The Schumann pianoforte quartet in E-flat, opus 47, is practically the first work in this form of importance, and it has remained unexcelled in beauty and romantic fervor. As to style, one notices in the very first measures the fullness and completeness of the parts for the strings, and throughout the entire work the effect of the three stringed instruments is very like that of a string quartet. In the scherzo and in the opening sections of the finale as well even the piano is treated as a single part in a quartet, not as a sort of foundation or a furnisher of harmonies and accompaniments to the others.
The Schumann piano quintet, opus 44, is even more famous than the quartet. Here the problem is still simpler, for the piano quintet is but a combination of two independent groups: the full string quartet and the pianoforte. The piano must still be handled with care else it will overpower its companions; but the complete resources of the four strings make possible contrasts between them and the piano, measures in which the piano may be quite silent, and others in which it less fills up the harmony than adds its own color to the sonority. The first broad section of the development in the first movement becomes, therefore, almost a pianoforte concerto; whereas other sections like the second trio in the scherzo are in the nature of a concerto for string quartet and orchestra. In the beginning of the last movement the strings are treated too much in an orchestral manner. There is no trace of the fineness of the quartet which should never quite disappear in this big combination. Later on the strings, however, are handled with the greatest delicacy, as in the fugal parts before the last fugue. Here, where the theme of the first movement comes back into the music with splendor, there is perfection of style. But whatever may be the technical merits or faults of this quintet as a quintet, as music it is inspired from beginning to end.
From the time of Schumann, who may be said to have left the model and set the standard for all subsequent pianoforte quartets and quintets, our history will find not more than twenty such works upon which to touch with enthusiasm. Among the quartets those of Brahms and Dvořák, and that in C-minor, opus 15, by Gabriel Fauré stand out conspicuously.
Brahms wrote three pianoforte quartets, one in G minor, opus 25, one in A major, opus 26, and one in C minor, opus 70. Of these the first two are the best known and the most obviously pleasing. There is a great deal of Hungarian atmosphere here and there in both, specifically in the final movement of the first, which is a Rondo alla Zingarese. But both quartets were written before Brahms went to live in Vienna. Both may be taken as representative of Brahms first grown to maturity, and both are rather delicately and unusually colored. In the Intermezzo of the G minor quartet the violin is muted though the other strings are not. In the beginning of the poco adagio of the second quartet all the strings are muted while the piano plays a tre corde, not, as might be expected, una corda. Later in this movement there are arpeggio passages for the pianoforte, una corda, giving a strange effect like wind over a plain, one that Brahms was particularly fond of, if we may judge by the frequency with which he employed it. Here in this quartet, and in the andante of the earlier one, and in the slow movement of the first concerto one finds it. The scoring of the first part of the second quartet is considered admirable by Mr. Fuller-Maitland; but other places may be selected equally beautifully arranged for the combination. The scoring of a sort of secondary theme in the first movement (E major), first for strings alone, then for pianoforte, carrying the melody, and strings, adding their peculiar colors, rolling figures for the cello and pizzicato for the upper strings, is exquisite. Greater, however, than all technical arrangements is the quality of the themes themselves. This has made both works greatly beloved among amateurs and artists alike.
The third Brahms’ quartet is less pleasing. The first movement was written as early as 1855. It is morbid and gloomy in character and indeed Brahms is said to have suggested to Hermann Deiters that he should imagine, while listening to it, a young man about to kill himself for lack of occupation. Of the same movement Dr. Billroth, one of Brahms’ most intimate friends, said that it was an illustration in music of Goethe’s Werther on his death bed, in his now famous buff and blue. The cello solo in the slow movement and the scherzo in general are more loveable.
The pianoforte quintet in F minor, opus 34, is one of Brahms’ greatest compositions. It was published in 1865, but not until it had gone through a rather complicated birth. Brahms had written it first as a quintet for strings alone—with two cellos. This was unsatisfactory. The themes were so powerful that Clara Schumann suggested even that he re-write it for orchestra. He next arranged it, however, as a sonata for two pianos; and indeed published it in this form a few years after he had published it in the form in which it is now best known, as a pianoforte quintet. The technical details are flawless, and to speak of them is almost to attract attention to an art which is greatest in concealment. It is far rather the broad themes, the massive structure, reënforced and held together by every device known to composers, the exalted sentiment of the slow movement, the powerful rhythms of the scherzo, that give this quartet its undisputed place among the masterpieces of music.
The two pianoforte quartets by Dvořák, opus 23, in D, and opus 87, in E-flat, have the same perfection of style and animation of manner that we have already noticed in the trios. The strings are handled with discriminating touch. There is something clear and transparent in the style, for all the impetuous, highly rhythmical, and impassioned material. And the effectiveness of the pianoforte in the combination is truly astonishing, considering how relatively simple it all is. In the first movement of the quartet in D, for example, the duet that is half canon between the cello and piano in the statement of the second theme, and shortly after, following a two measure trill, the almost Mozartian figuration given to the pianoforte while the strings develop the possibilities within this second theme; the magical scoring at the return of the first theme, which here, as at the beginning, is given in the middle registers of the cello, being thus made both melody and rich bass beneath the almost laughably simple figures for the pianoforte; these alone in one movement are instances of a wholly delightful style.
In the second quartet the style is more powerful but not the less clear. There is a splendid incisiveness in the first complete statement of the first theme, following the impetuous run of the pianoforte. Here are violin and viola in unison, the cello spreading richness through the bass with its wide swinging figures, and the piano adding a brilliance by means of commonplaces which are here delightful. Later on there is a long passage scored in a favorite way of Dvořák’s. The cello is given the low foundation notes, which are complemented by the viola, both instruments playing pizzicato. The violin has a melody which follows the figuration of the pianoforte, here of the simplest kind, but floating as it were in mid-air over the foundation tones of the cello. There are many passages in the third movement, similarly arranged, the pianoforte part being without a bass of its own, the whole fabric supported by the low notes of the cello.
The quintet, opus 84, in A major, is not less effectively scored. The pianoforte part is perhaps a little more brilliant as a whole than in the quartets, quite properly so because of the added force in the strings. In the second movement we have another Dumka, with its wild, passionate changes, and for a scherzo there is a Furiant, another touch of Bohemia.
In French chamber music with pianoforte no work is so great as the quintet in F minor by César Franck. It is fit to stand with the symphony, the string quartet, even the Beatitudes of this master, as a perfect and broad expression of his remarkable genius. The very beginning makes us aware that we are to hear a work made up of two independent groups of sound. There is the string quartet, with its passionate announcement of the chief, or one of the chief, ideas of the piece. Then there is the hushed reply of the piano, offering another idea out of which much is to grow. And, so interchanging, the two groups play out the introduction. The material of all three movements is decidedly symphonic, and the resources of this combination of instruments are taxed to the extreme. In a great part of the work they maintain a decided independence, now answering each other as in the statement of the first allegro motive, now asserting themselves against each other, as very clearly throughout a large part of the last movement where the figuration of the pianoforte is as distinct as a theme and the four instruments play another theme against it in unisons and octaves.