If you are anything like me, then somewhere in your home…in a closet, under your bed, in the back of a drawer….somewhere, you have a stash of letters and photographs that remain as evidence of your courting days with the one you love. For most of us, the story that our heart tells is well known by those who know us. However, for some people, their deepest desires were required to remain hidden. So imagine the scandal that might arise if you penned intimate odes of affection to another but never sent them, only to have those same letters discovered upon your death and reinterpreted by those who never knew the true facts. This happened to the famous composer Ludwig van Beethoven. The enduring consequence of the discovery, after his death, of a stack of letters addressed to an unnamed Immortal Beloved, was to have others begin to view him and his work with new eyes. Thus, the romanticization of Ludwig van Beethoven and his many compositions began in earnest. The most egregious example of this was the renaming of his composition “Piano Sonata No. 14, Quasi una fantasia, Op. 27, No. 2” as The Moonlight Sonata. Here is the story of how that renaming came to be and what it meant, in the broader sense, for Beethoven’s personal and professional legacy.
Ludwig van Beethoven lived a complicated life. He was a commoner by birth yet lived his whole adult life in the company of some of the richest and most powerful people of his time. He was a composer who had a gift for making beautiful music, yet, not far into his adult life, he began to go deaf. He was lauded as a genius by those who had the pleasure of listening to him play, yet he often felt lonely and devoid of happiness. Finally, he possessed innovative skills when it came to the musical structure of his compositions and yet never felt fully appreciated in his time. He desperately desired the company of an equal such as Mozart, but with Mozart’s early death while Beethoven was still young, there was never anyone for Beethoven to trade ideas with. His was an island of virtuosity. More than anything, he longed to not be alone and even more than that, to be understood.
In the late 1790s, Beethoven was just beginning to earn a reputation as an innovative composer. Up until that time, he had spent many years studying under such composers as Gustav Haydn and Antonio Salieri. It was only as the 1800s approached that Beethoven began to develop the reputation of being a composer of note among those who populated the upper classes of society. Having the trust of those in society circles was important to Beethoven, as well as any composer, because one of the chief sources of income for a composer was being a music instructor for the children of the elite. In order to be hired in such a position of trust, a composer had to first impress the parents of his potential students by performing concerts of original work in the salons and royal ballrooms of Europe. For Beethoven, the two parts of this process went hand-in-hand.
As the 1790s progressed, the French Revolution loomed large over the continent. Beethoven left the comfort of his homeland of Germany and moved east to Vienna, Austria, in the hopes of avoiding Napoleon’s army. By doing so, Beethoven gave himself a fresh start in a new city. Because he had no personal connections as he arrived in Vienna, he felt a sense of freedom to experiment with the limits of his creativity. This new sense of freedom coincided with the first stages of his hearing loss. Thus, Beethoven approached his compositions with a zeal and a fervor so far unknown to him. His work seemed fresh and interesting to him. One of the ways he pushed at the boundaries of convention was by attempting to reinvent the classical sonata form. Back in the 1700s, composers were expected to follow a structural formula when creating new work. In the case of the sonata form, composers were all tasked with creating compositions in three parts, or movements. The structure of these three movements was that the first movement was to be vibrant and fast-paced, so as to grab the attention of the audience. The second movement was to be calmer and more subtle, so as to allow the audience to catch their breath and delve deeper into the meaning of the composition. Finally, the third and final movement was to ramp back up in intensity, leading to a glorious conclusion that would leave audiences drained of emotion and breath. The sonata form existed as described for well over a century without any attempt at modification. That was until Ludwig van Beethoven moved to Vienna. Under the pressure of his health concerns, but also feeling the freedom of the complete lack of expectations placed upon him in his new home city, Beethoven decided that there would never be a better time to try something new and different. With that mindset at play, Beethoven began working on a composition that he titled “Piano Sonata No. 14, Quasi una fantasia, Op 27, No. 2”. What was different and revolutionary about this sonata composition was that Beethoven abandoned the traditional sonata form and, instead, opted to start with a quiet, almost dreamlike first movement and build in intensity from there. Not only that, he employed a piano playing technique that was, at turns, very rudimentary and simplistic, and yet it remained incredibly difficult to play properly, requiring much concentration and dexterity. Because Beethoven was experimenting to see how his new sonata form sounded and how it would be received, he never considered it to be a major work. To him, “Piano Sonata No. 14, Quasi una fantasia, Op. 27, No.2” was always viewed as being a stepping stone, or as part of the process of developing his skills as an innovative composer. Even when the composition was completed and first performed in public, Beethoven always regarded the work as being nothing special in its own right.
However, to those Viennese audiences, Beethoven seemed like a breath of fresh air. He was welcomed into the castles and drawing rooms of the aristocracy. He quickly gained the trust of a number of prominent families who all vied for his services as musical instructor for their young daughters. One such family who admired the upstart young composer was a family named Brunsvik. The Brunsviks had two daughters named Therese and Josephine. While providing instruction in music to these two girls, Beethoven began an intimate relationship with the younger sister, Josephine, who was 16 at the time. This relationship was discreet, but it was well known to Josephine’s sister, Therese. At the same time as he was instructing the Brunsvik daughters, Beethoven was introduced to Count Guicciardi and his wife, Countess von Brunswik and their daughter Giulietta. Giulietta Guicciardi was a young woman who was described as being beautiful and enchanting by those who saw her. She had many admirers who all sought to win her hand. Ludwig van Beethoven was considered extremely lucky to have had such exclusive access to such a sought after young woman. Beethoven considered himself to be more than lucky, he was extremely infatuated with his new student. He wrote letters to a friend in which he publicly stated his desires but tempered expectations with the realization that, as a commoner, he had no realistic chance of being allowed to marry her. Nevertheless, he did manage to make one public gesture of affection toward his student. He dedicated his “Piano Sonata No. 14, Quasi una fantasia, Op. 27, No. 2” to Giulietta.
Fast forward to 1840, a few years after Beethoven’s death. By this time, Beethoven’s reputation was unmatched in the world of classical music. Works such as his Fifth and Ninth symphonies and many others established Beethoven as one of the greatest composers of all time. Because of his tremendously important position in the hierarchy of the world’s great composers, the books, letters and unfinished manuscripts left behind when he died became of great interest to music scholars. As a result, his possessions were sifted through by music experts and critics with great attention to detail. Among the many interesting things that were discovered was a stack of personal letters that Beethoven wrote to someone that he called his Immortal Beloved. The discovery of these letters led to much speculation and debate as to who this mystery lady might have been. The easiest answer is that his Immortal Beloved was his student Josephine Brunsvik. Those who claim that she was the object of his undelivered letters base this theory upon the many instances of the sister Therese making public comments about the relationship that her sister was having with Beethoven. Therefore, their relationship was hardly a career-threatening secret and was, in fact, considered to be common knowledge. However, there were those who thought that they knew Beethoven well enough to see into his heart. To those people, the only person who could possibly have been his Immortal Beloved was Countess Giulietta. That Beethoven knew he was beneath her social station in life, and, as a result, that the two could never wed, spoke to the fact that he exercised discretion in never delivering the love letters to her. This take on the speculation of who his Immortal Beloved may have been painted Beethoven as a hopeless romantic who lived out his life filled with unrequited love. It also started a chain reaction of reassessment by others with regard to his whole body of work, especially from around the time he was working with both Josephine Brunsvik and Countess Giulietta. Perhaps, the experts claim, the real fuel that sparked Beethoven’s creative impulses all throughout the most productive part of his adult life was the romantic love that existed within his heart. As a consequence of this new train of thought, many of his earlier compositions were re-examined to see if any hint of love could be found within his musical notes.
The one composition that was most impacted by this new critical lens that was applied to Beethoven’s work was “Piano Sonata No. 14, Quasi una fantasia, Op. 27, No. 2”. Influenced by the discoveries of how Beethoven pined away in solitude for a lover he could never have, music experts and critics took another scholarly look at “Piano Sonata No. 14”, (which had been publicly dedicated to Countess Giulietta), to see if the words in those letters could explain why Beethoven decided to veer away from convention and create a composition that used a new sonata form. In particular, critics looked closely at the very slow, haunting, dreamy Movement #1. One music scholar named Ludwig Rellstab compared the musical structure of Movement #1 to being on the waters of Lake Lucerne in Switzerland and seeing the moonlight reflecting in the waves. The romantic descriptiveness of Rellstab’s interpretation caught the imagination of the public and of other musicologists. From that point onward, “Piano Sonata No. 14, Quasi una fantasia, Op. 27, No. 2” became referred to as Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
Truth be told, I find the Moonlight Sonata to be a very beautiful piece of music, especially the opening movement. Could it have been born from a love that could never be? Perhaps. But it is just as likely that such glorious music was born from the imagination of a creative genius who chafed at the constraints of conventional wisdom and who sought to create something new and magical and beautiful out of the sounds that he was increasingly becoming unable to hear. Whatever the case, we are left with a wonderful sonata, as well as a juicy romantic mystery that we may never conclusively be able to solve. As for me and my wife and our story, I know that when we are dead and gone and the time comes for people to find the letters that we wrote in our courting days, that they will find confirmation that we were each other’s Immortal Beloved. Nothing else matters beyond that.
The link to the official website for Ludwig van Beethoven can be found here.
The link to a video that shows the note structure of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata can be found here.
The link to the video from a scene in the movie Immortal Beloved that shows Countess Giulietta watching Beethoven as he plays the Moonlight Sonata can be found here.
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