Announcing the publication of the 1840 version of Carl Schuberth’s Nocturne, Op. 6, for Two Cellos and Piano.

This article is an expanded version of the Editorial Notes that can be found in the published edition, available digitally here or here. A promotional video can be watched here. The printed version is available on demand.

EDITORIAL NOTES

Introduction

The privilege of dedicating one’s work to the unearthing and studying of long-forgotten musical gems carries an extraordinary reward: the gift of time travel. As musicians, we often forget the historical context in which the pieces that rest on our stands were created, oblivious to the untainted, timeless scent they carry with them. As scholars, we focus on sources, on opus numbers, on finding differences between versions, while what we would truly need is a firsthand account of the circumstances surrounding the composition of those pages. Through letters, newspaper articles, reviews, and biographical accounts, dutifully digitised and made available to us by diligent librarians, we find how certain pieces that we today know close to nothing about were first-class hits at the time. Few composers live to see the success of their creations, and fewer still manage to react to early feedback from the audience to create new, improved, and expanded versions.

When we embarked on the task of creating a modern edition of Carl Eduard Schuberth’s Nocturne, Op. 6—a relatively short and apparently simple piece—we could not have anticipated how this would transform into one of the most rewarding editorial journeys we had ever undertaken. To understand the origins of this edition, we must turn the clock back to 1836 when, following a particularly notable concert in Saint Petersburg, the then 25-year-old Carl Schuberth (Magdeburg 1811 – Zurich 1863) was appointed ‘concert cellist’ at the Court Orchestra and at the Imperial Theatres. Schuberth’s career advanced rapidly: in 1837 he accepted a professorship in cello at the Imperial Law School and, over the following decades, counted among his students such figures as Alexander Serov (1820–71), Vasily Kologrivov (1827–74), Karl Yulievich Davydov (1838–89), and Ludwig Karl Albrecht (1844–99). It was through these twenty-seven years of tireless work as soloist, chamber player, teacher, conductor, and composer that Schuberth came to be recognised as the founder of the Russian Cello School.

Hunting for the source

When browsing the list of works by a composer, one is tempted to stop at the ascending list of opus numbers, naïvely assuming that this represents the full picture. Occasionally it does, as few composers ever review their previous creations after they have been published, focusing on just creating more. At least until well into the second half of the 19th century, in fact, there were no royalties for sales or performances; a composer would be paid for the creation, and the publisher would retain all subsequent profits.

The first trace we have of the sixth entry in Carl Eduard Schuberth’s catalogue is dated September 1840, when its publication by the Leipzig-based publisher Friedrich Hofmeister was announced¹, bearing the title Nocturne p[our] 2 Violoncelles av[ec] Acc[ompagnement] de P[iano]f[or]te. (abbreviations expanded in square brackets). It is dedicated to the composer’s friend Christian Kellermann (1815–66), a Danish cellist who was performing in Saint Petersburg in 1837, where he and Schuberth met. On 4 January 1863 Kellermann—appointed principal cellist of the Royal Danish Orchestra in Copenhagen in 1847—performed the Concert Edition of Schuberth’s op. 6 for two cellos and piano at the Danish court alongside Belgian cellist Adrien François Servais (1807–66) and German pianist and composer Franz Bendel (1833–74).

Unfortunately, the original first edition (with possible plate n° 2511) is lost and survives only in a later reprint² from the publisher Julius Schuberth & Co. (managed by the composer’s elder brother), bearing plate number 395 for the two cello parts and, indeed, 2511 for the piano score³. It is therefore possible that, in the haste of producing enough scores to keep the business running and thriving, the publisher forgot to update the plate number for the piano part. We will probably never uncover the truth but another important detail to consider is that this is the only version of the piece distributed exclusively in ‘parts’, that is, without a full score⁴.

While the current edition focuses on the 1840 version, at least five more versions of the Nocturne are documented, all bearing the opus 6 mark. Arranging one’s creation for another instrumentation was not uncommon at the time, as—like today—it offered the possibility of broadening the potential audience of a piece. What is peculiar, however, is that the next two versions amount to entirely different pieces based on the same thematic material. Already in January 1842, we find trace of a new publication: L’Adieu. Nocturne p[our] V[iolon]c[e]lle et P[iano]f[or]te. Oe[uvre]. 6, in D, published by J. Schuberth & Co. in Hamburg⁵. The instrumentation differs—one fewer cello—yet the opus number remains the same. Was it an arrangement or a change of mind? Most likely it was something between the two, as the piano accompaniment was rewritten from scratch and the cello line only maintained the opening theme and a vague formal resemblance. A whole new section titled “Russe” (Russian) was even added in the middle part before the main theme’s return⁶. While several libraries claimed to hold a copy of this version, only one was ultimately able to provide a source. The word ‘Adieu’ (Farewell), though, was missing from the title, and it will reappear only years later (1847) in a sketch Carl E. Schuberth sent ‘as a friendly reminder’ to the German publisher Rudolf Heinrich Zumsteeg (1826-1909).

The mystery thickens when, in July 1852, the release of a Grand Nocturne élégiaque for two cellos and piano is announced in its ‘Édition de Concert’ by the J. Schuberth & Co. publishing house⁷, still bearing opus number 6! Ten years have passed since its new version for cello and piano and, this time, the style of the piano accompaniment is preserved, the second cello restored, and the rest changed once again. The main themes are still there, but the Russian excursion in the middle part is now gone. Virtuosic elements are added to the two solo parts, considerably raising the minimum skill level required to play this new version. Possible complaints about the difficulty of the piece, or perhaps the desire to reach an even broader audience, may have prompted the composer to write an Édition facilitée (Simplified edition), published in 1856⁸ and currently unfound. Much later, and posthumously, the composer’s brother would release a version for two violins and piano (where ‘Adieu’ makes a comeback) in 1863⁹ and a version for violin and piano in 1864¹⁰. An honourable mention goes to a few other versions bearing the title ‘Le Dnieper’¹¹, a possible reference to the Russian theme used in the second part of the 1842 version. One of these versions seems to have originated at the end of 1840, and to have been published by the Wessel & Co. firm in London, with more arrangements for one or two flutes and piano published by J. Schuberth & Co. around 1864.

What can we learn from this story, then? The most straightforward conclusion would be that Carl Schuberth was dissatisfied with the reception of the 1840 version in concert and decided to improve it—the piano accompaniment of any successive version being much more involved. Reducing the ensemble to a single cello and piano may have served to salvage an awkward programming situation in a chamber concert setting. The final expansion to the 1852 version, though, was both an evolution and a comeback: the Russian section was removed, more virtuosic passages (even a final cadenza) were added, and the original, simplified structure was restored. Particularly noteworthy is the publisher’s decision to retain the same opus number across all these versions, a possible sign of how popular this piece was at the time.

The Nocturne, Op. 6 (1840)

The first version of the Nocturne for two cellos and piano by Carl Eduard Schuberth is centred on the key of D major and divided into five parts over an arc structure (A–B–C–B–A) spanning 117 bars in 6/8 time. The first part (A, bb 1–30, D major) is itself divided into three sections, each corresponding to one musical period. The first period (a-1, bb 1–8), safely anchored in D major, has the first cello propose a melody based on the tonal chord, immediately imitated by the second cello one bar later. The piano discreetly accompanies them with a barcarolle-like rhythmic pattern of long and short values. The second period (a-2, bb 9–20) veers over to A major, with the second cello alone advancing the melodic line for four bars. The first cello joins in at b 14 with a slightly more chromatic melody, developing the preceding idea to bring us back to D major. The piano’s accompaniment is now slightly more involved, with chords on the first two subdivisions of each beat. The first bars of the third period (a-3, bb 21–30) feature the piano briefly taking up the same melodic idea, while both cellos accompany with arpeggios outlining the submediant degree (F# major–B minor). The calm is then restored in b 25 with the return to D major; the cellos sing a delicate melody in thirds and sixths while the piano sustains the texture with five bars of extended arpeggios, a clear imitation of what was proposed in bb 21–22.

The second part (B, bb 31–46, G major) brings even more light than D major could and is divided into two simply structured periods of eight bars each, both with repeat signs. The first one (b-1, bb 31–38) sees the first cello painting a wonderfully positive melody to dispel the shadow cast over the piece by the brief excursion to B minor. The second cello accompanies with arpeggios in 16th-notes that are reminiscent of Justus Johann Friedrich Dotzauer’s study for solo cello, Op. 47 N° 7—perhaps a tactful dedication to the composer’s teacher. The piano has now gone back to the accompaniment style of the beginning, this time adding a rest, almost as a startled breath, in subdivisions 2 and 5. The second period (b-2, bb 39–46) follows the same model, simply inverting the roles, the second cello now singing and the first one accompanying. The final chord of b 46 (a G major triad) once again functions as the dominant of the following section.

The third part (C, bb 47–62, C major) constitutes the climax of the entire piece and is divided into two periods of eight bars each. The first period (c-1, bb 47–54) begins with both cellos playing an ascending and descending scale-like melody one octave apart, followed by a chromatic, contrary-motion ornament and a trilled cadenza. The second period (c-2, bb 55–62), then, sees the cellos present the same melody in the first four bars, followed by a firm and closing cadenza in C major. This time, the last chord does not serve as a connector, with all three instruments pausing for a moment before the first cello can introduce the next part. A crucial distinguishing feature of this section is the piano accompaniment: supportive but relatively static in c-1, with regular downbeats in the left hand and as regular couplets of upbeats in the right hand; dynamic and agitated in c-2, with 16th-note patterns taking the lead in the right hand.

The fourth part (B’, bb 63–70, G major) comprises a single eight-bar period where the first cello plays an almost unedited version of the original b-1 section. The second cello accompanies with the same arpeggios as before, and the piano follows with disciplined regularity.

The fifth part (A’, bb 71–99, D major) brings back the initial, contrapuntal theme, this time with a markedly denser piano texture, signalling that the two soloists should resist the temptation of excessive rubato and maintain a steady pulse. The first section (a’-1, bb 71–84) is by far the longest because it needs to use all the main ideas found in the original part A without sounding overly repetitive—something that the piano considerably helps with. This section ends with a vertical ascent by the first cello in natural harmonics up to A5¹², a note that is sustained for two more bars while the second cello begins the second section (a’-2, bb 85–95). A lively, ornate melody, similar to that introduced in b 14, is developed further by both soloists, with the piano simply providing harmonic support. The closing section of this part (a’-3, bb 96–99) goes back to the F# major / B minor chord alternation but is interrupted by the sudden entrance of a majestic coda (D, bb 100–17).

In this closing part, the first cello dialogues with the left hand of the piano throughout the first section (d-1, bb 100–09), the two voices echoing each other two octaves apart. The second cello alternates plagal cadences in pizzicato with aching answering melodies, almost as a poignant commentary on the other two instruments’ exchange. The right hand of the piano, then, accompanies the scene with a delicate tremolo of subtly orchestral character—evoking violins and violas playing tremolos at the tip of the bow. The final period (d-2, bb 110–17), features the piano continuing alone on the same path, while the two cellos unite in a passionate four-voice chorale that brings this Nocturne to a close.

Building a modern edition

Only two sources were directly accessible for this edition (D-MS and E). Nevertheless, here is a complete list of all known or possible sources:

• A: autograph manuscript. Not located.
• B: first edition by Friedrich Hofmeister, Leipzig. Plate n° 2511 [?], announced September 1840. Not located.
• C: first edition by J. Schuberth & Co., Hamburg. Plate n° 2511 for the piano part and 395 for the two cello parts. Not located.
• D: reprint of C from c. 1841, labelled ‘Nachdruck der Ausgabe 1840 | Musikverlag J. Schuberth & Co., Hamburg | J. S. Reprint 204’ and currently sold ‘as is’ by the current incarnation of the J. Schuberth & Co. Musikverlag, now owned by Grahl & Nicklas GmbH in Frankfurt.
• D-MS: the primary source for this edition, a copy of D provided to us by Michel Schuberth, direct descendant of the composer.
• E: Le Dnieper. Nocturne pour deux violoncelles, avec accompagnement de piano-forte … Op. 6. Published by Wessel & Co., London, 15 October 1840. Plate n° 4185. Piano part: British Library, St. Pancras, shelfmark h.1871.a.(6.). Cello parts: not located.

The greatest challenge in building a modern edition from the available material —drawing primarily on D-MS and consulting E for comparative purposes— stemmed from the general lack of clarity about which sources belonged to which version. In general, this 1840 version was the one with the smallest number of available sources, but it took considerable effort to understand that what we had in front of us was a piece that had been evolving during the life of the composer. Once that was established, though, our path forward became clear, prompting us to plan a complete publication of all the versions of Carl Schuberth’s Nocturne.

The lack of a full score and the resulting inconsistencies found throughout the three parts proved challenging to resolve during the building of the new full score, especially because the two cello parts lacked the key signature changes present in the piano part. This has been rectified in our edition, with all instruments showing the appropriate key signatures consistently.

About this edition

This edition is the first one to offer a full score for the 1840 version, allowing an unprecedented comprehensive view of the piece. Two inserts complete the score in a distinctive manner, each of them containing two versions of the relevant cello part. On one spread lies the modern version of the original edition, with Carl Schuberth’s bowing and fingering suggestions almost untouched—with only a handful of dashed slurs and bracketed dynamics added. On the other spread, the editor’s performance suggestions have been added to facilitate smoother reading and execution. The Critical Notes section at the end of this volume lists all significant issues found during the preparation and complements this introduction.

Acknowledgements

Our deepest thanks go to Michel Schuberth, direct descendant of the composer, for providing invaluable insight into his ancestor’s work, life, and output, and for gifting us with a copy of the main source. This edition would never have been possible without his contribution and encouragement. Our thanks also extend to Elias Mazzucco of the Rare Books & Music Reference Team at The British Library for providing their copy of source E for consultation.

We hope you will enjoy rediscovering this early work by Carl Schuberth as much as it has been a pleasure to uncover its fascinating story.

The Editor,

Michele Galvagno

Saluzzo, Italy — February 16, 2026.

1. Friedrich Hofmeister: Musikalisch-literarischer Monatsbericht. Band: 1840, pag. 115. ↩
2. The copy used as main source for the creation of this edition belongs to the private collection of Michel Schuberth, direct descendant of the composer. ↩
3. Scores published by F. Hofmeister between the 1838 and 1840 bear numbers close enough to 2511 to reinforce this hypothesis.
   Plate number 395 for the J. Schuberth & Co. publishing house points, instead, to 1841, a possible sign of the composer’s brother having acquired the publishing rights from Hofmeister. ↩
4. See the Critical Notes section at the end of this volume to witness the consequences of this decision. ↩
5. Friedrich Hofmeister: Musikalisch-literarischer Monatsbericht. Band: 1842, pag. 4. ↩
6. Please refer to the publication of this version (ASE Editions 0115) for further information. ↩
7. Friedrich Hofmeister: Musikalisch-literarischer Monatsbericht. Band: 1852, pag. 111. ↩
8. Friedrich Hofmeister: Musikalisch-literarischer Monatsbericht. Band: 1856, pag. 910. ↩
9. Friedrich Hofmeister: Musikalisch-literarischer Monatsbericht. Band: 1863, pag. 229. ↩
10. Friedrich Hofmeister: Musikalisch-literarischer Monatsbericht. Band: 1864, pag. 24. ↩
11. The name refers to the Dnepr river, which rises in the Valdaj plateau in Russia and flows through Belarus and Ukraine. ↩
12. Considering the middle C of the piano as C3. ↩