Barcarolle No.2 in G major Op.26 (1885)

Barcarolle No.3 in G flat major Op. 44 (1885)

Barcarolle No.6 in E flat major Op. 70 (1895)

Fauré’s son Philippe observed in his book on the composer that his father “would have preferred by far to designate his Nocturnes, his Impromptus, even his Barcarolles as Pieces for piano, distinguishing them only by a number.” Fauré’s choice of those titles for his three major series of piano works was not entirely arbitrary however. The Barcarolles, like the Nocturnes and Impromptus, do in general have some kind of kinship with the implied Chopin precedent. But, as Fauré was uncomfortably aware, there are significant exceptions.

The Barcarolle No.2 in G major seems at times to relate less to Chopin’s Barcarolle in F sharp major than to his work in ballade form. It resembles many of the other Fauré barcarolles in that it is set in 6/8 metre but in this case, with the rhythmic accents of the opening theme displaced to the second and fifth beats of the bar, one would not be immediately aware of it. At the same time the vocal character of this strange little melody, with its quasi-plucked accompaniment, is not unlike like the bardic introduction to a Chopin ballade – an impression apparently confirmed when the opening section comes to an end on an arpeggiated chord of G major before a short pause and a start on something different in the same key.

The adventure story that follows does have certain features, both metrical and textural, of the barcarolle. It proves too turbulent, however, too passionately emotional, to reflect the serenely floating image conventionaly associated with the barcarolle. It is only in the beautifully written middle section, where an espessivo melody in B flat is sustained in a middle voice between left-hand arpeggios and off-beat right hand chords and then lifted two octaves higher, that the work seems justify its title. As the texture dissolves into watery ripples, the bardic voice returns, this time to recall not the beginning but the climactic middle of the adventure story. Its tubulence quickly subsides, however, into a peacefully limpid ending.

Although Fauré had acknowledged the conventioal barcarolle image in No.l in A minor and was to revert to it in No.4 in A flat, the third in G flat is as distant from it as its predecessor. Indeed, the third Barcarolle is not only the longest in the set but also the most elusive in character. Broadly, it is ternary in shape but the harmonic and melodic events of the first two of the three main sections are so spontaneous that they seem improvised. The opening theme floats gently in the middle of the keyboard – in 6/8 and in a manner not inconsistent with the barcarolle – and leads on a crescendo into a new espressivo melody in E flat minor. But then, after a trill, a frothy little run and five isolated high Cs, the tonality returns to G flat major for an extraordinary little episode of what sounds like a miniature slow waltz high in the left hand under a delicate filigree figuration in the right.

After a pause the middle section begins in F sharp major (the enharmonic equivalent of G flat) and goes on to introduce several new themes – the first and most important of them being a motif of four rising notes which later cuts through the passionately proliferating texture like a trumpet call. Unexpectedly, however, it all evaporates to make way for a reprise of the opening section. Once the delicately coloured slow waltz has been recalled, there is nowhere else to go but a quietly radiant ending – though not without an echo, nostalgic now rather than militant, of the trumpet call from the middle section.

Less than half as long as both No.2 and No.3, and correspondingly less ambitious in other respects, the Sixth in E flat major reverts like No.4 to the barcarolle image. Its Allegro vivo tempo propels it at a rather quicker pace than most of its kind but with no hint of danger, at least in its tunefully breezy outer sections. If the E major middle section encounters more unsettling harmonies they only add to the voluptuous pleasure of the voyage – which ends, after a recall of the opening section, in a gently rippling backwater.

Barcarolle No. 4 in A flat Op. 44 (1886)

Barcarolle No. 5 in F sharp minor Op. 66 (1894)

Fauré’s son Philippe observed in his book on the composer that his father “would have preferred by far to designate his Nocturnes, his Impromptus, even his Barcarolles as Pieces for piano, distinguishing them only by a number.” It’s an interesting point. Obviously, the titles of Fauré’s three great series of piano pieces derive from Chopin precedent and the generic line of descent is often clear. But there are many exceptions, some of them with titles that are actually misleading.

There is no connection between, for example, Fauré’s Barcarolle No.1 in A minor and Chopin’s famous but solitary example of the form in F sharp major Op.60. At least as much a berceuse as a barcarolle and limited in structural ambition, it is irresistibly appealing in its wistful melodic material and its mainly rueful harmonies. The outer sections, gently animated by a gentle rocking rhythm, are based on a rising and falling theme shared by the two hands in the middle of the keyboard. In radiant contrast, the C major middle sections takes the thematic interest into a higher register, neatly setting its apparently 3/4 melody against the continuing 6/8 in the arpeggiated accompaniment and developing it with some passion. A cadenza leads into a reprise of the opening section but with the opening theme, now accompanied by rather more barcarolle-like figuration, reserved for the end.

Barcarolle No.4 in A flat, on the other hand, is instantly recognisable for what it is. Opening with a characteristic rolling arpeggio figure in the left hand, it launches a floating melodic line that both contradicts and complies with the prevailing metre, occasionally attracting a rippling chromatic counterpoint just below it. Splashing water imagery is also much in evidence here, particularly in the middle section where an expressive new melody is introduced by the left hand under a swirling harmonic commentary in the right. In the closing bars only the watery background remains to be heard.

Between the Fourth and Fifth Barcarolles eight years elapsed. During that time Fauré wrote scarcely any solo piano music, but he did complete three major vocal works – the Requiem the Mélodies de Venise and La bonne chanson – and emerged in his late 40s a very much more mature composer. In choosing to emulate Chopin’s F sharp tonality for his Fifth Barcarolle, he must have felt himself equipped for direct comparison with his great predecessor. Indeed, with a still more complex construction, including an E flat intermezzo in an F sharp context, and with rhythms that contradict or obscure conventional barcarolle metres, he seems even to challenge Chopin.

If in the earlier Barcarolles Fauré was drifting in comparative safety on the Lagoon he is now in the open sea. Or it might be more helpful in this case to think in terms not only of the barcarolle but also of the ballade:    an epic struggle develops here between two main themes. The first is basically a falling interval between two quavers – a minor third as it appears in F sharp minor in the dolce opening bar but expandable to a seventh or, most significantly, to a fourth, in which form it takes on a positively exultant aspect as it is proclaimed fortissimo in F sharp major. Its rival rises in uneven rhythms from the bass in G flat major and falls through a syncopated whole-tone scale in octaves in the right hand. It proves to be an unequal contest since the falling fourth is harmonically so well defined and so brilliantly presented that it twice, once on each side of the central intermezzo, provokes a joyous fortissmo climax in F sharp major. The closing episode emerges from the last and most exhilarating experience of all to sail into more peaceful waters.