There is
some truth in his stricture. Chopin, seldom exuberantly cheerful,
is morbidly sad and complaining in many of the nocturnes. The
most admired of his compositions, with the exception of the
valses, they are in several instances his weakest. Yet he
ennobled the form originated by Field, giving it dramatic
breadth, passion and even grandeur. Set against Field's naive and
idyllic specimens, Chopin's efforts are often too bejewelled for
true simplicity, too lugubrious, too tropical--Asiatic is a
better word--and they have the exotic savor of the heated
conservatory, and not the fresh scent of the flowers reared in
the open by the less poetic Irishman. And, then, Chopin is so
desperately sentimental in some of these compositions. They are
not altogether to the taste of this generation; they seem to be
suffering from anaemia. However, there are a few noble nocturnes;
and methods of performance may have much to answer for the
sentimentalizing of some others. More vigor, a quickening of the
time-pulse, and a less languishing touch will rescue them from
lush sentiment.
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