All language subtitles for Wagner_1983 Part 1

Let me read you this
from the Dresdner Anzeiger

of February 14th, 1883.

"A heavy and altogether unexpected
bereavement has befallen

"musicians of every race,
country and degree.

"We learn by telegraph from Venice

"that the greatest
of contemporary composers,

"Richard Wagner,

"the second husband of Cosima Liszt,

"died there at 4:00 of yesterday afternoon.

"He occupied a loftier station

"than K ing or K aiser, Pope or President.

"No monarch was ever more
enthusiastically served

"than has been Richard Wagner.

"Infallibility, embodied in a Roman pontiff,

"has never been more implicitly believed in

"by the most orthodox Catholic

"than it has been in the person of the

"Bayreuth prophet!"

Put well, do you not think?

Put well.

It goes on, it goes on.

Time and space fail us,
even to make passing reference

to the literary labours
with which his busiest years

were in great part occupied.

A free thinker in matters religious,

a democrat in matters political,

of a surpassingly combative temperament,

Wagner could scarcely fail
to involve himself

in the revolutionary agitations of 1848,

in Dresden, where he held
some minor musical appointment.

Minor?

In the light of Wagner's future, perhaps,

but Kape��meister
to K ing Friedrich August II of Saxony

was a post!

To those of us here in Dresden,

a respected post.

Irksome to have to visit the King
in his castle at Pillnitz,

a song in one's pocket,

to have to make music
in praise of one of those very princelings

one's political soul cried out against.

But that was the condition of Germany
in the 19th century.

Insignificant city-states.

And it was a post.

Luttichau...

Majesty?

Who's responsible for this noise?

Reissiger conducted the piece,

and it was got together by Herr Wagner,
Your Majesty.

Wagner?

Wagner.

Very well conducted, the piece.

Herr who?

Herr who?

Reissiger.

I lay myself at your feet, Majesty.

This piece does have within it

some not inconsiderable...

Very well composed, Herr Wagner.

Very well arse-licked, Herr Reissiger.

Oh, do you think so, Majesty?
Do you think so?

I did do my best.

Then � do dash myse�f under your feet,
dash myself twice.

It's different every time he relates it.

We were not late.

As if I'd allow him to be!

There sat I, paws up, tail wagging,

waiting for a pat on the head
from von Luttichau,

begging to have gold put into my mouth

rather than into the mouth and tooth
of His Majesty.

But what does it matter? �t is the path
of the liveried servant here in Saxony.

�n the event, � said thank you,
and gave my royal master the lot, again.

But so moved my army in its retreat,

my grande armee of i��-discip�ined
musical invalids and veterans,

so moved them, cajo�ed, nudged,
shoved, willed them,

the whole manoeuvre so steadily executed,

thanks to my unexampled activity,

that R eissiger never even knew we had �eft
until von Luttichau told him so.

The last notes falling on an echoing dream

on the royal ulcerated tooth and ear.

Wasn't wasted, though.
Later used it all in Tannhauser.

There is something to being German

altogether curious, you know.

We can take a song �ike
Among the Meadows and Woods

and set it to music in such a manner
that we all dissolve in tears.

And yet, when we �ook about us and see,
instead of a united fatherland,

a hotchpotch of 34 kingdoms
and principalities,

we are unmoved.

Our eyes remain dry,

our hearts do not beat faster by one note.

Why? Why?

Are we little people with minuscule minds,

mere servants,
ruled by and subservient to our betters?

I say to them, our rulers, I say,

cast your titles and distinctions from you!

We, too, the common peop�e,
have ancestors.

And though they had no tit�es,
were not U shers of the Shit House,

their deeds of daring, their vassalage,

their sufferings,

are writ reeking in letters of blood!

Their blood, our blood banner!

Two camps have arisen in Europe.

The cry from one is Republic,

the cry from the tents of the other
is Monarchy.

Monarchy?

What do you see?

You see a blinded and corrupt tribe,

the rulers of Hesse, Bavaria,

Prussia!

I agree!

What, then, of our own King?

I, his K apellmeister, dare say this to him,

become a Prince who heeds our advice.

Banish the snive��ing Junkers
and their swooning dames.

Consu�t instead the free fo�k,
the German folk,

those noblest of children

like unto gods.

Not servants in livery

or slaves of whim,

but elected and free.

Every man with a vote.

Our minds strengthened
by understanding of our past,

the myths and legends

and religion

of Germany.

Let him, our King,

let him say, "I declare Saxony a free state."

Let him rid himself of his sycophants,

and if he wi�� not, a word of warning.
As Christ says,

"If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off!"

Cut it off!

Cut it off!

Your fatherland is called Germany.

Love it above a��, and more through action
than through words.

Germany must have its place in the sun!

�'ve read your husband's �atest scheme
for an opera, Frau Wagner, Lohengrin.

Yes, the poem of the Swan Knight.

Oh, how wonderful!

A Swan Knight.

I can see all the little elves and fairies

dancing before mine eyes.

U nfortunately, we can't give it.

These unsettled times,

your husband writes to the newspapers,
Frau Wagner,

makes speeches he ought not to make.

The King himse�f has had to prevent
one of his officers

from challenging your husband to a duel.

Lohengrin, it is stirring
and German

and wonderful.

�f on�y Herr Wagner were not determined
on setting it to music himself.

Meser! Why do you remove my Tannhauser
from your window, all the copies?

Is my work not fit for your shop?

What do you rep�ace them with?
What's this?

Meyerbeer! Dear God, Ro cke�,
we used to admire this man.

And so you shou�d. Meyerbeer is a master,
he sells copy on copy.

That's because you are not his pub�isher.
You're an incompetent idiot.

Am I, though? Am I?

What are you, then?

This returned
from the Munich Court Theatre.

This is monstrous! They have not
even broken the seal to read it.

Exactly.

You ain't being given,
Herr Wagner, that you ain't.

But Meyerbeer is, which is a fact,

hence he can go out
where he might be bought.

Rienzi?

Outside Dresden, where?

Performed once only, in Berlin.

Yes, and?

And?

Konigsberg!

Where?

�t is successfu� every time
it is given here in Dresden.

So is Tannhauser,
so, too, will be Lohengrin.

Damn you, Meser. �'m of a mind
to withdraw Lohengrin from you.

Then � wou�d remind you
that you are not entirely drawing the town.

� wi�� not go forward with Lohengrin
until you give me some money.

Then you will lose a revolutionary work, sir!

Are we not a�� revo�utionaries,
these times?

No, we ain't, Herr Rockel. We are not.

We ain't.

You sport with known revolutionaries,

you have ideas above your station

as to unions for musicians

and a tota� turn out of
the Dresden Opera, on its head,

which you put forward in writing,
above the noble head of your director,

direct to the King!

Direct in writing!

Which King you wou�d have murdered
in his bed.

This time we �ive in is no time
for grand opera, no time at all.

And a word to the wise. Hear me.

Herr Director Luttichau

has intimated to me
as he ain't going to do Lohengrin

for your arrogance and your scorn
of the established genius,

such as Meyerbeer's genius,

a�� of which gives me no faith in you,
young man.

Get rid of this anarchy and all,

then perhaps there'll be time for an opera.

Or better still,

an operetta.

There are going to be new theatres,

new music.

A�� who come between
German folk and their art

will be swept away in the revolution coming.

Will they, though?

Barbarossa. � am considering Barbarossa
as a fit subject.

Germany looks for another Barbarossa.

Barbarossa, �ike Lohengrin, is not
a fit subject for an opera.

Not at all.

It ain't light enough, no laughs in it.

And what's more,

no person will wish to hear it,

in that it invo�ves
that which people do not wish to hear.

Sha�� you not do duty
with the Communal Guard?

I shall not. I have resigned.

Why?

I suffer from a double hernia.

Should you not go to Dr Pusinelli?

�t was Anton Pusine��i who recommended
that I had a double hernia.

Why?

So that � need not do duty
with the Communal Guard.

Why?

Who can te�� which side
they're going to fight on,

for the revolution or against it?

I don't understand. Forgive me, Richard.

In Paris, it's about the starving rising up.

�n Hungary, it's about the oppressed
shrugging off Austrian domination,

but who in turn wi�� be dominated
by the Russian Czar.

�n Saxony, here in Dresden,
it is about being given a sop

in the form of an assembly in Frankfurt,

which purports to be an assemb�y
of all Germany, but isn't,

which should have power, but hasn't any.

We are sti�� ha�f in Austria
and half under Prussia.

And it's about the Par�iament,
which our King now threatens to dissolve.

There isn't a Germany yet.

And unti� there is a Germany
or a German consciousness,

I'm not going to have an audience.

Damn it.

Peop�e �ike me,
people like Semper, Rockel, Pusinelli,

peop�e with minds, free minds,
doctors, lawyers, musicians,

are a�ways going to be subservient
to the likes of Luttichau.

To the court.
To a court theatre run by someone

who was keeper of forests and trees
to the King.

He and Frau Luttichau
have always been very kind to us.

Kindness! � don't want kindness.
I want money and I want a theatre.

� have p�ays, ideas for p�ays,
they are good, well-thought-out ideas.

What happens to them?

My report on the state
of the royal orchestra, what about that?

Three months to prepare! Three months.
Not even read by the King.

My ideas for a national theatre of Germany,

what about that?

Not taken seriously.

Well, if there isn't a Germany...

Liszt is going to give Tannhauser in Weimar.

Yes, Liszt.

Your devoted friend.

He also knows how to...

How to what?

Tug his very beautifu� fore�ock
to his royal masters?

Whenever you tug any part of him,
he responds.

I know, the only one.

Oh, please, Richard!

Don't plead with me, Minna.

This isn't a time for pleading.

How can one ta�k
to these Sabbath Christians?

I'm a better Christian than any of them

because � understand
what it is to be a pagan.

Luttichau, so pure he abstricts,

abstracts himse�f from stinking
when he farts.

Ta�k to him about an art
that embraces everything,

music, poetry, drama...

I know what it is I'm brooding on.

You know, I have told you. A grand, heroic...

Yes, for lack of a better word, opera.

Yes.

Siegfried's Death.

Fire. Water.

Destruction, and out of the cleansing,

a hero,

a German hero.

Christ, Barbarossa, Siegfried...
The same person.

You know that nobody wi�� be ab�e
to stage it.

Do I? You mock me for my seriousness,

but if one's not serious about work,
what then?

There is a stage, it is out there,
it's going to happen.

You wou�d have me a journeyman on ca��,
as would the King and Luttichau,

paid to toss off a pretty �itt�e tune,
an accompanying tremolo

to whatever hack drama
they see fit to put on.

A p�uck of strings, rumb�e of drum
to signify that depth of feeling

which the words have been
too shallow to express.

That is my job as K apellmeister.

That is not true!

You're afraid.

Yes, I am.

� was a journeyman once,
did everything when I first knew you.

Magdeburg. Scenery, everything.

You emptied the ha�� of everyone
but your most ardent creditors

with your Battle of Vittoria.

The triumph of noise.

Scored for bugle, drum and firecracker.

Such a batt�e has se�dom been more
cruelly fought in any concert hall, and you,

you, Minna, you didn't even stay.

I hate noise, bangs.

Oh, God.

It has begun.

Come on. U p here! More.

U p here. Yes, as much as you can. Come on!

Yes, very good.

Come on, we haven't got much time!
Come on!

More, more! Yes, that's the way.

Yes, very good.

Yes, come on, p�enty over here!
Come on, as high as you can!

Come on.

Yes, very good!

Yes, that's good!
Come on, up here, on the top!

U ncle, U ncle, what is it?

U ncle, is it fighting?

Yes, it is. Otti�ie, C�ara,
you are present at the beginning

of a revo�ution �ed by artists
and men of means against privilege,

intellect against indulgence.

Get me some food together, Minna.
I'll be gone for some time, until it's all over.

The revolution. The revolution at last!

After all these years, after years of struggle,

at last, K apellmeister to the King of Saxony,

respected and secure in the post.

Open the door! Open the door!

Open the door!

No, no, I shall not!

I shall not, not at all, not at all!

No. No, Richard.

Open this door. Do you hear me?

Richard, they've come for you.

They've come for him.

Richard? Richard! Where is Richard?

We've started it.

The King dared to dissolve the Parliament.

Minna, where's Richard?

When R ichard comes,
he's to go to the foundry.

Dresden is one
of the foremost theatres in Germany.

We are so lucky.

Open this door, do you hear me?

We have starved.

When we first came to Dresden,

we knocked walnuts from the trees to eat.

I was so ashamed.

Open the door!

You have borrowed money from everyone.

Even from the members
of your own orchestra,

who have little enough themselves.

You rant about their conditions,
their poverty, their ill health,

and then you borrow from them.

Open the door!

The on�y friends you have �eft
have nothing themselves.

Anybody will do.

Anybody.

Richard?

Bakunin, see here. Come, look.

I see.

You are facing your King's so�diers
drawn up in ranks.

- Your own Saxon so�diers against you!
- Semper, see that this holds.

Bakunin, these,
calling on the soldiers not to fight us.

Ludicrous! Amateurs!

Soldiers of Saxony, lay down your arms!

Come with me, Semper, Bakunin.
We shall inform them of their real duty.

Simpletons!

Lay down your arms, fe��ow Saxons,
fellow Germans.

Join us, the people of Dresden,

bearing arms to defend
our liberties and yours,

our liberties and yours.

We're all in the same boat.

We have to defend ourse�ves
against oppression.

Whatever happens in this wor�d,
let us all be true Germans.

�f you ask me,
whole thing is doomed to failure.

The working man must �ead
in the social struggle to come.

Free men, artists, all of us.

Our strugg�e today must express
the will of free people everywhere,

regardless of national boundaries.

Our nationalism, our nationalist socialism,

must be only an ornament, not a limitation.

Our work will either be

to free the human spirit

or e�se condemn it forever
to chains of economic bondage.

Someone must show us,

show us what to do, direct them.

Me? Not me.

Ask Bakunin.
He's the professional revolutionary.

I'm just a musician.

You, Semper,
you build excellent barricades.

What do you suggest? You?

No, no, no.

Bakunin may we�� decide to throw in his �ot
with this amateur revolution,

but �'m sure he'd say
that it was doomed to failure.

The wrong people are inspiring it.

I mean, people like you and me.

� think he's just using us
to fan up the flames.

Why don't we c�imb somewhere
where we can see, see what's happening?

The Church of the Cross.

Good, good. You go.

� am an architect
who has no head for heights.

U p there, like Christ on a temple!

Oh, yes, yes.

When you write your Jesus Christ opera,
the tenor must sing nothing but...

"Off with his head!"

And the soprano...

"Hang him!"

And the basso continuo...

That's Bakunin.

"Fire! Fire! It's the only way.

"The only way is to destroy everything!"

Rubbish!

Yes, yes, perhaps you're right.
Perhaps you're right.

Off with his head!

Hang him!

Fire! Fire!

Off with his head!

Hang him!

- Fire! Fire!
- Fire! Fire!

Off with his head!

Hang him!

Fire! Fire!

Fire! Fire!

Destruction!

Destroy and start again!

You set fire to your opera house!

No. Of course � didn't,
but I should have done years ago.

Such p�aces shou�d be burned down,
set light to.

One can't do anything
with such places, Semper.

The p�aces are bui�t for �ta�ians
and the court.

Tiny houses for tiny music,

little mice squeaking in tune.

This, this is theatre.

This. Flames. We need theatres that are this.

Amphitheatres of fire,

buildings that might encompass this,
contain this.

This is theatre!

I scribble notes, what I see, for days,

in the hope it may be useful,

may help them aim their shots.

The lark up there soars to a dizzy height.

Larks and heroes.

How long will this all go on? Weeks now.

The bu��et that can �ay me out
has not been cast.

March! Left, right, left, right, left!

- Do you see them?
- What?

The b�oody Prussians,
thousands of them, pouring in.

Herr Wagner. We have met.

Go back to your Prussian master, sir.

Take note that � come at the request
of your King to restore peace and order.

Ridden post to get here.

You may go back to
your rum-tiddy-dumming, bandmaster.

Damn me. Had I a musket, I'd drum you, sir.

Go back to your roya� Prussian master.
See if he wants his boots given a polish.

You thought high�y enough of my King
when you were touting your songs in Berlin.

Te�� me if � disremember,
but didn't you offer to write him a march?

I accept royal patronage no more.

True patronage wi�� come
from the people of a united Germany.

U nder Prussia, sir.

U nder no man, sir, unless we elect him.

Because of my high regard for you
as the composer of Rienzi,

I shall not cut you down where you stand.

I don't fight musicians.

Prepare yourselves.

What did the Prussian say?

He'd seen Rienzi. Must have liked it.

It was as well that Wagner left Dresden
when he did.

Another day or so,
and he would have been clapped in prison.

Rockel was confined for over 13 years.

As it was, a warrant was quickly taken up
for Wagner's arrest

and return to the scene of his activities
on the barricades,

there to be brought to trial,

to face the music, as it were,

to face the music no longer
as Royal Kapellmeister

with an orchestra at his bidding,

but as a proscribed criminal,
a fugitive from justice.

For two months, he stayed out
of the clutches of the authorities

until he was at last
forced to flee Germany entirely.

Entirely.

He crossed into Switzerland from Bavaria,

at Lindau on the Bodensee, in disguise.

False papers.

Alone.

But, as he wrote to a friend,

"From these ruins
I shall find most whom I need,

"then I shall erect a theatre
on the banks of the Rhine

"and scatter invitations throughout Europe

"to a great dramatic festival."

He did say that.

- Then, as a man on the run, as it were...
- Which one is yours...

...Professor Widman or Herr Itzenpliz?

Widman.

He was not to return to Germany,
any part of it,

not Saxony, not Dresden, not Bavaria.

No state would have him home

for over a decade.

He was not to build his theatre
and scatter invitations

for 27 years.

My position as an artist,

my reasons for being a year in exi�e
without writing one note of music, my...

My purpose, my quest,

my search for and study of
those myths and legends

of our German past.

The German artist of the future wi�� emerge
from his mythic past, as I am emerging.

� am shedding those distractions
which wasted me,

those boltholes into oblivion.

Security, success, fear of failure.

Change.

� seek to change entire�y
that which has led to me being here,

searched for as a posted crimina�
in my own country,

where we failed to change anything.

"Out of the rea�m of the womb
of night and death,

"there came into being
a race dwelling in Nibelheim,

"that is, in g�oomy subterranean c�efts
and caverns.

"They are known as the Nibelungs.

"Feverish�y, they burrow
through the bowels of the earth

"like worms in a dead body.

"They anneal and smelt

"and smith hard metals."

Wagner began the years of his exile
in Zurich,

a town devoid of art in the public sense.

But it did have a thriving music society,

and good, simple-hearted cultured persons,
determined to be friendly,

put him in the way of a few coins
to pay the rent.

Minna had resisted joining him
for some time.

She had been happy in Dresden.

It had been all she wanted
until the barricades went up,

and she was fearful that

as soon as she left Dresden,
she would be shut out,

borders closed against her
as they were against her husband.

She could not face the thought
of a life of exile outside Germany.

But she allowed herself to be assured
by those of us who knew such things

that there would be no question
of her being forbidden in Dresden.

She had no charge against her
of any action treasonable.

She could therefore come and go
as she pleased.

So, blameless, she went

to be at her husband's side in his exile
in a foreign land,

his pleadings answered.

"Very well," she thought.

If she was sure she could always come back
to her beloved Germany, she would go,

make a home for her beloved Richel

with Natalie, her daughter
by a previous, never-mentioned liaison,

her dog, Peps, her parrot, Papo,

and sundry items of furniture and comfort.

Siegfried's Death.

"First Norn..."

First what?

Norn, you fool!

Norn.

"First Norn: In the east I wove!

"Second Norn: In the west I wound!

"Third Norn: To the north I cast!

"What wound'st thou in the west?

"Second Norn: What wov'st thou in the east?

"First Norn: Alberich robbed the Rhine Gold,

"bent therefrom a ring,
bound thereby his brethren.

"Second Norn:

"Thra��s the Nibe�ungen, thra�� too,
Alberich, since his ring was stolen.

"Third Norn: Free the e�ves of darkness,
free too, Alberich.

"Rhine Gold rest in the waters!

"First Norn: In the east I wove!

"Second Norn: In the west I wound!

"Third Norn: To the north � cast!
What would'st thou in the west?

"Second Norn: What wov'st thou in the east?

"First Norn: The giants bui�t the Gods' burg,
with threats they asked the ring in pay.

"The Gods bereft it from the Nibelung."

When she got there, in September, 1849,

she rolled up her sleeves and set to...
Set to...

"That on Neidhaid once �'d fought
when the fearsome worm I slew.

"Hagen: Brunnhi�de, woman bo�d,
know'st thou aright the ring?

"Was't it to Gunther thou gav'st?
Then is it his,

"and Siegfried hath won it by trick,
which the treacherous here shall atone?

"Brunnhi�de: Betrayed! Betrayed!
Most shamefully betrayed!

"Treason! Treason, as never yet was venged!

"Gutrune, the Clansmen and women:

"Treason! Vengeance!

"On whom?"

Liszt.

Rienzi.

The Fairies.

Thirty-seven years of age!

"The R oya� Kapellmeister R ichard Wagner
is wanted for examination

"on account of his active participation
in the recent uprising.

"Medium height, brown hair,
wears spectacles."

That could be anyone.

Thank God.

"Wotan! Wotan! Ruler of Gods!

"Wotan, bless thou the flames!

"Burn hero and bride,
burn eke the true horse

"�n joy may greet Va�ha��',
made one for a bliss without end.

"My venger, Hagen, my son!

"Rescue, rescue the ring!"

The End.

Herr Wagner, let me fill your glass.

You have, of course, read

Wo�fram von Eschenbach,
the northern sagas?

Yes, yes.

Opera bores me, bores me.

It's got nothing to say.

I don't write operas. I write music drama.

Shall I go?

That's it, that's the thing.
That doesn't bore me at all.

Are any of your musica�s
being given anywhere?

Yes, musicals.

Liszt is giving Tannhauser in Weimar.

- � can't go there!
- Neither can I, any more.

Switzer�and is fu�� of peop�e trying to f�ee
from somewhere,

Paris, Vienna...

Dresden.

Yes, Dresden.

He'�� be arrested shou�d he show his face
anywhere in Germany.

Paris.

Take this Siegfried fellow to Paris.

But you'll have to put songs in it for Paris.

Yes, songs.

To meet you at �ast, Frau Wagner.
Tell me, was the concert not...

No, it was not.

� know that most of the orchestra
are amateur musicians,

but does the music not...

It does not.

Dresden has one of the finest orchestras
in Germany.

This is a band.

A small town band.

A Swiss-cheese-and-mountain-call band.

You were all quite dreadful.

I think that Richard's greatness lies

in the way that he faces adversity.

Do you?

My dear Sulzer, come in, come in.

� hear that your friend Meyerbeer
has had another big success in Paris.

My dear Su�zer, you wou�d not have me
pander to a swindler such as he.

Meyerbeer.

Last time � encountered Meyerbeer was
in Paris, in the music shop of Schlesinger.

Was, at one time, Schlesinger's,

now owned by a much more pronounced
type of Hebrew, one Brandus.

And whi�e � made conversation
with dear old Monsieur Henri,

the on�y person �eft
at all friendly and welcoming,

do you know, Meyerbeer hid from me?

But � wink�ed him out,
brought him to face me there.

Meyerbeer, master of me�odious moonshine,
forced to come out of his lair,

stuttering and stammering,
professing false goodwill,

and here it came, here it came.

His assumption that � was in Paris to seek,
as it were, my fortune!

Meyerbeer was a�ways wi��ing to he�p,
and did so often,

but like everyone else who helps Richard,

they are eventua��y repaid
with scorn and derision.

Meyerbeer gave out
a belch of manuscript dust,

which assumption � quick�y dispe��ed
by assuring him

that the thought of having anything done,
or underdone, or overdone in Paris

was odious to me.

"But," whines Meyerbeer, "Liszt has
published such a brilliant article about you.

"We all read it."

"Ah," rep�ied �,
"it had not really occurred to me

"that the enthusiastic devotion of a friend
should be regarded as speculation."

"But," quoth he, and here the man �ies bare
the 20 pieces of silver chink,

"But the article created a sensation in Paris.

"You must sure�y seek to make profit
out of it by following it up with something."

Profit?

� to�d him that there were
greater occupations for my mind

when the who�e wor�d seemed
to be in turmoil and reaction.

"But..."

A great but-erer is Meyerbeer.

"But what do you expect to get out of it?

"Are you set to write scores
for the barricades?"

Whereupon � to�d him it was not in my mind
to write any scores at all,

which took the ground straight
from under him and laid him on it.

Meyerbeer! The Meyerbeer clique!

Twittering Nibe�ungs,
maggots, deep in the flesh,

feeding on the sweet,
pretty, fleshy confection that is Paris,

a b�ood cake
iced and spattered with silver and gold.

Pretty tunes, music for brothels.

Deep inside the cake, they twitter
and wriggle and copulate and kiss and suck,

growing bellies that are fat,

shou�ders broad enough to carry
the ponderous crucifixion of fame.

Victors of the fame game.

"�, Meyerbeer, sa�ute you with five acts
and a ballet decollete called an opera!"

"Bravo, an opera by Meyerbeer!"

The wor�d hangs hushed
on every nauseous note,

stands transfixed in awe
at titles promising seriousness.

Ho��ow tit�es, ratt�ing with arias
and melodramatic arpeggios.

Empty rodomontade titles like The Prophet,

a prophet who tells one nothing.

Meyerbeer entit�es his grand opera
The Prophet

and it prophesies nothing!

I can no more write operas

than � can f�y to Paris
without the aid of wires from the gridiron.

� know you are come to encourage me.
I know.

I know you mean well. I know.

� swing. � am suspended, Minna.
I am neither here nor there.

I wait for times to change,

and try to change times
by the essays I write, which you dismiss

thus.

There is a Mrs Ritter who has a son

she wishes to be a musician.

A composer, I fear, of operas.

She and another �ady
have offered to finance me while...

Minna.

Richard.

- How we've missed you.
- Yes.

Mademoiselle Minna Planer,

the beautifu� and unattainab�e actress
I paid court to for two years and two months

before she would have me.

You must not have another child.

No.

I must never.

I must remind you, Richard,

that if I am barren, as I am barren,

it is because your chi�d died
before it could be born

whi�e we f�ed from your creditors,
pursued by Cossacks.

Maybe.

To have another child would mean my death.

Yes.

Never to have had sufficient money.

Never.

It is so

graceless.

What would you have me do?

Work as others work.

Well, I give concerts.

I concertise for pitiful sums of money.

Is there something to eat?

Tomorrow there will be, thank God.

- And Liszt?
- I thank Liszt.

I am your child, Minnerl.

I sometimes think so.

Richard?

Why must you take money
from this woman?

Mrs R itter?
Because she offers it and she has it.

She's Eng�ish, � think.
Or it's the other one. One of them is.

�s it beneath your dignity
to earn money rather than borrow it?

These pamph�ets and essays you write,
they waste your time.

You're a conductor of concerts.
Conduct them.

You're a writer of music. Write it.

So that we can live.

Liszt wants me to go to Paris.
He thinks I should.

�'m gratefu� to Liszt,
but he needs me more than I need him.

He is, after all, a performer.

The darling of the salons.

They watch his hands on the piano
and imagine them up their skirts.

Richard!

But he sees the music of the future.

He sees it.

He sees the fusion of music and drama,
dimly, as I see it.

Very dimly.

Which is why � can't write
anything will please you.

The form eludes me.

I know it.

Greek, vast amphitheatres.

Life and worship in their art.

Sensua� performances
understood by everyone.

Slaves, masters, all equal in intellect,

equal in sensitivity.

Same tongue, same myths.

Instantly accessible through shared desires,

experience, food even.

The same simple Attic food.

Milk, wine, olives.

The same women,
enjoyed by master and slave alike

in the same open manner.

Music is feminine.

It lies waiting to be fertilised,

the dramatic seed thrust into it.

Words, taken up
and carried further by the music.

But poetry...

Poetry is the reason for music.

And drama is the reason for both.

Paris?

Paris is for Meyerbeer
and his vapid nonsense,

for which he earned in roya�ties
for one opera

some 750,000 marks last year,

whereas � got 900 marks
for the entire rights of Rienzi.

� to�d everyone you were commissioned
to write something for Paris.

It was announced in the Dresden papers.

Why?

So I should not be ashamed of you.

Yes. Yes.

Meyerbeer is in Paris
and is afraid of being buried alive,

given instructions that be��s
should be tied to his toes when he goes.

He fears suffocation after death.

I am in terror of it happening now,

while I live.

Oh, heavens.

I have seen a theatre of flames.

- Liszt does Lohengrin?
- Yes, something.

Lohengrin, the king of the fairies.

You remember.
Lohengrin, the Swan Knight. A fairy.

Silk?

How on earth
have you managed to afford silk?

What?

You've sent me no money for weeks.

- � a�ways try, Minna.
- Yes, you do.

- But si�k.
- Oh it isn't paid for.

Minna, you know
I can't wear anything but silk.

Richard.

Mitzel.

Liszt suggested that the court at Weimar
might pay me a yearly sum.

A nice house might be found for you.
Lohengrin might be given in English.

London might do it.

You were right, Mitze�, my o�d �ove,
my dear old love.

Minna, the beautifu� actress,
laid low by the madman Wagner.

I must get something for Paris.

What do you say to Wieland the Smith?

Shall your old Richel do that?

� know you think � shou�d sett�e
to a decent living,

not live off other people.

�'ve been offered a few francs a year
to write something

by a �ady from Edinburgh
who lives in Bordeaux.

She and Frau R itter met her daughter
in Dresden.

Jessie Taylor, called Laussot now,

married a young wine merchant.
He was on his beam ends.

�f her mother can put money into wine,
why not into Wieland the Smith, what?

Where is there a blacksmith? Where?

� need to hear the sound of meta�
being struck.

I must learn to forge metal.

And I must learn to walk.

Richard, your words, your ideas

fill me with confusion, love.

Yes, love.

I give it to you,

freely.

Jessie, I know.

Wieland the Smith.

You were his bride, chained,

iron-chained,
and waiting for him to strike off the chains.

I do feel that.

Enter.

Did you enjoy your walk, Mr Wagner?

The sea near Bordeaux is very bracing.

Madam, � find it not within me
to enjoy anything at the moment.

I fear for my health.

Oh, how distressing.

Did Jessie tire you?

No, no, she...

She... She was an inspiration.

I'm so pleased.

�s the sea air of Bordeaux
helping you to recover

from that which has brought you so low?

Thanks a�so to you, sire,
and to your beautiful young wife

and to Mrs Taylor,

and, of course, we must never forget
Frau Ritter, who brought us all together.

She is a good friend, a discerning woman.

� see that your Dresden friends
have been sentenced to death

for their part in the uprising.

- Yes.
- U nthinkable.

I must...

You must go to her.

Yes.

I was overcome.

You are not now overcome?

I am recovered.

Yes, well.

Well, we are all upset

at the thought of
what might be lost to the world

shou�d Mr Wagner have been took up
by the Dresden authorities

and so dealt with.

Yes, though it is we�� known that my part
in the events was that of a mere

spectator.

An innocent

laid bare.

A bystander. They were...

Are, for a few days more, my friends.

Where will they go? What will they find?

Is there a heavenly place for them, a shrine?

A mossy bank?

I've tried to

explain my feelings,

have written to them

in simp�e hope that they wi�� a��ow me
into their last...

� have to�d them that � am protected
by the most blessed friendship and

love.

Am I not in the bosom,

the bosom, that place where love

lurks,

waits to do its healing?

� te�� them nothing
of the financial plight I am in.

I tell them that, however,

with renewed hope and fresh strength
to my...

My...

In my wings, I am carrying on,

going where they wou�d wish,
in my own way,

and according to my own powers

refleshed, the work

for which they, supple-limbed

heroes,

are laying down their lives.

They are?

Is there no hope of reconciliation

between yourse�f and the authorities,
Mr Wagner?

Sha�� you never be reinstated
in your position in Dresden?

That, madam, I do not desire,

and with your money, which you've
so generously offered to remit me,

it is not necessary for me
to be a servant ever again.

I shall go to the East.

What an excellent idea.

East of where?

Mrs Taylor, with the 2,000 francs a year,

I will use it for...

I will use half of it to provide for my wife.

How far east did you have in mind?

I am going with him.

With whom?

I'm vital to his development as an artist.

So, too, you will find, am I.

� wou�d remind you that � have saved
your husband from bankruptcy.

I am delighted to help Mr Wagner as well,

but to not to cup my hands �ike a groom so
that he might more easily mount the mare.

- � have never �oved Eugene.
- No, daughter, but I have.

Vital to his development indeed!

� sha�� shoot the fe��ow shou�d he dare
to show his face in Bordeaux ever again.

I shall indeed!

Stop!

Yes?

Yes?

You are Richard Wagner of Dresden?

I am.

�f you're here to dun me, a bai�iff,
I'm getting money.

� have a �etter of credit
from a friend in Weimar.

The composer and pianist Franz Liszt.
I expect...

It is not money?

�t is by nature of being po�itica�,
touching on state and power,

which � am encouraged, as a Guardian,
to pursue with zest and power

and ask you these several questions.

Might I put them to you now?

Why have you come back to Paris?

What have your reasons been,
apart from romantic,

for being in Bordeaux?

And have you tried to communicate with any

- here on the �ist?
- List?

The �ist here given of known
revolutionary-inclined persons,

in alphabetical order.

I was only a spectator.

Read it carefully, Herr Wagner,

and when you have finished,
I will escort you from Paris.

Tannhauser.

Now, this is splendid.

Revolutionary, one might say.

� am by way of being
an amateur musician myself.

�'m to�d that my friends
are to be executed in Dresden.

Ro cke�, the others.
Do you know? Are they dead?

They are not now to be executed,
merely imprisoned,

though � wou�d execute them,
for I am implacable,

as you were.

One should be.

Herr Wagner, might I warn you,

you are marked and wi�� be watched
while you are on the list,

and every country has its own �ist
and its own influential people

who need on�y to denounce you
as behaving suspiciously,

as in Bordeaux, for instance.

Mrs Taylor, or was it Mrs Ritter,

her son, Kar�, do you know
he has the makings of a very fine musician?

We��, no, he hasn't the makings
of a very fine anything.

But, for the sake of 2,000 francs a year...

Might I take this?

Please do.

With a signature?

Where am I to go?

Herr Wagner, you may go where you wish,

but you may not go to Bordeaux,

where you were going.

A signature.

I was going east.

� am to�d that your wife wi�� arrive
any day in Paris.

Wife? Wife?

My wife writes to me, asking that � shou�d
not use any form of familiarity or affection

in my correspondence with her.

�n my �etters, � shou�d address her forma��y,
as to a stranger met in the street.

Wife?

Might I suggest, Herr Wagner,

that for your safety

you should move on, perhaps, say,

to Switzerland?

Yes.

Switzerland was congenial to Wagner.

He suffered from ill health all his life,

and, like others before him,

thrashed his body with healthy pursuits.

In Switzerland, with Minna,

with two pupils taken in
to earn a modest living.

One of them was Hans von Bulow,

a law student from Leipzig.

The other, K arl Ritter,

the son of Frau Ritter here in Dresden,

at whose house Wagner had first met
Jessie Laussot.

He rowed a boat one day

across from Lucerne
to the William Tell Chapel.

In the boat, Franz Liszt,

Wagner's foremost champion, always.

My dear friend. My dear friend.

What it is to have you with us.

Why does he smile so?

He's happy.

Is he?

Now, Wagner...

The gentleman is very wealthy.

Which gentleman?

The gentleman I tell you of.

Oh, that?

It would be difficult for me.

� have taken considerab�e troub�e
with the Hereditary Grand Duchess Sophie.

And she is becoming a most accomp�ished
prima donna assoluta, as it were.

As it were?

Well, she can sing, un peu. Fort peu.

I think

the Duke of Saxon-Coburg-Gotha
will pay you well

for scoring his new opera.

My dearest,
I'm sure he will, and so he should.

What was his last opera called? Tony?

Yes. Tony, yes.

He's particu�ar�y intent on copying
your magnificent use of trombone.

Is he? Who?

Le duc de Cobourg.

Who is your dear friend and patron.

Yes.

He's a close relative of Grand Duke Karl.

And a dolt.

Pardon?

On�y a do�t wou�d copy
the use of trombones.

He asked me to find out your ru�es
in this respect,

that he might apply them in his own work.

Work? He has no work.
What a doltish question.

How can you ask me
such a doltish question, Liszt?

I assured my royal patron that I would.

Did you?

Well, you tell him this, then.

Te�� the roya� buffoon
that I never use a trombone

unless I have an idea for a trombone.

One just doesn't use trombones.

Te�� him a�so that � am searching
for a prince who will support me.

Not through my work on whatever work
he may be amusing himself with.

I want a prince who will support me

undemanding�y, unconditiona��y,
unquestioningly.

By which I mean money, Liszt.

Money, money, money, Liszt.

All I want is money.

Love, I abandon.

And art.

And politics?

Politics has abandoned me.

Why do you smile when I talk of Goethe?

You smi�ed a�� through �unch
when we discussed Goethe. Why?

Because I have

a deep admiration of Goethe.

Do you? And for France?

If you are not prepared to accept that France

is the cultural leader of Europe,

then you are a baboon.

You certainly grin like one.

Never, never argue with Liszt
about Goethe or the French.

I never do, Karl.

Karl, you must not.

My dear Frau Wagner.

� must demand, and get,
an apology from him.

Liszt is one of the kindest, gentlest of men.

He would not dream of insulting you.

� have communicated the outrage
to my mother.

He...

He called me a baboon.

Baboon-face.

Surely it isn't all that important. Surely not.

Yes, it is. It is.

I am to be married.

I cannot be treated in this way.

Marry? Ought you to, Ritter?

Ladies and gentlemen,

this te�egraph
has been received from Weimar.

�t is a poem,
to mark the occasion of Liszt's birthday.

�t wi�� be read by one of our own poets,
Georg Herwegh.

The Lovers Blessed,
by Hoffmann von Fallersleben.

"In every nest where lovers dwell,

"togetherness..."

Karl is very upset, Richard.

Is he?

When he was a boy, he was teased
unmercifully and called "baboon-face".

Was he?

The young foo� isn't going
to make a scene, is he?

"So may we each stretch out our hand

"as we are led

"to the better land."

Wagner! Wagner!

�s it often that you have to
play for your supper, as it were?

Wagner, well done. Far too well done.

� wou�d much rather
these things be done badly.

Francois!

In what respect?

�n every respect,
that I better form my opinion.

How can one
correctly appreciate and criticise

when seduced by the exce��ence
of Frau Heim and yourself?

Yes, yes, and Liszt.

Oh, � think Liszt p�ayed bad�y.
One could see the genius, of course, but...

Frau Wi��e, � am concerned
as to your opinion.

Heine?

Heine?

Has the poet Heine,
the great German poet Heine...

Madame, I am aware...

Heine.

Has Heine been of any inf�uence
in Herr Wagner's...

Wagner? It is the birthday of Liszt.

I have the highest regard for the poet.

We think very little of the poet Heine.

But, Princess,
Heine has captured the German people.

Kar�, you must not make a scene.
You must not.

� wi�� speak to Liszt
and make him aware of your feelings.

�'m sure he wi�� apo�ogise in his own way.
Quite possibly by letter.

I shall demand an apology now.

�f � do not get one,
my mother shall not give you another penny.

No, no, wait!

Why talk about Heine?

Sure�y his name wi�� be inscribed
in the temple of immortality.

I suppose so.

In shit.

Are we not making too much of it?

After a��, the boy does �ook
very like a baboon, doesn't he?

For years,
I had in mind the story of a young man.

A boy of great charm.

Of great charm and beauty.

Without beauty, there is nothing.

My Siegfried is above all those things.

Beautiful, no knowledge of fear.

A boy too stupid to learn fear.

Whenever � have the opportunity
to hear the master play,

� am conscious of the gift
that God has given him.

Too kind.

- We shou�d a�� pray our thanks to God...
- I abase myself before you ma chere...

What is Siegfried's guardian �ike?
Well, what?

Sma�� and bent, of course,
deformed, and he hobbles.

His...

His head is huge.

A great, bald head

with his sma�� and shark-�ike g�ancing eyes
going to the soul.

Festooned with a grey beard.
The embodiment of evil.

He does, of course, resemble us to a hair.

In Weimar, I'm told,

they p�an to institute
a festival of music, opera and art

for to enjoy the whole people of Germany,

- and a�so to... Cu�tivate.
- Cultivate.

Yes, one would hope so.

A transformation is needed.

Music must go through
a real transformation.

What is needed
more than anything, however,

is a transformation

in theatre.

Listen to me, damn you! Damn you!

Listen to me!

I'm Wagner!

Herr Wagner...

In 1851

Wagner's health gave out entirely.

Entirely.

He was forced
to spend two months in a sanatorium,

to take the water cure,

to stride the mountains when fit enough.

But he suffered from shingles, you see.

He suffered from constipation.

He suffered, also, from gastric ulcers.

But most of all,

he suffered from black, hounding despair.

He had written no music
for almost five years.

If he could but return to Germany...

But he could not.

He was still listed here in Dresden
as a revolutionary criminal.

But Semper, the architect of the barricades,
joined him,

and another revolutionary friend,
Hermann Muller.

And there was always the pupil, K arl Ritter,

upon whose money,

or rather that of his mother, Frau Ritter,

Wagner depended.

They tried to cheer him on his trudges
through the snow above the clouds,

and sometimes did.

He wrote somewhere, determined,

"I shall return to Zurich to die

"or to compose."

I am on the point

of vomit!

A�titude. You were not given
a head for height, Ritter.

He is some help!

Liszt has recommended someone e�se,
a young man, Bulow.

He may be more...

But this one's mother pays well, Semper.

Pays well.

Semper, look at it.

Every theatre should tumble before this.

And come the day
when every German theatre does tumble,

you and �, you with your p�ans,
I with my ideas,

we come up here and hur� rocks
we cannot yet heft

with such strength
that they will reach the banks of the Rhine

and there slot into place.

We'�� b�ow horns
to call our friends together,

and perform three dramas
in the course of a week,

which sha�� proc�aim
the artwork of the future.

Got away. By the very nick. The nick.

I am now without money and a refugee.

� haven't a penny to spare.
Not one. Not one.

Neither have I. I'm destitute.

Not entirely.

I am given to rages.

I am covered with a most beastly rash.

I'm writing a play.

I suffer from pressure of the blood.

I also.

Yes, yes, and more than that.

An alarming, feverish activity.

For my shingles, I have been

taking sulphur.

So much so that I sweat sulphur.

Doctors,

they give me poisons.

�'m not convinced
that this water is the answer.

This opera, composing and such,

are you still at it?

I am.

Do you still hope for change?

No, � do not hope for change.
There is no hope for change.

"The wor�d is on�y of physica�,
no moral significance."

Then why seek to change it?

Down, gentlemen, please.

I confess,

� do not understand
one word of Herr Schopenhauer.

Do you not?

Herr Wagner thinks it's very important.

He's read this book five times
in the last nine months.

Have you read it?

Down, gentlemen, please.

� think it impresses him
because it fortifies his own view of himself.

A genius, some would say a madman,

but given the superfluity

of knowledge and artistic insight

beyond the normal trivialities

of paying bills

and earning a living.

And, it would seem,

breathing.

"Suicide,

"the supreme assertion of the wi��.
Sacrifice and denial of the will to live."

Stay down, all of you!

I must live on,

and suffer.

Naughty Richard. Poor Minna.

�n the mornings � work,
in the afternoons I walk.

You?

I work through the night into the morning,

until I'm exhausted.

� wou�d ask you to work in the afternoons
and be exhausted in the morning.

Why?

I am Richard Wagner.

Success to you.

I am a gunsmith.

I've never had need of

guns.

The pen being mightier than the sword?

Beating swords into ploughshares.

So long as man strives,

he makes mistakes.

Every man is worth studying carefu��y,
but not every man is worth

talking to.

Good day, sir.

� often think a rich merchant,
such as yourself, is allowed his prosperity,

Wesendonck,

that he might come to the aid of fine artists,
such as Herr Wagner.

I can find money for Wagner.

But � wou�d suggest that his wife be asked
to control that which we find for him.

Where is she?

I am told she is sickly, in Dresden,

Frau Wagner.

Herr Wagner is, in fact, a financial genius.

You mean, in that he obtains money?

In that he persuades money.

Now, his wife...

Otto, were I Wagner,

� wou�d hate to have my affairs
handled by my wife.

�ndeed, any gent�eman
would find it intolerable.

Though, of course,
in the case of Herr Wagner...

Do you know

he borrowed 1,000 tha�er
from that booby, Ritter?

Yes. His mother a�ready
remits Wagner a stipend

for the musical education of the boy,

as we�� as in appreciation
of Wagner's genius.

He is that.

My own wife tells me he is,

and my sensibility confirms it.

The one person who does not appear
to know this is Wagner's own wife.

She sends him into despair, I'm told.

Wi�� not �ive with him one minute,
cannot do without him the next.

� thank heaven for quiet order
in my own household.

Frau Wagner, she simp�y doesn't
understand the way he writes and writes

and cudgels his brains to shreds.

You know, it's not merely opera.

It's not merely music.

That man just...
Well, he wants to change everything.

But, of course, Wagner

is music.

Wagner, we discuss your finances.

Oh, yes?

Yes.

On trust that � sha�� be paid back
from future fees from your operas,

I shall let you have 7,000 francs,

which I trust will expunge your debts.

My dear Wesendonck, I am grateful to you.

There is a�so the sma�� matter
of some 500 francs.

�'d hoped to cover it with a fee
for Lohengrin to be paid tomorrow,

or they will throw me out of my humble...

Can't sell the furniture.

Frau Wagner wou�d never forgive me
did I do that.

She has taken the cure.

I expect her any day.

Yes, yes, 500 francs.

Liszt does Lohengrin in Weimar.

Do you know I have never seen it?

Nothing to do with her! Nothing!

The threads came together, that's all.

Nothing at all to do with her. Nothing!

Nothing to do with Mathilde Wesendonck!

No, no, no. Never.

There was nothing she gave me

except a summer house
at the bottom of her garden.

That's all I had from her.

Nothing to do with her.

I'm sorry, Minna.

Sorry. Sorry for what I did to you.

Sorry, Minna.

Minna.

Sorry, Minna.

A house and garden of my own.

A haven of calm at last.

This shall be my last move of all.

Wagner, my dear friend.

I have something to show you.

Of course, I shall pay you rent.

Of course.

And I shall never put on livery again.

How � detested those breeches and those
stockings and those buckled boots.

Most insulting to a man.

Now it is silk.

Do you know, Herr Wesendonck?
You must know. You sell silk.

You must know how important silk is to me.

It is the only thing I can wear.

�'m mortified beyond endurance
if forced to wear anything else next my skin.

Covered in scrofula. Only the finest stuff.

And you wou�d know the finest stuff,
would you not?

How well you have done from silk.

And here you see me,
who cannot live without it.

It's Good Friday.

It isn't.

Church bells are not rung on Good Friday.

Yes, it is. Yes, it is.

Yes, it is.

Well?

Well?

Isn't it better here?

Yes.

Aren't you happy here?

I had a letter from Dr Pusinelli in Dresden.

Yes? How is the dear man?

He thinks I take too much laudanum.

I think that.

You still owe him a great deal of money.

He works for your reinstatement.

What?

That you might be taken back.

Back?

As K apellmeister.

It's my dearest wish.

Not too much laudanum.

What have you there?

It's a gold pen,

given to me by Frau Wesendonck.

How kind.

How kind.

I see thee in thy gorgeous house,

hear all those who will never understand
what we are to each other.

Those who, strangers, are yet near to us.

How dare they speak to us,
speak between us?

They voyage, the questing,

the voyaging we do, you and I,
my sweet child.

Though dreams of you crowd in,

set sail with me.

Does my dear muse stay afar still?

In silence I await your visit,

send you my barque to transport you.

Together in our boat we voyaged.

No longer was I alone, a lonely heart.

No longer the Dutchman

wherever you are.

"Everyone loves you

"you love many

"Your being as the sun is shown

"Whose smile brings every joy and blessing

"My heart loves you

"and you alone

"So tenderly

"so heart to heart

"You kissed me in my dream

"I feel it still

"that love-true kiss

"Awakened though I seem

"And yet, in life, my waiting mouth

"Your lips have scarce brushed o'er

"No look

"no cry

"revealed to you

"How sad my heart

"and sore

"Oh, do not scorn the dream that gives

"High courage to my mood

"Life looks on me with hateful eyes

"The dream alone is good

"Then what is falsehood

"what is truth

"What life

"and what dream stuff?

"Let me go dreaming on and on

"For I have lived enough."

Mathilde Wesendonck.

What does that creature spoi�t by happiness
mean to you?

Minna, p�ease.
You must understand she means everything.

That poor man.

You don't understand.

You treat him like a servant.

She treats me
like a person unfit to meet socially.

You imagine everything.

I see.

Very well.

I shall go away.

You must stay
and make an honest woman of her.

Here is another letter come.

You're not well.

No.

Not at all.

This cannot continue.

No,

it cannot.

What is that?

A drawing, a sketch.

Where does it go?

To Frau Wesendonck.

No, it doesn't!

Minna.

Minna!

P�ease try to behave proper�y
in front of the servants.

Such behaviour is not understood,
especially by people like the Wesendoncks.

They don't live that kind of life.

Such behaviour is

unknown to them.

You are surely ill.

You cannot talk me round any more!

Our intercourse
has never violated morals, Minna.

Minna, do you hear?

Minna!

I shall not deny our love,

but it is chaste. Has never become carnal.

My wife,

were she well,

wou�d thank you as � do
for your kindness in giving me luncheon.

Dear God,

how I wish they'd leave my work alone.

If they can't...

Why do they think to please me by this?

My God, I regret ever having...

Surely it is better to have it given...

What do you know about it,
Wesendonck? What?

Do I presume to tell you about silk?

How much a length?

�f the conversation touched upon
the merchandising of silk,

would you ever hear utterance from me?

I cannot go on with it.

I cannot see a way forward. I'm stuck with it.

The Ring.

I'm in a powerless state for money.

Powerless.

Once again, I have none.

How it goes.

Those who said they wou�d pub�ish me
now say they will not.

So � am advanced nothing, nothing.
Nothing at all, not a coin.

Though it is read, published and read,

and even performed in parts, in the bushes.

I need money now.

A performance now.

I shall write a popular work

for ready money.

This woman,

this beautiful creature,

who has come into my life to be my muse,

we must come to some agreement about her.

Some arrangement must be made.

I think we should

share her.

You use my house as your own.

I am put out.

I would wish to have said this to you

in private,

but there you have it.

Now said in company
where I would not wish to have said it.

Otto knows about our affection.

� have no secrets from him,
the father of my children.

Quite so, quite so.

Do you know what is being done
in your house, Otto?

What it is we do together?

The legend of Tristan and Isolde.

A simple work.

Our constant companion,
these months, Mathilde and I.

Our �ove interwoven
with the love of Tristan and Isolde.

For the Emperor of Brazil.

He asked for it.
He will build a theatre in Brazil.

Semper designs it.

I shall put Tristan and Isolde into it.

I am going blind!

Blind! Blind! Blind!

Blind! Blind! Agony!

Nothing to do with her!

The threads came together, that's all.

Nothing at all to do with her. Nothing!

Nothing at a�� to do
with Mathilde Wesendonck!

Yes?

Another dog?

Given us by Otto.

My dear fe��ow, my dear fe��ow.
How wonderful to see you.

How do you do?

More important than that. Can I introduce...

Dear Hans, you have been in Berlin.

How I envy you. You must tell us all.

Your work, how well does it go?

More... More importantly, can I...

My dear Hans. Now we shall work.

Did you abandon the law altogether?

Can I introduce my bride?

- My bride.
- A honeymoon.

They want to spend it with us.

Where else?

That piano is...

From Paris.

The on�y worthwhi�e object
to come out of that sink, that pit,

given to me by the widow Erard.

Frau Bu�ow, your husband
plays my rough drafts

as if they were a�ready set down
for the piano.

We shall make a lot of music. A lot.

You'll be hungry.

Minna wi�� see that you keep quiet
in the mornings.

Then in the afternoon
and for the rest of the day,

we shall be with the Wesendoncks,

and we sha�� a�� make music together,
all of us.

- A�� of us. � am so p�eased to see you.
- Yes.

- What can � do? Copying? Anything?
- No, no.

How does The Ring come? Valkyrie?

That you should marry the daughter of Liszt,

it is splendidly round and come together.

There are times when things
do come together, have completeness.

I am so pleased, but then you know that.

Minna, feed them.

"The light! The light!

"Oh, this light,

"how long before it was extinguished!

"The sun had set, the day had died,

"but its spite was unquenched.

"It kindles the signal that holds me at bay

"and sets it up by my beloved's door,

"so that I may not make my way to her."

What are your feelings, Baronin?

Mine are that �'m overwhe�med by the beauty
of the verse and the emotion.

I...

Frau Wagner?

Frau Wesendonck.

I have...

I am here to tell you of my husband.

You are?

�'ve come to warn you
of the inevitable consequences

of your relationship with my husband.

Please.

I would rather you did not.

I face separation from my husband,

a man I have lived with for 22 years.

I've been mistress of his household.

� am the person to whom
you should hold the utmost respect.

� am wife to once
the most respected composer in Germany,

who has, in the past,
done wonderful things,

been K apellmeister to the King of Saxony,

a position of some worth.

I have been beautiful.

Was ravishing.

Was worn down by his constant attention.

Only this made me marry him.

But I have had to support him for years.

� have been in the way
of becoming a very successful actress.

I gave it up.

Gave everything up
to become the wife of Richard Wagner.

You have not anything
you have given to him.

Nothing!

Frau Wagner, your husband treats
everything as his own,

including my house.

Richard is, in these things, quite shameful.

No, no, � do be�ieve
he does not even consider it.

Everything is put in the world for him to use.

He regards the denia� of anything
he might consider necessary to him,

a house, money, creature comforts, people,

he regards such denia� as wicked,
quite simply wicked.

He calls to me and says this.

"Minna,

"we must separate.

"Frau Wesendonck, who admires me,

"with whom I am passionately in love,

"cannot stand our remaining together.

"She cannot stomach you, your sickliness,

"your lack of children, your barren womb."

This is not touching on my state.

�t is your vu�gar �etters,
the undermining of my position.

� am sick and i��
and cannot sleep unless I'm...

If I were a common woman,

� wou�d show your �etters to that poor man,
your husband,

that he might judge.

Then my husband can return to his work

from which he has been kept so shamefully!

Almost penniless again,

seeking somewhere to work undisturbed

so that he might get Tristan and �so�de
down in some shape,

Wagner chose to go to Venice

at an agreeable time of the year,

or so he hoped.

When he got there, he found it gloomy.

The gloom about him
reinforced the gloom within him.

Liszt had advised him not to go to Venice.

Liszt was probably right.

But here he was, with his piano

and determined to work,

could he but find lodgings,

peace, quiet.

And he was ill again with dysentery.

And he was still on the list
of wanted revolutionaries.

Venice, part of the Austrian Empire,
should have been safe,

but all empires distrust restless men
who find their names on lists,

and Wagner knew it.

He saw the crumbling buildings
between the buildings,

the steady lap, lap, lick, lick
of the water on the stone,

and he sank deeper and deeper

into himself,

until he could stand it no longer

and demanded the biggest apartment
that could be found.

Hang the expense.

Space was what he needed.

Hang the gloom.

He would fill the space with warmth,

his warmth.

His energy must be the source.

He would report to the Chief of Police

and get it over just as soon
as he found somewhere.

Herr Wagner, Herr Wagner,
you are come in search of rooms, sir?

Not here, not here, sir.

- Next door, if you wou�d be so p�eased, sir.
- U nhand me, sir.

Through here, Herr Wagner.

Large but not too large, I fancy.

Are you... Are you intent on a long stay?

There is the matter of references.

These walls, are they filthy

or are they just aff�icted by the g�oom,
the grey?

Hangings, I must have hangings.

And what furniture is there?

A small deposit, Herr Wagner.

Art and Revolution

Judaism in Music

Opera and Drama

A Communication to My Friends

Siegfried

Siegfried's Death

And your health, Herr Wagner?

I improve, sir.

Our Chief of Police of Vienna says

� am to send you packing
as soon as your health improves.

Venice being under the rule of Austria,

� am ob�iged to comp�y with the requests
to have your letters inspected,

as we�� as a discreet watch
on those that have come under suspicion

of revolutionary intentions.

Because � admire you as an artist
and a thinker, Herr Wagner,

you sha�� not be inconvenienced
during your stay here.

Well done, gentlemen.

Rousing, rousing.

See what you can do with Verdi next.

�f you devote yourse�f
exclusively to your profession,

as the begetter
of the so-called "music of the future,"

then Venice is honoured to have you, sir.

And � sha�� say as much to that Austrian,
indeed I shall.

As for the Saxon authorities,
they can go to hell.

You will be watched,

because � need to show my Austrian masters
that I heed their instructions,

but my agents will be told to help you,

if they can.

Do they copy music?

Nothing to do with her!

The threads came together, that's all.

Nothing at all to do with her. Nothing!

Nothing at a�� to do
with Mathilde Wesendonck!

In my presence.

Do you know the story, Doctor?

Ta��emant, the anecdote
of the duchess and the doctor,

the doctor bleeding the duchess,

and whi�e he was doing it,
she came to her senses

and told him he was an insolent fellow.

How dare he have bled her in her presence?

Permit me, sir. � am Do�gorukov.
Herr Wagner...

I am your servant, sir. Zichy is my name.

Yes, we are both fu�� of admiration
for your work.

We have seen everything of yours...

� have not seen Lohengrin yet.
Not been given the chance.

- Lohengrin.
- Yes, we saw that in Vienna.

- Tannhauser we saw in Ber�in.
- The greatest public success given to it.

Yes.

Sir, you will be transported with delight

when you can find time to visit somewhere
where it is being given.

Does K arlsruhe not give it?

I believe they do. I believe they do.

- You may catch it in Karlsruhe, Herr Wagner.
- Yes.

I would be so interested in your reaction.

Do you feel that it is not necessary
to see your work given?

I saw Tannhauser in the rain.

- Indeed.
- It did not spoil my enjoyment one bit.

At the summer theatre, Lerchenfeld,
the rain came down and I left,

but I had, up to that moment
of my departure, been transported.

- Had you really?
- Yes, indeed.

I'd been transported.

Shall you give anything here, Herr Wagner,
in Venice?

- We leave tomorrow.
- Yes.

Where have you been, R itter,
these last months?

You've left your wife? I have needed money.

What is this of you and Cosima von Bulow?

Well, it was a shock.

The daughter of Liszt married to my...

To our friend von Bulow. Out on the lake...

- What are you babb�ing about?
- Baronin von Bulow.

Who?

Out on the �ake,
she threatened to drown herself.

For love. For me.

You?

Liszt is gone from Weimar, so we can't
expect anything from him any more.

He tells me Tristan is a delight to him.

- You said my Tristan was wrong.
- What?

Oh, God, now they're doing Rienzi.

Salute him, salute him.

� sometimes get a mea�
from the officers of his regiment.

- What Tristan?
- I tried to write the...

And so you did.
That was wrong. Very wrong.

You don't know anything about... About...

The sooner they go off and fight the French,
the better.

Give the French Tannhauser, boys.

There is to be a war, Karl.

- My Tristan was not that bad an idea.
- You poor booby.

Herr Wagner, � must warn you,
my family has very little money left.

We cannot continue
to give you any more money.

Why can't you sell something?

Oh, very well.

My God, you are so tiresome, all of you.

When wi�� you understand?
Money! Money! Money!

That's a�� � want from you and Liszt,
both of you.

Tiresome.

� sha�� go back to my true friends,
the Wesendoncks.

Do not follow me to Switzerland

un�ess you're prepared to put your hand
in your pocket some more.

Tell your mother that.

See the amount � am owed
for these curtains!

And � am not the on�y person in Venice
owed money by Herr Wagner.

Months of rent he owes me.
What has he left me in payment?

Paper! Paper!

Take back your hangings.
I don't want them. Have them.

"Tristan and Isolde"

Will he dedicate it to me, do you think?

Your destination, Herr Schultz?

Paris. Why not?

- My dear fe��ow, how good to see you.
- Wesendonck.

Tannhauser, Wesendonck. In Paris.

They want to do it, offer me a contract.
Paris at last.

The Emperor himse�f,
very interested in German opera

ever since his war with Austria.

� was in Venice
when the Austrian army was marched away.

They went off playing Tannhauser.

Well, the Emperor beat them,

but has become very pro-German since,
I'm told.

Do you know
my piano got safely over the pass?

Not a bit out of tune.

Well, Tristan finished,

and already I'm thinking of a comedy.

- So, do you know about The Mastersingers?
- No.

A comedy, but full of melancholy.

But to attack Paris
the way the Austrians were not able to,

I shall need funds.

How... How is Frau Wesendonck?

We've had some correspondence.

� wou�d hope to see her
the longer my departure to Paris is delayed.

My dear Wagner...

No, no, no. Consider it an investment.

Some small part of it in actual coin,

if you would be so kind.

And do give your wife
my warmest greetings,

Wesendonck, my dear friend.

How much?

Oh, well, I...