Why a besotted piano student held Liszt at gunpoint

Terry Blain

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Liszt's disgruntled piano student threatens to kill him

In mid-October 1871, a message was cabled from New York City to Franz Liszt in Europe. In itself, this was nothing unusual. Nearing 60 years old, the Hungarian composer and pianist had long been a globally famous musician, attracting 2,000 letters a year in correspondence. But this new communication was startlingly different. It was from a former pupil of his, the 26-year-old Olga Janina, and her message was brutal: she was returning by steamship to Europe, and she was going to kill him.

Liszt was no stranger to extremes of human behaviour. As a pianist his extraordinary skill and charisma had roused audiences to unprecedented levels of adulation. Women in particular adored him, fainting at his concerts and scrambling to lay hold of his personal possessions in a frenzied hero-worship known as ‘Lisztomania’. But Janina’s ghoulish cable was something else again – an explicit, unmistakable threat of assassination. Could it possibly be serious?   

'She wore a belted dagger with a poisoned tip'

Those around Liszt certainly believed it could. As a pupil of the great pianist, Janina had cut an arresting figure among her fellow students and acolytes. She cut her hair short, smoked cigars, dressed in jacket and trousers, and wore a belted dagger with (allegedly) a poisoned tip on it. Unnervingly, she also carried a revolver and bit her fingernails so aggressively that blood dripped on the keyboard when she played the piano. Unsurprisingly, Janina was viewed as dangerously unstable by her circle of acquaintances, one of whom advised Liszt to be on his guard ‘against the vengeance of a hysterical madwoman’.  

• More Liszt at gunpoint...

A dangerous, passionate obsession... made worse by opium addiction

But what was Janina feeling vengeful about? After all, Liszt had, it seems, done much to further the career of the aspiring young pianist from Lemberg (now Lviv, Ukraine). He taught her, gave her work as a copyist, arranged concert opportunities and made her part of his travelling entourage. Janina’s relationship to Liszt, however, quickly became emotionally obsessive. One observer spoke of her ‘headstrong passion’ for her mentor, another described her as ‘a little, witty, foolish person, mad about Liszt’. 

Janina’s unsteady grip on reality was further weakened by an addiction to opium and other pharmaceutical substances. She began styling herself ‘Countess’ and ‘the Cossack’ – images extravagantly at odds with her solidly bourgeois upbringing (her father’s money came from a patented boot polish). She also made several attempts at suicide, prompted by her father’s death in 1870 and her subsequent struggles with money.

More Liszt at gunpoint...

A humiliating public scolding... and rejection

How did these dangerously swirling energies suddenly fasten on a plan to murder Liszt? One possible factor was a series of memory lapses Janina suffered while playing Chopin’s Ballade in G minor at a prestigious house concert hosted by Liszt in Budapest. Visibly irritated, Liszt stamped his foot and ‘upbraided her more than angrily’. A public scolding by the greatest living pianist left painful scars, and further destabilised Janina’s already precarious mental position.   

By now, Liszt was tiring of Janina’s difficult nature and her socially embarrassing habits. He partly engineered her departure for the US in July 1871 as an attempt to relaunch a professional career that had sputtered only fitfully in Europe. But the trip was fruitless, and Janina was angered by Liszt’s ‘pitiless’ reaction to her failures and frustrations. And so the threatening cable to her erstwhile idol and benefactor was sent. 

More Liszt at gunpoint...

She burst into his apartment, a revolver in one hand and poison in the other

Janina was not long in acting on it. On 25 October 1871, she burst into Liszt’s Budapest apartment, a revolver in one hand and bottles of poison in the other. She had, she said, come to shoot Liszt and then die by suicide. A tense few hours followed, as Liszt attempted to talk Janina down. At one point she swallowed the poison and went into convulsions, but a doctor later confirmed that the ‘poison’ was in fact harmless. The ‘terrible disturbance’, as Liszt termed it, appeared to be over.  

Liszt at gunpoint: the aftermath

It did, though, have an unsavoury afterlife. In 1874, Janina published a purportedly autobiographical novel, in which she none too subtly intimated that her relationship with Liszt had been sexual. There is no reliable evidence that this was true, but the book enjoyed a succès de scandale, in the process causing Liszt considerable upset and embarrassment.    

Janina went on to marry twice more, and died aged 69 in 1914. ‘Of all the crises that Liszt was called upon to endure in his long and chequered life,’ writes Liszt biographer Alan Walker, ‘it is arguable that none caused him more anguish.’ Liszt’s own take on l’affaire Janina was notably more phlegmatic. ‘She was not malicious, merely unbalanced,’ he later commented. ‘And, in my opinion, also talented.’ 

Frédéric Chopin’s 10 “Easy” Piano Pieces

 by Hermione Lai  March 1st, 2026

Frédéric Chopin! The name alone conjures a sense of profound intimacy. His works for piano take us into a world of almost otherworldly beauty, with melodies that become as engaging as the human voice.

The music can be fragile, dance-like or fleeting, and infused with a sense of great nostalgia or melancholy. And then there is this emotional fragility, like emotions changing in mid-sentence. Chopin’s music feels so vulnerable, seemingly confiding in the listener. It’s emotion in its purest form.

Rudolf Schuster: Fryderyk Chopin in the salon of prince Antoni Radziwiłł

Yet we all know that his music is famously challenging to play. In the hands of experts, it sounds effortless, floating through the air with a passion that’s always under control. But if you have been studying the piano, you know that the technical challenges of playing Chopin are substantial.

For Chopin’s birthday on 1 March 1810, let’s do something special by presenting 10 of his easiest piano pieces. In their original scoring, there are none for complete beginners, sorry. But if you are an intermediate pianist, here are 10 pieces that are surprisingly approachable.

On the top of my list of approachable Chopin piano pieces is the Prelude in E minor, from the Op. 28 set. This piece even looks approachable on paper. No glittering runs or thundering octaves, and no crazy fast arpeggios.

To be sure, the slow tempo and simple left-hand accompaniment are immediately inviting. No violent leaps or intricate crossings, with chords unfolding regularly. Of course, it’s all about the weight of each chord and how one harmony resolves into the next.

The melody is pure simplicity, essentially an expressive sigh that hovers above the broken chords. You will be able to learn the notes of both hands relatively quickly, but can you make the piano sing? Technically, it is approachable, but to convey the emotions is much more difficult. 

The set of 24 Preludes in Op. 28 contains some wonderful pieces for intermediate pianists. Take the A Major Prelude, Op. 28, No. 7, as an example. It’s one of the shortest piano pieces Chopin ever wrote, and it feels like a fleeting smile.

While the left hand keeps a steady and lilting accompaniment, the right hand sings a folk-like melody. No wild leaps or complicated passagework in the left hand, and a very pianistically unfolding melody in the right hand. No acrobatics here at all.

The notes should come to you rather easily, but can you find the elegance demanded from this small dance? It should never sound mechanical, with the left hand breathing softly. But don’t slip into sentimentality, as it is naturally beautiful.     A number of Chopin waltzes are glittering showpieces, but Op. 34, No. 2 is different. This one is a far gentler affair. And it’s difficult not to be swept up in the flowing rhythm of the dance.

What makes waltzes difficult to play on occasion are extreme jumps and brutal stretches. In Op. 34, No. 2, the familiar waltz pattern is, of course, present, but the technical demands here are not punishing. There are some ornaments in the right hand, but like much of Chopin, the entire melody lies comfortably under the fingers.

Did you notice that this waltz is scored in the minor key? There is a celebration for sure, but it feels more like a memory than an actual celebration. Passion is everywhere, but it is all viewed through a veil.

Mazurka in A minor, Op. 17, No. 4   

Let’s stay with the dance idiom for a bit, although the Mazurka in A Minor, Op. 17, No. 4 is slightly more challenging. Still, it isn’t a showpiece that glitters and sparkles, but another deep personal recollection.

There are some broken patterns in the left hand, but with the unhurried tempo, an intermediate pianist can learn the notes. Chopin opens up a sparse texture, with the left hand always supporting the melody, not battling it. And what a fantastic piece to learn all about rubato.

Technically, it gets a bit more challenging in the middle section. However, it all feels rather introspective. The gently swaying rhythm carries you away to the Polish homeland Chopin missed so much. Whatever you do, don’t try to overpower this emotionally very fragile music.

Prelude in B minor, Op. 28, No. 6   

Technically speaking, we should count the Prelude in B minor, Op. 28, No. 6 among the 10 easiest Chopin pieces. And on the surface, that is certainly true. It all seems rather simple, with the left hand playing marching chords while the right hand quietly presents a fragile melody.

What might be technically simple is frequently emotionally challenging. This particular prelude is pure melancholy. The weight of each chord should never destroy the sense of fragility, and it’s easy to get carried away with the rubato.

A great pianist once said that by listening to Chopin, audiences should feel as if the composer is confiding in them. And that’s the melody in this prelude. Every single note is a secret, whispered to you in great confidence. And it is never ashamed to do so.

Frédéric Chopin: Waltz in B minor, Op. 69, No. 2   

For another approachable piece in B minor, let’s turn to the Waltz Op. 69, No. 2. It is approachable for an intermediate pianist as the technical challenges are manageable, but the music just sounds deceptively easy.

We do find the gentle waltz pattern in the accompaniment, and the melody offers flowing phrases and lyrical lines. Yet, there are plenty of subtle shifts in dynamic, in delicate accents, and the rubato simply has to sound like natural breathing.

If you play this mechanically, it will immediately lose all charm. There is so much restraint and intimate tenderness that is incredibly difficult to express. While the notes might be suitable for young fingers, the emotional content certainly isn’t.

Mazurka in G minor, Op. 67, No. 2    

The Chopin Mazurkas are never really that easy to play, but technically, some are accessible to intermediate pianists. These Polish dances are at the heart of Chopin’s piano music, and they always carry a sense of melancholy and longing.

The mazurka rhythm flows gently and steadily throughout, with the lyrical melody clearly written by an expert pianist. There are no uncomfortable leaps and jumps, and no blazing runs from the top to the bottom of the keyboard. The notes can be learned.

The most challenging part of this piece is that the pianist has to shape the mood. The phrases must breathe, and the off-beat accents gently navigate you between a memory of joy and a sigh of sorrow. You won’t be successful if you only think of virtuosity and speed.   

Every aspiring pianist wants to play a Chopin Nocturne, and the C-sharp minor is probably one of his most approachable. Steady arpeggios won’t kill your hands if you know how to rotate your wrist, and the melody is one of the most natural creations ever written by Chopin.

The melody is delicately emerging over the accompaniment, and it needs very careful attention. The real difficulty comes from shaping that melody. Everything relies on expressive timing and gentle dynamic nuance. And don’t let that rubato run away with you.

There is plenty of passion in the opening section, and some real drama in the central part. Each change of harmony and turn of melody becomes a reflection or unspoken emotion that can be felt immediately.   

Since Chopin died at such an early age, a number of pieces were never prepared for publication by himself. They were discovered among his manuscripts and shared with publishers later.

One such treasure is a gentle waltz in A minor, featuring a steady accompaniment and a naturally flowing lyrical melody. This gem is entirely approachable for intermediate pianists, and it carries all the expected emotional intensity.

There is nothing dazzling in this dance. Rather, Chopin almost shyly immerses us in a melancholic quality that feels entirely personal. Since it was discovered only after Chopin’s death, it carries an extra sense of quiet mystery.

Prelude in C minor, Op. 28, No. 20    

Sometimes, the Prelude in C minor, Op. 28, No. 20 is nicknamed “Chordal Prelude.” And that pretty much describes the technical aspects. Thick chords carry the melody, and it is very manageable for intermediate pianists.

Yet, this quietly powerful miniature carries immense emotional depth. It feels like a march, maybe even a procession of memory. Emotion is contained in every single chord, and also in the silences between them.

You need more than technical proficiency to play this one. You need great sensitivity, a sense of patience, and empathy. It’s like a moment of reflection that has been suspended in time.

Bonus Time

Portrait of Frédéric Chopin by Eugène Delacroix, 1838

Here then is a little bonus selection, the famous “Raindrop” prelude. Every aspiring pianist is eager to play this little gem. And you already know about that hypnotic A-flat in the left hand.

It gets a bit stormier in the middle section, but the raindrops need to be soft and consistent. As soon as you start to force this repetition, the entire mood will be lost. Everything must sound as natural as possible.

I am sure you have already noticed the Chopin paradox in 10 of his easiest piano pieces. They are technically approachable and relatively simple, yet deeply emotional and profound. These might be playable by young fingers, but it will take an entire lifetime to probe their emotional depth.

What Music Did Composers Choose For Their Funerals?

by Emily E. Hogstad  

Music is always an important part of any funeral service or memorial service.

The right choice of music can pay tribute to the deceased’s tastes and provide comfort to the mourners left behind.

Have you ever wondered what music the great composers had performed at their funerals? Today, we’re looking at four fascinating composer funerals – and the music that was played at each of them.

George Frederic Handel (1759)

Marble statue of Handel, 1738

In August 1751, sixty-six-year-old composer George Frederic Handel developed a cataract in one eye. His vision began deteriorating, especially after a procedure conducted by a quack surgeon.

By the following year, he was totally blind and no longer able to compose.

He died in 1759. Although he had been born in present-day Germany, he had become a celebrity during his time in England. Accordingly, he was granted the privilege of a state funeral at Westminster Abbey.

He died on 14 April, and his funeral was held on 20 April. The Bishop of Rochester officiated, and over three thousand mourners attended.

Three choirs collaborated on a performance of Funeral Sentences by composer and organist William Croft.

These works have been performed at many famous British funerals since, including Winston Churchhill’s, Princess Diana’s, and Queen Elizabeth II’s. 

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1791)

Engraving (1860) representing Mozart’s burial © wordsmusicandstories.wordpress.com

Historians disagree about the cause of Mozart’s death and the length of his health decline during the autumn of 1791.

However, it is known that by 20 November, he was bedridden, in pain, and vomiting.

He died on 5 December at his home, a little after midnight. The Requiem he was working on was left unfinished.

Mozart’s funeral was planned by his friend and patron Baron Gottfried van Swieten. It took place on 10 December at the parish of St. Michael in Vienna.

A portion of his unfinished Requiem was played at the service. The only movement that Mozart had completed and that was ready for performance was the opening “Requiem aeternam” from the Introitus section. 

Scores for a few more movements based on sketches were quickly rounded out by Mozart’s student Franz Jacob Freystädtler, who completed the unfinished portions of the remaining movements, such as the Lacrymosa, Sanctus, and Benedictus.

Completion of the other movements was later tackled by another Mozart student named Franz Xaver Süßmayr.

The musicians who performed at Mozart’s funeral volunteered their services to pay tribute to their dead colleague.

Learn more about Mozart’s funeral.

Ludwig van Beethoven (1827)

Beethoven’s funeral as depicted by Franz Xaver Stöber © Wikipedia

By the time of his death in 1827, Beethoven’s health had been deteriorating for years.

Of course, his deafness was his most famous health complaint, but he also struggled with liver failure, pneumonia, and alcohol addiction.

He died in the early evening of March 26.

The funeral was a massive event. It is estimated that between 10,000 and 30,000 mourners lined up on the surrounding streets to pay tribute, or at least catch a glimpse of him.

His pallbearers included composer Johann Nepomuk Hummel, piano pedagogue Carl Czerny, and composer Franz Schubert.

Beethoven had not left specific instructions about what music he wanted to have performed at his funeral. Conductor and composer Ignaz von Seyfried took on the responsibility of providing music for the event.

Seyfried picked out two of Beethoven’s Three Equals, works for trombone ensemble that had been commissioned for All Souls’ Day in 1812. Seyfried rearranged them to include a men’s chorus.  

Next he arranged the third movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 12, a funeral march, again for trombone and men’s chorus. 

He also conducted a “Chorale of the Brethren of Charity” from incidental music for Wilhelm Tell by now-forgotten composer Bernhard Anselm Weber.

To wrap it up, Seyfried offered his own “Libera me”, which quoted Mozart’s Requiem.

The bigger musical tribute came a few days later after the funeral proper at a commemorative performance. There the entire Mozart Requiem was performed in full.

Learn more about Beethoven’s funeral.

Frédéric Chopin (1849)

Pianist and composer Frédéric Chopin had endured severe chronic illness throughout his adult life.

However, during the 1840s, it became clear that his tuberculosis infection was likely going to kill him.

In 1842, he wrote to a friend that he was so sore and fatigued that he was lying in bed for the day.

On 15 October 1849, it became clear that the end was finally near. Musical visitors came and performed for him to provide comfort. He finally died on 17 October.

The funeral took place on 30 October. Chopin’s fame was such that tickets had to be printed for the event. Thousands of people came from around Europe to pay tribute, but only four thousand ticketed mourners were allowed into the Church of the Madeleine.

The music had been carefully chosen by Chopin himself and included Mozart’s Requiem. The archbishop himself had to issue special dispensation to allow women singers to sing in church, as long as they performed behind a black curtain.  

Other musical offerings included organ arrangements of his fourth and sixth piano preludes, as well as the funeral march from his Piano Sonata No. 2.  

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by Emily E. Hogstad

It’s one of the most romanticized love affairs in music history: dashing cross-dressing woman novelist George Sand becomes obsessed with, and then seduces, the sickly consumptive pianist-composer Frédéric Chopin.

But how much of this story is real, and how much of it is just mythologizing?

Today we are looking at the real story behind the love affair between George Sand and Frédéric Chopin.

George Sand’s Childhood and Marriage

George Sand

Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin de Francueil was born on 1 July 1804 in Paris.

As a girl, she lived with her grandmother at the family manor house in Nohant, roughly three hundred kilometers from Paris.

In 1821, her grandmother died, and Aurore inherited the manor. The house at Nohant became a home base for her throughout her life.

In 1822, at the age of eighteen, Dupin married a man named Casimir Dudevant, whose biggest accomplishment in life ended up being George Sand’s ex.

They had two children together: a son named Maurice in 1823 and a daughter named Solange in 1828. (That said, Solange’s paternity is questioned.)

After almost a decade, the marriage deteriorated. Mrs. Dudevant left her husband in 1831 and, scandalously, began seeing other men. In 1835, she separated from him legally and took custody of her two young children.

George Sand’s Writing Career

In her twenties, the former Mrs. Dudevant embarked on romantic relationships with a wide variety of accomplished artistic men, including novelist Jules Sandeau, writer Prosper Mérimée, dramatist Alfred du Musset, and others. (She also developed intense romantic feelings for actress Marie Dorval. The two would remain friends for the rest of their lives.)

The former Mrs. Dudevant’s writing career began in the early 1830s, when she began collaborating on stories with her lover Jules Sandeau. They signed their joint efforts “Jules Sand.”

It quickly became obvious that she was a very talented writer. In 1832, at the age of twenty-eight, she wrote a novel on her own and published it under the pseudonym George Sand.

It wasn’t long before this divorced mother of two was one of the most respected authors in Europe. Her work was actually more popular in England than either Hugo’s or Balzac’s!

As her career progressed, she didn’t restrict herself to just novels: she also wrote literary criticism, theatrical works, political commentary (she was a socialist), and more.

The Meeting of George Sand and Frédéric Chopin

Josef Danhauser: Franz Liszt Fantasizing at the Piano

Apparently, Sand was intrigued by Chopin even before they met. It is believed she encouraged their mutual friend Franz Liszt to arrange an introduction.

On 24 October 1836, in the salon of fellow author (and Liszt’s mistress) Marie d’Agoult, George Sand and Frédéric Chopin met each other for the first time.

Chopin was initially repulsed by Sand, reportedly asking Liszt, “Is she really a woman?”

Despite this rocky first impression, Sand still remained intrigued by him.

It seems they were not close before 1838. In May of that year, she asked a mutual friend in a letter if he was still engaged (at one point, he had been betrothed to his former pupil Maria Wodzińska). If so, Sand wrote, she would back off. However, it turns out that the relationship with Wodzińska was well and truly over.

It’s unclear exactly how, but eventually Chopin and Sand became friends, and then lovers. 

Their Trip to Majorca

To celebrate their new partnership, Sand planned a trip to Majorca, Spain, over the winter of 1838. She was hopeful that the change in climate would help Chopin’s declining health.

The trip started off on a high note. “The sky is like turquoise, the sea is like emeralds, the air as in Heaven,” he wrote in a letter.

Chopin ended up composing some of his best-known works in Majorca, including his 24 Preludes. The work tied most closely to this place in time is undoubtedly the Raindrop Prelude, said to be inspired by the rain dripping off the eaves of their lodgings.

Frédéric Chopin: Prelude in D flat major Op. 28 No. 15 

The trip became a struggle when, as the Raindrop Prelude suggests, the winter weather turned damp. Instead of improving, his health deteriorated. The couple’s gloomy accommodations didn’t help matters: they had sought refuge in a deserted monastery in Valldemossa.

Soon Catholic locals began viewing the unmarried divorcée and her invalid partner with suspicion. The couple’s reputation grew even worse when rumors spread that Chopin’s cough would spread communicable disease. In the end, the locals grew so impossible to work with that Sand was eventually forced to lug a handcart to the capital city of Palma just to load up on basic supplies.

Their nightmare came to an end ten weeks after they arrived, but unfortunately their return voyage to Barcelona occurred during rough seas, and Chopin suffered from seasickness on the way home.

Life in France

Portrait of Frédéric Chopin and George Sand by Eugène Delacroix

A much more agreeable destination turned out to be Sand’s country home in Nohant. Chopin and Sand settled into a schedule of spending half the year in Nohant and the other half in Paris (albeit in separate apartments).

Although they never officially moved in together full-time, in 1842, they did take the step of renting adjacent apartments.

Chopin ended up writing many great works at Nohant. Today the home is a museum. 

The Breakup

So why did these two titans of the Romantic Era break up?

One blow was Sand’s novel Lucrezia Floriani, which starred a sickly Eastern European prince being cared for by Lucrezia, the protagonist. The Polish Chopin grew increasingly resentful of this particular creative choice, feeling that his health troubles had become nothing but grist for Sand’s creative mill.

A second blow came when Chopin sided with Sand’s daughter, Solange, in various fierce mother-daughter arguments. Sand interpreted Chopin’s loyalty to Solange as his being in love with her. It didn’t help matters that Sand’s other child, Maurice, didn’t like Chopin, either.

Ultimately, after almost a decade together, the two great artists split up for good.

On July 28, 1847, Sand wrote to him: “Goodbye, my friend. May you soon be cured of all your ills, as I hope that now you may be…. If you are, I will offer thanks to God for this fantastic ending of a friendship which has, for nine years, absorbed both of us. Send me your news from time to time. It is useless to think that things can ever again be the same between us.”

Backlash to the Breakup

Sand herself predicted the backlash that would come: “His own particular circle will, I know, take a very different view [of the breakup],” she wrote. “He will be looked upon as a victim, and the general opinion will find it pleasanter to believe that I, in spite of my age, have got rid of him in order to take another lover…” Her predictions about public opinion turned out to be cannily accurate.

It’s also noteworthy that their relationship is often boiled down – wrongly – as one between nurse and caretaker. In his own writings, Liszt, for whatever reason, enjoyed emphasizing Chopin’s weakness and medical troubles, and therefore Sand’s role as his patient helper. However, Sand seemed to chafe against the idea. The relationship was simply more complex than that. She wrote of the Majorca disaster, “It was quite enough for me to handle, going alone to a foreign country with two children…without taking on an additional emotional burden and a medical responsibility.”

Sand and Chopin’s Final Meeting

Both Chopin and Sand left accounts of their final meeting. Comparing them is fascinating.

“I saw him again briefly in March 1848,” Sand wrote in her autobiography. “I clasped his trembling, icy hand. I wanted to talk to him; he vanished. It was my turn to say he no longer loved me.”

Chopin, on the other hand, wrote a longer account in a March 1848 letter to Solange: “Yesterday… I met your Mother in the doorway of the vestibule….” He asked whether Sand had any news about Solange, and let Sand know that Solange had had a baby, since mother and daughter weren’t on good terms at the time. He “bowed and went downstairs.” Then he decided he had more to say, so he asked a servant to bring her to him again. They talked some more. “She asked me how I am; I replied that I am well, and asked the concierge to open the door.”

Chopin died a little more than a year later. Sand opted not to attend his funeral. She lived many more years and wrote many more books.

Despite that tragic end to their love affair – or maybe because of it – George Sand and Frédéric Chopin remain one of the most iconic couples of the Romantic Era.

Pianists and Their Composers: Chopin

by Frances Wilson, Interlude

The music of Frédéric Chopin is perennially popular – it has never lost its universal appeal and Chopin remains one of the greatest composers for the piano. Virtuosic, imaginative, and emotionally profound, Chopin’s music offers pianists a wealth of expressivity, requiring a combination of superior technique, which always serves the music (rather than as an end in itself), refined touch, a beautiful cantabile (singing) tone, highly nuanced dynamic shading, supple phrasing and rubato, and an appreciation of the interior architecture of this multi-layered music. Chopin is also symbolic of Poland, the country of his birth, whose musical idioms are evident in almost all his music, most obviously, the Mazurkas and Polonaises.

Frédéric Chopin

When asked, the great Chopin player Arthur Rubinstein could not explain why Chopin’s music spoke to him, but like the music of J.S. Bach (which Chopin greatly admired and studied), it expresses universal humanity which, combined with a certain vulnerability, speaks to so many of us, and on many different levels.

Arthur Rubinstein

Arthur Rubinstein

“When the first notes of Chopin sound through the concert hall there is a happy sign of recognition. All over the world men and women know his music. They love it. They are moved by it. When I play Chopin I know I speak directly to the hearts of people.”

An unrivalled authority and one of the greatest interpreters of the music of Chopin, Rubinstein brought great dignity and refinement to the music, avoided unnecessary mannerisms and sentimentality, and revealed the structural logic of Chopin’s writing. His playing is memorable for its elegant vocal phrasing, beauty of tone, and natural yet sophisticated shaping.

Arthur Rubinstein Plays Chopin’s Polonaise in A Flat Major, Op.53 

Dinu Lipatti

Dinu Lipatti playing at his last recital © Michel Meusy

“A master of the keyboard” (Harold C Schonberg), Dinu Lipatti was the pupil of an older Chopin master, Alfred Cortot.

Lipatti’s immaculate performances of the waltzes, in particular, are spontaneous, light and nimble, lyrical and suitably dancing, with subtle rubato and great charm.

Maria João Pires

Maria João Pires © classicosdosclassicos.mus.br

“It’s very inner music and very deep,” Maria João Pires has said of Chopin. For her, he is “the deep poet of music”. That depth is really evident in Pires’ playing of the Nocturnes – intimate, refined and passionate, her interpretations eschew drawing room night-time sentimentality and capture all the drama and emotional intensity of these much-loved pieces.

Maurizio Pollini

Maurizio Pollini

Described by one critic as “the greatest Chopin player to have emerged from Italy since the Second World War”, Maurizio Pollini’s association with Chopin goes right back to the beginning of his professional career when he won the Chopin Competition in Warsaw when he was just 18. His unsentimental, cultivated interpretations are notable for their clarity of expression, perfectly judged poetry, and close attention to the bel canto melodic lines which make Chopin’s music so immediately appealing.

Alfred Cortot

Alfred Cortot © Commentary

Cortot is one of the most celebrated Chopin interpreters, combining flawless technique with a deep appreciation of the structure, voicing, and textures of Chopin’s music. His recordings are acclaimed to this day, and his detailed, annotated editions of Chopin’s music remain highly prized among pianists and teachers.

Janina Fialkowska

Janina Fialkowska

Hailed by her mentor Arthur Rubinstein as “a born Chopin interpreter”, Polish-Canadian pianist Janina Fialkowska captures the soul of Chopin, in particular in her performances of the Mazurkas, works which reveal Chopin’s patriotism and innermost sentiments towards his homeland. Fialkowska is sensitive to both the humble, peasant origins of the Mazurka and Chopin’s elevation of the genre into concert pieces. She really captures the poetry, poignancy, and whimsical emotions of these Polish folk dances, and her rubato is perfectly judged, especially important in these pieces where suppleness of pace lends greater emphasis to the emotional depth of the music.

A new piece by Chopin has been discovered after almost 200 years

28 October 2024, 13:09 | Updated: 29 October 2024, 10:53

Chopin. Picture: Alamy

By Will Padfield

Star pianist Lang Lang has given the first performance of the previously unheard Chopin waltz. 

An unknown waltz by Frédéric Chopin has been discovered in a library in New York, leading to an outpouring of excitement across the classical music world.

According to the New York Times, Robinson McClellan was sorting through a collection of cultural memorabilia in the vault of the Morgan Library and Museum in Manhattan when he found a pockmarked manuscript the size of an index card with a distinctive name written on the top write corner: Chopin.

He shared a photo of his discovery with Jeffrey Kallberg, a leading Chopin scholar at the University of Pennsylvania.

“My jaw dropped,” Kallberg told the Times. “I knew I had never seen this before.” 

After a thorough analysis of the paper, ink, handwriting and musical style, the Morgan Museum has concluded that the work is indeed an unknown waltz by the great Polish composer. The momentous discovery is the first of its kind in more than half a century.

Frederic Chopin by Wodzinska. Picture: Alamy

As reported in the New York Times, the manuscript is dated between 1830 and 1835, when Chopin was in his early 20s, and the music differs in many ways from the composer’s usual style.

Though believed to be complete, the work is shorter than Chopin’s other waltzes – only 48 measures long with a repeat, or about 80 seconds. The piece, in the key of A minor, has unusual dynamic markings, including a triple forte, signifying maximum volume, near the start.

Star pianist Lang Lang has given the first performance of the work. Picture: Getty

The star pianist Lang Lang, who has recently recorded the waltz for the Times at Steinway Hall in Manhattan has said the work felt like Chopin to him. The jarring opening, he said, evokes the harsh winters of the Polish countryside.

“This is not the most complicated music by Chopin,” he told the publication, “but it is one of the most authentic Chopin styles that you can imagine.”

Watch the first performance via The New York Times here.