MOZART'S SISTER
Dear Friends in Salzburg,
I am rarely able to write, traveling hither and thither.
After performing a grand concert in Brussels before Prince Karl,
we have set off with post horses for a four-dayjourney to Paris.
The Bishop of Malines gave my daughter gifts of lace and fur,
and Wolfgang, two magnificent daggers.
Whoever has not thus traveled cannot imagine all that is required,
and we have been doing so for three years.
One must have a deep purse and one's wits about one,
with everything planned months in advance.
We have had heavy snow,
and the cold increases hourly.
This is all the more penetrating
as the early frost becomes terribly damp later on.
We travel at great expense,
and the rewards are often disappointing.
Prince Karl kept us waiting for three weeks.
His Highness did nothing but hunt and eat and drink to excess,
before announcing we would get nothing.
The children are inundated
with presents of snuff boxes and all manner of tiny cases.
Wolfgang and Nannerl amaze everyone.
Courtiers and soldiers alike are dumbstruck with wonder,
listening to them with indescribable pleasure.
I must sometimes threaten my children to keep them working.
If, eclipsed by the other, each one grew idle,
the whole edifice would collapse.
Life is so short.
Youth passes like a greyhound race.
Each moment lost is lost forever.
As we approach Paris
we see castles by the road.
We spot peasants
in furs.
Wolfgang is veryjolly and somewhat mischievous.
Nannerl plays so well
that everyone admires her virtuosity.
I must finish now. Excuse my muddled thoughts.
I jot things down as they come to me.
My wife and children, who are well, thank God,
also send their regards.
Leopold Mozart.
Well?
lt's the axle.
Broken?
Cracked.
We're stuck.
Out of the question!
We can walk.
Walk?
Where? How?
Free the wheel.
We can reach the next village.
Quick, Papa, it's cold!
lt's the axle. We have to go at walking pace.
What will we do?
There's an abbey.
Nannerl!
Not the violin, I told you!
l used to be an excellent violinist.
Why stop me now?
Your father keeps telling you it's no instrument for a girl.
Nor the organ nor the violin.
Who asked you?
Nannerl, stop it!
Everything's fine.
We have a happy life.
We're honored guests of the kings and queens of Europe.
l've had enough!
Our order is completely female.
We can only welcome men in exceptional circumstances.
l must have the front axle and wheels repaired.
We traveled on paved roads.
lmagine the damage they do to a coach,
especially the fittings.
After two or three days l shall have to ask you to leave.
l am sure two nights will suffice.
Until then, may l ask you a favor?
Another?
We are musicians.
My children will be performing at Versailles in a few days.
lf I could set up our clavichord...
ln a room set apart, for example.
ln the house adjoining the abbey
we have some distinguished visitors with a large entourage.
Among them are some music masters.
l could introduce you.
Music masters?
You are a great composer, sir.
My son composed it.
These are the fifth, sixth and last.
Daughters of...?
His Majesty Louis XV.
Sophie we call Gravel because of her voice.
What about my voice?
Sing, Sophie!
- And Louise is... - Chiffe.
Chiffe?
Like l'm made of chiffon!
What's your name?
Maria-Anna.
But my nickname is Nannerl.
Nannerl?
Nannerl. That's very pretty.
But l'll call you Nanna.
Nanna?
Yes, Nanna. Little Nannerl.
Victoire!
Young ladies!
Let us not allow protocol to hinder our burgeoning friendship.
lt's like a fairy tale.
How old are you?
Fourteen.
Almost fifteen.
l'm thirteen.
On my birthday the Abbess took away all my toys.
lt's the tradition.
lt made me sad. l loved my dolls.
But l didn't cry.
l have to be exemplary.
l'm a good year younger than you.
You're the same age as Victoire.
l don't know how she came by that book...
The devil's work, no doubt.
What book?
A book full of blasphemy.
lt tells of practices condemned by the church.
Matters of love, but described quite indecently.
The Abbess took it off her, but l saw where she hid it.
l took it back, at Victoire's behest.
Are you crying?
No, praying.
l'm so glad to have a friend.
Why do you live in this abbey?
Because of the Cardinal.
l don't know if l should say...
The Abbess tells us our hearts have an open window
into which she can see.
So we cannot lie to her.
But l don't believe her.
Go to sleep.
Right now!
We're not tired.
lt's nearly midnight.
How many daughters does the King have? Six, seven, eight?
Seven, l think.
Where are numbers one to three?
At court.
Why are they locked up here?
They were jumping on all the boys in Versailles!
That'll do!
You're mad!
Sorry, Papa.
My corn! Oh, l could scream!
You just did, Papa!
Go to sleep!
Come on now.
Why aren't l at home, in my own bedroom,
where birds sing in the spring,
and the snow weighs down the naked branches in winter?
Mama's a poet!
l have to pee!
The King of France's daughter is my friend.
Sing it far and wide!
l promised the Abbess discretion.
She has a crush on Papa.
Come now!
Of course she has!
She's never "seen the wolf".
The wolf?
The wolf has never wooed her, that's why she's always praying.
What wolf?
lf you don't stop, l'll scream!
And I'll punish you.
A bird?
lt won't sing to order, you know.
lt'd deafen us all day long.
l could tame it.
Years ago,
the Cardinal suggested our two older sisters remain at court,
the twins Marie-Sophie Elisabeth and Anne-Henriette.
The rest of us had to come to this abbey.
His Eminence held such power over them
that Papa and Mama accepted, with a heavy heart.
After a 13-dayjourney by road we arrived here.
We like the Abbess.
All the monasteries and convents in the region answer to her.
And you've never seen your parents since?
Never.
l don't even remember them.
Last year, the King had a portrait of us painted for the Queen.
lt made her cry, we heard, but she never came to see us.
At least some of the nuns love us, and we love them back.
But it's not like having real parents.
lf only our family were like yours,
concerned only with music,
crossing Europe by coach,
having adventures...
Do you think l'm kind?
Very.
They call me "the Commander". l've always been bossy.
Bossy, but fair.
Do you know about love?
Love?
Yes. Are you in love?
Yes.
No. I don't know.
l yearn for him.
His name is Hugues le Tourneur.
He's the son of the music master l told you about.
He was at the abbey with his father for several weeks.
Then he went to Versailles.
We fell in love immediately.
But life keeps us apart.
My condition too.
You're going to court.
Please give him this letter.
l tell him that l still love him
and that our different ranks will never affect my promise to him.
l'll give you this too.
lt's Victoire's book.
The cursed book.
Take it away from here.
Lose it in the woods or burn it.
Her honor would be lost for ever if the King found out.
Will you do that?
l could have shat oranges before remembering they were here!
Sing!
Why didn't you warn me, Mama?
l was waiting for it to happen.
lt's easier to understand.
Are you all right?
My grown-up child!
You're a woman now.
You can have children.
How do you make children?
Are you kidding me?
You are now ready to meet the man of your life.
The man I shall love.
He'll be young and handsome.
He'll love music, of course.
But most of all, he'll love you.
You'll be attracted to each other.
You'll be wed before God
in a magnificent dress.
- Covered in blood! - No...
"This book belongs to Maria-Anna Mozart, 1759."
Know what's in it?
Notes, minuets,
various compositions?
lt's supposed to be mymusic notebook.
Look, it's Papa's handwriting.
"1760. These previous eight minuets
"were learned by Wolfgang at the age of four."
Another page...
"1761 . Wolfgang learned this allegro at the age of four."
"Compositions by Wolfgang,
"written when he was five."
"Minuet composed by Wolfgang Mozart,
"May 1 1th, 1762."
l suffer my father's preference
even in my own notebook.
Welcome to you and your family.
Thank you. We're exhausted.
Here are your apartments.
Papa, l'm thirsty.
Beware of Parisian water.
lt's from the Seine.
Boil it first or it will make you ill.
The country is in mourning for the Dauphine.
The poor girl did not survive the birth of her daughter.
lf you intend to go to Versailles, you will need black clothing.
l have left at your disposal the harpsichord of my late husband,
Count Van Eyck.
He so loved to play.
Katerl,
Louise,
Barbara,
Maria...
What are they doing now?
l can't even write to them.
Papa says it costs too much.
You can't write, anyway!
And all you know is music!
They say you're a genius but you're an idiot!
Where are my cloth dolls?
My wooden dolls?
My carriages and cradles?
l'm grown-up now.
So grown-up.
Children!
What?
Mama, say something!
lt's astounding!
Help! lt's cold now.
ls it pleasant?
The French are insane.
Open up!
Wait a moment.
l have to wipe it down.
l hope the water's clean.
Don't drink it.
Drink it?
Can l try it, Papa?
- No, me! - I really want to!
Each of us in turn.
The cold water wakes you up!
- My turn! - No, me first!
lt's hot and cold.
Don't burn your little birdie!
l believe a concert is in order.
lt will please the King.
We must organize it together.
Four sonatas are at the printer's.
lt will say that they are the work of a 10-year-old.
You're twelve!
Eleven!
They're fine sonatas.
And your daughter?
My daughter plays the most difficult pieces by Schobert and Eckart.
l also compose complicated pieces which she interprets with precision.
The Countess de Tassé, learning of your presence here,
wishes Mademoiselle Mozart to follow me to her salon
for a private audience.
But of course.
No.
We must be quick!
Louise de France wants you to deliver her letter.
Put on this suit.
You must be a boy.
Hugues is with the Dauphin, who is in mourning.
No unknown female may approach him.
The Dauphin of France?
Try to make him smile.
Play your role well.
Neither must suspect the truth.
The kingdom would suffer.
- Do you have the letter? - Yes.
Hugues le Tourneur, to whom the letter is addressed.
Excuse me.
Thank you.
lf you'll allow me.
l shall take leave to peruse it, then return with my response.
You may go.
Am I to wait here with Monsieur?
You were very good.
l was afraid of being discovered.
The Dauphin intimidated me.
Don't let him.
He is shy and quiet.
And his grief makes him more distant.
Leave us a moment, lsabelle.
l wish to hear news of my sister.
ln what circumstances did you meet Louise?
My family was traveling through the forest a few weeks ago
when an axle broke.
We sought help at a nearby abbey.
And you met the Princesses of France?
Do you play?
Yes, Your Grace.
- The harpsichord? - Yes.
The violin too.
l know the piece you were playing earlier.
Would you play it better than I?
l do not know.
But l could play it.
Do so, then.
- Will you accompany me? - No.
Alone.
Who taught you?
My father.
Good for him!
He has always said that only a boy can play the violin well.
How right he is.
And can you sing?
- Can l sing? - Yes.
Doyouknow the Miserere Mei, Deus by Allegri.
Of course.
Could you come close to singing one of the highest notes
ever written in a score?
A magical "C".
As pure and bright as crystal.
A haunting cry torn from the soul.
How is that my sister Louise did not fall in love with you?
Hugues le Tourneur is in her heart and she is steadfast and faithful.
So we immediately became friends.
l love to play the harpsichord and violin.
To sing, as well.
My dream is to compose music.
l have tried but I am clumsy and I lack technique.
Would you try for me?
- To compose? - Yes.
Compose. lnvent your own music. Would you?
Yes... l don't know.
Under exceptional circumstances.
Consider our meeting an exceptional circumstance,
and write for me.
My dear sister Louise, whom l only know through a painting.
They say she is troublesome and amused by foolish things.
l'd so like to meet her.
She is lucky to have you as a friend.
l hate my shyness.
l am bewildered by other men.
lt is because, often,
when they are around me,
men are mere tapestries,
puppets which I activate by levers.
Not you, however.
Where are you from?
Salzburg.
l do not know about men.
l do not have that knowledge.
Yet l am roundly educated.
l have studied law, history, literature...
My memory retains the good parts of every book.
But man is a mystery.
l cannot know him.
Yet...
l feel a natural liking for you.
lsabelle, continue to fulfill your role as a messenger.
Send me music of your composition.
My composition?
Yes.
l will delight in discovering it.
What time is it?
Still time to sleep.
May l sit with you?
For a few minutes.
You write well.
Such beautiful handwriting.
"Everyone in Paris sends their newborn to the countryside.
"Women escorts take them far from Paris.
"The name of the wet-nurse or peasant's wife is noted by the priest.
"This is done by both the nobility and those of lower birth,
"and it costs a trifling sum."
You've never taught me to write like that.
Papa?
Go to bed now.
l'm not tired.
l want to ask you something.
Could I sit in on the composition classes you give to Wolfgang?
You see... How can l put it?
l hear notes,
my own notes,
in my head,
but l don't know how to write them down.
l don't know the rules. You taught me all l know.
l'm sure you could help me understand.
My poor darling,
one must know the secrets of harmony and counterpoint.
These are beyond most people, especially women.
l remember the first time Wolfgang composed something.
He was about five.
l helped him dip his quill in the inkwell.
l heard some notes,
brand-new notes,
never used before.
They weren't from my memory.
l helped Wolfy to write them down.
When he showed you, you were with your friend Andreas.
You were both stupefied.
You even wept with emotion.
Are you saying you wrote it?
Yes.
Almost.
Part of it. l don't know.
Yes, I think so.
Then, later,
l wrote some sonatas.
You never even deigned to read them.
l did read them.
What you call "sonatas" were nothing but absurd notes lumped together.
How can you say that?
You never mentioned them.
Go back to bed, Nannerl.
From the Latin, punctus.
Contra punctum.
"Note against note."
Counterpoint.
This applies
to compositions in several parts and in two dimensions.
The dimension which is melodic or horizontal.
- And that which is harmonic or... - Vertical.
Both take into account the notion of consonance.
What's that?
Bread soup.
- With an egg? - Yes.
He's been restless all night.
His face is completely deformed.
He's unrecognizable.
Eat.
I played your music immediately,
and it transported me.
I was seduced by your creativity.
Such beauty, such purity!
So it was you who composed it.
You, already a sublime singer,
gave those notes to me.
I had my music master listen.
He said it could only be the work of a very young man.
If I did not trust you,
I might think you guilty of plagiarism.
But I know it was you.
I see your trembling hand writing the notes.
Come meet me when Isabelle calls on you.
My Dear Louise,
I am late writing
for, when we reached Paris,
Wolfgang was suddenly taken ill,
and for a while was in such a state
that he was absolutely unrecognizable.
His little face was covered with huge, red spots.
But he is better now,
and my father has recovered his joie de vivre.
I gave your letter to Hugues le Tourneur, personally, as you requested,
and in the presence of the Dauphin.
Hugues was honored by your letter and will reply forthwith.
Shall I mention the sheer beauty of your brother the Dauphin,
one of his many perfections?
Never in my life
have I seen a finer figure or more handsome features.
My private apartments.
Every night
l dream I am in my nightshirt, running up His Majesty's stairs,
shouting, "The King! The King!"
l call the guard, dragging one of them with me,
and we witness the birth of the royal child.
The midwife holds it up.
"lt's a boy!"
The Queen arrives too late.
A Swiss guard with disheveled hair bristling with curls
hurries to Trianon, crying,
"A boy! A boy!"
The King is so moved he is taken ill.
When he reaches the Palace, the Cardinal is baptizing the child.
Louis XV examines it.
Horror! lt's a girl!
Just like her mother.
As wicked as a little dragon.
She turns to the maternal breast,
giving it a poisonous bite.
The Dauphine dies,
and I awake with a start.
Then
l understand that reality is like my nightmare.
l am widowed,
inconsolable...
and the father of a baby girl.
What is her name?
Marie-Zephyrine.
A strange family will be performing a concert for the court.
Apparently, there's an astounding violinist of only ten.
His sister plays the harpsichord and has a voice of gold.
Would you like to be there?
l will be.
The chosen music suits my mourning perfectly.
What is wrong?
l must confess to something very serious.
Serious?
Yes.
l fear I will disappoint you.
But the lie was forced on me.
What lie?
l was made to conceal my true identity.
- And, above all... - Above all?
ln reality, I am that girl with the voice of gold.
The child prodigy is my brother.
Our parents drag us around Europe
for my father is hungry for glory.
l am ashamed of having lied to you.
Please forgive me.
Do you want me to leave?
Let us enjoy this delicious ruse a while longer.
Go and dress as a woman.
l shall show you the wonders of our chateau.
lt is here,
in the most public place, that we shall go unnoticed.
Are you afraid?
Fear engenders joy.
To ward it off.
Visiting the army camp at Compigne with my father,
l grew fond of the young officers.
After a day of fighting,
we would throw a handkerchief to the prettiest women.
- Throw a handkerchief? - Yes.
lt is a simple and clear way of showing a woman
that you like her and that she could...
That she could...?
Do you not understand?
Become your mistress?
Yes.
You see.
lt's said that l'm the opposite of my father in regards to women.
What if that isn't true?
Devotion does not negate temptation.
As a woman your image delights me.
Do you not think l am a well-nourished boy?
Where have you been?
Where were you?
Talking to the Dauphin.
Why so late?
l didn't dare interrupt him.
How did you get back?
lsabelle d'Aubusson arranged a coach.
l waited all evening to rehearse.
Do you know what time it is?
l didn't notice.
l was worried to death!
I must scold you, my dear Nanna.
In your letter you used the detestable phrase "most humbly",
which would make me think, if I did not know you,
that your love for me is conventional
and not from the heart.
I am your Chiffe, and that is all.
I have received a letter from Hugues le Tourneur,
and my brother has told me of his great regard for you.
I burn with desire to know him along with all my royal family.
I wish you every success
in your musical adventure,
and l remain your loving and loyal friend, Louise de France.
A child musician?
Yes.
Little Thomas.
He's English.
The same age as your son.
Hush, let me listen!
Mediocre.
- Are you sure? - Soulless and mechanical.
Allow me to introduce the Mozart children.
The girl is fourteen and the boy, barely ten.
They will not only play harpsichord concertos,
but the boy will also play a violin concerto.
For the harpsichord pieces,
a sheet will cover the keyboard.
He will strike the notes through the sheet.
Then he will name notes at a distance,
by themselves or in chords,
played on the harpsichord or any other instrument,
on a bell, a glass and so on...
l'm so proud.
The son of the King of France,
the future King of France himself, kissed my hand.
He looked at me,
smiled while holding my hand in his,
and said a few words in his gentle voice.
And it was I, Anna-Maria, an orphan without a dowry,
married to an entertainer, who had this privilege.
Oh, Mama!
l shan't be calm. I'm delirious.
l'm proud of you, children, and your wonderful talent.
l'm sorry I slapped you.
And you, my husband and master,
l admire you as deeply as I love you.
lf my mother were alive, she'd die ofjoy!
Now what did we say? No mess, please!
No, Leopold!
My feet hurt and l'm in a bad mood.
No, Wolfy, that's my place on the right!
Papa, l'm nearly fifteen,
l look sixteen, but you say l'm fourteen.
And I'm eleven, Papa.
Be quiet, pups!
What a family!
You played abominably.
We'll talk tomorrow.
Quick, a keyboard!
Your Grace...
My parents have decided to pursue our tour.
I had hoped to see you before we leave.
Who knows when we will return?
Perhaps in a few weeks, perhaps never.
I love Paris for many reasons,
the most important being our meeting.
Please accept my respectful and saddened regards.
I shall continue to write music thinking of you.
Nannerl Mozart.
Nannerl, please.
Thank you, son.
How long until London?
A twelve-hour crossing from Calais.
Your daughter composed more music today.
l forbade her.
She can't help it.
l taught our children discipline. But it's her stubbornness you like.
Really, Anna-Maria!
Here, look.
Help me rid her of these desires, so inflammatory to the mind.
Does she at least have talent?
Did you doubt it?
ln Paris?
Madame Van Eyck will agree.
She wanted to mention it to Papa.
l'm grown-up now.
l can earn my own money.
By giving lessons.
Our fame will help me find pupils of quality.
Your father needs you.
l've become a burden to him.
Wolfgang is the big attraction with his compositions.
Your brother is a phenomenon.
The spectacle would be greater without me.
Speak to Papa.
He'll come around.
What would l do without you?
l'd write to you.
And we'd meet again soon.
There's a coach that leaves for Paris tomorrow.
Will you talk to him?
l promise.
- Mademoiselle. - Madame.
A letter has come this morning.
- Addressed to you. - Thank you.
Dear Maria-Anna, sweet Nannerl,
I thought you'd gone but you are back.
I cannot see you yet,
but I hereby formally commission a minuet for violin and orchestra.
Write it as soon as you can and let me know when it is ready.
I will send someone for it, study it,
and send for you soon after.
I beg you will indulge your extraordinary aptitude
and give me proofthat you outshine the realm's greatest composers.
Let us win this challenge.
I kiss your hands and remain your faithful and attentive friend,
Louis de France.
Take good care of it.
l'll take my leave.
Again.
- That fast? - Yes.
Good. We'll stop there.
We'll continue next week.
- Already? - Yes.
l'm sorry.
Mademoiselle?
ls this the Academy of Music?
No. Painting and Drawing.
lt's not open to women.
Unless they're posing.
Would you pose for us?
We study morphology.
Time to tackle the female body!
Gentlemen, the class is beginning.
The most important aspect about a creator is inspiration,
which transfigures human thoughts and passions.
lf the composer is but a virtuoso of writing,
he will not attain true beauty
nor will his ideas be sublime.
Pity the poor artist not driven by passion!
Enough!
Enough, enough!
You'll understand why I asked you to dress once more as a man.
l'm so glad to see you.
Monsieur,
l must congratulate you on your talent.
l took the greatest pleasure in working through your score.
- Are you making fun of me? - No, Nannerl.
Every note of your music haunts me.
Doors!
What I dreaded has happened.
The King has decided.
I must wed Maria-Josepha of Saxony,
a young princess offifteen.
The marriage is to take place soon.
I am desperately unhappy.
Please visit the Carmelites of Saint-Denis.
A person dear to you desires your visit.
Do not be surprised or intimidated by what you discover here.
l am so happy to see you.
l am in joy with Christ.
l have always been very pious, despite my mischievousness.
But be reassured, l am still the little Chiffe you knew.
And you?
My family is still on tour but l have stayed in Paris.
l'm giving lessons and learning composition.
My brother has asked me to intervene with you.
He knows of our friendship.
He asks you to forget him.
My poor Nanna...
His faith is true but his mind is troubled.
He is afraid that, like his father, he will sink into debauchery.
We both must help him to find peace.
You, by staying away from him, l, through prayer.
l pray also for the King.
Papa allowed me to enter this order,
here in Saint-Denis,
not far from court.
l have put on the postulant's habit.
lt is like a novice's.
And Hugues le Tourneur?
God showed me that the devil lurked behind that young man.
The devil?
ln fact, Hugues is my half-brother.
A bastard from one of my father's many secret affairs.
l had to seek the protection of the Lord.
lt was my sincere love for my father which made me enter this order.
What a joy it has been to see you.
Your father has been in torment with a rheumatism of the leg.
He didn't sleep for four nights, and the days were no better.
I'm only sending one kiss because you don't write!
I'm pleased - my ass! - that you're having such fun.
I'm sending a hundred kisses for your horsey face!
Are you playing the harpsichord?
And still singing?
We are staying at the Auberge Rouge in Valenciennes, near Paris.
Nannerl!
l thought l'd never see you again.
You're soaked!
Come in and get warm, my darling.
- What are you doing here? - I want to be with you.
Don't scold her.
l'll never leave you again, Papa.
Have you come back to us?
Go and sleep. l'm here.
Her condition is less serious than you may be imagining.
Your daughter is suffering from a clogging of the mucous membranes.
Give her no seltzer water, which causedthe relaxatio universalis,
nor milk.
Working tires me less than resting.
Make yourselves at home!
- We leave again in two days. - So soon?
- There's a lot to explain. - I can't wait.
I heard you were back in Paris.
I would see you again.
I invite you to a reception in my private apartments.
Isabelle d'Aubusson will meet you with your suit of men's clothes.
The kingdom of France can do anything.
The King, for example, imposes two mothers on me.
Mine,
the Queen, whom l respect infinitely,
an example of devotion and motherly love...
And the other,
Madame Poisson,
the Pompadour,
Mama the whore,
who forces him to flit from mistress to mistress,
this ladies' man of almost 60!
His latest is younger than you.
Marie-Louise O'Murphy is her name.
Right out of the Parc aux Cerfs,
a sort of harem kept for the King by the Pompadour.
The King is shameless.
He had her pose nude for his painter, Franois Boucher.
The whole kingdom is sunk in dissoluteness.
ls it not, Nannerl?
And you
would no doubt fall into my arms,
and the two of us would find great pleasure in it,
for we love each other.
ls that what you're thinking?
Follow me, Nannerl.
lnto my private domain.
l am surrounded by death.
As was my father.
l had one brother, now dead.
l am condemned to survive,
for the kingdom could not bear my death.
So I play at dying.
The Dauphine plays willingly.
And we invite friends to play at death with us.
When Maria-Josepha joins us,
you will be the young man l took such a liking to.
She will not know you have stolen my heart.
lt's the catafalque that was made for the first Dauphine.
l ordered it to be left in here, awaiting further deaths.
There is also a harpsichord
for you to play.
Are you afraid of the dead?
No, I don't think so.
Each corpse can become a ghost.
l know.
And they don't scare you?
No.
l know them well.
l know they exist.
Mine, in any case.
All my brothers and sisters who died.
l shall lie down on this bier
and live, with you, the last moments of our love.
Pepa!
l'm here, my beloved.
This is Monsieur Kauffer, who is ready to play with us.
Go to the harpsichord and play. lmprovise.
You called for me, my love?
Yes.
You alone bring me your affectionate presence.
My dear love,
forgive me this unpleasant night you will have to spend.
Go to bed, you must be tired.
No, my love.
My only pleasure is to stay with you.
l am afraid my rambling will bore you.
Can l be bored when I have you?
Did you hear what I said?
Yes.
Listen to this divine music.
Would you recite your prayers?
Yes, I shall read them.
Now withdraw.
l will leave you with your music.
Come.
Sit down.
Kiss my forehead.
My lips too.
You are the devil in person!
You wish to trap me in depravity, fornication and adultery!
Get out!
And take your ungodly music!
Go and never come back,
or I shall have you quartered!
ln eternal torment!
You had barely returned to Paris and now you're off to Vienna.
You'll always be in my heart, my dear Nanna,
however far away you are,
and even if we should never meet again.
l read your secrets,
and I understand your confusion.
God wanted us both to be girls.
lmagine how different our destinies would have been,
had we been boys.
You would be your brother and I would be mine.
We would both reign.
You, over your creations. l, over men.
But God decided otherwise.
You must obey Him by obeying your father,
and accepting what he commands.
l embrace you with all my heart and pledge my faith to you.
May you attain, in self-renunciation, a joy akin to mine,
through being so close to God.
Farewell, my friend.
Aren't you with them?
No.
Your black dress?
Yes.
Give me a hand.
l bought things for a feast.
Not prepared dishes. They're bad and too expensive.
lt's for our last night in Paris.
Shall we light the fire?
Yes.
My darling...
You're sad to be leaving Paris.
Aren't you glad to be going home?
l don't know.
See to the fire and get warm,
while I prepare the dinner.
Or will you help me?
l don't like cooking.
l know.
l'm not like other girls.
ln Salzburg my friends won't know me.
They'll have changed too.
They'll be all ready for marriage.
Aren't you cut out for marriage, then?
Who would wed me?
All I can do is sing and play.
Endless rehearsals under my father's orders...
such has been my life since I was little.
l can do nothing else.
Your father will be back soon,
and nothing's ready.
Sorry, Mama.
l love you so much.
l'll help you cook.
Teach me. There's still time!
My dear...
l cannot imagine being parted from my children.
l love you more than anything.
l shake with fear for you,
yet I am rewarded.
lt was from you l learned to be different!
No doubt.
Light the fire, l'll prepare the food.
Aren't you coming for a last walk in Paris?
No, I'm tired.
l'll tidy up, Mama.
l'm proud of you.
Wolfgang, put more clothes on.
No, Mama!
Leave him.
You know how he hates being swaddled.
The harpsichordists and composers of Vienna are against us,
refusing to acknowledge Wolfgang's talent.
To combat such dishonesty, l shall give them irrefutable proof.
- What, Papa? - You shall write an opera.
An opera?
lmagine the reaction.
A boy under twelve,
at his piano, conducting his orchestra.
An opera buffa.
An opera buffa?
But not a short one. lt will be two or three hours long.
l remember Madame Van Eyck mentioning it.
Did you hear? lt was Madame Van Eyck's idea!
At the time it didn't really register.
But now, because of that cabal...
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. We must succeed.
Why the theatre?
What better place is there?
Are you ready to take up the challenge?
To work, then, Mr Composer!
Look at him...
Nannerl never composed again.
She devoted her life to her father,
along with her choices, dreams,
loves and creative desires.
At the age of 32,
she agreed to marry a man over 50 who already had five children,
thus becoming Baroness von Berchtold zu Sonnenburg.
She entrusted her only surviving child, named Leopold, to her father.
He tried in vain to discover in his grandson
some of Wolfgang's creative spark.
She died at the age of 78, poor and blind,
having devoted her life
to gathering her brother's works for posterity.