Szerykl Talks Music with Chopin

         

“We’re heading for Warsaw!” Sheri told Szerykl as she packed a suitcase. “That’s the capital of all of Poland, so it’s a very big city.”

            Szerykl had nothing to pack except her dreams about the Rabbit Prince. She had not told Michael and Sheri about the visit from the Tattooed One, nor about his quest for the drops of amber that would make him king.

            Perhaps, if Warsaw was the capital of the whole country, might she find real kings and queens there? Or maybe she could spot a knight.

            "But I don’t want to find any dragons in Warsaw," she whispered to no one in particular. Across the street, Gummy the spider heard and nodded.

            “No dragons!” he gurgled back in his soggy-spinach voice.

            For now, so long to Gummy. Do widzenia  to Pod Króliczkiem. Bye-bye to the Rabbit Prince. As their train rolled to Warsaw, Michael and Sheri slept while Szerykl watched the golden fields and trees fly by. She sniffed for delicious forest scents –  mushrooms, decaying leaves, warm pine. But no smells came through the glass windows of the train. Soon, she snuffled into Sheri’s pocket, fell asleep and forgot about the prince.                       

            In Warsaw, Michael went to many meetings with other people who, like him, had won a special fellowship to study in Poland. Meanwhile, Sheri and Szerykl hopped around the city, exploring museums and parks.

            "Where are the knights?" Szerykl wondered. Then, on a warm fall day when the leaves were just starting to turn, Sheri brought Szerykl to a very big park – so big it had its own lakes and palaces and forests. “This is called Łazienki Park,” Sheri told her. Of course, Szerykl knew right off that “łazienka" is the Polish word for bath, or bathroom.

            "Why would a bathroom have palaces?" she wondered.

             “This is not just any bath room,” Sheri told her. “In English, this is called the Royal Baths Park, because almost 400 years ago a nobleman built a bath house here…and… and… and…”

            Szerykl stopped listening. "Wait! Did you say 'nobleman'? Isn’t that maybe another word for 'knight?' ” Szerykl was excited that her secret mission for the Rabbit Prince could be underway already. She might meet a knight  – even the ghost of a knight would be OK. It was almost Halloween, after all. Magic can happen.

    But there was no knight. Instead, Sheri brought her to a king-sized statue next to a big pond. The statue was of a man sitting on a rock under a windswept tree. His face was turned away from the pond and his eyes were closed. Szerykl studied the man’s face. She thought he looked upset. A little haunted, maybe. She wanted to ask him some questions, so she tried several different languages. Finally, one worked.

            The language was called music. She hummed a few bars. The man’s eyes popped open!!

            Szerykl almost fell off Sheri’s shoulder.

            The man told her an amazing story.

            I am Fredrick Chopin, he said. I may not look like it, but I am sort of a king in Poland. A prince of music. Because I wrote in this language called music, a magic language that everyone, not just little rabbits, can understand.  It is  a language that sounds unlike any other language and can make people sad or happy, or proud, or even angry.

            “Angry?” asked Szerykl.

            Let me tell you a story, Little Rabbit.  A long, long time ago, I lived in Poland. I played the piano – oh, I loved how it sounded. And so I wrote beautiful music to play on the piano. Polish people loved the music. It made them weep, and it made them proud to be Polish. After I died, some people made a statue of me and put it up here in the middle of Warsaw, right where I am now.

            “But what about the angry part?” Szerykl wanted to know. “And should I call you Mr. Chopin? Or Pan Chopin?”

            Of course! said Pan Chopin, if I can call you Pani Królik. Let me tell you what happened. Do you know what war is?

            Sadly, Szerykl did know about war. Michael had been reading to her about the history of Poland – a lot of battles and fights. People invading from that country and this far-away land, and so many people hurt, so many dead. Szerykl had noticed now and then a person on the tram or in a park who seemed sad, as though the long-ago war is right behind their eyes, and in the streets, and even in the sunrise and sunset.

            So yes, Szerykl had been learning about wars.

            In the most recent war, said Pan Chopin,  people came from a next-door land, from Germany, and they took over the whole realm of Poland. This beautiful park, where kings and queens had lived, became the home of a German general, and he did not like my music. Not at all. He didn’t like it because it made the Polish people proud, and he wanted to smash that pride. So, he smashed my statue.

            “What???!!”

            But hate can’t last, Pani Królik. Remember that. That’s why I am here again today. Because after the Germans left, the Polish people built the very same statue and put me here again, by this pond.

            “It is a very nice statue,” Szerykl said. “Your hands look like they’re moving—like you’re playing a piano.”

            Yes, and now every Sunday when the weather is nice, people gather around this pond. They listen while someone plays the piano. (Not me, though. I’m not that magic!)  And they remember how precious music is, this special language. They know that when the statue came down during the war, the songs didn’t die.

    Remember this, Pani Królik: the war was not able to defeat the music.
            Pan Chopin started to close his eyes, but then remembered something.
            Here is some music for you, he said. Go be Polish tonight. Eat pierogi, and think of me.
            And that’s just what Szerykl did.