aid.] As to the one in D flat, nothing can equal the finish and
delicacy of execution, the flow of gentle feeling, lightly rippled by
melancholy, and spreading out here and there in smooth expansiveness.
But all this sweetness enervates; there is poison in it. We should not
drink in these thirds, sixths, &c., without taking an antidote of Bach
or Beethoven. Both the nocturnes of Op. 32 are pretty specimens of
Chopin's style of writing in the tender, calm, and dreamy moods. Of the
two (in B major and A flat major) I prefer the quiet, pellucid first
one. It is very simple, ornaments being very sparingly introduced.
The quietness and simplicity are, however, at last disturbed by an
interrupted cadence, sombre sounds as of a kettle-drum, and a passionate
recitative with intervening abrupt chords. The second nocturne has less
originality and pith. Deux Nocturnes (in G minor and G major), Op. 37,
are two of the finest, I am inclined to say, the two finest, of this
class of Chopin's pieces; but they are of contrasting natures. The first
and last sections of the one in G minor are plaintive and longing,
and have a wailing accompaniment; the chord progressions of the middle
section glide along hymn-like. [FOOTNOTE: Gutmann played this section
quicker than the rest, and said that Chopin forgot to mark the change
of movement.] Were it possible to praise one part more emphatically than
another without committing an injustice, I would speak of the melodic
exquisiteness of the first motive. But already I see other parts rise
reproachfully before my repentant conscience. A beautiful sensuousness
distinguishes the nocturne in G major: it is luscious, soft, rounded,
and not without a certain degree of languor. The successions of
thirds and, sixths, the semitone progressions, the rocking motion,
the modulations (note especially those of the first section and the
transition from that to the second), all tend to express the essential
character. The second section in C major reappears in E major, after a
repetition of part of the first section; a few bars of the latter and a
reminiscence of the former conclude the nocturne. But let us not tarry
too long in the treacherous atmosphere of this Capua--it bewitches and
unmans. The two nocturnes (in C minor and F sharp minor) which form
Op. 48 are not of the number of those that occupy foremost places among
their companions. Still, they need not be despised. The melody of the C
minor portion of the