In the course of lunch recently, my good friend and subscriber to this blog, Jason, suggested that I do a piece on one of his favourite pieces of music, Mozart’s Piano Concerto no. 21, the “Elvira Madigan” concerto. “You’ll know it” he said, when I conceded that I couldn’t bring it to mind from its name. Upon listening to it later, I nodded…of course, yes, I know this alright, and yes, Jase, it certainly does qualify for an “occasional glimpse”!
The concerto is in three movements, but it is the second movement, the Andante in F major, that is the well-known part we’ll highlight here. Mozart wrote the concerto in 1785, in the middle of a prolific creative burst in Vienna in which he wrote no fewer than eleven masterpieces in a 24-month period. It was written for one of his so-called “subscription concerts”; he would hire a venue, engage some musicians, take all the proceeds from the concert and hopefully make a profit.
I was intrigued to learn how the concerto came by its nickname, “Elvira Madigan”. What a story it turned out to be! It is a relatively recent nickname, as it is named after the 1967 film Elvira Madigan made by Swedish director Bo Widerberg in which the andante was prominently featured. The film is based on the true and tragic love story of Danish tightrope walker, Elvira Madigan (the stage name of one Hedwig Jensen) and Swedish nobleman and cavalry officer, Lieutenant Sixten Sparre of the Scanian Dragoon Regiment.
While performing in Sweden with her stepfather’s circus in 1887, Elvira Madigan met Sixten Sparre and the two fell in love. However, since he was a married man and from a different, higher social class, their love was doomed. After two years of exchanging love letters, they absconded and holed up in a hotel in Svendborg in Denmark for a month. From there, 21-year old Elvira and 34-year old Sixten took the ferry to the nearby island of Tåsinge and stayed at a little pension in the fishing village of Troense. When Sixten’s family withheld financial help, the couple’s last hopes faded. They went out to the forest, had a last meal…and then committed suicide with Sixten’s service revolver.
They are buried together on Tåsinge and to this day their graves are still visited by tourists and romantics from all over the world. Mozart’s emotional and dreamlike melody fits their tragic story perfectly. Take a quiet time to experience the music, below, whilst perusing the accompanying images I found of Elvira, Sixten and the places in which they spent their last days. If you remain unmoved, you may want to just check your pulse…
