To My Immortal Beloved: Part 1

One of the most mysterious love letters in history is from composer Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827), written to his “Immortal Beloved”. The letter, written in pencil and never sent, was discovered after his death tucked within his business papers. It was addressed to an unknown woman, and historians have long debated who the recipient was. The letter expressed deep longing and affection, “My angel, my all, my very self… Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours“, proving that whoever this woman was, he was in a deep, loving relationship with her. 

There are questions about the date this unsent letter was written. There are notes stating “on the 6th of July” and “on the 7th of July”, but there is no other information about where the letter was written or the year it was composed. Many historians believe that the he wrote the letter in 1812 in Teplitz, Bohemia (now known as Teplice, Czech Republic). This is a period of time in Beethoven’s life when he was spending time at the spas in this area for treatment and rehabilitation. This time period and place is also where he met the German poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. 

This unfinished love letter was originally published in Anton Schindler’s Beethoven biography of 1840, and there has been speculation that the intended recipient was Countess Jozefina Brunszvik de Korompa, a young woman Beethoven loved but who ended up marrying the much older Count Joseph Deym, her social equal. After Josefina’s widowhood, she and Beethoven continued a close friendship until her family forced her to end their too-close relationship due to the fact he was a commoner. Since this letter was written a few years after that friendship ended, it could’ve been written for someone else. Regardless, whoever the letter was intended for, her identity has sparked curiosity and speculation for centuries. And once you read the letter, which is really in three parts written over two days, you’ll regret the loss of letter writing skills in our modern world.

Below is the text of the letter, with Alexander Wheelock Thayer’s translation, which is in the public domain:

July 6, in the morning.

My angel, my all, my very self—only a few words to-day and at that with pencil (with yours)—not till to-morrow will my lodgings be definitively determined upon—what a useless waste of time. Why this deep sorrow where necessity speaks—can our love endure except through sacrifices—except through not demanding everything—can you change it that you are not wholly mine, I not wholly thine. Oh, God! look out into the beauties of nature and comfort yourself with that which must be—love demands everything and that very justly—thus it is with me so far as you are concerned, and you with me. If we were wholly united you would feel the pain of it as little as I. My journey was a fearful one; I did not reach here until 4 o’clock yesterday morning; lacking horses the post-coach chose another route—but what an awful one. At the stage before the last I was warned not to travel at night—made fearful of a forest, but that only made me the more eager and I was wrong; the coach must needs break down on the wretched road, a bottomless mud road—without such postilions as I had with me I should have stuck in the road. Esterhazy, travelling the usual road hitherward, had the same fate with eight horses that I had with four—yet I got some pleasure out of it, as I always do when I successfully overcome difficulties. Now a quick change to things internal from things external. We shall soon surely see each other; moreover, I cannot communicate to you the observations I have made during the last few days touching my own life—if our hearts were always close together I would make none of the kind. My heart is full of many things to say to you—Ah!—there are moments when I feel that speech is nothing after all—cheer up—remain my true, my only treasure, my all as I am yours; the gods must send us the rest that which shall be best for us.
Your faithful Ludwig.

Evening, Monday, July 6.

You are suffering, my dearest creature—only now have I learned that letters must be posted very early in the morning. Mondays, Thursdays,—the only days on which the mail-coach goes from here to K. You are suffering—Ah! wherever I am there you are also. I shall arrange affairs between us so that I shall live and live with you, what a life!!!! thus!!!! thus without you—pursued by the goodness of mankind hither and thither—which I as little try to deserve as I deserve it. Humility of man towards man—it pains me—and when I consider myself in connection with the universe, what am I and what is he whom we call[328] the greatest—and yet—herein lies the divine in man. I weep when I reflect that you will probably not receive the first intelligence from me until Saturday—much as you love me, I love you more—but do not ever conceal your thoughts from me—good-night—as I am taking the baths I must go to bed. Oh, God! so near so far! Is our love not truly a celestial edifice—firm as Heaven’s vault.

Good-morning, on July 7.

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, send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits.—Yes, unhappily it must be so—you will be the more resolved since you know my fidelity—to you, no one can ever again possess my heart—none—never—Oh, God, why is it necessary to part from one whom one so loves and yet my life in W (Vienna) 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 under our conditions? My angel, I have just been told that the mail-coach goes every day—and I must close at once so that you may receive the L. at once. Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together—be calm—love me—to-day—yesterday—what tearful longings for you—you—you—my life—my all—farewell—Oh continue to love me—never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved L.
ever thine
ever mine
ever for each other.

There’s no question that Beethoven was deeply in love, but what fascinates me about this letter is the structure–and that’s something I’m going to talk more about in tomorrow’s post. Because like Beethoven, I tend to write on the same subject over a few days. While that’s a tiny thing to have in common with a brilliant composer, I’ll take it. 🙂 Until tomorrow….