Here thus, Chopin and Sand linked in the life.
For the health of Maurice the son of Sand, and for that of Chopin, they decides to spend winter 1838-1839 pennies a climate more lenient than that of Paris. They were given go to Perpignan.
Chopin does not wish to post his departure.
Four years earlier with Musset, Sand had already made the same voyage.
They had then met Stendhal on the boat.
It leaves a few days before Chopin and quietly makes the way while stopping on the way to meet friends.

            Chopin, made him the voyage of only one feature. Four days and four nights
of mail coach. It arrives exhausted, with five thousand francs (current) out of pocket, having sold its preludes to Pleyel.
They embark on “Phénicien” which leads them to Barcelona, then on
“El Mallorquin”. In the morning they unload in Palma.
In impossibility of finding a hotel, they rent a villa with some Gomez. For the moment all is well in spite of tiredness.
They are happy to be found “under a turquoise sky,…. with a temperature which recalls that one June to Paris. ” Unfortunately that will not last, because it is the rain season.

Palma de Majorque " la chartreuse"

                Quickly Chopin falls ill, and starts to cough. Three doctors are destined for his bedside.

With his friend Fontana remained in Paris, Chopin tells:

 “The first doctor says that I will burst, the second says that I will burst, third said that I was already burst…”

        Obliged to leave the villa, by paying the pieces of furniture so that they are flarings, it settles then in chartreuse Valdemosa.

 “My cell with the shape of a large coffin”

writes Chopin. 

“One can always howl… silence”. 

        Hardly given, Chopin recovers to compose. The climate distressing of chartreuse acts in a catastrophic way on its moral.

La chartreuse de Valdemosa (drawing of Maurice)

         “Chopin cannot overcome the concern of his imagination” will say George later in” History of my life ". 

The cloister is for him full with terror and phantoms. Sand affirms that several of the preludes were born from these anguishes.

        There is of them one, says it “which came to him by one evening from rain”.

        It acts without any doubt of the prelude N° 6 called “the drop stupidly of water”. (Of others think that it is about the n° 15).

        You can listen to both. Each one will find it where he will want.


Prélude n° 6 Prélude n° 15

            Its health remains precarious. The rains fall unceasingly. The difficulties become unbearable and the money starts to miss. The inhabitants are hostile and look them like “the pagan ones”.

Portrait de Chopin par George Sand

            Chopin however completes the ballade in Major F, two Polish, the sonata in B flat, and he works with the third scherzo. Its state does not cease worsening.

        One day when George had left with Maurice, to go to Palma, the rain started to fall, the torrents overflowed. They reflect six hours to join the chartreuse one. When George found Chopin, this one had the eyes hagards and was pale like a death.

        It rose abruptly and exclaimed: 

“Ah! I knew it well that you had died”. 

        Chopin takes Majorque now of horror. With chartreuse the life becomes unbearable. The servant leaves them while shouting that they are pestiferous.

        Chopin written in Paris to regulate its business and to change apartment; the return is specified.
He aspires only at “rest work”.

Nobody any more agree to serve “the poitrinaire”.

        Their clothing mildews on them. Lastly, George, Maurice and Frederic leave, but see themselves refusing a car with Palma. Chopin can hardly breathe.

         The evening it starts to spit blood in a terrible way. They succeed in embarking on a transporting boat of the pigs.

         The Frederic following day spits blood with full basin. Their honeymoon finished on a terrible fiasco.
Chopin is hospitalized and the doctor manages to stop the haemorrhage.

         They rest eight days in Barcelona. A few days later they unload all the three in Marseilles. George writes with Mrs. Marliani:

“One month more and we died in Spain, Chopin and me; he of melancholy and dislike, me of anger and indignation ..... they bored pins a suffering being…” 

“If I write on them it will be with gall.”.