Herr Schindler.
This is my brother Caspar...
and my nephew, young Karl.
~~Had I realized this, ~~I would have stopped him.
It is good to see you.
I need the papers I entrusted to you.
They were all returned to you.
I said, your papers are not here.
You. Where are my notes?
I would rather he not cause a scene in front of the boy.
- What did the whore say? - Get out of my house!
You've thrown away my music.
You and this foul slut you call a wife.
- You have betrayed me! - Maestro!
Maestro, please!
Stop it!
He's sick!
Leave! Never return to this house!
He has consumption.
~~Caspar died ~~before the year was out...
~~but there was no relief ~~in his death.
~~Rather, it sent Ludwig ~~on a path of action...
~~that would lead to his destruction.
That man.
He rooms with her.
My brother's bed is not yet cold...
and he is climbing in.
If he says nasty things about me, don't listen. None of it is true.
- Promise? - I promise.
I will come and see you every day.
Come in.
Is this the lad?
Yes.
"By order of the Landrechte...
Ludwig van Beethoven has been appointed the legal guardian of his nephew Karl...
owing to the low moral character of his mother, Johanna van Beethoven.
~~Rights of visitation for the mother will ~~be at the discretion and convenience...
~~of the legal guardian."
Too watery.
Write.
Then we shall have to find someone who can cook.
She has a swinish face anyway.
- Were you taught music? - Yes.
I have a gift for you.
Come.
- Can you read? - Yes.
Here.
Let me show you.
You shall be a musician.
I want to be a soldier.
A composer?
No. A soldier.
Oh.
I gave my first concert when I was your age.
I was terrible.
Your grandfather thought that he was going to make a fortune out of me...
as a child prodigy.
Like Mozart's old man.
~~But I was pigheaded.
~~I wouldn't play that tinkly, ~~pretty stuff that was in vogue then.
~~But the keyboards of the day ~~were not up to it.
~~The first time I played at court, ~~I broke four strings.
Herr Beethoven!
The boy is hardly a Mozart, is he?
~~I was 12...
~~but Father told them I was nine.
Mother died of consumption...
and I became the head of the family.
Your papa...
I loved most of all.
As I love you...
my dear Karl.
~~His eyes shone with joy...
~~when he looked at the boy.
~~All the love in his rich and deep nature ~~seemed to concentrate...
~~on this boy.
~~There was no more tender father.
You should hear him play.
He is going to be a great virtuoso.
You spoil him.
Schindler tells me you've written nothing.
Well, I have no time.
And besides...
all the servants that Schindler sends me are scoundrels.
You are impossible.
Perhaps.
You and I--
Could Karl...
not replace the son that you lost?
I know what it is to lose a son.
I know the sorrow Johanna feels.
- She has no right to him! - She's his mother!
She's his mother!
What new insanity is this?
It has come to our attention that you have been bribing servants...
in order to have access to the boy in secret...
while you well know that Herr Beethoven would not allow--
You are talking about my son.
My son, who I have not seen for a year, who is being taught to hate me.
The decree of the court states--
I know what it says.
Can you look me in the eye and tell me a mother has no right to see her son?
I will fight this.
You will lose.
He has many enemies.
The filth was bad enough.
That man is mad.
He cannot hear a thing. He's always shouting and yelling.
The landlord would chuck him out from his carrying on.
The boy is just as bad. His uncle encouraged him.
I overheard them discussing how they was going to beat me, so I left.
Was the boy kept clean?
He'd go a month without fresh underwear.
That man cannot look after himself, let alone a child.
I would now like to call Karl van Beethoven.
Good afternoon, Karl.
Good afternoon.
How does your uncle treat you?
Well.
He has a hot temper?
Yes.
- Do you fear his temper? - No.
- Did he ever punish you? - Only when I deserved it.
Who would you prefer to live with?
Your uncle or your mother?
Do you want to stay with your uncle?
Yes.
Speak up.
- Yes. - You don't sound certain.
It would be better if Uncle had someone to be with him...
because he is hard of hearing and can't talk to me.
In fact, he is stone deaf.
Do you love your mother?
Yes.
Do you miss her?
Yes.
Then would you not prefer to live with her?
Uncle needs me.
What I would prefer...
is that we might all live together.
This way, gentlemen, please.
Herr Beethoven, our most accomplished composer.
It is an honor.
Chancellor Metternich...
due to his infirmity, Herr Beethoven has requested that I speak for him.
As you wish.
His case in the magistracies is not going well.
That is, Frau Beethoven has bribed witnesses--
Sir, I need your help.
My young nephew, Karl...
he is being corrupted by this woman's poisonous carryings on.
- What Herr Beethoven means-- - Why should I help you, Beethoven?
"Metternich is a worse tyrant than Napoleon."
That was recorded last Tuesday at the Swan Tavern.
"Metternich should be forced to eat my shit."
And so on, and so forth.
Herr Beethoven, there are many forces in Austria...
that foment revolt.
I like a lively discussion as much as the next man...
but I fear that these days we cannot allow quite so much--
How can I put it?
Enthusiasm.
Perhaps it would be better if our great artists...
were a little more circumspect.
Herr Beethoven proposes that he write a grand oratorio...
praising Austria and your magnificent diplomacy...
at the Congress of Vienna...
that has secured the peace for all of Europe.
~~This court...
has seen fit to ordain...
that Johanna van Beethoven...
shall be excluded from--
This court is corrupt!
~~Now that the boy was delivered ~~to Ludwig, body and soul...
~~the deaf genius began in earnest what ~~was to be his most tragic endeavor--
~~to make his ward a great virtuoso.
~~For five long years ~~this was his goal...
~~and in those five years ~~Ludwig wrote nothing.
~~Not the oratorio ~~he promised Metternich.
~~Not the mass he promised ~~the London Philharmonic Society.
~~Not the great symphony ~~he spoke of endlessly.
~~Nothing.
~~In Vienna they thought he was finished-- ~~deaf, written-out.
~~Rossini had performed The Thieving Magpie..
~~and Italian opera was all the rage.
~~Beethoven was no longer performed.
Karl !
It's late.
I'm sorry, sir.
It's disgusting.
Why does she disobey me? She knows my bowel is in a terrible state.
You're trying to poison me!
Well, she might appear plump and pretty to you...
but she's a vulgar bitch.
Gossips about me all over town.
Fraulein!
Yes, sir?
Your food is poison. You're fired.
You foul old bastard.
Write.
Where are you going?
Away from you.
Well, leave me, then.
You're evil.
Like your mother.
Leave me alone with no food.
Have you seen Karl?
You're worthless!
Worthless!
I'm sending for the doctor now.
Tomorrow.
Play for me.
Not now.
It will calm me.
Play.
I found this the other day.
"The Maestro, Ludwig van Beethoven...
has the pleasure to announce a concert...
which will be the debut of his nephew and ward, Karl van Beethoven...
a prodigy instructed by the Maestro himself."
Why, this is wonderful. The very thing that will raise his spirits.
You must be very excited.
Anton, have you ever heard me play?
- No, but-- - You have to help me.
I'm at the end of my tether.
Endless hours at the keyboard.
For what?
He cannot hear my ham-fisted playing.
He does no work.
All he does is scribble incomprehensible phrases.
Then he bellows this stupid, childish tune at the top of his lungs.
He says this is the motif of a grand symphony.
I think it's ridiculous.
- That cannot be. - But it is.
I think he's going mad.
So...
I am to abandon my plans, eh?
I am placing...
intolerable pressure..
on Karl, eh?
He is a...
a mediocre talent.
There are always these...
asinine fellows like Schindler...
with their...
commonplace opinions...
from their commonplace minds.
Schindler is right.
Oh.
Anton Schindler...
bad violinist...
knows more about music than Ludwig van Beethoven.
This is too much.
You're torturing the boy.
I always thought that you were a bore...
and an ass...
but you've had your uses, and now you have none.
Get out.
Wake up, bastard!
Schindler!
Wake up!
Karl.
He's gone...
on your account.
My Karl has shot himself.
A farmer found him in the ruins. He carried him here on his cart.
I fear the worst.
Uncle.
I was expecting you.
~~Karl was a bungler with firearms.
~~The bullet ~~did not penetrate his skull.
~~He did not die.
~~But the legend grew in Vienna ~~of Ludwig's cruelty to the boy...
~~of how he drove him to a desperate act.
~~Those who had ~~silently disliked him...
~~now shouted their derision...
~~from the rooftops.
There is a letter.
I must find this lady.
He bequeathed his entire estate to her.
It was not written to me.
Then who?
It was she who came between us.
I loved him completely...
but he could never return that sentiment.
He could not forget her.
Who is she?
I failed him.
We all failed him.
He gave us so much.
We couldn't even make his life tolerable.
This last wish must be as he wanted.
Tell me.
Tell me her name.
The answer was always in front of you.
~~"While still in my bed...
~~my thoughts turn to you...
~~my immortal beloved.
What will you do?
~~Some happy, some sad...
I don't know.
~~waiting to see ~~whether fate will hear us.
I don't know.
~~I can live only completely ~~with you or not at all.
~~Yes. It must be."
Go to her.
It must be.
May we speak in private?
I have nothing to hide from my workers.
I implore you.
As you can see, I am very busy.
Frau Beethoven...
may I see a sample of your handwriting?
- Why? - Please.
Indulge me.
Here.
Is this your handwriting?
What is this?
A page from the registry of a hotel in Karlsbad.
I would like you to go.
Signed...
by you.
Did you ever meet Ludwig in Karlsbad?
You can hardly be unaware of the manner in which I suffered at his hands.
I find the question as insulting as it is impudent.
What are you implying?
There can be no peace without the truth.
For you, maybe.
But I have made my peace with Ludwig.
~~I forgave him ~~because of the "Ode to Joy."
~~When they announced the premiere ~~of the Ninth Symphony...
~~the gossip was everywhere.
~~Ludwig had fought with the singers.
~~He had fought the theater.
~~Even though ~~I had hated him for so long...
~~even though ~~he had tried to destroy me...
~~I went.
~~I had to go.
~~I knew it would be the last time.
~~I could not see him...
~~and I imagined ~~some last-minute insult...
~~had sent him running home.
~~Then I saw him.
~~Everybody saw him.
Bravo!
~~He had revealed ~~his most hidden secrets to us.
~~The circle was broken.
~~I could not hate the man ~~who could write such music.
~~I saw him one more time...
~~at his rooms ~~on Schwarzspanier Strasse.
~~That was where he died.
His belly swelled so much...
that the surgeon had to make a puncture to drain off the fluid.
The incision became inflamed.
His strength has gone, and I fear the death struggle has begun.
I want him to receive the last rites while he is still conscious.
But when I suggested I send for a priest...
he turned his face to the wall and called me an ass.
Then he asked for you. I don't know why.
Is he sleeping?
I don't think so.
He is composing.
The comedy is over.
Yes.
I once loved him.
But he turned his back on me.
He abandoned me.
I never heard a word from him.
I was a fool.
I never meant anything to him.
But the letter--
What letter?
Frau Beethoven, I believe...
this is addressed to you.
~~"My angel...
~~my all...
~~my other self.
~~Just a few words today, ~~and that in pencil...
~~yours.
~~Only tomorrow will I know for certain ~~where I am to stay.
~~A worthless waste ~~of time and such.
~~Why this deep sorrow?
~~If we could be united, ~~we would feel this pain no longer.
~~Where I am...
~~you are with me too.
~~Soon we shall live together, ~~and what a life it will be."
- We must talk. - Not here.
Caspar will come.
We must speak.
I'm talking too loudly.
Meet me in Karlsbad.
This is the address.
I can no longer skulk around like a guilty schoolboy.
I have your child in me.
Go.
~~"The journey was dreadful.
~~I did not arrive here ~~until 4:00 in the morning.
~~At the last stop they warned me ~~against traveling at night...
~~and tried to frighten me ~~about a forest...
~~but that only tempted me.
~~The coach had to go and break down ~~on such a terrible road for no reason.
~~Just a country road...
~~and now I am held up completely.
~~But I have found another...
~~and we will surely ~~see one another soon.
~~Today, I hope.
~~I have to see you.
~~However much you love me...
~~I love you more.
~~Never hide yourself from me."
Herr van Beethoven !
Wait!
~~"While still in my bed...
~~my thoughts turn to you...
~~my immortal beloved.
~~Some of them happy, some sad...
~~waiting to see ~~whether fate will hear us.
~~I can live only completely ~~with you or not at all.
~~Yes. It must be.
~~I must go to sleep now.
~~Be calm, love.
~~Today, yesterday...
~~what longing with tears for you.
~~You.
~~You're my life.
~~My everything.
~~Farewell, then.
~~Go on loving me.
~~Ever yours, ever mine...
~~forever."