Souvenir de Florence, Op.70

Tchaikovsky started work on his string sextet in 1887 – in response to being made an honorary member of the St Petersburg Chamber Music Society the year before -–but abandoned it an early stage. What encouraged him to take it up again must have been the melodic inspiration now enshrined in the slow movement and first noted down when he was working on The Queen of Spades in Florence in 1890 – hence the Florentine title of a piece which is actually far more Russian than Italian. He still found it hard work, however: “I constantly feel as though I haven’t got six real parts,” he explained, “and that I am actually writing for the orchestra and just arranging it for six string instruments. Perhaps it will go better when I get the hang of it.”

Carried away by the impetuous first theme of the Allegro con spirito in D minor, no one is likely to be much worried by questions of textural propriety. The melodic charm of the A major second subject, its long curving line drawn by violins over a persistent rhythmic figuration left over from the first subject, is similarly disarming. As more and more of the other parts are attracted to the melodic line, it gains in textural interest too. Tchaikovsky displays considerable skill in this respect, not least in passages of genuine six-part counterpoint in an unexpectedly thorough development section.

After sonorous introductory chords on the whole ensemble, the first violin introduces the Adagio cantabile melody remembered from Florence over a pizzicato accompaniment in the three inner parts and on second cello. The first cello, silent at first, is roused to join the violin in an amorously prolonged duet. Rather than create a melodic diversion in this movement, Tchaikovsky inserts a middle section of extraordinary originality: a study in pure colour, it has all six parts shivering in rhythmic unison and at rapidly fluctuating dynamic levels.

In the last two movements, both of which are based on distinctly Russian themes, Florence is forgotten. The shivering figuration from the Adagio cantabile is still there, since it (or something like it) reappears in the similarly detailed middle section of the Allegro moderato. Melodically more engaging than its counterpart in the previous movement, it offers a timely contrast to the oddly stubborn thematic character of the outer sections.

There is something of the same thematic character in the Allegro vivace, although in this case it is offset by a canonic diversion before the cheerfully abrupt entry of the second subject in C major and then, in the development, by an extended fugato episode. Based on the Russian main theme but alluding also to the earlier canonic material as a countersubject, the fugato is a brilliant piece of six-part contrapuntal scoring which fully justifies the jubilant return of the second subject in D major and the subsequent celebration leading into a frankly orchestral ffff coda.

    “What a sextet!” Tchaikovsky wrote to his brother in 1890, “And what a fugue at the end!”

Tchaikovsky started work on the string sextet that was to become the Souvenir de Florence in 1887 – in response to being made an honorary member of the St Petersburg Chamber Music Society – but abandoned it an early stage. What encouraged him to take it up again must have been the melodic inspiration now enshrined in the slow movement and first noted down when he was working on The Queen of Spades in Florence in 1890 – hence the Florentine title of a piece which is actually far more Russian than Italian. He still found it hard work, however: “I constantly feel as though I haven’t got six real parts,” he explained, “and that I’m actually writing for the orchestra and just arranging it for six string instruments. Perhaps it will go better when I get the hang of it.” Although he certainly did get the hang of writing for string sextet, and although he made no orchestral version of the score himself, Souvenir de Florence is also highly effective when played by a larger string ensemble with double bass and with a judicious use of solo instruments where the nature of the music seems to require them.

Carried away by the impetuous first theme of the Allegro con spirito in D minor, no one is likely to be much worried by questions of textural propriety. The melodic charm of the A major second subject, its long curving line drawn by violins over a persistent rhythmic figuration left over from the first subject, is similarly disarming. As more and more of the other parts are attracted to the melodic line, it gains in textural interest too. Tchaikovsky displays considerable skill in this respect, not least in passages of genuine six-part counterpoint in an unexpectedly thorough development section.

After sonorous introductory chords on the whole ensemble, the Adagio cantabile melody remembered from Florence is introduced by first violins (or perhaps a solo violin) over a pizzicato accompaniment on violas and second cellos. The beauty of the violin melody arouses the first cellos (or perhaps a solo cello) to join in an amorously prolonged duet. Rather than create a melodic diversion in this movement, Tchaikovsky inserts a middle section of extraordinary originality: a study in pure colour, it has all six parts shivering in rhythmic unison and at rapidly fluctuating dynamic levels. If solo instruments were not used in the first section they probably will be in the reprise.

In the last two movements, both of which are based on distinctly Russian themes, Florence is forgotten. The shivering figuration from the Adagio cantabile is still there, since it (or something like it) reappears in the similarly detailed middle section of the Allegro moderato. Melodically more engaging than its counterpart in the previous movement, it offers a timely contrast to the oddly stubborn thematic character of the outer sections.

There is something of the same thematic character in the Allegro vivace, although in this case it is offset by a canonic diversion before the cheerfully abrupt entry of the second subject in C major and then, in the development, by an extended fugato episode. Based on the Russian main theme but alluding also to the earlier canonic material as a countersubject, the fugato is a brilliant piece of six-part contrapuntal scoring which fully justifies the jubilant return of the second subject in D major and the subsequent celebration leading into a frankly orchestral ffff coda.

    “What a sextet!” Tchaikovsky wrote to his brother in 1890, “And what a fugue at the end!”

Tchaikovsky started work on his string sextet in 1887 - in response to being made an honorary member of the St Petersburg Chamber Music Society the year before - but abandoned it an early stage. What encouraged him to take it up again must have been the melodic inspiration now enshrined in the slow movement and first noted down when he was working on The Queen of Spades in Florence in 1890 - hence the Florentine title of a piece which is actually far more Russian than Italian. He still found it hard work, however: “I constantly feel as though I haven’t got six real parts,” he explained, “and that I am actually writing for the orchestra and just arranging it for six string instruments. Perhaps it will go better when I get the hang of it.”

Although he certainly did get the hang of it, Souvenir de Florence is also highly effective on string orchestra with double bass and with a judicious use of solo instruments where the nature of the music seems to require them.

Carried away by the impetuous first theme of the Allegro con spirito in D minor, no one is likely to be much worried by questions of textural propriety. The melodic charm of the A major second subject, its long curving line drawn by violins over a persistent rhythmic figuration left over from the first subject, is similarly disarming. As more and more of the other parts are attracted to the melodic line, it gains in textural interest too. Tchaikovsky displays considerable skill in this respect, not least in passages of genuine six-part counterpoint in an unexpectedly thorough development section.

After sonorous introductory chords on the whole ensemble, the Adagio cantabile melody remembered from Florence is introduced by first violins (or perhaps a solo violin) over a pizzicato accompaniment on violas and second cellos. The beauty of the violin melody arouses the first cellos (or perhaps a solo cello) to join in an amorously prolonged duet. Rather than create a melodic diversion in this movement, Tchaikovsky inserts a middle section of extraordinary originality: a study in pure colour, it has all six parts shivering in rhythmic unison and at rapidly fluctuating dynamic levels. If solo instruments were not used in the first section they probably will be in the reprise.

In the last two movements, both of which are based on distinctly Russian themes, Florence is forgotten. The shivering figuration from the Adagio cantabile is still there, since it (or something like it) reappears in the similarly detailed middle section of the Allegro moderato. Melodically more engaging than its counterpart in the previous movement, it offers a timely contrast to the oddly stubborn thematic character of the outer sections.

There is something of the same thematic character in the Allegro vivace, although in this case it is offset by a canonic diversion before the cheerfully abrupt entry of the second subject in C major and then, in the development, by an extended fugato episode. Based on the Russian main theme but alluding also to the earlier canonic material as a countersubject, the fugato is a brilliant piece of six-part contrapuntal scoring which fully justifies the jubilant return of the second subject in D major and the subsequent celebration leading into a frankly orchestral ffff coda.

“What a sextet!” Tchaikovsky wrote to his brother in 1890, “And what a fugue at the end!”

Gerald Larner©