Inspire Emotion

To My Dad on Father's Day

 

I first met my Father when I was five years old. I stepped off the plane which had carried me from my home in Germany,  when I arrived in the US, and there he was waiting at the gate with a doll in his hands. I didn't know him, I had never before seen him, and I was very frightened as I had left behind everything with which I was familiar in my life up to that point.

My Dad leaned down, and very gently spoke to me, holding out the doll as he did so. They say that children know these things, and I knew that here was a person who was kind, and that I could trust him.

I don't remember for certain, but I seem to recall that  he picked me up then, and took me to the car, whereupon we drove to my new home, where my Mother and my new baby brother were waiting for us. And so my life with my family began, enlarged again by one more by the time I was seven.

Love Letter by Charlotte Brontë

The letter quoted below was written in 1845 by the English writer, Charlotte Brontë to her professor, Constantin Heger, a married man. The feelings that she had for him appear to have been unrequited, as there has been no evidence found of any sort of romantic relationship.

“ January 8, 1845

Monsieur, the poor have not need of much to sustain them -- they ask only for the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table. But if they are refused the crumbs they die of hunger. Nor do I, either, need much affection from those I love. I should not know what to do with a friendship entire and complete - I am not used to it. But you showed me of yore a little interest, when I was your pupil in Brussels, and I hold on to the maintenance of that little interest -- I hold on to it as I would hold on to life. ”

Although Brontë was well known for her writing, most notably for the novel, "Jane Eyre", one of the most famous of British novels, she was much less well known for her paintings, which while somewhat unschooled, in my opinion, showed a great deal of promise.

 

Sources: Margaret Lane (1953) The Brontë Story: a reconsideration of Mrs Gaskell's Life of Charlotte Brontë

Article Copyright © by Inspire Emotion 2008. All rights are reserved. No re-posting of articles without prior written permission is allowed.

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To "Immortal Beloved": by Ludwig van Beethoven

In my last post, I provided some historical background on Ludwig van Beethoven, the author of the love letter published below.
The love letter itself was found amongst his possessions when he died at the age of 57. The woman to whom he addressed  this very romantic love letter, is  to this day, known only as "Immortal Beloved".

“July 6, 1806

My angel, my all, my very self -- only a few words today and at that with your pencil -- not till tomorrow will my lodgings be definitely 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 -- that 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!

Now a quick change to things internal from things external. We shall 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, 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”¹

 

¹source of letter :  theromantic.com
The image is a painting of Beethoven by Joseph Mähler, 1804-1805. now in the public domain, and obtained from Wikimedia Commons.

Article Copyright © by Inspire Emotion 2008. All rights are reserved. No re-posting of articles without prior written permission is allowed.

Technorati Tags: Ludwig van Beethoven, Immortal Beloved, love letter, famous love letter

John Keats Love Letter to Fanny

Fanny Brawne was literally the girl next door, when John Keats met her at the age of 23. This letter was written in March of 1820,  less than one year prior to his death from tuberculosis in February 1821.

“Sweetest Fanny,
You fear, sometimes, I do not love you so much as you wish? My dear Girl I love you ever and ever and without reserve. The more I have known you the more have I lov'd. In every way - even my jealousies have been agonies of Love, in the hottest fit I ever had I would have died for you. I have vex'd you too much. But for Love! Can I help it? You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. When you pass'd my window home yesterday, I was fill'd with as much admiration as if I had then seen you for the first time. You uttered a half complaint once that I only lov'd your Beauty. Have I nothing else then to love in you but that? Do not I see a heart naturally furnish'd with wings imprison itself with me? No ill prospect has been able to turn your thoughts a moment from me. This perhaps should be as much a subject of sorrow as joy - but I will not talk of that. Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you: how much more deeply then must I feel for you knowing you love me. My Mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it. I never felt my Mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment - upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses. The anxiety shown about our Love in your last note is an immense pleasure to me; however you must not suffer such speculations to molest you any more: not will I any more believe you can have the least pique against me. Brown is gone out -- but here is Mrs Wylie -- when she is gone I shall be awake for you. -- Remembrances to your Mother.
Your affectionate, J. Keats”

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