Original subtitles

Provided by explosiveskull https://twitter.com/kaboomskull

My dear Beethoven,

for the first time since you left Bonn 32 years ago,

you are reading a long letter from me.

The delay is because I received no reply to my last letter to you.

This is not right, especially as we old people live in the past

and delight in the images of our youth.

Not so fast.

Not so fleeting. I want to hear every note.

Keep in time!

Thank God I can speak of you to my husband and children.

We are all proud that such a great man frequented our home.

I wonder what it says.

He's reading it for the third time.

He is as sensitive

as his music.

-Can he really hear nothing? -Nothing, Madame.

He's stone deaf.

You know, Herr van Beethoven, we had the honor

of attending the triumphant premiere of his Ninth Symphony.

May we ask where you are traveling?

Also to Linz?

We'll be leaving you soon. Another of my uncles has an estate here.

The maestro needs peace.

Do you not desire to see your old friends?

To stand on the banks of the Rhine, where we were so happy?

Is your silence a result of the painful circumstances of your departure?

Rest assured, dear Beethoven,

I have long since forgiven you.

Again! Go on!

Did you not sleep well?

Everything is fine.

What is written there?

What?

Herr van Beethoven, do you know how late it is?

This can't go on. My night is too short.

So is ours!

In an hour you'll be shouting around your bakery.

-Think we can sleep then? -That's...

Impitoyable! Exactly.

-Play! -I won't stand for this. I'll be back!

He's tired, Jean. Let him be.

Leave him be. Please.

He needs to practice, practice, practice.

Mozart practiced with his father, too.

He's a child.

An eight-year-old boy. And you pretend he's six.

Mozart composed a symphony at eight.

Then he isn't like Mozart.

What's that music he's playing?

Mozart's latest piano concerto, your Highness.

Mozart?

Who is that?

You don't know Mozart, Uncle? All Vienna is talking about him.

-Especially the young ladies. -Ill-bred young fellow.

He said to Marie-Antoinette...

What's wrong?

Why has he stopped playing?

Louis! Keep playing!

Come on.

How did his highness enjoy my son's performance?

Five thalers?

My humble thanks.

Come on.

Wait!

What are you doing?

-Who is that? -The Archduke of Austria.

He'll be the new prince-elector.

-When the old one dies. -Him?

Can you become an elector so young?

The old one hasn't gone yet.

Oh, there'll be trouble now!

You left me without air during the hallelujahs!

Is that what Rhinelanders do to Protestants?

Which of you is Louis?

It's you.

Meister van den Eeden said you play pianoforte rather well.

Yes, he played for the Elector.

Did he now?

So, Louis...

I am conducting the court orchestra tonight.

Could you help me with the sheet music?

I need three hands to play continuo and conduct.

To turn the pages I need a fourth, and God only gave me two.

-Savage bumblebee! Wicked angel! -Decrepit bungler! Dangling corpse!

-Quarrelsome harpy! Resurrected witch! -Peevish sorehead! Skeleton!

I laugh...

at your frenzy

-Savage bumblebee! -Decrepit bungler!

- Wicked angel! -Dangling corpse!

- Wicked angel! -Dangling corpse!

-Savage bumblebee! -Decrepit bungler!

Quarrelsome harpy! Resurrected witch! Resurrected witch! Quarrelsome harpy!

I'll split...

your head in two

I'll split...

your head in two.

-Let me down. -For you to flirt with the noble gents?

Out of the question. Gentlemen!

I have here a fine wench, charming and fair.

Blessed by the Lord God with a clear and bewitching voice.

For a small donation, she will show off her talents.

No, I will not!

Then go!

Let the celibates fondle you for a few kreutzers.

There she goes, my beloved.

Straight to the fauteuil of his highness the Elector.

Meister Neefe!

I hate to ask,

but could you lend me a few kreutzers?

-The landlady won't let me pay on credit. -Sorry, Pfeiffer.

I owe my last few kreutzers to this young man. Come on.

Oh, excuse me, the Elector's own page turner.

Did Your Excellency enjoy our little show?

Yes, it was very funny. But the music...

What? The music...

-A little simple. -Simple! Did you hear that?

How he speaks of the great Telemann?

What music does Monsieur prefer?

-Mozart. -Mozart?

Mozart.

Wonderful. Play us something by Mozart!

Kiss

me

on the ass

Quickly

Quickly

Kiss me on the ass quickly.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me

Quickly, quickly, quickly, quickly!

Quickly, quickly, quickly, quickly!

Altogether!

-You've never played that before? -No.

Herr van Beethoven.

Herr van Beethoven!

I see.

As Herr van Eeden has been unwell for some time,

I would be quite happy to...

to teach Ludwig.

You? Teach Ludwig?

Who are you to flatter yourself so?

Well, I have experience of teaching.

I was fortunate enough to be a pupil of Johann Adam...

I'll tell you something, Herr Neefe.

The name of Beethoven is highly esteemed here at court.

My late father was Kapellmeister here.

If I am in need of a teacher for Louis...

-Company, march! On the double! -Oh, God. Louis!

Come on, faster!

-Quiet, in the name of the law! -Herr van Beethoven!

Come with me. Come, Louis.

Louis...

Come on.

-Good night, Herr Kapellmeister. -You must be careful, Monsieur.

Minister Belderbusch has spies everywhere.

How can you stand it? I can see you're an artist, a free spirit.

Come on.

The Elector has always treated us Beethovens well.

It's far worse elsewhere.

It will always be worse elsewhere.

But is this a reason to accept oppression?

There is no subjugation so perfect

as that which keeps the appearance of freedom.

-Did you make that up? -Of course not.

-A quote by the great Rousseau. -I see.

Here we are.

Don't expect too much, Monsieur. It's only an attic.

We've arrived.

-Careful! -Of course.

There are sensitive instruments inside.

FALL 1826

He was going to send a carriage.

There. Look, Uncle.

Welcome to Gneixendorf, my dear brother.

Hurry up! Welcome.

-Welcome! -You have no other conveyance?

Or why did you send me this manure cart?

My wife had to leave urgently for Krems.

She has important errands.

My thanks for being like a father to you and your brother!

Where is my room?

This way.

Konstanze, show my brother his room. And you take care of the baggage!

Let me look at you.

Why would you do such a thing?

Forgive me, Uncle.

You know how overbearing he can be.

So this is the répétiteur who cost me 300 guilders?

-No, these are my study fellows. We... -And the rest?

You spend it on drink, hey? Just you wait!

You scoundrel! Crook! Lazybones!

Thief!

Mon dieu, what's he playing? Much too slow!

Allegro! Fast! Not andante. It has to run.

Coach!

That's not music. It's caterwauling.

Why did you stop, Schuppanzigh?

Are you serious about this? This is sheer mockery.

His mind is probably confused by his deafness, and too much wine.

If he would keep to the tempos I set and not come up with his own!

But you've got too comfortable. Too lazy to practice.

And so you blame my music.

Good day to you, sir!

TO THINK YOU WERE ONCE COMPARED TO MOZART!

May I?

It's only the fugue, Maestro.

The cavatina is splendid, and the other movements too.

You agree, Herr Holz?

Why don't you rewrite the finale?

A NEW FINALE?

You want me to cut the fugue?

Who will listen to it? All that dissonance, all those voices.

They don't fit together.

What?

-No one will buy it. -What did he say?

You tell him, Herr Holz. He listens to you.

It's too hard, Maestro.

Unplayable.

Unplayable?

Maestro, Frau Schlemmer.

-Your nephew's landlady. -Why didn't Karl come?

He's disappeared.

He took one of the dueling pistols my husband had locked away.

Ludwig.

Did you write this?

Have you written others?

A sonata?

Play it for me.

Stop. Why did you change that?

Meister van den Eeden said it was against the rules.

And who makes the rules? Meister van den Eeden?

No, they're in the book that he uses.

It's a French book.

-"Demonstration..." -"...du principe de l'harmonie."

By Jean-Philippe Rameau. May I?

Very nice!

Very boring.

As if everything had to be nice.

If you feel this way, for example...

Because you're angry,

because you feel unfairly treated or you can't stand it any longer,

then Meister van den Eeden or Monsieur Rameau might not like it,

but it's real, Ludwig.

That's all that matters:

the truth.

This here...

You have a very talented son, Madame.

And you are a week overdue on your rent, Herr Pfeiffer.

The Elector and his stingy ministers

think artists can exist on love and air alone.

They fill their stomachs at our expense.

Think Belderbusch could satisfy his abbess on an empty stomach?

Herr Pfeiffer, not in front of the children!

You think I am the same Tellheim,

a man in the bloom of youth,

full of prospects, full of ambition,

and completely in control of his body and soul,

a man to whom every frontier of honor and happiness was open.

I am as far from being this Tellheim

as from being my own father.

I am Tellheim the discharged soldier,

with his honor wounded.

The cripple. The beggar.

Give your hand, dear beggar.

This is too much.

Let me go, Fräulein. Your goodness tortures me.

Let me go!

What's come over you? Where will you go?

Away from you. Never, never to see you again.

-Let me go, Minna! -Let you go?

Tellheim?

How dare that vain fop humiliate me on the stage?

I only did it for you. The disappointment on your face.

The suffering. It was all nature, so true.

-It was a triumph. -A triumph?

Making an ass of me in front of the Elector.

A female ass is called a jenny.

It's our fate to play the fool for the ruling class.

We sing and pull faces to amuse them.

We play the music they command

and speak the truth they want to hear.

Come on, Pfeiffer.

Today you spoke the truth of Lessing,

words of the Enlightenment.

-Why don't you take it seriously? -And what is that truth?

Oh, mein Fräulein!

What justice! What kindness!

This is more than I had expected, more than I deserve.

My fortune, my honor,

everything is restored.

That...

is the truth according to Lessing.

The honor of the major restored by the benign monarch.

After he had been sent into battle

where Tellheim sacrificed his arm to his king in a senseless war.

And then the idiot begs the king to restore his honor.

Neefe, the honor of Lessing

is only ever the honor of the rulers.

Did we interrupt a spontaneous presentation of your talent?

Herr Pfeiffer was just reciting some verses by Lessing.

Then we're here just in time.

Continue.

It would be an honor.

We were talking about the truth according to Lessing.

But this...

is the truth according to the people.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident,

"that all men are created equal,

"that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights

"among these are life, liberty,

and the pursuit of happiness."

What's that?

"That to secure these ends, governments are instituted among men

deriving their powers from the governed."

Finished?

No, Your Excellency.

"But when a long train of abuses and usurpations

"pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design

"to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right,

"it is their duty, to throw off such government

and to provide new guards for their future security."

If I were in your position,

I wouldn't wait for Belderbusch to send his guards.

Herr Pfeiffer, what were you reading?

"A Declaration by the Representatives of the United States of America"

If you want to be free,

truly free, Ludwig,

with only the sky above you, to love and desire whoever you will,

even if she is a queen,

you have to go to America.

Open up!

-Open up, I said! -What's going on?

Only decent people live here.

Does the actor Pfeiffer live here?

Upstairs, with the Beethovens.

Why are soldiers here?

Stop. Hey...

Hey! The rascal's down here!

DECLARATION BY THE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Herr van Beethoven!

-What is it? -They've found Karl.

Where?

They took him to his mother, your sister-in-law.

Will he come back?

No, Louis, he won't.

Where will he go? Will he go to America?

No, Louis. That's very far away.

-Over the sea. -Who will teach me now?

We'll see. Now go to school. Your brother's waiting.

I won't go back to old Van den Eeden.

Ouch!

I had it brought here from Krems.

I hope it satisfies your requirements.

-Should we talk about Karl now? -What?

Karl?

What should I do, Johann?

He's like his mother. Lazy, indolent.

A good-for-nothing.

I had to dedicate a quartet to Field Marshall Stuttenheim

to get him to take Karl back.

Don't ask what that cost me.

What are you sorrier about?

-Your money or the boy? -What?

WHY DID HE WANT TO DIE?

I was probably...

too indulgent towards him... too mild.

I let him get away with too much.

Now they want to put him in an asylum in Vienna.

We can only go back when his wounds are healed and no longer visible.

Until then we have to seek shelter with you.

I apologize.

I was unjust.

Although our late brother made me promise on his deathbed

to be a father to Karl,

I should have taken on your offer, and...

left him in your care.

STAY AS LONG AS YOU WANT!

And your...

esteemed wife will indulge us?

-She does as I say. -There's a first time for everything.

Congratulations, fratello.

You always looked down on your brothers' wives.

What? You have to write it down for me.

We dine at six.

AT LEAST I HAVE A WIFE!

WHY DID HE WANT TO DIE?

Come on!

What's wrong with him?

I heard he buried a child today.

-I hope it wasn't our wunderkind. -No, my lady.

A small boy, not yet three.

-Praised be Jesus Christ! -That's why he's so incommodée?

Thank you, Monsieur.

You saved me.

Who can sing after his child has been buried?

He was the third child we have lost.

You have three strong sons.

You should be thankful to God.

I should.

Herr Neefe...

Would you teach Ludwig?

I think he could learn something from you.

You do?

It would be an honor.

Lonely and silent

Sensitive souls

Always agonize

Always grieve

And feel they'd be happier

Anywhere than where

They actually are

Can you tell me,

Lovely child?

Can you tell me,

Lovely...

-Goodness! Who are you? -I'm Ludwig.

Oh, it's you.

-This is from Mother. -Oh, that's... Thank you.

Come in. What music do you have?

-Was that you singing? -Did you like it?

The words especially.

Yes, the poet is a genius.

As to the composer, people aren't so sure yet.

-Who is the poet? -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

-And who's the composer? -My husband.

-You've played all these? -Father got them from the royal library.

-And how did you learn them? -Well, I just played them.

From the sheet music?

Yes, of course.

Sit down.

There. Play that.

Who wrote that?

Bach. The father.

-Johann Sebastian. -Where does he live?

He's dead, but lived in Leipzig, where I studied.

-Was he your teacher? -No. He died 30 years ago.

-Does it have three voices? -Yes.

Look.

It starts with the alto.

That's where he formulates the motif.

That goes until here. Then the soprano comes in.

And then the bass.

At first the motif is alone.

As if it's introducing itself. And the home key is C minor.

It takes up the motif again in the higher voice.

Soprano, in the fifth.

G minor, you think, but then...

What is this?

Doesn't he know we're dining?

He doesn't care about appointments.

Unless it was set by him. Then, may God have mercy!

My poor boy.

Serve the dinner. We will not wait.

I'll go fetch him.

We're waiting for you!

Have the maid bring something. I have to finish the final movement.

The publisher is getting impatient.

A few vegetables would suffice.

And a bottle of Wachauer.

And tell Karl to come. I need him.

He wants to eat in his room.

Konstanze, take him something up.

Just vegetables

and a bottle of Wachauer.

-Certainly. -Out of the question.

He's acted like royalty for three weeks.

Therese, please...

And he wants you to go to him after you have eaten.

If he stays, he should pay.

Pardon?

Forty guilders. That isn't much for a successful musician.

I imagine he hasn't paid the fee for the pianoforte.

Things aren't going well with his music.

But his big Akademie performance. The Ninth Symphony!

They even speak of it in Krems.

In London, Paris and Berlin, too.

But it isn't making money.

Piano sonatas make money.

Duos, trios, string quartets.

-What's he composing up there? -A string quartet.

But his last ones were flops. "Unintelligible as Chinese."

That's what one critic wrote.

You mean he has no money left?

He urgently needs the advance for the quartet he's writing.

Then... we should leave him to his work.

Off you go, Konstanze.

Excuse me.

Leave it be.

What's your name?

Konstanze.

Write it down.

Can't you write your name?

Come here.

Closer.

Now say it again.

Konstanze, like Mozart's wife!

Do you know Mozart?

What? You don't know Mozart?

Do you know this?

You don't?

It's about a Konstanze

who is captured by pirates and sold as a slave by Turks.

Thankfully a nice old man buys her.

Someone like me.

Of course her betrothed comes to save her.

Do you have a betrothed?

But before he can,

he is caught and is to be hanged.

The hangman is a Mussulman who hates Christians.

Oh, how I shall triumph

when they conduct you to your execution

And put the garrote round your throats!

And put the garrote round your throats!

I shall gambol, laugh and jump about

And sing a song of delight

Since I am rid of you at last

Since I am rid of you at last!

Comic music in the morning!

Osmin's aria, no less.

A song sung by a Mussulman, a heathen!

In Bonn! What were you thinking?

Nothing, obviously.

That's even worse.

And I was going to ask at court

whether you could fill in for me on the organ during my summer absence.

What wages would I receive?

Wages?

It is an honor!

-Then I'd rather play Mozart. -You're a stubborn mule.

Why should I sound the organ for a gentleman

when he gets to decide what I play?

Let time pass, then the Elector...

Take a bow.

Don't!

Did you see that?

Louis!

Mother's coughing up blood.

Watch out! Hey, you!

What are you doing, boy?

My mother is sick. I must fetch Father.

Where do you live?

Back there.

Come along.

I want to see to your mother.

Gracious lady! Louis, what's going on?

I left him no choice.

Leave me alone with your mother. Come along.

Come.

-Did you write that? -Yes, it's a sonata but it isn't ready.

Play it for me.

-What's wrong with Mother? -I'll send for a doctor.

I don't know...

-Why? -Doctors are expensive.

Don't worry about that.

Eleonore.

My lady.

The Elector, in his infinite wisdom,

has sent Mattioli and Lucresi on vacation

and so I now bear twice the burden.

Herr Neefe, I am so pleased you were still able to come.

Yes, my lady.

Who's that playing?

Come along.

Is it the composer whose name you've kept secret?

It's Louis.

What's he playing? Is it...

It's not Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach. What is it?

It's Ludwig van Beethoven, Herr Neefe.

Go on inside.

I'll be right there.

Sit down at the piano.

DEDICATED TO ARCHBISHOP-ELECTOR...

-You got them engraved? -Yes, I did.

"Dedicated to the Elector"?

"Exulted one!

"Since the age of four, music has been my primary pursuit.

"Now I have reached my eleventh year.

"I hope and believe you will not

"be displeased by my approaching you with this, my youthful endeavor.

"Please accept it as evidence of childlike veneration

"and look with exalted grace and favor upon it

and upon its youthful composer, Ludwig van Beethoven."

-How does that sound? -Like a lackey making a request.

Yes, we are making a request...

for the Elector to accept you as my assistant.

Ah, Herr Holz!

I thought you were Papageno, out courting.

We are betrothed.

So Pamina gave in to your twittering. I'm glad.

What do you have?

Artaria is waiting for the new final movement.

That's...

That's 30 gold ducats.

He's earning good money with a Johann Strauss.

Light entertainment, but people like it.

-What? -Strauss! Waltzes!

Something like that earns money these days?

-He dismissed us all. -What?

He has disbanded the theater.

His gracious highness will pay us another month's wages.

-Our humble thanks! -But I thought...

...he was a friend of the arts? Wrong!

Court organist Neefe? Step forward!

What was his salary?

A thousand guilders a year.

A thousand guilders? For an organist?

In Vienna that's what a Kapellmeister earns.

If Your Serene...

Highness allows...

Over the past years, it has been my duty

to lead the court orchestra

because Signori Mattioli and Luchresi,

with the permission of his serene highness,

were rather absent.

Then who played the court organ?

It was represented by my deputy.

And what did my predecessor pay...

-this young genius? -Nothing, Your Grace.

He is listed here as an assistant, with no salary.

Of course we believed that one day his serene highness would bestow

the favor of a salary.

Then I will bestow that favor on him.

Give him a salary of...

150 guilders per year.

150 guilders... for having to get up to play early mass,

to accompany the singers, provide the continuo at court concerts.

Are you deaf?

He cut my salary by half.

I don't know how I'm going to feed my family.

Then why did you stay?

-Is that question genuine? -Yes.

Pfeiffer said to find our own truth, not run after royalty.

He's probably found his truth in a dungeon

because he can't keep his mouth shut.

You have a lot to learn.

Karl!

Where were you yesterday?

Karl!

I asked Johann to send you to me as I have something I wish to dictate.

-The boy is here to rest... -I'm taking a walk in the fields.

After lunch we'll meet for dictation.

He can't hear you, Aunt.

As if I were nothing but air.

-Should I continue playing? -Please.

It's beautiful.

He wrote it.

He taught me how to play, too.

Finally I'm back in the countryside.

True recovery for me

after having to spend the summer in town.

I have shed the weariness of city life

and I feel in good spirits once again.

The quartet is complete, although not finally copied.

In a few days, I will be able to submit it.

With regard to the publishing of my work the sum of 4,000 guilders

should not be too substantial, in the opinion of my friends.

Please reply as soon as you can.

You heard right. They're publishing my collected works.

Thanks to a new printing method.

It should be affordable for music lovers of all classes.

-Will you write the requiem for Wolfmayer? -I'll write no requiem!

He's already paid you 1,000 guilders.

Mozart died writing one.

-I'll do a new symphony. -A tenth?

In C minor again, like my Fifth.

London's Philharmonic Society ordered it.

They pay incredible sums.

Six thousand.

I'm going to demand six thousand.

Write...

...the sum of 6,000 guilders

should not...

What have I done wrong now?

Offended your peasants?

-Did I trample on the grass? -No.

My wife demands respect.

Quite rightly!

For what?

Raising a bastard as yours and constantly taking your money?

-What are you saying? -Fine.

I'll apologize. Anything else?

-WHY DO YOU DO THAT? -What?

Hurt those people who love you.

I don't hurt them. I tell the truth. Like with my music.

Here is the music.

Go to Krems and find a capable copyist. No more than 30 guilders.

I used to admire you. Now I don't even understand your music.

-What? -I'm going to Krems!

Stop that noise.

Let's look at what you've written down.

Ah, very nice.

-You have to play it faster. -Allegro?

Allegro vivace.

How will the strings keep up?

They can go much faster, the violins.

Let me show you.

Do the violin part.

Chaos!

Ludwig, that's nothing but chaos!

The notes are frantically jumbled. There's no texture to it.

Not to mention that the voices don't follow the rules of counterpoint.

Here...

What's going on with the strings?

Thunder? Cannons?

It's brutal!

A violent accompagnement.

Not cantabile.

And it seems vaguely familiar to me.

What was that about?

He's been copying from Mozart.

You think so?

I found it wilder.

Unfettered.

Like I said, pure chaos.

Nothing remotely musical about it.

Who's that old fogey?

That's Ludwig's father. Mama invited him.

And where's Neefe?

You must go to Mozart in Vienna.

Maybe that won't be necessary.

Pardon, Madame?

His highness has made Herr Mozart an offer?

Mozart is a most capricious gentleman.

When he's angry about Salieri getting preferential treatment

he makes our Elector promises.

But wild horses won't drag him from Vienna.

I'll speak to the Elector.

I'm sure some patrons in Bonn will give their support.

Did you hear that, Father?

I'm going to go to Vienna!

Where's Mother?

She suddenly felt unwell.

She asks your forgiveness.

Her lungs?

-A stubborn cough. -I have to tell her about it.

Please, excuse me.

Meister Neefe!

I can go see Mozart!

What?

They're sending me to him in Vienna.

I'm racing home to tell Mother.

Take care, boys!

Splendid!

Aren't you overdoing it, Mozart?

The young man hasn't finished your concert.

At the risk of sounding petty...

-A little too much legato. -How do you mean?

Too much pedal, not accurate enough.

But I played every note the way Maestro Mozart wrote it.

You could play what the maestro didn't write.

Perhaps the Maestro would like to propose a motif?

Would you like to improvise on that?

Come to my house tomorrow.

I want to hear more from you.

Who are you looking for?

Herr Mozart. But I appear to be lost.

No, you're in the right place.

He lives on the first floor.

Does he owe you money?

No. Why?

So you're better off than me.

Good day, young man.

Herr Mozart asked me to come today.

Your maid said I should wait here.

Are you a pupil of his?

-Indeed. -He's out. No idea when he'll be back.

One never knows that.

You should come back tomorrow.

Would you tell him I was here?

Ludwig van Beethoven.

I know you.

Yes, Maestro. At His Majesty's...

You said I should visit. I came yesterday.

You were sent away. Please forgive me.

Admirers are always knocking at my door.

Konstanze sends them all away.

"The guest of stone." That's genius.

Where do you get your ideas, Da Ponte?

Or is it a guilty conscience?

He is a notorious Don Juan, the city's worst Lothario.

Come on, show it to me! Put me out of my misery!

-How does it sound? -Threatening.

"Don Giovanni, you invited me to dine."

Don Giovanni knows he's going to die, and sings...

And then he has Leporello set the table for his last meal.

A storm must burst over the stage. The whole theater must collapse.

Come on.

Come on.

If you ever dare write an opera

don't start until you have a good libretto.

-Know Goethe? -A librettist?

-A German poet. -He writes comedies?

-Not really. -That's a shame.

People want comedies, preferably in German.

But the best librettists are Italian.

They write about life and don't shut themselves up indoors.

-Did you notice Da Ponte has no teeth? -Yes, it was conspicuous.

Know what happened?

A cuckolded husband put acid in his wine.

The Italians know what they're writing. Let's take a carriage.

Don Giovanni...

That was it, right?

-Yes. -Are you sure?

What's meant and what's shat are never quite the same.

Show me.

They're just modest attempts.

Three piano quartets.

E flat major. Very bold!

And the allegro is in E flat minor. The strings won't be too pleased.

That looks familiar.

Six variations.

An homage to your violin sonata in G major.

An homage, I see.

Nice handwriting though.

Could you copy my Don Giovanni? Here's the...

Please, come over here.

Here's paper,

ink, a quill.

There, Monsieur .

What is he working on?

His publisher in Vienna doesn't like the final movement of his quartet.

-He has to compose a new one. -And he's doing that?

If they pay him enough...

THERE IS NO COPYIST IN KREMS

But it must be copied. Schlesinger needs it.

And I need his fee. So...

How about you?

NO

Goodness, you're still here.

Wolfi left hours ago.

Did he leave without saying goodbye?

Pack your things, won't you?

You can come again tomorrow.

You again!

Sorry, but he asked me to tell you he's indisposed today.

Indisposed?

One of his attacks of melancholy.

His father is unwell.

Please pass my regrets to Herr Mozart.

-I hope his father gets well soon... -God forbid!

It'd be better for both.

The old man's suffering would be over and Wolfi would be spared his taunts.

-About me. -About you?

The grand deputy Kapellmeister doesn't like me.

I'm not fine enough for him.

Know what? Wolfi is probably in the coffeehouse.

He goes there when he's gloomy.

Go there and tell him he mustn't forget Countess Thun's lesson.

We need the money, unfortunately.

We can't make ends meet these days.

-But... -What?

He has to beg from his patrons... or we'd starve.

Only hand him my quartet when he's given you 60 gold ducats.

Don't accept a deposit, or any bills of exchange.

Tell him I copied it with my own hand. And reviewed it.

Just for that, he should...

Yes!

Giddyup!

Well...

Now you have to make do with me.

But you must know I am not your maid.

You will dine in the salon with us, or in the kitchen with the servants.

Touché!

Oh, my! I won, Messieurs. Your stakes, please.

Thank you. Merci. Thank you.

Oh, look!

I heard you've been coming around the last few days.

Who told you I was here? My wife, I imagine?

She asked me to tell you Countess von Thun is waiting for her lesson.

Earning money as a messenger?

Maybe sing the message?

This gentleman is a gifted musician.

Soon, the world will know his name.

Dear friend, how about a round?

The Countess of Thun

Can sure hold a tune

Amazing prowess, this countess

And she needs her less-un...

If anyone wants to lose money, you know where to find me.

The Countess of Thun

Can sure hold a tune

Amazing prowess, this countess

And she needs her less-un...

My Elector wants me to learn from you. That's why I'm here.

So you have no time.

But you have no right to ridicule me in public.

-Who is your Elector? -His highness Max Franz.

Elector of Cologne.

My old friend Piggy-Nose. He wants me to come to Bonn?

-I believe so. -What do you advise?

-Should I go? -You would get more respect than here.

You think I don't get any respect here?

If so, you wouldn't have to give lessons to countesses.

Or play to an Elector just because you owe him money.

Yes? Then I would play to your Elector.

What's the difference?

Men like us will always be dependent on the favor of princes.

They show us off

until they grow tired of us and choose someone else.

It'll be no different for you.

Don't be offended, but I have no time for you.

Creditors are on my tail and I have to work.

Maybe it'll work out another time.

Or maybe you won't even need me then.

Farewell, brother composer.

At last!

Come.

I hoped so much to see you again.

Come.

Where is Father?

He'll be here soon. Come.

Let me go!

-Let me go, miserable dogs! -Let go of him, please.

-Scoundrels! Blackguards! -Quiet!

Ludwig, your father tipped a whole jug of wine over somebody.

I can't just let that be.

I guarantee it won't happen again.

For you. Let him go.

This is the last time.

Did Mother send you?

Mother is dead, Father.

Always the same part. I just can't get...

-I played it wrong. -Then play it again.

How are things at home?

Well, you know... More staccato.

Give it a try.

-Who's taking care of the house? -C sharp! Not C.

You have that... housemaid, don't you?

Fräulein, your mama does not pay me to converse with you.

I think she's very pretty.

You think so? I haven't really... given it any thought.

Very pretty.

Not compared to you. C sharp!

So have you given it any thought?

No.

Say it again.

What?

That you think I'm pretty.

-Johann, why are you here? -Your sister isn't well.

She puked and shat. Now she's trembling.

Pack your things and go. I'll send a doctor.

It wouldn't hurt to keep practicing.

Stop! Stop!

What's that he's singing?

It's too much to bear!

Herr van Beethoven, please...

-You're disturbing us. -Why is Heller singing?

Why not I?

Ludwig, take your father home and come straight back.

Why can I not sing it?

I sing much better than Heller!

Why can I not sing?

Forgive me. Rehearsals lasted an age.

-Fräulein Eleonore is waiting? -Have you eaten?

-No. -Then come along.

You know my brother, canon of the Dominican monastery.

Your Reverence!

Ludwig will eat with us.

We'll catch up on your lessons another time, children.

But...

Have a seat.

I hear you also play the viola in the court orchestra?

Yes, Your Eminence.

And are you not a budding composer?

Didn't his highness the Elector send you to Mozart?

Yes, he did.

And how did he profit from doing so?

Abraham!

Let Ludwig eat.

All day he rushes from one obligation to the next.

What are you rehearsing in the court theater?

Figaro, the new opera by Mozart, your Eminence.

And how is it?

Exceptional.

Apparently, it failed in Vienna.

The Viennese know nothing about music.

The music is tremendous!

But... it's also...

Go on!

Provocative.

Provocative? How do you mean?

It's about the right of a nobleman to take the innocence of his maid.

The Count lays a claim...

to Figaro's betrothed.

The droit du seigneur, I see!

What does Herr Mozart have to say about it?

He condemns it. Quite rightly!

Figaro resists. He can't accept it.

What does the Count do?

Makes a fool of himself.

-How pathetic! -Pathetic?

The Count cannot force the maid to love him.

It has nothing to do with love, dear niece.

Abraham!

Please!

I think it's good that you have principles, Ludwig.

Now don't let your soup get cold.

I've been waiting for the rent for a week.

Father hasn't paid?

I have no more than that.

I'll speak to Father.

Next week, Louis.

Speak to Count Waldstein.

The Elector might pay the salary

for your father to you.

Then he can't take it to the tavern.

He'll be enraged.

I don't mind.

When he has so little hold on himself.

He's ruining your life.

Why's that?

When did you last get a composition down on paper?

Nothing since your return from Vienna and your mother's death.

It doesn't matter. I don't force it.

-The world has a right to hear your music. -The world!

Who is that? Electors, the nobility?

Powdered fops with beauty spots who understand as much about our music

as you do about growing vegetables.

Impudence!

Even Mozart has to crawl on his knees before that vermin.

Times are changing. Society is seething at all levels.

The voice of liberty is growing louder, and you...

you can compose the music to accompany that.

-You're talking like Pfeiffer. -But not as loud.

And only to you.

Maybe Fräulein von Breuning would like

a few bars from your pen?

What makes you think that?

I must play the organ at vespers.

Thank you for the potatoes.

My mother invites you to her soiree.

I would like you to come, too.

She wants me to play for your guests?

If you wish, but primarily you'd be there as our guest.

Would you do that?

8 WEEKS RENT: 56 GUILDERS... TOTAL : 115 GUILDERS

We leave as soon as your uncle returns.

My dear Herr van Beethoven.

I'm so glad you could come.

Of course he came.

He was invited by the cream of Bonn society.

His highness the Elector has granted your wish.

Half your father's salary will be paid to you.

The other half he may well take to the tavern.

To your health, Monsieur .

Please call me Ludwig, Madame.

Would you play something for us later, Ludwig?

Ludwig.

May I present...

Counts Spee and Westerhold.

So you're on first name terms?

Yes. Ludwig is like part of the family.

Or the inventory.

Not at all.

He is a guest whose visit always delights us.

He was in Vienna as a guest

of Prince Lichnowski, to take lessons from Mozart.

In bad behavior?

Herr Mozart

is far above you

in significance, behavior and rank.

What did he say?

I'm sure he meant it figuratively, as a musician.

Yes? And where are you, Herr van Beethoven?

-Are you far above us too? -A lackey...

who feels the call to greatness.

This gets better and better.

Did Mozart teach you that?

Or the freethinking Kaiser in Vienna?

Joseph II seems to be blind and deaf to the warning signals

coming from France.

Sadly, that's also true of his brother and the Elector.

Count Westerhold, what do you mean?

France is ruled by an incapable king who is allowing his people to starve.

It's a good thing our princes are giving people greater liberty.

So your lackey has already infected you with revolutionary fever?

Had he any rank, I would have demanded satisfaction by now.

Oh, yes?

Then why haven't you done so?

Because you're too much of a coward.

What did he say?

If I hadn't handed in my dagger at the door

I would resolve this with a few slashes.

How dare you?

Where are you going?

What do you want?

May I sit?

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO LEAVE?

I've been here much too long already.

Then let's talk. She isn't right for you.

Who?

Johann's so-called daughter, Amalie.

-Who is right for me? -In any case not that bastard!

You have duties, Karl.

My friend Stephan von Breuning put in a good word for you with Von Stuttenheim.

Your injuries are healed.

It's time for you to take up your work.

Incidentally...

your Uncle Johann is of the same opinion.

He gave me this letter before he left for Vienna.

My dear brother,

I cannot remain calm about Karl's future.

It's a disgrace that this talented young man is wasting his time.

And who will get the blame for it?

Only you and I.

He noticed that you were clinging to hopes of settling down here.

Johann is too much of a Beethoven to let that happen.

You were young too once.

You were in love too once!

Why can't you just let me be a human being?

What happened?

Yes, I'm going...

May I come in?

Of course.

Forgive me.

I've only ever disappointed you.

Come.

Were you never in love, Uncle?

Did you never think about marriage?

-About having a family? -What?

I can't hear you.

In love?

Was I?

Often. Oh, often.

But...

none of them wanted to come into my world.

Music, you mean?

Only one...

wanted to come into my world.

Where did that come from?

Count Waldstein gave it to me.

It sounds fantastic.

Should I play something?

I'd like that.

My lady.

To what do I owe the honor?

My daughter is with your son.

-Tell her to come down at once. -Your daughter?

Certainly.

What were you thinking? So scandalous!

Even if he weren't an obscure musician.

Obscure? You said he was gifted.

Gifted? What has he been given?

-Father a lush, grandfather a wine dealer. -Court Kapellmeister.

That does not make him of your rank.

-His conduct... -He was defending himself!

The Count provoked him on purpose.

He must apologize to Count Spee.

He will... He will never do that.

Then you will never see him again.

I may see him again?

If he makes a formal apology.

I spoke with the Count. He will accept.

Contenance, Eleonore!

So you have enrolled at university, Herr van Beethoven?

-I commend you. -Philosophy and classical literature.

It almost sounds like she encouraged our young genius.

Doesn't Eulogius Schneider teach literature?

The Cathedral chapter is not amused.

It has asked the Elector to dismiss him. What are you reading?

Plutarch, Ovid, ancient Greeks. But also Goethe and Schiller.

Schiller, that firebrand. What's so fascinating about him?

More interesting than Plutarch or Aristoteles?

Yesterday, my professor read an ode by him.

Wait a moment.

I wrote it down.

"Joy, beautiful spark of Divinity

"Daughter of Elysium

"We enter, drunk with fire, Heavenly one, thy sanctuary!

"Thy magic binds again What the sword of custom divided

Beggars become brothers of princes Where thy gentle wing abides"

-Beggars become princes? -An anthem to freedom.

I can hear the notes as I read.

It's beautiful.

Write it down, Ludwig.

Write it down. Turn it into a grand oratorio.

-An oratorio? Me? -Yes.

You must go back to Vienna.

If Herr Mozart has no time for you, go to Salieri or Haydn.

Here in Bonn you won't progress.

With all due respect, Herr Kapellmeister.

Of course the Count is right. You can learn nothing more here.

I'm happy with how things are.

My dear lady,

I am not able to express my joy at receiving your letter

after so many years.

Of course, I should have replied swiftly as an arrow.

I have become negligent in my correspondence.

I often compose the answer in my head but when I try to write it down

I usually end by throwing my quill away

as I am unable to write what I am feeling.

Johann.

I am glad to have you back safe and sound.

I have your money.

I told you I'd only accept gold ducats.

-It'll be worthless tomorrow. -It's what you agreed.

Plus 500 guilders. I got you a good deal!

For board and lodging and the pianoforte.

What?

Your wife insists on it. I don't want to be in your debt.

Karl and I leave for Vienna tomorrow.

It's high time he reports for duty.

Would you provide your carriage? Of course I will pay for it.

-My wife is going to Vienna in two days... -What?

IN TWO DAYS WITH MY WIFE!

I'd rather walk.

As you like.

-Give me my money! -It isn't your money.

-It is the Elector's decision. -You told lies about me.

Everyone knows you drink it away!

How can you do this to me?

I'm not a child.

I'm your father.

Haydn is in town.

He wants to hear you play.

What did he say?

He said I should go see him in Vienna when he's back from London.

That's wonderful!

Will you go?

I don't know.

We are having a soiree on New Year's Eve.

Will you come?

I have to play at the Elector's dinner with the orchestra.

Then come afterwards.

Will you come?

This is for you.

"If your fortune coincides with the hopes I hold dear

then both will reach their pinnacle this year."

Excuse the disturbance at this late hour.

Is Ludwig there?

May I come in?

I must speak with you, Ludwig.

Of course.

Have a seat.

A glass of wine?

No, thank you.

It's about Eleonore.

She has ideas about you.

How do you mean?

She believes she can marry you.

You know that's absolutely impossible.

We all adore you as a gifted musician.

You are blessed with great talent.

You must go to Haydn or Mozart in Vienna.

My family will do all we can to help you do that.

We will take care of your father and brothers.

You mean if I, in return, express my willingness

to relinquish Eleonore?

Relinquish?

You can only relinquish something you have a claim to.

You have no claim to Eleonore. She is above you.

Maybe it's for the best if you stay away from our soiree tonight.

Does he really think no one knows his composition is by Ludwig?

Don't be so impudent, Stephan.

-It seems they're demanding an encore. -Sorry.

May I take a break?

Oh well,

so I must dabble as a soloist for a while.

-Didn't Ludwig come with you? -No.

Are you expecting him?

He was going to join some fellow musicians

for a celebration in the Zehrgarten.

I see.

Fräulein!

Fräulein, wait!

You can't walk through town all alone!

Fräulein, just wait a moment.

You should go home.

This is no place for a lady of your rank.

Get in! The French are already in Koblenz.

The revolution is coming, and I bolt for Vienna.

But in Paris there's no Haydn.

She probably has obligations. She'll be sorry you've gone.

Brothers, don't disgrace me. Neefe will send reports.

He's gone, without bidding his father farewell.

Why would he search the taverns for you?

Why must he go to Vienna now?

To that Haydn?

To end up like Mozart?

Have you ever understood how talented your son is?

If anyone has ever understood that, Herr Neefe,

then it is me.

Esteemed Eleonore, my dearest friend!

I have been living in the capital for a year, studying under Haydn.

Now I finally write.

How ardently do I wish

I could delete from my life

that ignoble behavior

so contrary to my character.

Your exemplary and noble character, dear friend,

does vouch for the forgiveness you have already granted me.

It is however said that the most sincere form of remorse

entails admitting one's crime oneself.

We'll be there soon, Uncle.

Things never change.

There will always be princes and servants.

You stay in the class you were born in.

I never wanted to accept that.

Provided by explosiveskull https://twitter.com/kaboomskull