Among Chopin’s nocturnes some of his most popular works are to be found.  Nay, the most widely-prevailing idea of his character as a man and musician seems to have been derived from them.  But the idea thus formed is an erroneous one; these dulcet, effeminate compositions illustrate only one side of the master’s character, and by no means the best or most interesting.  Notwithstanding such precious pearls as the two Nocturnes, Op. 37, and a few others, Chopin shows himself greater both as a man and a musician in every other class of pieces he has originated and cultivated, more especially in his polonaises, ballades, and studies.  That, however, there is much to be admired in the class now under consideration will be seen from the following brief comments on the eighteen nocturnes (leaving out of account the one of the year 1828 published by Fontana as Op. 72, No. 1, and already discussed in an earlier chapter) which Chopin gave to the world—­ Op. 9, Trois Nocturnes, in January, 1833; Op. 15, Trois Nocturnes, in January, 1834; Op. 27, Deux Nocturnes, in May, 1836; Op. 32, Deux Nocturnes, December, 1837; Op. 37, Deux Nocturnes, in May, 1840; Op. 48, Deux Nocturnes, in November, 1841; Op. 55, Deux Nocturnes, in August, 1844; and Op. 62, Deux Nocturnes, in September, 1846.  Rellstab remarked in 1833 of the Trois Nocturnes, Op. 9, that Chopin, without borrowing directly from Field, copied the latter’s melody and manner of accompaniment.  There is some truth in this; only the word “copy” is not the correct one.  The younger received from the elder artist the first impulse to write in this form, and naturally adopted also something of his manner.  On the whole, the similitude is rather generic than specific.  Even the contents of Op. 9 give Chopin a just claim to originality; and the Field reminiscences which are noticeable in Nos. 1 and 2 (most strikingly in the commencement of No. 2) of the first set of nocturnes will be looked for in vain in the subsequent ones.

Where Field smiles [said the above-mentioned critic], Chopin makes a grinning grimace; where Field sighs, Chopin groans; where Field shrugs his shoulders, Chopin twists his whole body; where Field puts some seasoning into the food, Chopin empties a handful of Cayenne pepper...In short, if one holds Field’s charming romances before a distorting concave mirror, so that every delicate expression becomes a coarse one, one gets Chopin’s work...We implore Mr. Chopin to return to nature.

Now, what remains of this statement after subtracting prejudices and narrow-mindedness?  Nothing but that Chopin is more varied and passionate than Field, and has developed to the utmost some of the means of expression used by the latter.  No. 1 (in B flat minor) of Op. 9 is pervaded by a voluptuous dreaminess and cloying sweetness:  it suggests twilight, the stillness of night, and thoughts engendered thereby.  The tone of sentiment and the phraseology of No. 2 (in E fiat major) have been made so common by fashionable