The nightingale

Fresco from the House of the Golden Bracelets, Pompeii (detail)

Alban Berg did not begin to study music formally until he was eighteen years old, when Arnold Schönberg saw some of his Lieder and accepted him as a pupil. Although such an important figure saw something interesting in them, Berg always considered that the around eighty Lieder he had composed until then did not deserve to be published; after his death, Helene, his widow, gave them to the Austrian National Library. Most of the Lieder composed between 1905 and 1908, the student years with Schönberg, had the same consideration for the author, but some saw the light thanks to Helene Nahowski, whom he also met at that time.

In 1917 Berg prepared a collection of ten early songs for Helene, then his wife. But he didn’t publish them; they were only for her, a carefully made copy of songs that he especially loved and that we can assume she had inspired. Over time, most of those songs became published. Some time ago, I talked about one of them, Schliße mir die Augen beide, with a poem by Theodor Storm, which Berg musicalized again in 1925 and then published both versions.

Shortly after, in 1927, the composer chose seven other songs from that collection, orchestrated them, and published this version along with the version for voice and piano. These songs are known as Sieben frühe Lieder, seven early songs from poems by seven different poets. It is a work that is performed with regularity and that has many recordings; one of the songs, in addition, has been emancipated from the cycle, and it is not uncommon to hear it isolated in the recitals. It is the third one, Die Nachtigall [The Nightingale] that stands out for its lyricism.

The poem is also by Theodor Storm, who wrote it in 1856 and published it in 1864. The first stanza tells us that something happened during the night due to the nightingale singing, which has caused the roses to bloom. Since we have a lot of experience with poems with nightingales and roses, which are often symbols of love, we can deduce that someone has fallen in love during the night. The second stanza introduces us to a girl who until then was only a child, but now we find her as a thoughtful young woman. Everything has been so sudden, however, that she still doesn't know what to do with the change she has experienced. She wears a hat, like a lady, but she holds it in her hand, like a girl. The third stanza is a repetition of the first, as a confirmation of our hypothesis. That is, when we hear Berg’s song, we hear twice the first stanza, but in this case, it is not a matter for the composer, but for the poet. Berg's repetition it's not literal, gives us the opportunity to hear its beautiful music again.

We will listen to Die Nachtigall performed by Julia Kleiter and Michael Gees. I hope you will enjoy it.

Die Nachtigall

Das macht, es hat die Nachtigall
Die ganze Nacht gesungen;
Da sind von ihrem süssen Schall,
Da sind in Hall und Widerhall
Die Rosen aufgesprungen.

Sie war doch sonst ein wildes Blut,
Nun geht sie tief in Sinnen,
Trägt in der Hand den Sommerhut
Und duldet still der Sonne Glut
Und weiß nicht, was beginnen.

Das macht, es hat die Nachtigall
Die ganze Nacht gesungen;
Da sind von ihrem süssen Schall,
Da sind in Hall und Widerhall
Die Rosen aufgesprungen.

It happened because the nightingale
sang the whole night long;
from her sweet call,
from the echo and re-echo,
roses have sprung up.

She was but recently a wild blossom,
and now she walks, deep in thought;
she carries her summer hat in her hand,
enduring quietly the heat of the sun,
knowing not what to begin.

It happened because the nightingale
sang the whole night long;
from her sweet call,
from the echo and re-echo,
roses have sprung up.

(translation by Emily Ezust)