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May I ask Maestro Haydn what this is?

The symphony you ordered, Your Excellency. In F sharp minor.

Called the Farewell Symphony.

It was my idea.

That was a good joke, dear Liszt.

Just as well you didn't say the idea was mine.

Otherwise it would have been the end of me.

Twice he has set me to the farm.

Once I'm a musician, another time a shepherd.

One day I'll go any stay out there for good.

- Good night, Maestro. - Good night.

DREAMS OF LOVE

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Good, Putzi...

A little quick, however...

Haydn should be played more softly.

You know how he saved your grandfather

from the prince's wrath...

Then the old prince died, his son didn't like music,

so Haydn went to London.

Your grandfather stayed put, and me, too.

Well, perhaps you...

Play it again.

Soon he'll know more than I do.

We must find him a teacher.

He should go to Pressbourg.

No, to Vienna. To Hummel or Czerny.

Excellent! Once more.

Why are you doing this to me, sir?

What?

Making me play it again and again, if it's excellent?

So that it can be even more excellent.

Once more.

That was beautiful.

What do you think of Thalberg?

His concerts have caused a great stir.

Paris always bows to great names.

It is said that he is the best pianist today.

But you are unique.

I am enraptured by your playing.

Playing... Nothing but playing...

I want something else from Marie d'Agoult.

One word... to give me happiness.

Be serious, Francois.

Enter the lists against Thalberg.

A brilliant tourney of troubadours.

Yes, but troubadours were not criticized in papers.

For weeks now I've been reading silly articles

about the race we'll run for precedence.

In our prosaic age things lose their glamour.

What does Berlioz think of this competition?

He hates anything tasteless.

He is certain I shall win.

He calls me the pianist of the century.

But we know Berlioz.

He often exaggerates.

Exaggerations are based on truth.

I hope so.

Francois, compete with Thalberg.

I'll take along my friends. George Sandm Hugo, Rossini, Berlioz...

Do, please, for my sake.

All right. Just for your sake, Marie.

Thalberg! Thalberg!

Oh, Berlioz! What do you think of Thalberg?

He is a virtuoso.

But his virtuosity is closer to mannerism.

And why is he playing his own work?

I won't play Beethoven, either,

but a piece of my own: Mazeppa.

How about that?

You are a real composer, while Thalberg...

he can hardly be called that.

And as to Beethoven,

he'd like to hear you play the Moonlight Sonata.

Thalberg could not cope with it,

though he is deemed the best in Austria.

Do not exaggerate, Hector.

He is equally successful in Paris.

So are you, especially with the ladies.

I'm not complaining. It wouldn't be fair.

And not worthy of a real artist, either.

Prepare for the contest, Maestro.

I'll go and keep my fingers crossed for you.

Good luck.

Silence! Throw them out!

This is virtuosity, my friend.

- We are lucky, aren't we? - Where is Thalberg?

With a heavy heart, I must admit,

you have vanquished me, Liszt.

Wishing you well, your obedient servant: Thalberg.

I knew it was worth trying. This is victory!

Victory? Really?

Mr. Liszt, madam.

Show him in.

I've just heard what happened.

I know how you must feel.

How could you know?

You're lucky. Work, travel, success...

I buried my daughter!

I've left my husband.

Each day I grow lonelier.

Do you think, I'm not lonely, too?

I'm always lonely, away from you.

You are praised.

Your art gives people happiness.

And me?

Only you can make me happy by sharing my solitude.

Come to me.

- No! - Come!

No, that's impossible.

This singing tears lovers from their embrace.

What a sad and lovely tune!

Do you know it?

I is about Torquato Tasso, the poet.

Venetians sing many songs about him.

Tasso. When did he live?

In the 16th century.

He was an unhappy genius.

Goethe wrote a drama about him.

Listen!

"With every day your glories pass away,

Oh, mortal life!

We fade as do the flowers,

And though the month of May we see return,

The spring will not be ours.

Gather roses till the eye of day shines bright.

After that there come the darkest hours.

Gather the roses of love while it is requited.

Pluck them while you may. "

"Gather the roses of love while it is requited.

Pluck them while you may. "

Darling, how blind I was without you!

Shall we go for a stroll?

Why, you have already seen everything.

I have and I haven't.

Before I met you, towns were only concert halls for me.

Come in.

Concerts... concerts...

This is for you.

Floods in Pest!

CHARITY CONCERT FOR FLOOD VICTIMS

Well, superintendent?

Information on Liszt is pretty bad.

He's a dangerous revolutionary,

and anti-church...

He's having an affair with Count d'Agoult's wife.

He doesn't hide his subversive ideas,

not even here in Vienna...

Since he heard about the floods in Pest,

he's discovered he is Hungarian.

He is wanton, conceited,

and though a good artist, wholly insignificant.

Bravo! Vivat!

I've given the proceeds of the concert to the Hungarian gentlemen.

25,000 Forints as an aid to the flood victims.

Thank you, dear friend.

- Is this Hungary yet? - Yes. Maestro.

Welcome home!

My wild and distant country, I'm here. I greet you.

Take this sword, Prince Bathory's sword,

in token of our affection.

May it remind you of our country forever!

This sword, which once defended Hungary,

has come into weak and peaceful hands.

Is this not symbolic?

Does it not mean that arts should now

bring new glory to Hungary?

But if need be, let us unsheathe this sword,

and shed our blood for our truth and our country.

Silence!

Silence!

And now, our great poet, Vorosmarty.

Musician famed in every land, Your country's loyal son,

Is the magic in your hand To heal this country near undone?

Have you notes, rouser of the heart, Notes that comfort with their art?

When one hears your rousing notes awake a nation from her sleep,

And people join your song as one,

Return and say with us, Thanks be to God

This nation has the will to live.

Silence!

Good bye, Princess.

I'm much honoured, Mr. Liszt.

- You'll have our best room, of course. - Thank you.

I am your servant, Maestro.

Oh, are you, have we met?

But I really am your servant.

- Doing what, pray? - Everything.

- That's too much. - Please, listen to me.

I'm listening.

Let me introduce myself.

I'm Gaetano Belloni, an impresario from Bologna.

I devote my life to easing the burden of the great. The greatest!

Organising concerts, making propaganda...

It is not true that good wine needs no bush.

It does, indeed.

Up to the solemn moment when you begin to play,

every burden weighs heavily on me,

on your humble servant, alone.

Mine is a lofty way of life!

And my task is sublime!

Thank you, dear Belloni,

but I can't avail myself of your services.

I manage my affairs myself.

That's hurting!

The organ called pocket by professors of anatomy

plays no role whatever in my offer.

I'm just a minute part of the crowd

thronging in the corridor after your concerts

gasping and gaping.

Allow me to be your number one fan,

and your indispensable servant.

You have my admiration, Mr. Belloni.

Your soaring and businesslike diction

equals my virtuosity on the piano,

or even surpasses it.

But enough of these niceties.

I know I shan't get rid of you.

I need a secretary, well?

My childhood dreams have now come true.

Without my permission? Oh, no!

Which is the lady's room?

No. 2, first floor.

Maestro! This is my duty!

No, leave it to me.

Are you here already?

May I know by what right you are using my name?

Oh, how cross you are! Do you mind so much?

It was my impresario's idea.

Actually, I didn't like it.

It is unworthy of my art.

Unworthy. To use my presence for...

I protested, sir.

The name of Lola Montez can fill a theatre.

- But my impressario... - You protested! Charming.

So don't... Promise?

No, I shall abide by my word.

But it wasn't your word.

Never mind.

What if I have you expulsed?

I can, you know. It is my concert.

You'll do nothing of the kind.

In Miss Montez's honor I'll improvise a piece.

She'll honour me with a dance.

My sweet bird of passage!

My only love!

You lovely bird of passage.

You are no couch potato, are you?

You follow the flight of your mate

and are fearless.

We shall fly along together.

Together, yes.

And you'll never leave me, will you?

Never.

But sir!

Your concert! You can't leave!

Give the lady this ring.

And follow me on the next stage.

Do you mean that we're parting with the lady?

It's better if I fly alone.

Stop!

You fairhaired Gypsy! What do you take me for?

Darling, I cannot live without you.

My lovely bird of passage!

Where are you?

Open it. You miserable wretch.

Strange. She always met me...

Maybe she didn't get the letter.

Impossible.

Our little Cosima! How you've grow.

Doesn't she recognize me?

Don't you recognize your daddy?

Why should she?

She's lucky to see you twice a year.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

Nothing?

Well, tell me about Germany.

Tell you what?

Oh, Dresden is a lovely town.

My Mozart transcription was a fantastic success.

There was a funny fellow there, a conductor.

I can't remember his name.

He exclaimed:

But for music like this,

theatres should be burnt to the ground.

He meant my paraphrasis of Don Juan.

Wagner! That's it! Wagner's his name.

A crazy fellow. To burn theatres down!

What is it, Marie?

Don Juan?

Was it a great success?

A great success? Just the usual thing.

You should have earned special success with your Don Juan.

I don't understand.

Have a look at this, my friend.

I met her in Dresden. What cheek!

She had my name printed on her poster.

And you obliged her.

That's natural. I couldn't let her down.

And you continued to oblige her

after her performance, didn't you, Don Juan?

And what if I did? I'm sorry.

Whose fault is it?

Who wanted me to chase glory like a fool?

Not I, nor the world. You!

Yes, you!

When all I wished was to live with you and work.

With me? In a small attic?

You know only too well that you can't go on living as you do.

If you don't give up this way of life...

An attic may be attractive, but what if I don't like it?

Or would you like me to support you in the shadow of a glorious future?

But you know what I want!

You don't want anything.

You are carried away by events, by chance,

by Belloni, by little Lola and her kind.

Don Juan!

The irresistible Don Juan,

who now knows all about Tasso and Goethe.

Poor Don Juan!

Unloading, loading all the time...

We've only just arrived.

You know, I was a wholly ignorant fellow

when Marie took me by the hand.

It was in her Paris salon that I met

Hugo, Georges Sand, Dumas, Berlioz...

Shouldn't you make it up?

This has become a prison to me.

I must go my own way.

Let's go.

Here you are.

All right.

- Have a good trip. - Thank you.

Is it a long way to St. Petersburg?

About 300 versts.

When shall we get there?

If the weather holds out, in 3 days.

This is a big country, sir, very big.

Then let us make haste.

Where is our first concert to be?

In St. Petersburg.

- We must say good-bye, Carolyne. - You're in a hurry, Nicky.

I told you Prince Galitzin invited me to a shoot

I could not refuse.

Though I'd prefer to stay with you.

Will you be back by Christmas?

Why, I'll be back in a few days.

Is that why you sent your entire wardrobe ahead?

You know in what circles I shall move.

I won't be outdressed!

I wasn't reproaching you.

Carolyne, dear...

Prince Radziwill's man will call on you.

How much?

Fifty. Sixty thousand roubles.

But never again. You have my word.

I know, Nicky. Good bye.

"Through me you will come to the land of torment... "

He is a marvelous pianist, and a great composer.

Unparalleled in both.

What a day! What a night!

We've conquered St. Petersburg!

The Maestro will be happy to meet you.

I'm lost for words.

I'm simply nonplussed.

Thank you.

We'll never forget this day.

Let me introduce our Glinka to you.

My dear Glinka! I am much honoured!

Mr. Franz Liszt, Your Majesty.

Your Majesty.

We are glad to make your acquaintance.

and regret not having been to your concert.

Perhaps Your Majesty will honour me another time.

My wife hear you in Weimar. She was enraptured.

I'd like to share her rapture.

I hear you are Austrian.

No, Sire. I'm Hungarian.

That is, a subject of the Austrian Emperor.

Hungarians are a gallant people, they say.

Indeed, Sire.

They are gallant and freedom loving.

So, it's true.

I've been informed, Mr. Liszt, that you cherish certain ideas

which are fashionable in Europe.

Yes, I cherish all noble ideas.

But my army consists but of these ten soldiers.

And my battlefield is the piano.

I hope they do not alarm Your Majesty.

I would not underrate the role of your army.

Thank you, Sire.

Is there anything else that disturbs Your Majesty?

Your hair and your politics.

I am sorry, Sire, my hair grew long in Paris.

condone this to an artist.

And to make politics I'd need 300.000 soldiers.

I'm sorry I'm late, your Tsar kept me.

Our life for the Tsar!

They didn't mean him.

If I'm not mistaken you heard Russlan last night.

I want your opinion.

Yes, Your Highness?

Morals have become loose in the army lately.

I've to render more severe punishment.

Do you think it would solve the problem

if I punished my officers by sending them to this opera?

That would be a wise step, Your Highness.

Is that a compliment?

By no means.

Culture would profit your officers.

I would extend these measures to those who are not being punished, too.

Tell me, sir, have you ever been in battle?

I am the pianist Franz Liszt.

- Who are you? - A prince.

Nicholas Sayn-Wittgenstein.

Let me repeat the question.

Have you ever been in a battle?

Never. Have you ever given a concert?

Without us, soldiers, who would defend your lives?

If life had no sublime moments, what would be worth defending?

What do you think of his hair?

Your Majesty, he looks like a clown.

Why don't you go on playing?

When His Majesty, the Tsar is talking,

even music has to be silent.

Go on, we are listening.

I want my carriage and things packed.

I'm going to Kiev.

Mr. Liszt has offered the proceeds of his concert

to aid the poor of Kiev.

And no one leaves without a donation!

Princess Sayn-Wittgenstein 100 roubles...

The only one who did not applaud.

Allow me to introduce myself.

There is no need for that. The whole world knows you.

I'd like to thank you for your lavish gift.

We ought to thank you.

I've a letter for Mr. Liszt.

Read it.

I shall be pleased to see you at Woronince.

Carolyne Seyn-Wittgenstein.

Welcome to Woronince.

This is the gallery.

My uncle. He was banished to Siberia.

Our family is Polish and the Tsar doesn't like Poles.

I was born here. I'm an only child.

Father wanted a son to manage the estate after his death.

He brought me up like a boy.

We even drank wine together, much wine...

Do you like wine?

Only champagne.

Just one glass before the concert.

My parents divorced.

When I reached the age of fifteen,

they married me to Prince Sayn-Wittgenstein.

My openness might seem strange to you,

but I want you to understand me.

To understand why I...

I do understand.

I met your husband in St. Petersburg.

He hasn't lived here for years.

My estate is the only link between us.

So, I live in complete isolation,

cut off from the world by a sea of mud,

or by endless snowfields.

Hardly anyone comes here.

Our marriage was just as much a burden to my husband as to me.

He preferred visiting the music halls in Moscow and St. Petersburg.

So, I shut myself up. Books, piano...

But I'm a very poor pianist...

If I want to hear good music I go to Kiev, or to the chapel.

Are you religious?

I believe in God.

I even wanted to become a priest.

Religion is my only consolation.

My daughter, Masha.

My only companion in this large, empty manor.

A manor? No, dear Liszt.

A prison. With bars everywhere.

With bars I forged myself.

If i have to be a captive, why not forge the bars myself?

The bars, Princess, can be torn down and one can flee too, if...

Have you done it?

Yes, I had to.

Don't!

Let her! This is a special day.

You think I'm happy, don't you?

I have everything.

I freed myself from an attachment,

I felt I could take to wings like a bird.

But a I stayed a captive. A captive of success.

My life is bleak and cheerless.

I no longer find true joy in my playing.

It wrings my heart to hear about my success.

Success...

The audience wants showy spectacles.

My art does not make them happier.

But now I realize that maybe I could give them more.

Maybe there is a way out for me.

When I first hear you in Vienna.

I wanted to run away from your music, from you.

Then I saw you enter a hotel in Dresden...

Then one night, I was reading Dante, the piano was open,

and I fancied I heard your music.

I banged the lid on the keys.

but the piano went on resounding.

Like now, while you're playing.

In Kiev, I could not applaud you...

I prayed for you. For your music.

I love you Carolyne.

I love you, too.

Since that day in Vienna when I first heard you play,

since I first spoke to you...

I should have fought against it, against myself.

Do not fight, Carolyne.

I love you, I love you.

I wrote this for you.

Really. Is it mine? Only mine?

Do you like it?

Is the tune familiar?

My peasants sing it.

I learnt it from them. How many are there?

Lots.

It's yours.

When I leave, it'll stay here.

You're not going to leave me, are you?

I came for three days, and stayed three months.

I came in winter, and now spring is here.

You must not leave me.

And your husband?

Are you afraid of him?

No, but you often talk about the family, the child...

Yes, I do...

But I make my own decisions.

You just have to answer

do you love me?

Yes, I love you.

And will you accept me, too?

Because I'm not Marie D'Agoult.

I shall go with you where you go.

And I have decided to go with you.

If you accept me.

Welcome! What have you brought?

- This new contract. - Put it away!

- And your mail. - Leave me alone.

Don't worry, I've sorted it out.

All right then.

That's all that's left.

Belloni is a useful fellow, isn't he?

Weimar, Saxony... The court marshal of the Grand Duke Karl Friedrich...

Read it.

If Mr. Liszt would accept a post as guest conductor at this court,

the permanent conductor of which is Mr. Chelard,

Mr. Liszt would be obliged to spend four months a year in our midst,

with no other obligations.

This means, I've found a haven! And in Weimar!

In Weimar of all places!

Maria Pavlovna, the Tsar's sister lives there.

Have you met her?

Yes, and she was exceedingly kind to me.

Is that so? That's marvellous!

I'm sure I won her confidence.

Would she assist you in a private matter?

In ours?

She is the Tsar's sister.

And the Tsar must consent to my divorce.

Accept the post in Weimar!

How lucky, it's Weimar.

Not luck... happiness!

Of course, I'll accept it.

Marvellous!

I'll go with you. Let me come.

Don't worry, I won't run away.

You are the only woman who could leave me.

And if you do not join me in Weimar,

I'll come to fetch you.

You're the only woman who could leave me.

Never, never!

What? A hundred roubles to a beggar?

To a colleague. They should be helped.

A colleague! There is a slight difference.

A very slight one.

In that today it is me who gives him money.

By the way, I'm giving up playing.

Tonight's concert was my last.

I'll live in Weimar, and compose music.

To scrawl notes instead of playing?

Beethoven wrote the Hammerklavier Sonata

but Liszt had to be born so that someone could play it.

Perhaps Liszt, too, will compose music.

for the artists of the future to cope with.

I'll leave you for three months, and you upset our lives!

On the contrary.

Carolyne is a wonderful woman,

who can strengthen me for a difficult task.

I can't believe it.

Liszt without the stage!

The stage without Liszt!

The stage will see Liszt, the composer!

All music has been composed!

Ours is a great age, the century of industry, of democracy.

It wants more than the reproduction of fugues.

Should no one give voice to this century?

Oh, yes. But not Franz Liszt.

Why not Liszt, the composer?

Because he has no need for a secretary.

But he has a need for a friend.

Won't you accept the role?

I was better as a secretary than as a friend, I am afraid.

"Yes, dear Carolyine, the viruoso has died.

on the pinnacle of his glory.

And he chose to die quickly.

rather than to live in the echo of past success.

For me life means music.

And it will be like this as long as I live.

I am happy in Weimar because the grace of the Grand Duke

enables me to serve the music of the future.

This is not easy, Carolyne.

If you were here, I'd be happier.

I'm devoting myself to the new music.

Making way for a great man, Richard Wagner,

heedless of failures and criticism.

This music must win.

We must wait, dear, if impatiently.

After the premiere I'll talk to the Duchess.

Her kindness and wisdom will help us.

And then come. Let us not care about the world.

only about ourselves. "

"Dear Franz,

I can't wait.

I'll divorce my husband upon the grounds,

that I was forced into marrying him.

I will sell my estate and live with you.

sharing your fate till eternity. "

Sixty thousand!

This is only half of it.

Don't worry, Galitzin, send to my wife for the rest.

Well, thirty thousand...

One rouble for each of your serfs.

Within 24 hours, is that right?

On with it!

Give this letter to the Prince.

Good bye.

Europe is ablaze, Sire.

And revolutions do not stop at frontiers.

You are right, Nesselrode.

We must close our European frontiers.

We'll mobilize part of our forces

and strengthen the frontier garrisons.

So we need to take precautions.

Don't delay, Nesselrode.

See that no one crosses the frontier.

Neither in or out. Not a soul.

Yes, your Majesty.

My wife?

Where's she gone?

Is anything wrong?

My wife! My daughter!

What happened to them?

They're gone.

She's on her way to Weimar.

To that clown.

She'll sell the estate and then

there's nothing else for me but to shoot myself.

The frontier is sealed.

We may overtake her.

Let's go.

You've been secretive lately.

I'm feeling quite superfluous.

You wouldn't understand.

But I would. I just can't see the point of this rush for a lady.

You do not understand.

She's the first woman I've run after.

Faster!

Oh, to be there!

We can't be far.

What if the border's closed?

All right.

His Majesty ordered the frontier to be sealed.

Not a soul can cross over.

The Princess?

Her highness has crossed on foot.

The border is closed, Your Excellency.

We can't make exceptions.

Can't you? We shall see.

END OF PART 1.

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