Chopin in Paris: The Life and Times of the Romantic Composer
by
Chopin in Paris introduces the most important musical and literary figures of Fryderyk Chopin's day in a glittering story of the Romantic era. During Chopin's eighteen years in Paris, lasting nearly half his short life, he shone at the center of the immensely talented artists who were defining their time -- Hugo, Balzac, Stendhal, Delacroix, Liszt, Berlioz, and, of course, George Sand, a rebel feminist writer who became Chopin's lover and protector.
Tad Szulc, the author of Fidel and Pope John Paul II, approaches his subject with imagination and insight, drawing extensively on diaries, memoirs, correspondence, and the composer's own journal, portions of which appear here for the first time in English. He uses contemporary sources to chronicle Chopin's meteoric rise in his native Poland, an ascent that had brought him to play before the reigning Russian grand duke at the age of eight. He left his homeland when he was eighteen, just before Warsaw's patriotic uprising was crushed by the tsar's armies.
Carrying the memories of Poland and its folk music that would later surface in his polonaises and mazurkas, Chopin traveled to Vienna. There he established his reputation in the most demanding city of Europe. But Chopin soon left for Paris, where his extraordinary creative powers would come to fruition amid the revolutions roiling much of Europe. He quickly gained fame and a circle of powerful friends and acquaintances ranging from Rothschild, the banker, to Karl Marx.
Distinguished by his fastidious dress and the wracking cough that would cut short his life, Chopin spent his days composing and giving piano lessons to a select group of students. His evenings were spent at the keyboard, playing for his friends. It was at one of these Chopin gatherings that he met George Sand, nine years his senior. Through their long and often stormy relationship, Chopin enjoyed his richest creative period. As she wrote dozens of novels, he composed furiously -- both were compulsive creators. After their affair unraveled, Chopin became the protÉgÉ of Jane Stirling, a wealthy Scotswoman, who paraded him in his final year across England and Scotland to play for the aristocracy and even Queen Victoria. In 1849, at the age of thirty-nine, Chopin succumbed to the tuberculosis that had plagued him from childhood.
Chopin in Paris is an illuminating biography of a tragic figure who was one of the most important composers of all time. Szulc brings to life the complex, contradictory genius whose works will live forever. It is compelling reading about an exciting epoch of European history, culture, and music -- and about one of the great love dramas of the nineteenth century.
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Frédéric Chopin to Julien Fontana, at the Carthusian monastery of Valldemossa, December 28, 1839 (Correspondence of Frédéric Chopin, volume n ° 2):
"You can imagine me between the rocks and the sea, in a cell of an immense Carthusian with doors bigger than any door of Paris. I'm here without crimps or white gloves, and pale as usual.
Portrait of Chopin in Dante, by Delacroix (Delacroix Museum in Paris); photos of Valldemossa in the 1930s and the cell garden of the monastery, engraving after a drawing by Maurice Sand (Gallica).
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At the end of 1838, George Sand took his children and Frédéric Chopin to the island of Mallorca. After having a hard time finding accommodation in the outskirts of Palma, they finally settled in mid-December in an almost deserted monastery, located in a mountainous and exotic environment: the village of Valldemossa.
A few days after their installation in this place outside the world and out of time, Chopin writes the following letter to Julien Fontana, a friend of youth established in Paris, to deliver his impressions ...
Frédéric Chopin to Julien Fontana, at the Carthusian monastery of Valldemossa, December 28, 1839 (Correspondence of Frédéric Chopin, volume n ° 2):
"You can imagine me between the rocks and the sea, in a cell of an immense Carthusian with doors bigger than any door of Paris. I'm here without crimps or white gloves, and pale as usual.
My cell, shaped like a large coffin, has a huge dusty vault, a little window overlooking the orange trees, the palm trees, the cypresses of the garden. Facing the window, under a filigree rosette of Moorish style, a strap bed ...
Silence ... We can shout ... silence again. In a word, I write to you from a very strange place ...
You say that you sent me a letter from mine. I did not see anything, nor received. And yet, she would be so necessary to me ... "
Portrait of Chopin in Dante, by Delacroix (Delacroix Museum in Paris); photos of Valldemossa in the 1930s and the cell garden of the monastery, engraving after a drawing by Maurice Sand (Gallica).
A la fin de l’année 1838, George Sand emmène ses enfants et Frédéric Chopin sur l’île de Majorque. Après avoir eu beaucoup de mal à se loger décemment dans les environs de Palma, ils s’installent finalement à la mi-décembre au sein d’un monastère quasi déserté, situé dans un environnement montagneux et exotique : le village de Valldemossa.
Quelques jours après leur installation au sein de cet endroit hors du monde et hors du temps, Chopin écrit la lettre suivante à Julien Fontana, un ami de jeunesse établi à Paris, pour lui livrer ses impressions…
Quelques jours après leur installation au sein de cet endroit hors du monde et hors du temps, Chopin écrit la lettre suivante à Julien Fontana, un ami de jeunesse établi à Paris, pour lui livrer ses impressions…
Frédéric Chopin à Julien Fontana, à la chartreuse de Valldemossa, le 28 décembre 1839 (Correspondance de Frédéric Chopin, volume n°2) :
« Tu peux m’imaginer entre les rochers et la mer, dans une cellule d’une immense chartreuse aux portes plus grandes qu’aucune porte cochère de Paris. Je suis là sans frisures, ni gants blancs, et pâle comme à l’ordinaire.
Ma cellule, en forme de grand cercueil, a une énorme voûte poussiéreuse, une petite fenêtre donnant sur les orangers, les palmiers, les cyprès du jardin. Face à la fenêtre, sous une rosace filigranée de style mauresque, un lit de sangle…
Silence… On peut crier… silence encore. En un mot, je t’écris d’un endroit bien étrange…
Tu dis m’avoir fait suivre une lettre des miens. Je n’ai rien vu, ni reçu. Et pourtant, elle me serait si nécessaire… ».
Ma cellule, en forme de grand cercueil, a une énorme voûte poussiéreuse, une petite fenêtre donnant sur les orangers, les palmiers, les cyprès du jardin. Face à la fenêtre, sous une rosace filigranée de style mauresque, un lit de sangle…
Silence… On peut crier… silence encore. En un mot, je t’écris d’un endroit bien étrange…
Tu dis m’avoir fait suivre une lettre des miens. Je n’ai rien vu, ni reçu. Et pourtant, elle me serait si nécessaire… ».
Portrait de Chopin en Dante, par Delacroix (Musée Delacroix à Paris) ; photos de Valldemossa dans les années 1930 et le jardin des cellules du monastère, gravure d'après un dessin de Maurice Sand (Gallica).
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