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On a recent trip to Europe at the end of March, I took some time at the close of my annual Spring wine tastings in Germany to spend a couple of days with Elisabeth Furtwängler which I try to do at least every year when our busy schedules allows it.
At 92 she is astonishingly spry, lucid and vital. She regularly visits close friends, Moni Rickmers (W.F.s post war secretary) and Olda Kokoschka (the widow of the great Austrian painter) who are now both in nearby rest homes. She happily boasts how lucky she is to still be so lively and vibrant compared to her dear friends and takes great pride in her amazing health, even though she still consistently manages to outpace herself with a rigorous schedule of travel, non-stop visitors and family at the house. I was very lucky to have had a couple of days with her all alone and I couldn’t help but be terribly moved and touched by her warmth and affection. Over the past decade or so, we’ve made it “de regeur” to have either lunch or dinner at the magnificent Hotel Victoria overlooking the east end of Lake Geneva, high above Montreux. This time we lunched and were fawned over by the staff who’ve known Elisabeth for many years (she has celebrated several milestone birthdays there over the years). We managed to choke down a -splendid bottle of 1990 Echezeaux, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti over a delicious, leisurely two hour meal, after which we took a petite promenade around the Hotel’s lovely gardens before returning to Le Basset-Coulon.
On the drive back down to lake level, I had the 1951 Bayreuth Beethoven’s 9th playing and a very moving series of thoughts came over me . . . the most profound of which was that this may be the last time I ever get the opportunity to do this with her. It was truly a moment which was frozen in time and it brought tears to my eyes. As we proceeded along the -winding, narrow roads and streets, I began to seriously take stock of just how privileged I’ve been over the past 30 plus years to have been able to know Furtwängler’s wife and various family members so closely. We both listened -enraptured to the glorious performance (which she -naturally had attended) and when we arrived at her house and the music hadn’t yet finished, we both sat spellbound in the car as the final strains of the “Ode to Joy” triumphantly came to an end, followed by the enthusiastic applause . . . truly an
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