Rick Steves Paris 2018 by Rick Steves & Steve Smith & Gene Openshaw

Author:Rick Steves & Steve Smith & Gene Openshaw
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Avalon Publishing
Published: 2017-12-22T05:00:00+00:00

9 Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849)

Fresh-cut flowers and geraniums on the gravestone speak of the emotional staying power of Chopin’s music, which still connects souls across the centuries. A muse sorrows atop the tomb, and a carved relief of Chopin in profile captures the delicate features of this sensitive artist.

The 21-year-old Polish pianist arrived in Paris, fell in love with the city, and never returned to his homeland (which was occupied by an increasingly oppressive Russia). In Paris, he could finally shake off the “child prodigy” label and performance schedule he’d lived with since age seven. Cursed with stage fright (“I don’t like concerts. The crowds scare me, their breath chokes me, I’m paralyzed by their stares...”) and with too light a touch for big venues, Chopin preferred playing at private parties for Paris’ elite. They were wowed by his technique; his ability to make a piano sing; and his melodic, soul-stirring compositions. Soon he was recognized as a pianist, composer, and teacher and even idolized as a brooding genius. He ran in aristocratic circles with fellow artists, such as pianist Franz Liszt, painter Delacroix, novelists Victor Hugo and Balzac, and composer Rossini. (All but Liszt and Hugo lie in Père Lachaise.)

Chopin composed nearly 200 pieces, almost all for piano, in many different styles—from lively Polish dances to the Bach-like counterpoint of his Preludes to the moody, romantic Nocturnes.

In 1837, the quiet, refined, dreamy-eyed genius met the scandalous, assertive, stormy novelist George Sand (see here of the Left Bank Walk chapter). Sand was swept away by Chopin’s music and artistic nature. She pursued him, and sparks flew. Though the romance faded quickly, they continued living together for nearly a decade in an increasingly bitter love-hate relationship. When Chopin developed tuberculosis, Sand nursed him for years (Chopin complained she was killing him). Sand finally left, Chopin was devastated, and he died two years later at age 39. At the funeral, they played perhaps Chopin’s most famous piece, the Funeral March (it’s that 11-note dirge that everyone knows). The grave contains Chopin’s body, but his heart lies in Warsaw, embedded in a church column.

“The earth is suffocating. Swear to make them cut me open, so that I won’t be buried alive.”

—Chopin, on his deathbed

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