Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title.
A BIRD OF RAREST SPUN HEAVEN
My Immortal Beloved
Ludwig Van Beethoven.
Good morning, on July 7th
Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us – I can live only wholly with you or not at all – Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can see my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits – Yes, unhappily it must be so – you will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart – never – never – Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one loves so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life – Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men – At my age I need a steady, quiet life – can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day – therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once – Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together – Be calm – love me – today – yesterday – what tearful longings for you – you – my life – my all – farewell. Oh continue to love me – never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
Beethoven`s love life has been the subject of humongous speculation over the years. He admitted himself that marriage would have poured cold water on his creative juices, but this didn`t stop the great man from falling in love on numerous occasions. In the summer of 1810 he seemed to be trembling on the brink of throwing his romantic lot in with Therese Malfatti, but his clumsy behaviour when meeting the parents of his intended permanently put a spoke in the wheel of matrimony. The great man was socially inept even on a good day, and struggled to connect with people he didn`t know well. Those who did know him were able to look beyond the boorish behaviour, and see the man himself. I feel the most convincing argument for who the mysterious Immortal Beloved was, came from a proposal by Maynard Solomon in 1977, that the object of Beethoven`s lust was Antonie Brentano, a woman who knew Beethoven and his family well, and venerated Beethoven beyond measure. Whatever, Beethoven juggled with the affections of so many women in his lifetime, it scarce seems possible that he set aside any reasonable time to actually compose. Still, such is love. Let`s leave the great man in the capable hands of one of his most strident admirers………….” Oh bliss! Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. As I slooshied, I knew such lovely pictures!” From the mouths of babes comes the divine, orgasmic chant of Alex from Anthony Burgess` A Clockwork Orange. The one thing of rarest beauty that could penetrate a darkened soul were the chords of ” Glorious Ludwig Van……..” A heavenly kiss to the senses.
Language and good literature are like fine wine upon the lips. I cannot imagine a life without the written word. It`s the music which keeps the orchestra in my head playing on an endless loop of pleasure. Give me a book to read, and I`m as happy as a French man who has invented a pair of self removing trousers. View all posts by marlovian