Music Without Beginning, Without End...

(Leonard Bernstein visits Nadia Boulanger on her deathbed, Paris, October 1979)

"The last visit I had with Nadia was on her last birthday. I don't think she knew it was her birthday, since she was in a coma. But nature seemed to know it, providing for the occasion an unforgettably radiant September Sunday... The air trembled. Everything conspired to urge me on to Fontainebleau that day: the exhilarating weather and the certain knowledge that it would be my last time with her. On the other hand, there were some strong warnings from her closest friends and guardians: Mademoiselle would be disturbed and exhausted by a visit; she could not speak, and in any event would not recognize me.

I was ushered into her bedchamber by the anxiety-ridden Mademoiselle Dieudonne, who whispered a short order: ten minutes only. Nadia was beautifully dressed and groomed, as if for the coffin. Her crucifix gleamed at her throat, her eyes and mouth were closed; her whole face seemed closed in coma. I knelt by the bed in silent communion.

Suddenly there was the shock of her voice, deep and strong, as always:

Qui est la? (Who is there?)

I could not respond for shock. Finally I dared to speak: "Lenny. Leonard." Silence. Did she hear, did she know?

Cher Lenny.....

She knew; a miracle. I persevered. "My dear, friend, how do you feel?"

Pause. Than that basso profundo (through unmoving lips)

Tellement forte (So far, strong)

I drew a deep breath. "Vous voulez dire .... interieurement?" (You mean inwardly?)

Oui .... mais le corps .. (Yes, but the body ...)

"Je comprends bien" (I understand), I said hastily, to shorten her efforts. "

Je pars. Vous devez etre tres fatigue." (I'm leaving. You must be very tired.)

Pas de fatigue. Point .... (Not at all tired)

A protracted pause, and I realized she had drifted back into sleep.

Signals from the astonished attending ladies suggested my departure.

I was held there, unable to rise from my knees. I knew there was more to come, and in a few minutes, it did come:

Ne partez pas. (Do not leave.)

Not a plea, but a command. I searched my mind anxiously for the right thing to say, knowing that anything would be wrong.

Then I heard myself asking: "Vous entendez la musique dans la tete?" (Do you hear music in your head?)

Her instant reply:

Tout le temps. Tout le temps. (All the time. All the time.)

This so encouraged me that I continued, as if in quotidian conversation: "Et qu'est-ce que vous entendez, ce moment-ci?" (Do you hear it now, at this moment?) I thought of her preferred loves. "Mozart? Monteverdi? Bach, Stravinsky, Ravel?"

Long pause.

Une musique . . . ni commencement ni fin . .

  (A music . . . without beginning or end.)

She was already there, on the other side."

As quoted by Don Campbell
in his pictorial biography of Nadia Boulanger: Master Teacher