovered in a magnificent palace in Rimini, on Italy’s Adriatic coast. They were a man and a woman, each of them holding the other in a tight embrace. Each of the bodies bore a stab wound, presumably inflicted by the same sword. Beside them lay a copy of the French tale of Lancelot of the Lake. The bodies were quickly identified as Francesca da Rimini and Paolo da Verucchio, also known as “Paolo il bello” (“the Beautiful”). But how did they meet this violent end?

We can never really know for certain, since so few historical facts have come down to us. Our only source is Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy, in which Francesca is condemned to Hell. It is she herself who, when asked about her fate, tells us her story. The tale was later embellished by Dante’s followers, who added commentaries of their own. Despite this, the precision of Dante's detailed account, its political context, and a surviving last will and testament suggest that Francesca da Rimini did indeed exist as a historical figure, and that she was a contemporary of Dante’s.

The background according to legend

In the late thirteenth century, the Polenta family from Ravenna and the Verucchio family from Rimini some fifty kilometres (thirty-one miles) to the south-east were the dominant dynasties in the Romagna region. It seems that as early as 1275, Guido da Polenta planned to marry off his daughter Francesca to Giovanni da Verucchio, believing that Giovanni would assume control over the region during the decades that were to follow, although it is unclear whether he was settling a feud or simply forging an alliance.

Whatever the truth of the matter, we know that Giovanni was a less than desirable match. Not only did he limp – his Italian sobriquet was “sciancato” (“crippled”) , and he was also known by the demeaning diminutive of “Gianciotto” – but he was reportedly an unprepossessing character, and Guido was afraid that his daughter might oppose the union. And so, according to Boccaccio's version of Dante's story, he devised a plan. Giovanni had a handsome brother, Paolo (“the beautiful”). Perhaps Paolo might come to Ravenna and pretend to be Giovanni. Once the marriage had been solemnized, everything would sort itself out. 

When Francesca met Paolo, Boccaccio tells us, the chemistry was instant; she was happy to say “I do”. By the time that the couple was married and the deception became clear, it was too late. Francesca felt no love for Giovanni, but continued to see Paolo – in secret, of course. One day matters came to a head. Francesca and Paolo were reading the Arthurian legend in which Lancelot kisses his lover, Queen Guinevere. According to Dante’s theatrical account, Francesca’s eyes met Paolo’s, their bodies drew closer, and their lips touched. Their first kiss was brusquely interrupted. Giovanni had been spying on them, and struck them both down in fury. He confessed to the deed, but refused to admit to his guilt; as the deceived husband, he had nothing to fear from the law as it then existed – or so the legend runs.

Inspiration in painting, music and literature

With its tale of deceit, unrequited love and violent death, Francesca’s tragic fate evidently struck a chord. Dante’s account inspired the most varied works by poets, painters and composers. Paul Heyse wrote a five-act tragedy, Auguste Rodin created a sculpture titled The Kiss and Tchaikovsky set the story to music as a symphonic poem, while his brother Modest wrote a libretto based on Dante’s tale. Rachmaninoff also wrote an opera on the subject, comprising two scenes, together with a Prologue and an Epilogue.

A setting of extremes of emotion

In The Divine Comedy, Francesca da Rimini’s story begins after her murder. Dante passes through the three stages of the afterlife as conceived by his Christian contemporaries: Inferno (Hell), Purgatorio (Purgatory, seen here as a mountain where souls are purified) and Paradiso (Paradise). Dante and his guide, Virgil, begin their journey together by entering Hell through a huge gate. After passing through the Vestibule of Hell, they reach a series of nine circles that descend towards the centre of the earth, the whole journey traditionally depicted as funnel-shaped. In the first circle are the “guiltless damned”, while in the ninth and lowest are the sinners guilty of treason and betrayal. The lower the circle, the more serious the crimes and the more harrowing the punishments.

Francesca and Paolo are in the second circle. When Dante asks his guide for whom this circle is reserved, he is told that it is for “the sinners who make their reason / Bond thrall under the yoke of their lust”. Helen, Paris, Achilles, Dido and Cleopatra are also here. Their punishment is an endless and infernal tempest that mirrors their passions. It is here that Rachmaninoff’s opera begins.

At the beginning, clarinets and horns evoke the “crying, wailing, and shrieking” of the denizens of Hell. The recurrent interval of a minor second is typically used to depict lamentation. Chromaticisms, with the melody advancing by semitones, and sombre tone colours predominate. The music marks time: there is no going back, but is it impossible to go forward. Welcome to Hell! Rachmaninoff casts his listeners into the inferno with visceral force.

Like her husband Giovanni, who in the opera is called not Gianciotto but Lanciotto, Francesca is introduced with a Wagnerian leitmotif. Together with Paolo she laments the fact that “The bitterest woe of woes / Is to remember in our wretchedness / Old happy times.” But the scene that Rachmaninoff conjures up here is not only dark and fearsome, it is, above all, filled with compassion. “Thy dreadful fate, / Francesca, makes me weep, it so inspires / Pity, and grief compassionate.”

Questions of guilt and fate

In the first picture, the “betrayed” husband Giovanni struggles with his fate, but above all with his jealousy. He suspects that Francesca will not ever love him. He blames his father-in-law for his misery, saying that the marriage scam was actually his idea. “Francesca, what have you done to me?” he asks. As a viewer, you might ask yourself the same question, as Francesca has contributed very little to this mess. In order to get confirmation of his jealousy, he sets a trap for Francesca and Paolo and pretends to leave – only to catch them both in the act.

Scene Two belongs to Francesca and Paolo. Here, the music becomes more joyful and more rapt. Perhaps the semiquaver motifs in the strings suggest the butterflies in the lovers’ stomachs. We hear the sound of harps before Paolo begins to tell the tale of Lancelot. When the two of them kiss, the mood changes abruptly, and the drumrolls, evoking the black winds of Hell, bode no good.

The Epilogue takes us back to Hell. “I swooned for pity as if I were dying, / And, as a dead man falling, down I fell.” These final words by Dante at the end of this Canto sum up the very essence of the opera. Rachmaninoff wants his listeners to empathise with his subject matter. He asks about rights and duties, about guilt and fate, and about inclination and compulsion. But in the end, Francesca lands in Hell, even though all she did was to love the man she thought she had married. Giovanni and Francesca’s father Giulio, double murderers and cheats, remain unpunished. According to the logic of Dante’s Inferno, they should surely roast in the seventh and ninth circles of Hell.