Nocturnes complete

Introduction: First in the Field

In his early twenties Chopin was twice asked by eminent piano specialists if he was by any chance a pupil of the Irish composer-pianist John Field. Both of them - August Klengel in Dresden in 1830 and Friedrich Kalkbrenner in Paris a year or two later - had noted a remarkable similarity between Chopin’s touch on the keyboard and that of a pianist admired throughout Europe not only for the brilliance of his playing but also for its “sweetness and shading” and its “inconceivable serenity.” In fact, Chopin never studied with Field and, at this stage, had not even heard him play. He must, however, have felt a close affinity with him as a composer. Certainly, while he was impressed by the virtuoso aspect of Field’s concertos, which had a clear influence on his own, he was positively inspired by the very much more intimate art of Field’s piano nocturnes.

It is more than likely that Chopin would have developed his own lyric form without any kind of precedent but, given such a congenial texture and such a useful title, he readily embraced the Field nocturne as a model to be followed in some detail. His older colleague could scarcely complain about Chopin adopting the stylistic features he had established from about 1812 as fundamentally characteristic of the genre - the wide-spaced, pedal-sustained legato arpeggios rising and falling in regular rhythms in the left hand, the elaborately decorated bel canto melody in the right. Other composers, including an earlier Polish follower Maria Szymanowska, had done the same. Field did, on the other hand, express his resentment at Chopin’s appropriation of his melodic material in the Op.9 Nocturnes, and he was not alone in that.

In his edition of Field’s nocturnes Liszt went so far as to claim that these works “opened the way for all the productions which have since appeared under the various titles of songs without words, impromptus, ballades etc,” adding with characteristic hyperbole that “to him we may trace the origin of pieces designed to portray subjective and profound emotion.” A still greater, though cruelly ironic, tribute to John Field is the transcendental beauty of Chopin’s nocturnes, which so comprehensively surpassed even the most accomplished of their models as to all but banish them from the standard repertoire.

Nocturne (Lento con gran espressione) in C sharp minor (1830)

Nocturne in C minor (1834?)

Alongside the eighteen nocturnes published in Chopin’s lifetime, there are three other pieces which have since claimed admission to the canon. Not the least interesting of them is the one which first appeared in print, as Nocturne in C sharp minor, in 1875. As far as the composer himself was concerned, it was not a nocturne and it was not intended for publication. He seems to have written it in a mischievous frame of mind for his sister Ludwika to whom he sent it, from Vienna in 1830, with the recommendation that she should play it “before she practises my second concerto” - a work to which he makes several veiled allusions in the middle section. A unique exercise in self-quotation, which also includes mazurka-like echoes of the early song Zyczenie (The Wish), it carries no title in Chopin’s hand apart from the Lento con gran espressione tempo heading. It is allied to the nocturnes, however, by virtue of the characteristic texture of the outer sections with a decorative vocal line poised over an arpeggiated left-hand accompaniment.

The Nocturne in C minor, which was first published in 1938, is certainly recognisable as a nocturne but scarcely as a Chopin nocturne, still less a Chopin nocturne written at the 1837 date usually attributed to it. While it is attractive enough in itself, in terms of harmonic and figurative interest it cannot begin to compare with even the earliest authentic examples. On the other hand, the autograph manuscript is indisputably in Chopin’s hand. A possible explanation of the anomaly could be that it derives from a piano piece sent to Chopin in 1834 by Maria Wodzinska, an accomplished amateur musician to whom he was to become unofficially engaged two years later. Nothing is known about the music she sent him - except that it so charmed Chopin that he improvised on it for his friends - but, since she had had lessons with John Field himself, it is not unlikely that it took the form of a nocturne. In that case Chopin’s manuscript could be his corrected version of Maria’s original effort.

Three Nocturnes Op.9 (1830-32)

No.1 in B flat minor

No.2 in E flat major

No.3 in B major

“Where Field smiles, Chopin grimaces; where Field sighs, Chopin groans; where Field shrugs his shoulders, Chopin bends over backwards; if Field adds a few spices to his dishes, Chopin pours a whole handful of cayenne pepper onto his… In short, if you put the charming romances of John Field in front of a distorting mirror, where every subtle gesture is transformed into vulgarity, you would get Chopin.” Ludwig Rellstab’s reaction to Chopin’s first published Nocturnes, though as absurd as it is amusing, is an interesting indication of how indebted to Field at least one of his contemporaries considered him to be and how extravagantly far he was judged to have strayed from his model.

Admirers of Field’s Nocturne in B flat major might well have recognised something of it in the outer sections of Chopin’s in B flat minor. But what would they have made of the middle section, where the key changes to D flat major and, slipping immediately into D flat minor with one disconcertingly simple move in the melodic line in the right-hand octaves, goes on from there into a whole series of unsettling modulations? It is no wonder that when the Op.9 Nocturnes were first published in this country by Wessel of Regent Street in 1833 they were issued under the spurious title of Murmures de la Seine. “Wessel is an imbecile,” said Chopin. “If he is losing money on my compositions it is because of the imbecility of the titles he insists on giving them.” Perhaps so. But the fact is that Wessel was trying to sell music of formidable harmonic sophistication to a public which had experienced nothing like it before.

As far as Op.9 No.2 was concerned, Wessel’s title presumably made no difference either way since it has a reassuringly close resemblance to one of Field’s Nocturnes in the same key. In its melodic elegance, its harmonic charm, its apparent ease and its actual brevity, the Nocturne in E flat major was always destined to be a favourite: when Chopin sent a musical greeting to Maria Wodzinska with the message “Soyez heureuse” this was the piece he chose to quote on his card. It was, on the other hand, slightly “imbecilic” of Wessel to publish Nocturne No.3 in B major under the same heading: abandoning the regularly flowing left-hand rhythms and the nostalgic melodic lines of the other two for a peculiarly wistful and capricious kind of scherzo, it incorporates an agitato middle section with a passionate variant of the main theme and an ominously rumbling rather than gently murmuring left hand.

Three Nocturnes Op. 15 (1830-32)

No.1 in F major

No.2 in F sharp major

No.3 in G minor

Much though Chopin admired the Field nocturne, he was far from content simply to emulate it. Sometimes, presumably in an effort to expand the scope of the form, he would go so far as deliberately to challenge it. Of the earliest examples Chopin himself chose to publish, the three Nocturnes Op.9, the first two have obvious parallels with the model while the third clearly does not. Much the same applies to the next in the series, the three Nocturnes, Op.15, which were published a year later in 1833. Already in No.1 in F major, which has the most tenderly expressive of outer sections, Chopin makes a radical departure in a quicker and surprisingly fierce con fuoco middle section in F minor. No.2 in F sharp major is more conformist in the undulating left-hand accompaniment figures and - though it is far more elaborately and exquisitely detailed than anything Field achieved in this respect - in the decorative bel-canto treatment of the melodic line. But here too there is a quicker middle section in the minor which, while it is less aggressive in attitude, is equally distracting by virtue of the intricately worked texture in the right-hand part and the rhythmic syncopations in the left.

As for No.3 in G minor, it relates to the model only in its slow tempo and generally thoughtful mood. Constructed in a quite uncharacteristic binary form, it is scarcely a nocturne at all. The first section is not an aria but a melancholy mazurka and the second, which is connected to the first by a highly chromatic transition, is a religioso chorale in modal four-part harmony beginning in D minor and ending, after a series of challenging trumpet calls, in G major. Unfortunately, since no autograph copy now exists, a report that Chopin inscribed the manuscript with the words “Après un représentation de Hamlet” cannot be verified - not that it would make matters much less enigmatic if it could.

Two Nocturnes Op.27 (1835)

No.1 C sharp minor

No.2 in D flat major

The two Nocturnes written in 1835 for the Countess d’Apponyi were clearly intended as a pair. Closely related in tonality, they represent two different, complementary aspects of the nocturnal scene. The first in C sharp minor is particularly interesting for the peculiarly personal use Chopin makes of a common harmonic device - left-hand C sharp arpeggios omitting the third of the triad and a right-hand melody equivocating poignantly between the minor and major implications of E and E sharp respectively. Any of Chopin’s contemporaries could have done it but only a composer inspired by the sound of the piano - by the contrast in colour between the dark shadow of the low-lying left-hand arpeggios and the bright line of the melodic voice - could have made anything as beautiful of it. In the end the decision is made in favour of C sharp major but only after and long and agitated middle section as emphatic in its triple-time rhythms as any polonaise.

The attraction of the D flat major Nocturne is, above all, its highly decorative passages of purely pianistic figuration. It is a masterful example of continuous melodic development effortlessly sustained, without the intervention of a contrasting middle section, in moonlit serenity. Over an unchanging rhythm of even semiquavers, the right hand presents the same thematic material three times over - each time in different harmonies and in different, spontaneously proliferating melodic decorations. The inspiration is in the detail and is nowhere more enchanting than in the ecstatic closing section.

Two Nocturnes Op.32 (1837)

No.1 in B major

No.2 in A flat major

Because of a superficial conformity to the John Field prototype, the Nocturne in B major Op.32 No.1 is believed by some commentators to have been written at some earlier date than the 1836 usually ascribed to it. The problem with that theory is that the Nocturne is not as conformist as, for much of its duration, it seems. It is true that there is no more characteristic example of ornate vocal melody elegantly poised over a wide-space arpeggio accompaniment than the main theme of the Nocturne in B major. It is also true that the F sharp major middle section does not seriously disturb the atmosphere, in spite of the minor harmonies that are touched on here and there. But, even though a suitable transition is set up no fewer than three times, the opening theme never returns in its definitive form. Instead, just at the point where it seems that at last it will, a quietly sinister drum beat intervenes at the bottom of an alien chord. A brief but dramatic protest cannot prevent the unhappy B minor ending.

The companion Nocturne, Op.32, No.2, does at least conform to the ternary pattern. In fact, it has an additional framework formed by the two-bar cadential chord progression which, paradoxically, opens the piece and which, logically, closes it. In the meantime there is an unaffectedly charming first section based on a Schumannesque melody in A flat followed by an urgently impulsive episode in F minor and a both fortissimo and appassionato recall of the main theme. Just what those unlikely directions imply as to the tempo and dynamic pressure to be applied to such essentially unheroic material (marked lento and sempre piano e legato on its first appearance) is one of the many interpretative problems associated with Chopin’s piano music.

Two Nocturnes Op.37 (1838-39)

No.1 in G minor

No.2 in G major

Although there are echoes of opera in most of Chopin’s nocturnes, there is nothing quite as evocative of the opera house as Op.37 No.1 in G minor. In this case it is a matter not only of the vocal decorations and expressive syncopations applied to the lamenting soprano line. There is also an E flat major chorale sounding off-stage, so to speak, to bring the heroine spiritual encouragement in her hour of need. As she repeats her aria in a shortened but none the less despondent form, she appears inconsolable. But just at the end - in a change of harmony reminiscent of the baroque tierce de picardie but with a more emotive effect than that - G minor quietly melts into G major.

The G major Nocturne, which was also completed at George Sand’s château at Nohant in 1839 and was clearly intended as complementary to its companion in G minor, is not so much operatic as aquatic. Beginning as a barcarolle, its melody rippling cheerfully in thirds and sixths over a 6/8 accompaniment, it includes a sadly reflective episode in the relative minor which, however, needs little persuasion from the barcarolle material to change its mood and reappear in G major. A brief recall of both thematic elements confirms a happy ending which, in spite of the restless modulations, was never much in doubt.

Two Nocturnes Op.48 (1841)

No.1 in C minor

No.2 in F sharp minor

Unlike most of Chopin’s nocturnes, which float their melodic lines on their flowing left-hand arpeggios, Op.48 No.1 in C minor is remarkable for its gravity. The melody in the right hand is characteristic enough both in its decorative details and its wider curves. The heavy left-hand chords, however, hold it down in uncharacteristic dejection. It seems that the C major march, which follows sotto voce and at a slower tempo, might offer a way out of the situation. But by the end of this middle section, which is engulfed in chromatic scales in fortissimo double octaves, there are no illusions. The opening theme is scored in a quite different way on its return and the initially solemn left-hand chords are now replaced by a more animated triplet texture - though still with no release from the tragedy hanging over the piece. The quiet ending does not so much mitigate the anguish as intensify it.

The F sharp minor Nocturne, which was also written at Nohant in the summer of 1841, is nearer to the John Field model. The right-hand melody does indeed float on left-hand arpeggios and with a characteristically poetic kind of melancholy. There is, however, a dramatic intervention in D flat major which, through its heavy chords and its expressive recitative, has the long-term effect of converting the foregoing minor material to a serene and perfectly timed F sharp major ending.

Two Nocturnes Op.55 (1842-44)

No.1 in F minor

No.2 in E flat major

With a Nocturne of such rare inspiration as the one in E flat major Op.55 No.2 Chopin had to exercise great discretion in pairing it up for publication (and for dedication to his Scottish pupil and admirer Jane Stirling) in 1843. He chose to link it with a piece of comparatively simple texture, short duration and, until the stormy middle section, modest keyboard requirements. Op.55, No.1, is short not because it is unambitious, however, but because of the poetic treatment of the opening section on its reprise. Far from retracing its measured steps out of F minor and back in again, it dissolves into harmonies which carry it away from its predicted course to an early F major conclusion all the more radiant for the consequent foreshortening of the structure.

Op.55, No.2, though an essential nocturne, is not analyzable in the ternary terms which can be applied to most of the others. It is a continuous, effortlessly spontaneous development of one theme which is more beautifully and more meaningfully decorated than any of its kind. At the same time it is abundant in rhythmic and contrapuntal complexities included not for their own sake but to give expression to the concerns of a second voice joining in intimate and spontaneous dialogue with the melodic line in the right hand.

Two Nocturnes Op.62 (1846)

No.1 in B major

No.2 in E major

Though written in emotionally fraught circumstances in 1846, shortly before the end of his relationship with George Sand, the last two nocturnes published in Chopin’s lifetime are perhaps the most beautiful of them all. Certainly, the Nocturne in B major is comparable only with that in E flat major Op.55 No.2 for the ecstatic quality of its piano writing. The first part of Op.62 No.1 presents the main theme in a comparatively simple form, richly harmonised and counterpointed though it is. It also includes, on the other hand, a short but florid episode for a fantasy nightingale in D sharp minor. After an A flat major middle section inspired more by harmonic than decorative enterprise, the main theme returns, preceded by a long trill and then most voluptuously elaborated with a whole series of trills covering every note of the melody. The nightingale is heard again towards the end of the piece, entering in D sharp minor as before but finally turning to B major by way of some extraordinarily exotic inflections in its extended vocal line.

In the style and shape of its opening theme, Op.62, No.2, seems to revert to the manner of the earlier nocturnes. But after the modulations it experiences as it is developed, and after an unsettling agitato middle section provoked by a suddenly eloquent left hand, the main theme is unable to recover its original E major serenity. So it is up to the eloquent left hand to resolve the harmonic ambiguities - which it eventually, if a little unwillingly, does.

Nocturne in E minor Op.72 No.1 (1827-1849)

The third of the three posthumous publications with a claim to be included alongside the nocturnes Chopin himself saw through the press is the one in E minor which first appeared in print as Op.72 No.1 in 1855. Estimates of the date of its composition vary between 1827, which would make it the earliest of all them, and the late 1840s, which would make it the last. In the absence of the manuscript, which is now lost, it is impossible to come to any conclusion on forensic grounds. The only other documentary evidence, which supports the protagonists of the later date, is Liszt’s otherwise inexplicable statement in his book on Chopin that the last of his nocturnes was still in manuscript at the time of his death. Stylistically, however, in its adherence to the Field model, it has more in common with the earlier nocturnes. The economy of the scoring, on the other hand, and the resigned melancholy of the expression - which is not reversed by the aspiratamente second theme, even on its recall in E major in the closing bars - seem to align it with such late works as the Mazurkas in G minor and F minor, which were also unpublished at the time of the composer’s death.

Gerald Larner ©2003