Book contents
- Frontmatter
- Contents
- List of Illustrations
- Acknowledgments
- Editorial Apparatus and Critical Notes
- Note on Translations
- List of Abbreviations
- Timeline of Nadia Boulanger’s Life
- Introduction
- Part One Journalism, Criticism, Tributes
- Part Two Lectures, Classes, Broadcasts
- Bibliography of Nadia Boulanger’s Published Writing
- General Bibliography
- Index
“Un Soir inoublié.” Tribute: Yehudi Menuhin, January 1967 (complete text)
Published online by Cambridge University Press: 15 October 2020
- Frontmatter
- Contents
- List of Illustrations
- Acknowledgments
- Editorial Apparatus and Critical Notes
- Note on Translations
- List of Abbreviations
- Timeline of Nadia Boulanger’s Life
- Introduction
- Part One Journalism, Criticism, Tributes
- Part Two Lectures, Classes, Broadcasts
- Bibliography of Nadia Boulanger’s Published Writing
- General Bibliography
- Index
Summary
—An unforgettable evening—
February 6, 1927, at the Opera. A packed hall, curiously attentive. We whisper, but hardly speak; we wait. We wait in an atmosphere that is difficult to define. What is happening? Paul Paray, on the podium, and all the members of the orchestra are turned toward the place where the soloist will appear. A long—very long—ovation, and the music begins: concertos by Bach, Brahms, and Beethoven. The audience's enthusiasm grows, going from murmurs of pleasure to stupefaction, and, above all, to an extraordinary emotion. It is no longer about listening to a virtuoso, but about hearing these masterpieces in all their integrity. The conditions, all of the conditions, were satisfied, so that the music, liberated, reigns supreme.
Who is it who plays this way, with this mastery, this understanding, this depth, this warmth, this rigor, this purity?
A little boy is there, on the stage. A very little boy, in truth, a little boy of ten years old, blond; his gaze clear, still possessing all the signs of childhood. He plays because his life is already devoted to and taken over by music.
The concert over, we rush to see Yehudi Menuhin. We search for him in vain, but we hear some joyful shrieks. In the Opera's countless corridors, the violin lies abandoned in a corner, while Yehudi and his two sisters are playing a magical game of hide-and-seek!
The child, passionately predestined for music, is also passionately in love with life. Nothing is unimportant in his eyes. He gives himself entirely to everything he undertakes. It was there, already, the secret—the mysterious secret—of his precocious vitality, of his happiness, of his demands, and of his struggles.
Here we are again, in 1967, on another February 6. Paul Paray is at the podium, just as he was forty years ago. The man who one could sense in the child is before us, noble, pure, having never betrayed his vocation, having never ceased to conquer himself.
Yehudi Menuhin kept the promises of his miraculous childhood. It is my pleasure to give thanks—with gratitude, admiration, and tenderness.
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- Information
- Nadia BoulangerThoughts on Music, pp. 310 - 311Publisher: Boydell & BrewerPrint publication year: 2020