At Arthur
Rubinstein’s farewell performance at the Usher Hall
in Edinburgh, 1976, when a hush of pure reverence preceded the applause after
the nearly-blind old maestro’s rendition, the ghost of Chopin, who
coincidentally had given one of his last performances as a pianist in the very
same hall in 1839, stood by his side, brandishing a handkerchief. I know:
I was there.
Or it could have been the accompanist, holding the score?
No. Definitely Chopin + hankie.
Shortly thereafter, Rubinstein (above), aged 90, after another farewell tour, eloped
from London with his 60-year-younger secretary to Geneva, where he died five
years later. His ashes were scattered in Jerusalem. (Hear Rubinstein play Chopin's Andante Spianato and Grande Polonaise
Brillante here.)
Another ancient genius, Jorge Luis Borges, followed an oddly
similar late-in-life trajectory, in his case from Buenos Aires, accompanied by
his young Japanese secretary and wife-to-be, from whom he may well have finally
had his first roll in the hay, a no doubt prolonged and rather creaky encounter that couldn’t have
been much fun for Señora Borges; but the point was made, he died fulfilled.
Or, at least, in Geneva.
