"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti


[Note - If any article requires updating or correction please notate this in the comment section. Thank you. - res]


Monday, September 1, 2025

R.E. Slater - "Moonlight Sonata"



Moonlight Sonata
by R.E. Slater

Calm, meditative keystrokes
      fall in measured wavelets upon
            Lucerne's midnight's stands,
      gently caressing a moonlit nocturne
held within gentle, passing notes,
      dissolving, then re-emerging,
             in unquiet remembering—
       silently yearning away
the breaking years lifting
      in final sostenuto....

The Maestro's aged hands
      rise and fall the wounded silences
            of the blackened night
      shrouded in symphonic song—
tracing the evening airs
      longingly, tenderly, as they
            feel across the ivoried keyboard
      unburdening a fierce soul
unmasking itself within
      the transfiguring scales.

Moonlight cannot prevent
      a soul's gathering darkness,
            nor undim the immortal glow
      of an agitated soul within—
where a lone figure
 toils at
      the pedals, bent forward
            in frame, labouring in breath,
      in tonal mood, composing complex
phrases weighing upon
      it's darkened visage.

From Maestro's whispered
      melodies, tonal prayers usher
           upward, rising to the
      transcendent expanses above—
veritable melodic rivers bearing
      their tempo'd hopes and dreams,
            gathered in temporal,
      cosmic streams, breaking
beneath the weight of years
      echoing, echoing,
               eternal release.


R.E. Slater
September 1, 2025

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved


Poet's Notes

I tried to mirror Beethoven's Sonata writ in three movements plus one:
  • First movement (Adagio sostenuto - slow sustained): meditative, moonlit waves.
  • Second movement (Allegretto - a brisk tempo): hands in motion, tender yet fierce.
  • Third movement (Presto agitato - fast, agitated): struggle, darkness, ceaseless labour.
  • Finale (Apoteosi - transcendent release): tonal prayers, cosmic rivers, temporal streams, eternal release.

Final Thoughts

Beethoven’s compositions often suggested that human 
struggle, even in
its most turbulent forms, might rise into something timeless, luminous,
perhaps eternal, in form and beauty.  - re slater


...Moonlight shimmering across Lake Lucerne

Beethoven's inspiration: "Moonlight shimmering across Lake Lucerne"


Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata (FULL)


Dec 15, 2010
Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata (FULL) - Piano Sonata No. 14
Copyright Andrea Romano

The Piano Sonata No. 14 in C♯ minor "Quasi una fantasia", op. 27, No. 2 has three movements:
0:00 1 mvt: Adagio sostenuto
6:00 2 mvt: Allegretto
8:05 3 mvt: Presto agitato





Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata"

by R.E. Slater

Setting
The Moonlight Sonata, officially titled Piano Sonata No. 14, didn't receive its popular name, "Moonlight," from Beethoven himself. It was a later descriptor, likely coined by the poet and critic Ludwig Rellstab in 1832, who compared the first movement's atmosphere to the moonlight shimmering across Lake Lucerne. While Beethoven did not intend the "moonlight" imagery, the sonata's creation and dedication are tied to significant personal events in his life.

References
  1. Wikipedia (below)
  2. History of the Moonlight Sonata - https://www.tonara.com/blog/history-of-moonlight-sonata/
Fun Facts
Interestingly, quite a few poets have written poems explicitly inspired by (or titled after) Beethoven's "Moonlight" Sonata:
  • #“Moonlight Sonata,” Ruth Padel (2020)
    A contemporary poem (from her book Beethoven Variations) that reflects on the sonata and Beethoven’s hearing loss; first published in The Guardian. The GuardianRuth Padel+1

  • #“The Moonlight Sonata,” John Hall Wheelock (1917)
    A multi-page poem in Poetry magazine’s September 1917 issue (archived by Poetry Foundation/JSTOR). The Poetry Foundation+2The Poetry Foundation+2JSTOR

  • #“Moonlight Sonata,” Yiannis (Yannis) Ritsos (1956)
    A famous long dramatic monologue by the Greek poet; not a literal description of the music, but its title and atmosphere clearly invoke the sonata. Poetry InternationalGreek News Agenda

Also of note

  • A Yiddish literary piece for children, “Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata” by Shloyme Bastomski (1927), widely shared in translation - technically prose, but part of the work’s broader poetic reception. ingeveb.orgalexweiser.comThe Forward


Historical Excerpt

From John Hall Wheelock’s poem “The Moonlight Sonata” (1917) wherein Beethoven’s sonata is woven into a meditation on sorrow and transcendence:

Out of the silence, music; out of the night,
A song that is stronger than silence or night -
Stronger than sorrow, stronger than death itself,
Immortal, serene, triumphant, still…

 


Piano Sonata No. 14 (Beethoven)
Piano Sonata No. 14
Sonata quasi una fantasia
by Ludwig van Beethoven
Title page of the first edition of the score, published on 2 August 1802 in Vienna by Giovanni Cappi e Comp[a]
Other nameMoonlight Sonata
KeyC minorD major (second movement)
Opus27/2
StyleClassical-Romantic (transitional)
FormPiano sonata
Composed1801
DedicationCountess Giulietta Guicciardi
Published1802
PublisherGiovanni Cappi
Duration15 minutes
Movements3

The Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor, marked Quasi una fantasiaOp. 27, No. 2, is a piano sonata by Ludwig van Beethoven, completed in 1801 and dedicated in 1802 to his pupil Countess Julie "Giulietta" Guicciardi.[b] Although known throughout the world as the Moonlight Sonata (GermanMondscheinsonate), it was not Beethoven who named it so. The title "Moonlight Sonata'" was proposed in 1832, after the author's death, by the poet Ludwig Rellstab.

The piece is one of Beethoven's most famous compositions for the piano, and was quite popular even in his own day.[2] Beethoven wrote the Moonlight Sonata around the age of 30, after he had finished with some commissioned work; there is no evidence that he was commissioned to write this sonata.[2]

Names

The first edition of the score is headed Sonata quasi una fantasia ("sonata almost a fantasy"), the same title as that of its companion piece, Op. 27, No. 1.[3] Grove Music Online translates the Italian title as "sonata in the manner of a fantasy".[4] "The subtitle reminds listeners that the piece, although technically a sonata, is suggestive of a free-flowing, improvised fantasia."[5]

Many sources say that the nickname Moonlight Sonata arose after the German music critic and poet Ludwig Rellstab likened the effect of the first movement to that of moonlight shining upon Lake Lucerne.[6][7] This comes from the musicologist Wilhelm von Lenz, who wrote in 1852: "Rellstab compares this work to a boat, visiting, by moonlight, the remote parts of Lake Lucerne in Switzerland. The soubriquet Mondscheinsonate, which twenty years ago made connoisseurs cry out in Germany, has no other origin."[8][9] Taken literally, "twenty years" would mean the nickname had to have started after Beethoven's death. In fact Rellstab made his comment about the sonata's first movement in a story called Theodor that he published in 1824: "The lake reposes in twilit moon-shimmer [Mondenschimmer], muffled waves strike the dark shore; gloomy wooded mountains rise and close off the holy place from the world; ghostly swans glide with whispering rustles on the tide, and an Aeolian harp sends down mysterious tones of lovelorn yearning from the ruins."[8][10] Rellstab made no mention of Lake Lucerne, which seems to have been Lenz's own addition. Rellstab met Beethoven in 1825,[11] making it theoretically possible for Beethoven to have known of the moonlight comparison, though the nickname may not have arisen until later.

By the late 1830s, the name "Mondscheinsonate" was being used in German publications[12] and "Moonlight Sonata" in English[13] publications. Later in the nineteenth century, the sonata was universally known by that name.[14]

Many critics have objected to the subjective, romantic nature of the title "Moonlight", which has at times been called "a misleading approach to a movement with almost the character of a funeral march"[15] and "absurd".[16] Other critics have approved of the sobriquet, finding it evocative[17] or in line with their own interpretation of the work.[18] Gramophone founder Compton Mackenzie found the title "harmless", remarking that "it is silly for austere critics to work themselves up into a state of almost hysterical rage with poor Rellstab", and adding, "what these austere critics fail to grasp is that unless the general public had responded to the suggestion of moonlight in this music Rellstab's remark would long ago have been forgotten."[19] Donald Francis Tovey thought the title of Moonlight was appropriate for the first movement but not for the other two.[20]

Carl Czerny, Beethoven's pupil, described the first movement as "a ghost scene, where out of the far distance a plaintive ghostly voice sounds".[21]

Franz Liszt described the second movement as "a flower between two abysses".[8]

Form

Although no direct testimony exists as to the specific reasons why Beethoven decided to title both the Op. 27 works as Sonata quasi una fantasia, it may be significant that the layout of the present work does not follow the traditional movement arrangement in the Classical period of fast–slow–[fast]–fast. Instead, the sonata possesses an end-weighted trajectory, with the rapid music held off until the third movement. In his analysis, German critic Paul Bekker states: "The opening sonata-allegro movement gave the work a definite character from the beginning ... which succeeding movements could supplement but not change. Beethoven rebelled against this determinative quality in the first movement. He wanted a prelude, an introduction, not a proposition".[22]

The sonata consists of three movements:

  1. Adagio sostenuto
  2. Allegretto
  3. Presto agitato

I. Adagio sostenuto

\unfoldRepeats
\new PianoStaff <<
  \new Staff = "right" \with {
    midiInstrument = "acoustic grand"
  } \relative c' { \set Score.tempoHideNote = ##t \tempo "Adagio sostenuto" 4 = 52
      \key cis \minor
      \time 2/2
      \stemNeutral
    \tuplet 3/2 { gis8^"Si deve suonare tutto questo pezzo delicatissimamente e senza sordino" cis e }
      \override TupletNumber.stencil = ##f
      \repeat unfold 7 { \tuplet 3/2 { gis,8[ cis e] } } |
    \tuplet 3/2 { a,8[( cis e] } \tuplet 3/2 { a, cis e) } \tuplet 3/2 { a,8[( d! fis] } \tuplet 3/2 { a, d fis) } |
    \tuplet 3/2 { gis,([ bis fis'] } \tuplet 3/2 { gis, cis e } \tuplet 3/2 { gis,[ cis dis!] } \tuplet 3/2 { fis, bis dis) } |
  }
  \new Staff = "left" \with {
    midiInstrument = "acoustic grand"
  } {
    \clef bass \relative c' {
      \override TextScript #'whiteout = ##t
      \key cis \minor
      \time 2/2
      <cis,, cis'>1^\markup \italic { sempre \dynamic pp e senza sordino } \noBreak
      <b b'> \noBreak
      <a a'>2 <fis fis'> \noBreak
      <gis gis'> <gis gis'> \noBreak
    }
  }
>>
\midi { }

The first movement,[c] in C minor and alla breve, is written in modified sonata-allegro form.[23] Donald Francis Tovey warned players of this movement to avoid "taking [it] on a quaver standard like a slow 12
8
".[20]

The movement opens with an octave in the left hand and a triplet figuration in the right. A melody that Hector Berlioz called a "lamentation",[citation needed] mostly by the left hand, is played against an accompanying ostinato triplet rhythm, simultaneously played by the right hand. The movement is played pianissimo (pp) or "very quietly", and the loudest it gets is piano (p) or "quietly".

The adagio sostenuto tempo has made a powerful impression on many listeners; for instance, Berlioz commented that it "is one of those poems that human language does not know how to qualify".[24] Beethoven's student Carl Czerny called it "a nocturnal scene, in which a mournful ghostly voice sounds from the distance".[2] The movement was very popular in Beethoven's day, to the point of exasperating the composer himself, who remarked to Czerny, "Surely I've written better things".[25][26]

In his book Beethoven's pianoforte sonatas,[27] the renowned pianist Edwin Fischer suggests that this movement of this sonata is based on Mozart's "Ah soccorso! Son tradito" of his opera Don Giovanni, which comes just after the Commendatore's murder. He claims to have found, in the archives of the Wiener Musikverein, a sketch in Beethoven's handwriting of a few lines of Mozart's music (which bears the same characteristic triplet figuration) transposed to C minor, the key of the sonata. "In any case, there is no romantic moon-light in this movement: it is rather a solemn dirge", writes Fischer.

II. Allegretto

\new PianoStaff <<
  \new Staff = "right" \with {
    midiInstrument = "acoustic grand"
  } \relative c'' { \set Score.tempoHideNote = ##t
    \tempo \markup {
     \column {
      \line { Allegretto. }
      \line \tiny { La prima parte senza repetizione. }
     }
    } 4 = 180
    \key des \major
    \numericTimeSignature
    \time 3/4
    \partial 4
    <aes des>4(\p
    <aes c>2 <g bes>4
    <aes ees'>)-. r <f des'>-.
    <aes c>-. r <g bes>-.
    aes-. r <des ges>(
    <des f>2 <c ees>4
    <des aes'>)-. r <bes ges'>-.
    <des f>-. r <c ees>-.
    des-. r
  }
  \new Staff = "left" \with {
    midiInstrument = "acoustic grand"
  } {
    \clef bass \relative c' {
      \key des \major
      \numericTimeSignature
      \time 3/4
      \partial 4
      \tempo "Allegretto."
      f4(
      ees2 des4
      c)-. r <des, bes'>-.
      <ees ees'>-. r <ees des'>-.
      <aes c>-.r \clef treble bes'(
      aes2 ges4
      f)-. r \clef bass <ges, ees'>-.
      <aes aes'>-. r <aes ges'>-.
      <des f>-. r
    }
  }
>>
\midi { }

The second movement is a relatively conventional minuet in triple time, with the first section of the minuet not repeated. It is a seeming moment of relative calm written in D major, the more easily notated enharmonic equivalent of C major, the parallel major of the main work's key, C minor. The slight majority of the movement is in piano (p), but a handful of sforzandos (sfz) and fortepianos (fp) helps to maintain the movement's cheerful disposition. It is the shortest of the movements and has been called the "less popular" interlude between the first and third movements.[28] Franz Liszt is said to have described the second movement as "a flower between two chasms".[29]

III. Presto agitato

\new PianoStaff <<
  \new Staff = "right" \with {
    midiInstrument = "acoustic grand"
  } \relative c'' { \set Score.tempoHideNote = ##t \tempo "Presto agitato" 4=160
  
    \key cis \minor
    \time 4/4
    %1
      s2\p cis,16 e, \[ gis cis e gis, cis e \] \bar ".|:" 
      gis cis, e gis cis e, \[ gis cis e gis, cis e \] <gis, cis e gis>8\sfz-. <gis cis e gis>-.
    %2
      s2. dis16 gis, bis dis
    %3    
      gis bis, dis gis bis dis, gis bis dis gis, bis dis <gis, bis dis gis>8-.\sfz <gis bis dis gis>-.
  }
  \new Staff = "left" \with {
    midiInstrument = "acoustic grand"
  } {
    \clef bass \relative c' {
      \key cis \minor
      \time 4/4
      \tempo "Presto agitato." 
      % impossible d'afficher le premier ! 
      %1
        << { \[ r16 gis,16 cis e \] gis16 cis, e gis s2 } \\ { cis,,8-. gis'-.  cis,-. gis'-. cis,-. gis'-. cis,-. gis'-.}>> \stemDown \bar ".|:"
      %2
        cis, gis' cis, gis' cis, gis' <cis, cis'>\sfz gis'
      %3
        <<{r16 gis bis dis gis bis, dis gis bis dis, gis bis s4}\\{bis,,8 gis' bis, gis' bis, gis' bis, gis'}>>
        bis, gis' bis, gis' bis, gis' <bis, bis'>\sfz gis'
    }
  }
>>
\midi { }

The stormy final movement (C minor), in sonata form and common time, is the weightiest of the three, reflecting an experiment of Beethoven's (also carried out in the companion sonata Opus 27, No. 1 and later on in Opus 101), namely, placement of the most important movement of the sonata last. The writing has many fast arpeggios/broken chords, strongly accented notes, and fast alberti bass sequences that fall both into the right and left hands at various times. An effective performance of this movement demands lively, skillful playing and great stamina, and is significantly more demanding technically than the 1st and 2nd movements.

Of the final movement, Charles Rosen has written "it is the most unbridled in its representation of emotion. Even today, two hundred years later, its ferocity is astonishing".[24]

Beethoven's heavy use of sforzando (sfz) notes, together with just a few strategically located fortissimo (ff) passages, creates the sense of a very powerful sound in spite of the predominance of piano (p) markings throughout.

Autograph score; the first page has evidently been lost

Beethoven's pedal mark

At the opening of the first movement, Beethoven included the following direction in Italian: "Si deve suonare tutto questo pezzo delicatissimamente e senza sordino" ("This whole piece ought to be played with the utmost delicacy and without damper[s]"[30]). The way this is accomplished (both on today's pianos and on those of Beethoven's day) is to depress the sustain pedal throughout the movement – or at least to make use of the pedal throughout, but re-applying it as the harmony changes.

The modern piano has a much longer sustain time than the instruments of Beethoven's time, so that a steady application of the sustain pedal creates a dissonant sound. In contrast, performers who employ a historically based instrument (either a restored old piano or a modern instrument built on historical principles) are more able to follow Beethoven's direction literally.

For performance on the modern piano, several options have been put forth.

  • One option is simply to change the sustain pedal periodically where necessary to avoid excessive dissonance. This is seen, for instance, in the editorially supplied pedal marks in the Ricordi edition of the sonata.[31]
  • Half pedaling—a technique involving a partial depression of the pedal—is also often used to simulate the shorter sustain of the early nineteenth century pedal. Charles Rosen suggested either half-pedaling or releasing the pedal a fraction of a second late.[24]
  • Joseph Banowetz suggests using the sostenuto pedal: the pianist should pedal cleanly while allowing sympathetic vibration of the low bass strings to provide the desired "blur". This is accomplished by silently depressing the piano's lowest bass notes before beginning the movement, then using the sostenuto pedal to hold these dampers up for the duration of the movement.[32]

Influence on later composers

The C minor sonata, particularly the third movement, is held to have been the inspiration for Frédéric Chopin's Fantaisie-Impromptu, and the Fantaisie-Impromptu to have been in fact a tribute to Beethoven.[33] It manifests the key relationships of the sonata's three movements, chord structures, and even shares some passages. Ernst Oster writes: "With the aid of the Fantaisie-Impromptu we can at least recognize what particular features of the C minor Sonata struck fire in Chopin. We can actually regard Chopin as our teacher as he points to the coda and says, 'Look here, this is great. Take heed of this example!' ... The Fantaisie-Impromptu is perhaps the only instance where one genius discloses to us – if only by means of a composition of his own – what he actually hears in the work of another genius."[34]

Carl Bohm's "Meditation", Op. 296, for violin and piano, adds a violin melody over the unaltered first movement of Beethoven's sonata.[35]

Dmitri Shostakovich quoted the sonata's first movement in his Viola Sonata, op. 147 (1975), his last composition. The third movement, where the quotation takes fragmentary form, is called an "Adagio in memory of Beethoven".

Notes and references

Notes

  1.  The title page is in Italian, and reads SONATA quasi una FANTASIA per il Clavicembalo o Piano=forte composta e dedicata alla Damigella Contessa Giulietta Guicciardi da Luigi van Beethoven Opera 27 No. 2. In Vienna presso Gio. Cappi Sulla Piazza di St. Michele No. 5. (In English, "Sonata, almost a fantasia for harpsichord or pianoforte. Composed, and dedicated to Mademoiselle Countess Julie "Giulietta" Guicciardi, by Ludwig van Beethoven. Opus 27 No. 2. Published in Vienna by Giovanni Cappi, Michaelerplatz No. 5.") The suggestion that the work could be performed on the harpsichord reflected a common marketing practice of music publishers in the early 19th century (Siepmann 1998, p. 60).
  2.  This dedication was not Beethoven's original intention, and he did not have Guicciardi in mind when writing the sonata. Thayer, in his Life of Beethoven, states that the work Beethoven originally intended to dedicate to Guicciardi was the Rondo in G, Op. 51, No. 2, but circumstances required that this be dedicated to Countess Lichnowsky. So he cast around at the last moment for a piece to dedicate to Guicciardi.[1]
  3.  Note that Beethoven wrote "senza sordino"; see #Beethoven's pedal mark below.

References

  1.  Thayer 1967, pp. 291, 297.
  2.  Jones, Timothy. Beethoven, the Moonlight and other sonatas, op. 27 and op. 31. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, pp. 19, 43 and back cover.
  3.  "Ludwig van Beethoven, Sonate für Klavier (cis-Moll) op. 27, 2 (Sonata quasi una fantasia), Cappi, 879"Beethovenhaus. Retrieved January 12, 2012.
  4.  "Quasi"Grove Music Online. Retrieved January 7, 2012.
  5.  Schwarm, Betsy. "Moonlight Sonata"Encyclopædia Britannica. Retrieved 21 April 2018.
  6.  Beethoven, Ludwig van (2004). Beethoven: The Man and the Artist, as Revealed in His Own Words. 1st World Publishing. p. 47. ISBN 978-1-59540-149-6.
  7.  Lenz, Wilhelm von (1852). Beethoven et ses trois styles (in French). Vol. 1. Saint Petersburg: Matvey Bernard. p. 225. Beethoven et ses trois styles, 2 vols: Scores at the International Music Score Library Project
  8.  "Beethoven Bookshelf".
  9.  Maconie, Robin (2010). Musicologia: Musical Knowledge from Plato to John Cage. Scarecrow Press. p. 279. ISBN 978-0-8108-7696-5.
  10.  Rellstab, Ludwig (1824). "Theodor. Eine musikalische Skizze"Berliner allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (in German): 274.
  11.  "The Complete Beethoven: Day 344".
  12.  See. e.g., Allgemeiner musikalischer Anzeiger. Vol. 9, No. 11, Tobias Haslinger, Vienna, 1837, p. 41.
  13.  See, e.g., Ignaz Moscheles, ed. The Life of Beethoven. Henry Colburn pub., vol. II, 1841, p. 109.
  14.  Aunt Judy's Christmas Volume. H. K. F. Gatty, ed., George Bell & Sons, London, 1879, p. 60.
  15.  Kennedy, Michael"Moonlight Sonata", from Oxford Dictionary of Music 2nd edition. Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2006 rev., p. 589.
  16.  "Moonlight Sonata", from Grove's Dictionary of Music and MusiciansJ. A. Fuller Maitland (ed.), Macmillan, London, 1900, p. 360.
  17.  Dubal, David. The Art of the Piano. Amadeus Press, 2004, p. 411.
  18.  See, e.g., Wilkinson, Charles W. Well-known Piano Solos: How to Play Them. Theo. Presser Co., Philadelphia, 1915, p. 31.
  19.  Mackenzie, Compton. "The Beethoven Piano Sonatas", from The Gramophone, August 1940, p. 5.
  20.  Beethoven, Ludwig van (1932). Tovey, Donald FrancisCraxton, Harold (eds.). Complete Pianoforte Sonatas, Volume II (revised ed.). London: Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music. p. 50. OCLC 53258888.
  21.  Beethoven, Ludwig van (2015). Del Mar, Jonathan; Donat, Misha (eds.). Sonata quasi una Fantasia für Pianoforte (in English and German). Translated by Schütz, Gudula. Kassel: Bärenreiter. p. iii. ISMN 979-0-006-55799-8.
  22.  Maynard SolomonBeethoven (New York: Schirmer Books, 1998), p. 139
  23.  Harding, Henry Alfred (1901). Analysis of form in Beethoven's sonatas. Borough Green: Novello. pp. 28–29.
  24.  Rosen, Charles (2002). Beethoven's Piano Sonatas: A Short Companion. Yale University Press. p. 157. ISBN 978-0-300-09070-3.
  25.  Thayer, Alexander Wheelock (1967) [1921]. Elliot Forbes (ed.). Thayer's Life of Beethoven (revised ed.). Princeton University Press. ISBN 0-691-02702-1.[page needed]
  26.  Fishko, Sara"Why do we love the 'Moonlight' Sonata?"NPR. Retrieved 10 May 2011.
  27.  Fischer, Edwin (1959). Beethoven's Pianoforte Sonatas: A Guide for Students & Amateurs. Faber. p. 62.
  28.  Donaldson, Bryna. "Beethoven's Moonlight Fantasy". American Music Teacher, vol. 20, no. 4, 1971, pp. 32–32. JSTOR 43533985. Accessed 20 October 2023.
  29.  Brendel, Alfred (2001). Alfred Brendel on music. A Capella Books. p. 71. ISBN 1-55652-408-0.
  30.  Translation from Rosenblum 1988, p. 136
  31.  William and Gayle Cook Music Library, Indiana University School of Music Beethoven, Sonate per pianoforte, Vol. 1 (N. 1–16), Ricordi
  32.  Banowetz, J. (1985). The Pianist's Guide to Pedaling, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, p. 168.
  33.  Oster 1983.
  34.  Oster 1983, p. 207.
  35.  Meditation, Op. 296 (Carl Bohm): Scores at the International Music Score Library Project

Sources

  • Rosenblum, Sandra P. (1988). Performance Practices in Classic Piano Music: Their Principles and Applications. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
  • Oster, Ernst (1983). "The Fantaisie-Impromptu: A Tribute to Beethoven". In David Beach (ed.). Aspects of Schenkerian Analysis. Yale University Press. ISBN 978-0-300-02800-3.
  • Siepmann, Jeremy (1998). The Piano: The Complete Illustrated Guide to the World's Most Popular Musical Instrument.

Scores























Monday, August 25, 2025

Modernists in Exile: Three Portraits of a Lost Generation


Hemingway with Hadley, Harold Loeb, Pat Guthrie,
Lady Duff Twysden, and Donald Ogden Stewart

Modernists in Exile:
Three Portraits of a Lost Generation

Hemingway, Fitzgerald, & Stein
in 1920s Paris”


In the 1920s, a wave of American novelists, poets, and musicians flocked to Paris, drawn by its affordable cost of living, its artistic openness, and its vibrant café culture. Far from the social conventions and moral strictures of the American Midwest, they found in Paris a fertile ground for experimentation and reinvention. This study explores the lives and works of three pivotal, modernist figures of this expatriate circle - Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Gertrude Stein - to understand how they shaped, and were shaped by, the era that Stein famously dubbed the “Lost Generation.”

Required books:
  • A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway, ISBN 978-1439182710
  • The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway, ISBN 978-1982199524
  • Tender is the Night, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, ISBN 978-9355278814


1920s Modernist Exile in Paris

I. Their Arrival in Paris: Postwar Disillusionment & the Allure of Exile

After the devastation of World War I, many young American writers felt alienated from the values of their homeland. Paris, with its relative affordability, artistic freedom, and café culture, became the magnet for those seeking both escape and artistic rejuvenation.

  • Gertrude Stein, already established in Paris before the war, served as a kind of cultural ambassador for American artists. With her brother Leo, she curated a salon at 27 rue de Fleurus that became a nucleus of modernist thought and experimentation. Her collection of paintings by Cézanne, Matisse, and Picasso signaled her commitment to avant-garde art, and she applied similar principles to language and literature. Her dictum, “A rose is a rose is a rose,” challenged traditional syntax and meaning.

  • Ernest Hemingway arrived in Paris in 1921 as a young journalist, newly married to Hadley Richardson. Through introductions from Sherwood Anderson and others, he was quickly absorbed into Stein's circle. It was Stein who dubbed Hemingway’s cohort “The Lost Generation”, a term he immortalized in the epigraph to The Sun Also Rises. Stein critiqued his early work but also encouraged his experiments with clarity and minimalism - advice that shaped his iconic terse style.

  • F. Scott Fitzgerald, while slower to settle in Paris permanently, was a major literary celebrity by the mid-1920s due to the success of The Great Gatsby. He and Zelda spent extended periods in France, often on the Riviera or in Paris. Fitzgerald and Hemingway met in Paris in 1925, forming a complex friendship. Fitzgerald admired Hemingway's masculinity and prose; Hemingway was both charmed and frustrated by Fitzgerald’s volatility and deep entanglement with Zelda.


II. Artistic Crossroads: Style, Conflict, and Self-Creation

  • Stein, the eldest of the three, played both mentor and gatekeeper. She viewed literature as a plastic art, and her own works - especially Tender Buttons - reflected a cubist influence. Her style was experimental, repetitious, and deliberately disorienting. She saw herself as a modernist pioneer and expected younger writers to honor her innovations.

  • Hemingway, influenced by Stein’s mentorship and Ezra Pound’s precision, developed a prose style defined by understatement and the iceberg theory - showing only the surface while the depth remained submerged. His A Moveable Feast (posthumously published) offers vivid sketches of 1920s Paris, including affectionate and sometimes caustic portraits of Stein, Fitzgerald, and others. While Hemingway respected Stein’s early guidance, he ultimately grew critical of her autocratic manner and literary pretensions.

  • Fitzgerald, increasingly caught between the jazz-age excesses he depicted and the instability of his personal life, wrote Tender Is the Night as both an aesthetic and an emotional unraveling. Set in the French Riviera, the novel depicts a glamorous but decaying world - mirroring his marriage and the moral fragility of his characters. His friendship with Hemingway soured over time; Hemingway found Fitzgerald overly sentimental and dependent, while Fitzgerald felt dismissed and overshadowed.


III. The Lost Generation Defined: Beauty, Tragedy, and Legacy

  • “You are all a lost generation,” Stein allegedly told Hemingway, borrowing the phrase from a French garage owner. The term captured the postwar malaise and moral dislocation experienced by American artists disillusioned by traditional values and the promises of modernity.

  • Hemingway captured the aimlessness and cynicism of this generation in The Sun Also Rises, with its emotionally paralyzed characters drifting between cafés, bullfights, and lost loves in Spain and France. His minimalist style mirrored their emotional restraint.

  • Fitzgerald, by contrast, lamented the hollowness beneath the surface glamour. In Tender Is the Night, the dream of European sophistication gives way to psychological fragmentation. His character, Dick Diver’s decline, is not unlike Fitzgerald’s own - brilliant, beloved, but ultimately broken psyche brought on by internal contradictions.

  • Stein, by the end of the 1920s, had grown estranged from many in the younger generation she helped shape. Yet her influence remained foundational - both for her role in fostering the modernist revolution and for her refusal to compromise her artistic vision.


Conclusion: A Moveable Feast of Modernism

The stories of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and Stein are inseparable from the mythos of the Lost Generation. Each was drawn to Paris for different reasons - Stein for self-definition, Hemingway for craft, Fitzgerald for glamour - but all found in the City of Light a space to interrogate the darkening shadows of their time.

Their legacies are not only literary but symbolic: of art born from disillusionment, of identity forged in exile, and of brilliance that flickered, flared, and often burned out too soon.


THREE BIOGRAPHICAL PORTRAITS


Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Ernest Hemingway with Fitzgerald

GERTRUDE STEIN: MATRIARCH OF MODERNISM

1. Biographical Snapshot

  • Born in Pennsylvania (1874), raised partly in California.
  • Studied at Radcliffe and Johns Hopkins; moved to Paris in 1903.
  • Hosted her famed salon at 27 rue de Fleurus.

2. Parisian Role

  • Cultural and intellectual hub for modernist painters and writers.
  • Mentor to younger expatriates - she anointed them the Lost Generation.
  • Developed experimental prose influenced by cubist aesthetics (Tender Buttons, Three Lives).

3. Impact

  • Influenced Hemingway’s early style.
  • Seen as eccentric but brilliant; self-mythologized.
  • Later alienated many in her circle due to authoritarian tendencies.

Ernest Hemingway: Chronicler of Disillusionment

1. Biographical Snapshot

  • Born in Illinois (1899), worked as a WWI ambulance driver.
  • Moved to Paris in 1921 with his first wife, Hadley.
  • Published early work with encouragement from Stein, Pound, and Sylvia Beach.

2. Parisian Role

  • Central figure of the Lost Generation.
  • Absorbed influence from Stein, Pound, and French culture.
  • Developed minimalist prose and the iceberg theory of writing.

3. Impact

  • The Sun Also Rises captures the spiritual aimlessness of postwar youth.
  • A Moveable Feast offers a retrospective of 1920s Paris and his evolving views on Stein, Fitzgerald, and art.
  • Embodied a masculine ethos of stoicism, war-weariness, and artistic integrity.

F. Scott Fitzgerald: Poet of Glamour and Decay

1. Biographical Snapshot

  • Born in Minnesota (1896), rose to fame with This Side of Paradise.
  • Lived on and off in Paris and the Riviera in the 1920s with Zelda.
  • Struggled with fame, alcoholism, and Zelda’s deteriorating mental health.

2. Parisian Role

  • Embodied the excess and charm of the Jazz Age.
  • Admired Hemingway’s prose but never fully connected to the modernist aesthetic.
  • Wrote Tender is the Night as a semi-autobiographical reflection on decline.

3. Impact

  • Romanticized and mourned the American Dream.
  • His writing is lush, emotional, and tragic - distinct from Hemingway’s restraint.
  • His friendship with Hemingway became strained; his legacy now stands as a poignant counterpoint to Hemingway’s hardness.

"The Lost Generation: Disillusionment,
Exile, and the Crisis of Modernity"

I. A Generation Unmoored

In the wake of World War I, a remarkable cohort of American writers and artists found themselves spiritually dislocated and morally disillusioned. They turned to Europe - especially Paris - not just for artistic inspiration, but to escape what they saw as the provincialism, commercialism, and stifling moral codes of the United States. The term “Lost Generation”, immortalized by Ernest Hemingway and first uttered by Gertrude Stein, captured this unique blend of historical rupture, psychological trauma, and cultural transition. But beyond the romanticism of café culture and Jazz Age glitter lies a deeper truth: these writers and artists were grappling with a world that no longer made sense - and trying to invent one that did.

This section explores the Lost Generation as a cultural and philosophical formation: a generation defined not only by its alienation but by its attempt to reconstruct meaning in the face of modernity’s collapse. Through historical context, thematic breakdown, and a Whiteheadian process lens, we reframe these artists not simply as lost, but as pioneers of becoming.


II. The Historical Fault Line of Western Civilization

1. World War I (1914–1918): A Metaphysical Shock

The First World War was not merely a geopolitical crisis - it was an existential rupture. For the first time in human history, industrialized warfare unleashed mechanized mass death on a scale that nullified romantic ideals of heroism, nationalism, or divine purpose.

The noble illusions of the 19th century - progress, empire, Christian morality, and moral order - were shattered in the trenches of Europe. Gas attacks, machine guns, and trench rot replaced the mythic grandeur of battlefield valor. What had once been considered a rite of passage into manhood became an initiation into absurdity.

Many survivors returned alive but hollow - physically intact but existentially wounded. They had witnessed the collapse not only of bodies but of meanings.

“We are all broken. That’s how the light gets in.”
Hemingway-esque sentiment

The war left a scar across the psyche of a generation. The past could no longer be trusted, and the future had no guarantees. In this vacuum of certainty, the question of how to live - and how to write - became the pressing inquiry.


2. American Displacement: Exile as Rebellion

For many young American writers, the postwar United States felt morally suffocating and spiritually vacant. Prohibition, Puritanism, and the burgeoning culture of commercial materialism created a climate of alienation. The triumphalism of the “Roaring Twenties” was, to these writers, an illusion masking profound social shallowness.

In response, figures like Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, and others chose self-imposed exile, relocating to Paris in the 1920s. There, they found not only cheap rent and strong wine, but something more essential: a cosmopolitan, artistic atmosphere that welcomed experimentation and permitted the questioning of everything.

Paris was more than a city - it was a symbol of bohemian reinvention. Its cafés and salons became incubators for modernist transformation. Within these spaces, identity was not inherited but constructed. Expression was not bound by tradition but freed by form. For Stein, it was a stage for linguistic invention. For Hemingway, a forge for his stoic minimalism. For Fitzgerald, a theater of both glamor and decay.

In this context, exile was not escapism - it was a philosophical and artistic act of refusal. It meant turning one’s back on a hollow moral order to invent a more truthful one in its place.


III. MODERNIST DISILLUSIONMENT: THE COLLAPSE OF EXISTENTIAL COHERENCE

The collapse of Enlightenment rationality and romantic idealism left modernity disoriented. The faith in reason, science, and moral certainty that once framed Western identity gave way to fragmentation, irony, and aesthetic experimentation. What had once been seen as progress now appeared as a facade - an illusion crumbling under the weight of industrial warfare, colonial decline, and spiritual exhaustion.

In literature:

  • Forms became fractured, indirect, interior.

  • Stream of consciousness, minimalist dialogue, and disjointed chronology emerged as a rebellion against the novelistic traditions of 19th-century realism.

  • Hemingway’s terse prose, Stein’s linguistic deconstruction, and Joyce’s narrative experiments all reflect the collapse of stable narrative voice.

In art:

  • Cubism, Dadaism, and Surrealism mirrored the literary mood - offering shattered perspectives, absurd juxtapositions, and dreamlike illogic.

  • These movements rejected realism in favor of the psychological, the symbolic, and the unspoken.

In philosophy:

  • Nietzsche declared that “God is dead” - that traditional moral frameworks were no longer credible.

  • Freud revealed the unconscious as a hidden, irrational engine of the human psyche.

  • Bergson questioned mechanistic time with his concept of la durée - lived, qualitative temporality.

  • Heidegger spoke of Geworfenheit - thrownness - the sense that we are cast into a world not of our choosing, left to find meaning on uncertain terms.

This convergence across disciplines reveals a world no longer governed by divine purpose or historical necessity, but by rupture, chance, and open-ended becoming.


2. Existential Drift: From Identity to Absurdity

The lostness of the Lost Generation was more than psychological - it was ontological. Their writing reflects not only personal disillusionment but a deeper recognition that being itself had been destabilized. The structures that once promised coherence - religion, nation, marriage, history - were now perceived as hollow or hypocritical.

In this condition, meaning was no longer found, but had to be constructed moment by moment, often through beauty, experience, or art.

In Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, we see this clearly. The characters - Jake Barnes, Brett Ashley, Robert Cohn - wander through Paris and Pamplona in search of distraction: alcohol, bullfights, flirtation, danger. Their days are filled with cafés and travel, but emotionally they are adrift. Faith has been replaced by fatalism. Their conversations are sparse, detached -almost evacuated of affect. What remains is the ritual of living: ordering a drink, watching the matador, enduring the day.

“You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.”
The Sun Also Rises

And yet, this drift is not without poignancy. It is an attempt to stay in motion, to preserve the self through the very act of endurance. The tragedy lies not only in their failure to connect, but in their awareness of that failure - and in the fact that they continue to seek connection anyway.


IV. Cultural Themes and the Modernist Crisis of Meaning

Theme In Literature In Philosophy In Art Cultural Impact
Disillusionment War trauma, fragmented narration, flat emotional affect (The Sun Also Rises) Nietzsche’s God is dead; Heidegger’s thrownness Dadaism’s absurdity; Cubism’s disorientation Rise of irony, skepticism, and distrust of inherited values
Exile & Displacement American expats abroad; rootlessness as identity crisis Sartre’s existence precedes essence (in early form) Paris as symbolic space; montage and collage in visual art Cosmopolitanism, bohemianism, rejection of nationalism and domestic conformity
Crisis of Masculinity Impotent or emotionally flat male protagonists; stoicism as survival Freud’s repression and instability of ego Hyper-masculine iconography (e.g., matadors, soldiers) Boxing, bullfighting, Hemingway’s sparse prose as masculine minimalism
Sexual Liberation The New Woman (e.g., Brett Ashley), gender ambiguity, fluid romance Psychoanalysis reveals desire as repressed or sublimated Androgynous fashion, Surrealist eroticism (e.g., Man Ray) Loosening of gender norms; the Jazz Age femme fatale and bohemian sexual freedom
Art as Survival Writing as therapy, narration as existential processing Bergson’s duration; Whitehead’s creativity as ultimate reality Surrealism’s dream work, automatic drawing, expressive abstraction Art replaces religion as a primary vehicle for identity, truth, and transcendence
Fragmentation & Form Stream of consciousness, minimalism, experimental syntax Breakdown of essentialist metaphysics; rise of process/relationality Cubist composition, broken perspective; collage Norms of order and linearity collapse; form becomes a reflection of fractured reality


V. A Whiteheadian Process Lens: Becoming in the Wake of Rupture

To fully understand the Lost Generation - not merely as a cultural reaction to war, but as existential forerunners in a metaphysical shift - we turn to the philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead. Writing in the same interwar period, Whitehead proposed a radical metaphysical reordering which spoke directly to the artistic, emotional, and cultural dilemmas faced by the Lost Generation of post-war Europe and America.

Whitehead’s process philosophy did not emerge from literature, but it converged in spirit - dislodging static modernistic categories, affirming new novelty, and viewing all reality as processually dynamic, relational, and evolving. Through Whitehead's process lens, we may see the Lost Generation not simply as disillusioned survivors, but as creative agents of concrescence (evolving change) when re-forming (and re-informing) themselves and their works in the face of profound existential flux.


1. Creativity as the Ultimate Category

For Whitehead, Creativity is not merely an artistic act - it is the necessary and fundamental nature of the universe. The cosmos is not made of fixed substances, but of actual (evolving) occasions - that is, processual reality is composed of events of becoming that momentarily gather past experiences and prehensions (urges, feelings, predispositions) into a unique act of concrescence (a newly birthed moment of evolving reality with its own urges, feelings, and predispositions).

So too with the Lost Generation. Their writings and artistic works were not merely new modernistic expressions - but were newly evolving (concrescingexistential compositions. Amid broken national histories, cultural despair, and abandoned 20th century metaphysics, this new modernist generation was forging novel expressions of meaning. Each story, each sentence, each self, was a microcosm of Whitehead’s creative advance into novelty.

In Whitehead’s terms, the Lost Generation was not lost - they were concrescing.


2. The Collapse of Final Causes and the Rise of Becoming

Western metaphysics had long operated under the assumption of final causality: that life had a goal, a telos, a divinely or morally ordered end. Whitehead rejected this framework. For him, the future was open, not predetermined. Each moment involved decision - a negotiation between inherited data and the lure of the possible.

Likewise, the Lost Generation also had no fixed destiny, no nationalistic or theological assurances. They lived in the wastelands of failed systematic ideologies. But rather than fall into nihilism, they engaged in ontological improvisation: re-shaping identity, language, and art through provisional acts of value and style.

Their characters do not “arrive” at meaning. They hover, drift, seek - and in that seeking, they create.

3. Prehension and Fragmented Memory

Whitehead’s concept of prehension - the process by which an entity grasps elements of the past and integrates them into present experiences - mirrors the psychological landscape of the Lost Generation.

  • Their protagonists often live lives haunted by the past: the war, failed love, or moral betrayals.

  • These fragments of disillusionment, abandonment, or betrayal, are not discarded - they are felt, absorbed, weighted.

  • Nor do they dominate. Each moment become a new integration of being - some successful and some not.

In the storied figures of Jake Barnes, Dick Diver, or even Hemingway himself, we see the struggle of integrating the past without being destroyed by one's past.

4. Relationality and the City as a Nexus

Whitehead’s world is deeply relational. Actual experiences and occasions never occur in isolation; they always arise in relation to other entities, contexts, and possibilities.

The same is true of 1920s Paris, which functioned as a relational field: a vibrant network of salons, cafés, bookshops, artists, and strangers - all processually participating in shared acts of becoming.

  • Gertrude Stein’s salon was more than a room - it was a nexus of prehensive interaction, where modernist impulses collided and recombined.

  • Sylvia Beach’s Shakespeare & Company wasn’t just a bookstore - it was a processual node, enabling interactions that reshaped global literature.

In Whiteheadian terms, Paris was not a backdrop - it was an occasion for processual renewal.

5. Aesthetic Intensity as Survival

Whitehead held that aesthetic experience - the feeling of contrast, harmony, and intensity - is one of the highest values in lived existence. In a world without moral guarantees, aesthetic experience (beauty, harmony, love) becomes a redemptive ground of processual renewal.

This was true for the Lost Generation. In the absence of certainty, they turned to art - not as escape, but as survival. Style became a form of salvation. Discipline in prose was a way to anchor chaos. Rhythm, minimalism, even beauty - these were not luxuries, but acts of existential insistence.

For Whitehead, the aim of the universe is not truth or obedience - but intensity.
The Lost Generation understood this intuitively.

6. Conclusion: From Lost Wanderers to Processual Pilgrims

When we apply a Whiteheadian lens to the Lost Generation, we no longer merely see a group of shattered writers wandering through cafés and memories. We see ontological pilgrims, journeying through an unstable cosmos in processual acts of perpetual recomposition.

They lived in an era that demanded new categories. Their trauma was real - but their response was processual: to create, to relate, to endure, and to begin again.

They were not the end of something.
They were the becoming of something new.


Conclusion: The Lost Generation and the Creative Urgency of Becoming

In Section I, The Lost Generation was born not simply from the ashes of war, but from the deeper collapse of inherited meanings. They emerged in a world where divine purpose, national identity, romantic ideals, and historical progress had all come under suspicion. What remained was not certainty, but fragmentation - and out of that fragmentation, they began the long and painful work of becoming.

In Section II, we traced the Historical Fault Line: the trauma of World War I and the expatriate flight from the moral and cultural constraints of postwar America. The battlefield and the café became dual spaces of disillusionment and reinvention - one a graveyard of ideals, the other a crucible of expression.

In Section III, we observed how the emotional fallout and succeeding disillusionment of these historical shifts gave rise to a Philosophical Condition: a modernist unraveling of truth, time, identity, and narrative form. Where once there were grand narratives, now there were questions. Where once there was purpose, now there was drift. And yet, the very act of questioning became a vital form of participation in the evolving cosmos.

Section IV mapped these themes across literature, art, philosophy, and cultural life in a comparative matrix. Disillusionment, exile, fractured masculinity, sexual experimentation, and aesthetic urgency were not isolated experiences - they were part of a coherent rupture, a shared crisis echoing through every form of modernist expression.

And in Section V, through the metaphysical vision of Alfred North Whitehead, we reinterpreted the Lost Generation as more than broken souls. They were processual agents, participating, perhaps unwittingly, in the creative advance of a complexly evolving universe. Their fragmentation was not failure; it was the fertile ground from which novelty arose in new intensities, new styles, and new values. In the place of certainty, they chose form. In place of faith, they chose aesthetic coherence. In place of hope, they chose authenticity.

They drank, wandered, wrote, fought, loved, and often broke down - but these very human acts were not merely symptoms of malaise. They were acts of existential construction in a world that no longer offered pre-made templates for living.


A Generation Not Lost, but Re-assembling

To call them “lost” is, in one sense, correct - they were lost to the old world, to its pieties and its institutions. But in a deeper sense, they were never lost at all. They were searching, and more than that - they were re-generating. They were unknown process thinkers without a formal metaphysic, poets of becoming in the ruins of static being.

Their writings survive not because they preserved the past, but because they modeled the future: a future where truth is partial, meaning is made, and the self is always unfinished.

In the final accounting, the Lost Generation stands as one of the great creative pivots in cultural history - not merely a cry of disillusionment, but a call to live relationally, write courageously, and to create with presence, even in the absence of guarantees.

They were not lost.
They were becoming.