‘Have you heard? Clementi has arrived! How can you not know Muzio Clementi? He’s the famous entrepreneur, pianist, and composer!’ The news of the arrival of the renowned musician instantly spread throughout musical Saint Petersburg in December 1802 [1]. There were plenty of people eager to acquire pianos from the ‘Clement Collard’ company and take lessons from the celebrated master.
Soon, it was revealed that he didn’t come alone but with a young man. The appearance of the pair from Britain became a notable event in the gloomy winter city. One of them was Italian, his pupil who also served as a musical salesman, John Field – an Irishman. Both lived in London, and their visit to Saint Petersburg marked the end of their extensive journey through European cities, linked not only to concerts but also to commerce [1]. Under John Field’s fingers, the instruments sounded in a way that doubled the desire of piano buyers to acquire one [3].
Saint Petersburg initially seemed unwelcoming, but the vast city sinking into the mist enticed with mystery. The real Russian winter with its frosts and snowstorms was setting in. In his room at the Hotel de Paris, Field spent his leisure, reluctant to step outside into the chilling cold, away from the instrument. Lacy passages, airy softness in cadenzas, resonant cascades of melismas and tremors resembled the murmuring of a stream, the whisper of an oak, the resonating strings of a harp.
The Irish homeland itself for every Irishman is symbolised by the harp and embolised in the preservation of a unique and antique heritage. Field loved the harp from childhood: at the age of ten, on 4 April 1792, at the Rotunda, he played a very difficult harp concerto [2]. At this time Field had grown out of his clothes, and when he sat down before the piano and stretched out his long arms to the keyboard, his sleeves were compressed almost to the elbows, and his whole figure looked very awkward; but as soon as he began his inspired playing, all this was forgotten, and the audience had only to listen attentively [3].
Field’s improvisations recalled the sounds of a fiddle and that very harp whose strings were once plucked by bards, extolling bravery, love, and loyalty to the homeland in Celtic sagas [4]. Perhaps, in moments of sadness, the young man remembered his grandfather Tommaso Giordani, a composer and renowned singer of London’s Hay Market theatre, who laid the foundation for Field’s future mastery [1].
The composer’s grandfather was a cruel and unforgiving mentor. He dreamed of making his grandson a wunderkind. The boy couldn’t stand it and ran away from his father’s house, but necessity forced John to return home – he had to obey his grandfather’s stern demands and continue his studies [2].
Or maybe, during bouts of nostalgia for his homeland, the young Irishman entertained Irish jigs, reels, or hornpipes in his imagination. Throughout John Field’s life in Russia, his connection to Celtic culture, with Ireland at its centre, remained strong. The formation and development of the musician’s worldview took place in Ireland and England, in direct contact with Celtic cultural aspects and the peculiarities of Celtic perception [4].
The Celtic theme began to actively penetrate the art at the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries, after the Scottish poet James Macpherson published his first collection Fragments of Ancient Poetry, presented on behalf of the legendary ancient singer-storyteller Ossian [4]. It sparked noticeable interest in Celtic antiquity in Europe.
The North, understood as the land of ancient Celts, appears in Field’s nocturnes in the romantic tradition in the Ossianic style: the dark, stern northern landscape of Ireland melts his imagination. John Field’s Sixth Nocturne in F major is a charming landscape picture. There are two versions of this nocturne – for solo piano and transposed to E-flat major, accompanied by woodwinds, French horn and strings, as the slow movement of the Sixth Concerto for piano with orchestra. The nocturne is in the spirit of the barcarolle, without harsh tonalities or textural changes.
Texture of the Eighth Nocturne in C Major resembles the slow movements of Beethoven’s piano and violin sonatas. Smooth movement of chords in the left hand, with the upper voice serving as the main melody. In the right hand, there are ostinato intonations rhythmically reflected in the measured progression of the bass. The distinctive rhythmic ‘unevenness’ in the vocal part of the song (staccato) is one of the main characteristics inherent in Irish musical folklore.
The rehearsal of Ossianism in Field’s nocturnes is evident in expressive means for embodying melancholic images – minor tonality (Second Nocturne in C minor, for example), quiet dynamics pianissimo; ‘harp-like’ accompaniment as a symbol of the instrument accompanying the bard’s singing; melodic variation (during repetition, melodic themes are outlined and embellished with additional flourishes). The harp subconsciously connected for Field with a certain ideal world, the Golden Age of Ireland. Irish allusions became a kind of symbol of the Irish liberation movement for Field’s contemporaries, just like the poetry of Thomas Moore.
He always thought about his homeland, not only when abroad. In 1799, when the public already knew him and admired his talent as a pianist, and his youthful portrait appeared in a celebrity album, Field took the stage at Covent Garden, where national motifs resonated in the second movement (‘Adagio non troppo’) of his First Concerto.
The slow movement of the First Concerto is a theme with two variations on James Hook’s song ‘Twas within a mile of Edinboro Town’. However, we cannot be sure that the song was used in the 1799 performance of the concerto. The earliest edition of the Concerto is 1815 by Breitkopf & Härtel.
The ‘Air écossais’ is built on a triple variation of the national theme, memorable for its lyricism and folk colour. This piece could be called an Irish lullaby – its calm and soulful melody is so close to the lyrical songs of Ireland, the composer’s homeland. The simplicity of the melodic pattern of the theme combines with the richness of its rhythmic movement: ‘Enchanting and artistically executed variations on the theme of ‘Air écossais’ in the First Concerto contributed to the fact that the awakened fondness for folk songs of various countries made large symphonic compositions more accessible for understanding’.
Living in Moscow, Field often lounged in his robe, with a smoking pipe in his mouth, enjoying lying on the couch with a volume of Shakespeare in his hands [4]. The tranquil state, sweet slumber occasionally interrupted only by one of the four dogs bearing proud names of Greek philosophers. Voltaire would sweetly yawn, or Socrates would pound the floor with his paw, scratching behind his ear, while Shakespeare’s characters carried Field’s imagination into a world of vivid passions and pungent English humour [5]. In the works of the great playwright, fantastical and fairy-tale figures, intertwined with Celtic mythology, play a significant role. Field undoubtedly knew this. Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dreamwhich undoubtedly influenced the emergence of his own genre. The Nocturne will never disappear – its roots are deep. The Nocturne immortalised Field.
[1] Piggott, Patrick. 1973. The Life and Music of John Field, 1782–1837, Creator of the Nocturne. London: Faber and Faber.
[2] Nikolaev, Alexander. 1979. John Field. Moscow: Music.
[3] Spohr, Louis. 1865. Louis Spohr’s Autobiography. Translated by George H. Wigand. London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts, & Green.
[4] Glazunova, Regina. 2022. Stylistic Transformations of The Piano Nocturne Genre In The Course of Its Historical Evolution (19th – first half of 20th century). PhD Dissertation. Saint Peterburg: Saint Petersburg State Conservatoire named after N. A. Rimsky-Korsakov.
[5] Dubuque, Alexander. 1898. Memories of John Field. Books of the week 12: 7–20.
