by Rolf Urs Ringger

[Originally ­appeared in NZZ, Neue Zurcher Zeitung,
Dec. 20, 2000. Translated from the German by WFSA member Hanni Raillard.]

She is anything but the imperious widow of an artist: bright, wise to the ways of the world, exercising indulgence and understanding even when encountering mistaken and glib judgments — primarily about Wilhelm Furtwängler’s legacy. She’s full of enthusiasm, freshness, and totally ­uncomplicated. Since 1954 she has been living at “Basset Coulon,” a villa amidst beautiful ­surroundings in Clarens-Montreux. Wilhelm Furtwängler was still able to spend the last months of his life here, before his death on November 30, 1954. On Dec. 20, Elisabeth Furtwängler will ­celebrate her ninetieth birthday here, surrounded by her large family.

In one way, the house is redolent of times past. One portion dates from the 17th century, newer portions from the early 19th. In the big living room on the first floor: pictures, photos, sculptures of the famous conductor. Here, too, stands the grand-piano on which Furtwängler composed his 3rd Symphony. In another way, it’s vibrantly contemporary. Elisabeth Furtwängler ­continues to attend concerts of Furtwängler’s works. She stays in contact with the various Furtwängler Societies, ­saying the most active are those in France and Japan — “the Germans are always a bit embarrassed.” As it happened, Furtwängler did allow himself to be used as a public-symbol by the Nazi regime — without ever at any time having been a party-member. Elisabeth Furtwängler still receives ­journalists, shares information, gives advice — and also ­corrects this or that misconception and many of the false ­reports about Furtwängler which have spread over the course of the decades.

Elisabeth Furtwängler knows all about Furtwängler publications and new releases on CD — both of which are ­becoming more readily available. She stays in contact with the Hungarian film-director, Istvan Szabo, because of his Furtwängler movie. She recently, during a visit to Berlin, appraised the decor at the Babelsberg Studios. The film is based on Ronald Harwood’s stage-play, Taking Sides, which is primarily concerned with the process of Furtwängler’s de-Nazification. She says she saw a production in London and had been favorably impressed by it. The piece is being performed in Germany under the title, The Case of Furtwängler, and also, by the way, in Chur this coming ­January. She found it objective and balanced, even as her husband had deemed the actual ­historical procedure as ­correct.

Our conversations are marked by reminiscences. How, in 1945, they had come into Switzerland as refugees through the agency of Ernest Ansermet and had been underwritten by Werner Reinhart. Elisabeth Furtwängler’s book, About Wilhelm Furtwängler, published in 1979 by Brockhaus in Wiesbaden, tells how quickly they felt at home in the Lake of Geneva area. At first they lived at Paul Niehans’ villa “L’Empereur.” After this was sold, they were able to ­purchase ­“Basset Coulon” at a price for which one nowadays couldn’t even get a one-room dwelling. She says that she is endlessly grateful for what has been her destiny: the girl born in the Rhineland who came to Berlin when she was two, 1940 became a war-widow with four children, 1943 married Furtwängler, and today gathers around herself thirteen grandchildren and seventeen great-grandchildren.

The greatest acknowledgement she finds coming from Japan. She also mentions that it is there that the most Furtwängler records are sold. This she clearly attributes to Furtwängler’s particular style of interpretation: his ­radiance, the Japanese respect for father-figures, as well as for the mythos. Elisabeth Furtwängler tells how years ago a Japanese gentleman appeared at the front door of the house, asked if she was Furtwängler’s widow, bowed to her three times, said that was all he had come for, and then left. She also tells about another incident: Once, when Furtwängler confronted Joseph Goebbels with the possibility of ­emigrating, the latter retorted that he could go but would never be allowed to return — “And don’t forget, we are the Thousand-Year Reich!”

The “Case of Furtwängler” could certainly open up a broader appreciation: an interest in Furtwängler the ­composer. We remember, for example, a performance in the Fifties of the Piano Concerto that Edwin Fischer premiered in 1937, a performance that featured Daniel Barenboim, Zubin Mehta, and the Radio Orchestra Beromunster of the time. Another performance, from the Sixties, available on CD with Erik Then-Bergh and the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra under Rafael Kubelik, is so impressively realized that an encounter with it certainly could be rewarding today.