I would like to share with you the experience of pianist Stefan Cassar’s concert at Verdala Castle. As you enter the gates of this beautifully kept Palace you enter another world. Here the pot holes in our roads, the desecration of buildings, the undoing of our towns and villages, environmental worries and concerns of bribery and corruption dissolve. It is a privilege to sit and listen to beautiful music in the splendour and magnificence of this Palace built by Grand Master Verdalle of the Langue of Provence who in 1586 commissioned Girolamo Cassar to build it. This is the same Grand Master who was made a cardinal by Pope Sixtus V, a year later. You can see episodes of Verdalle’s life painted by Filippo Paladini in the great hall, the principal dining room, of Verdala Castle. There too, is his journey to Rome in 1587 to receive the Cardinal’s hat and the interior of the Sistine Chapel where he kneels, in Cardinal’s robes, before Pope Sixtus V. I hope he behaved himself and was worthy of all this. I remember relatives of his who came to Malta for the launch of a book about him a few years ago at Verdala Castle. They sent me a charming letter afterwards from their Parisian address to thank me for featuring the presentation.

We popped in to see the beautifully preserved chapel of St Anthony, though I am not too sure that it is that of my favourite chap in heaven. There are at least two works in it by Mattia Preti. We walked up the beautifully proportioned spiral staircase which is so similar to that of the Palace in Valletta. According to historians, following the French surrender in 1800, after the two-year blocade of our capital city, a number of prisoners-of-war were confined to Verdala Castle.

Moat, embattled turret, drawbridge are all there. The Paladini frescoes are being restored but most of what we saw is in pristine condition and a joy to behold. There are beautiful antiques and paintings as you can imagine and the place is impeccable.

Every seat was taken to hear Stefan Cassar play. He did not let his audience down. On the contrary. We did not want the concert to come to an end. In a short introduction to the programme the President wrote: “The over-riding theme for this evening’s recital is the night, only a day after the summer solstice, marking the shortest night of the year. Serenity, romance, fear and mystery are but a few of the contrasting emotions which the night evokes at different stages of our life. The select pick of the famous works which shall be performed this evening by Stefan Cassar will convey all these emotions through one of the best mediums known to man – music, which transcends borders, cultures, languages and creeds.” And it was exactly that kind of evening commencing with Schubert’s Sonata in A Major. Franz, the little man with the round spectacles was truly a genius and though he died young, will never be forgotten. He wrote such effortlessly beautiful melodies some of which we used to sing at school and at the same time we played the Unfinished Symphony a quattro mani. Even after all those years, they come back now and then, as the soundtrack for the day in my mind.

But I was really there to hear Stefan play Chopin and Liszt. And we loved his interpretation of Chopin’s Nocturne in C minor and Scherzo in B flat minor, although we have heard them interpreted again and again both ‘live’ and on a variety of CDs and vinyl records by first class performers and many present at this lovely concert knew every note and phrase of the music. Stefan Cassar communicated poetry and flair as well as warmth. His is a very romantic Chopin, just as we want it to be. We hung on every note and phrase and held our breath a few times as we waited for him to play some delicious note.

George Sand’s affair with Frédéric Chopin is well known and very well documented. It finished with much grief after he accused her of supposed infidelities which she denied. Sadly, it was George Sand’s own daughter who had written to Chopin inventing all kinds of lies about her mother. On the morning of 25 July, 1847, George received a letter from Chopin. Whether she tore it into bits or threw it into the hearth is not known; the letter has not survived but we know about this fatal letter from subsequent correspondence with various friends. Twenty-four hours later she wrote to Chopin, and her letter, long regarded as a masterpiece, has been preserved for posterity in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. Thus, sadly and in a bizarre fashion, ended a friendship which for nine years, had absorbed both of them. The world of half-truths has always reigned supreme as it continues to do to this day. Instead of believing her, he believed her daughter, who manipulated the truth to suit her own ends. Which of us has not been a victim of dishonest people and hidden agendas?

On 17 October 1849, Chopin died in Paris. The news reached George the following day. She placed a lock of his hair in an envelope, sealed it and wrote on the outside: ‘Poor Chopin. October 17, 1849.’ It was her only comment and who can blame her.

All this and more flitted through my mind as we sat listening to Stefan’s beautiful playing.

After the interval there was some exquisite Rachmaninov including Vocalise and then onto Liszt with two of my top favourite pieces: Libestraum No 3 and the Hungarian Rhapsody No 2, two pieces with which music lovers are very well acquainted. Had Stefan played one wrong note we would have noticed immediately.

I recall my mother playing Rhapsody No 2 as we waited for my father to return home so that we could have tea together. In this, Stefan brought out the gypsy flavour – the mercurial element and sudden changes of mood and there was both polish and sparkle in this justifiably popular rhapsody which evokes the fierce passions of gypsy music.

I can listen to the lovely Libestraum No 3 all day, and maybe break it up with Consolation No 3, another Liszt favourite.

I really didn’t think Stefan would come back with an encore after all that playing which must exhaust the emotions if you put your heart in it as he does. But since the audience’s appreciation and delight was obvious he returned and played a light-as-a-feather variation of Moon River. We sighed, very sorry that it had come to an end and stayed on for the reception which gave us a chance to exchange views about the concert.

There was my schoolfriend Rita, who reminded me that, was it 40 or 50 years back, we had played together with one of my sisters and other school friends, otto mani on two pianos. Have we really lived through all those years?

Stefan was there with some of his pupils from the Lyon Conservatoire. They had come out, one girl with both her parents, to hear him play. One of them told me: “I am a groupie.” So were they all. They obviously are great admirers of their

teacher.

It was a delicious evening and we returned home a little transfixed as music, well played, brings into the fore emotions which we cannot express any other way. Words are simply not enough. We await Stefan’s return in the not too distant future and in the meantime we can look forward to the AFM and Nafra concert at Verdala Castle in August.