Immortal Beloved Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Immortal Beloved script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Gary Oldman as Ludwig Van Beethoven movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Immortal Beloved. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Immortal Beloved Script



Ludwig van Beethoven, the man

who inherited and increased...



... the immortal fame

of Handel and Bach...



... of Haydn and Mozart...



... is now no more.



He was an artist.

And who will stand beside him?



He was an artist.



And what he was,

he was only through music.



The thorns of life

had wounded him deeply.



So he held fast to his art...



...even when the gate through

which it entered was shut.



Music spoke through

a deafened ear...



... to he who could

no longer hear it.



He carried the music in his heart.



Because he shut himself off from

the world, they called him hostile.



They said he was unfeeling

and called him callous.



But he was not hard of heart.



It is the finest blades

that are most easily blunted...



...bent or broken.



He withdrew from his fellow man

after he had given them everything...



...and had received

nothing in return.



He lived alone because

he found no second self.



Thus he was. Thus he died.



Thus he will live for all time.



Which one of you is the thief?!



Produce the money,

or I will have you arrested!



Then arrest me!



I took him in when nobody

could bear his company.



And now you want to get paid--



-Bank shares.

-Give that to me!



The money is mine!



Here is his will.



"l declare that my

brothers, Caspar and Johann...



...are the heirs to my fortune,

if so it can be called."



As Caspar is long dead,

that leaves me. Just me!



Well, give me my money!






This is his final testament.



"All my music and all

the capital of my estate...



...shall go to my sole heir,

my lmmortal Beloved."



Signed, Ludwig van Beethoven.



A letter is enclosed.



This is....



Don't keep me

in suspense! Who is it?




-Not so!



The letter bears no name.



"To my lmmortal Beloved."



"My angel, my all,

my other self."



The maestro was

nursing a secret passion.



I never heard such

words from his lips.



Who could this be?



The only love he held

was for himself.



I suffered his insults, his temper.



I suffered in silence when he

spat the food I made back in my face.



-That money is ours!

-lt is not.



It doesn't matter

anymore. He is gone.



We have his music.



Destroy this letter.



It shows his disordered

life to the world.



It's his dying wish.



We owe him at least that.



You have no authority

in this matter.



I have his authority.



Still the faithful dog?



He was my friend.



-What friend would be so cruel?

-What brother so uncaring?



You know nothing of my brother!



Take me to Karlsbad.



"My angel, my all, my other self.



Just a few words today,

and that in pencil. Yours.



Only tomorrow will I know where I'll

stay. A worthless waste of time.



Why this deep sorrow?



If we could be united, we

would feel this pain no longer. "



Good afternoon, sir.



-Good afternoon, Frau...?




Herr Schindler.



Let me find your reservation.



I'm afraid I don't

have a reservation.



No matter. We have always room

for a gentleman such as yourself.



Is this the address

of this hotel?



One moment.



Yes, of course.



Do you know the name

Ludwig van Beethoven?



The composer?



I knew him.



Did he ever stay here?



Are you a policeman?






Then I will not

answer your questions.



Please. I'm trying

to conclude his affairs.



Van Beethoven is dead.



Alas, yes.



Best thing for him.

He was a terrible man!



Then he stayed here?



A long time ago,

too long to remember.



I can remember only the damage.



The damage?



I was never paid for the damage.



He smashed it all up. Everything!



There was a chair, three florins.



Window, five. I had

to paint everything.



Frau Streicher...



...would this be sufficient?



There was a woman.



We had been expecting

Herr van Beethoven for days.



She came instead.



She said he was to join her.



She registered in his room.



Under what name?






Then there was this

terrible storm. A deluge.



The woman hid in her room...






...ashamed to show

her face, I'd say.



And then the letter arrived.



You opened the letter.



I had to. How else

would I know who it was for?



I only read his signature.



"My angel, my all, my other self.



Just a few words...



...and that in pencil...."



I sent it to her room at once.



She can't have

liked what she read.



She left at once, right away.



Left without a word to anybody.



And then, of course,

Herr van Beethoven arrives.



When he found she

was gone, he went mad.



He was like a madman!



Threw a chair out of the window.



I called the police.

I was frightened of him.



Herr van Beethoven!



Open up!



Here is her signature.



Is that a "J" or a "G"?



It looks more like an "A" to me.



She was haughty, like a countess.



What did she look like?



Never got a look at her.



I don't think she

wanted to be recognized.



Herr Schindler.



Lock the door.



But countess--



Lock the door!



We must not be disturbed.



Not everything

they say about me is true.



Holz was here with

the other one, the weasel.






How could Luigi

have such a vile brother?



I hope they were in good health.



They say you have

stolen Luigi's money.



They seemed to think

you would come here.



Why? I told them nothing.



The price for my silence

is that you must tell me everything.



I'm afraid that's impossible.



It falls upon me

to interrogate you.



And why should I submit to that?



-That is what he wanted.




The maestro.



What I shall tell you

will never leave this room.



On my word of honour, contessa.



There is substance to the rumours.



I was the great love

of Luigi's life.



I first heard the name

Beethoven when I was   .



I had heard that

his music aroused such passion...


            to be dangerous.



Some thought it obscene

and unsuitable for the young.



I wrote to my cousins,

Therese and Josephine.



They lived in Vienna...



... the great music

capital of the world.



Surely they would know more.



Indeed, they did.



They knew him intimately.



More intimately than

they admitted at the time.



Most nights, I dreamt of him...



...and then Father

was posted to Vienna.



We were invited to Prince Lichnowsky's

palace for a musical evening.



Beethoven would be there.



I knew he must be so noble,

so refined in feeling, so cultured.



I could hardly wait.

I was going to hear him play.



That music affected me

like none I had ever heard before.



And as for Beethoven...



...I was soon overcome.

I feared I might faint.






I didn't see you.



I have to go back.



You are leaving me

to listen to that ass...



...who plays like a kitchen maid,

all clipped and staccato?



This music is beautiful.



I was told that

the Viennese had superior taste.



Clearly, in your case,

it is not true.



You must be Julia Guicciardi.



I hear there's quite

a contest for your charms.



Sir, you are rude

and offensive. I am leaving.



-Do you play the piano?




I intend to be your teacher.



I shall call for you

tomorrow at   .



You shall be

barred from the house.



I could not believe the outrage.



This ugly man, surely a servant,

had called at the front door.



I have an appointment.



She has a piano.



A gentleman is here to see you.

He says he is your new music teacher.



There's been a mistake.

This man is a common oaf.



He accosted me last night.

Send him away at once!



I will not! It would be a shame

on our household.









May I present Ludwig van Beethoven.



You must attend my next recital.



I heard you last week.



I remember.



The music was beautiful.



Surely not that bad.



I found the playing exquisite.



It's that damn Beethoven

I can't stand.



People only claim to admire

his stuff so as not to seem--



My dear husband, don't confirm

your stupidity in front of the guests.



We all speak frankly here.



Tell us your opinion.



I was not looking for flattery.



It was too clipped and staccato.

There was not enough singing tone.



Julia, as you can see, is being

taught by the maestro himself.




-He comes every day to the house.



Every day?



Is that wise?



Why do you say that?



He's a harsh teacher.



He's a scoundrel

and a Republican.



It's said that he's

a follower of Napoleon.



He'd have us all in

the arms of Madame la Guillotine.



He travels in polite society...



...on his reputation as a virtuoso,

but flies into a fit...



...if anyone even dares suggest

he sit at the keyboard.



Why would he no longer play?



Beethoven is a strange

and obstinate man.



He says it makes him

feel like a servant...



...and he serves no masters.



But he takes the money!



You think because I did not

stop you, that I am not listening.



A mistake is nothing.



But the fact that you

thump out the notes...



...without the least sensitivity

to their meaning is unforgivable.



And your lack

of passion is unforgivable.



I shall have to beat you.



I am writing a new symphony.



It will cause a scandal

because of its subject.



-Tell me.

-Here, take my arm.






They should make way for us,

not us for them!



Their days are over.

Your world is finished!



Shut up!



When I was boy, they would've

had you arrested for less.



But now they are scared of

what is happening in France.



You know why wigs

went out of fashion?



Too many ended up

in the bottom of baskets.



But I am a countess too, Luigi.



They are scared.



Scared of Napoleon.



And that is why Napoleon

is the subject of my symphony.



I have here

a proposal of marriage...



...from a composer.



Count Gallenburg.



You were thinking of Beethoven?



The gossip is everywhere.



He also has proposed.



Then there's no contest.



You love Beethoven?






I cannot give my consent.



We are not wealthy, Julia.



He is a man without rank,

fortune or permanent engagement.



His character is so peculiar l

doubt any would find happiness with him.



-He's a genius.




In the last year, he has not

played nor published a single note.



There are those who say there

is some infirmity that prevents him.



Untrue gossip. Lies!



Has he played for you?






We made a bargain. If I could

prove Luigi could still play...



...Father would

give his consent.



Obviously, a fine countess.



Dear brother, you are

going up in the world!



Hand it over, you ignoramus!



As your secretary, it

is my solemn duty to read this!



"Beloved Luigi: My father

has taken delivery...



...of a new pianoforte

from Broadwood in London.



It is of the latest design

and is the first of its kind in Vienna.



Tomorrow morning, I will send away

the servants, and we shall all be out.



I have done this so that you might

try this new invention undisturbed. "



What is the meaning of this?



What kind of trick

have you played on me?



I beg you, calm down.



Now I see.



I see perfectly.



A little test!



Luigi, wait!



It is terrible!



Terrible to rob me in this way

of my most treasured feelings!



Father can go to hell!

I'll be your wife!



Julia, it's no use.

He can't hear you!



He's deaf!



A month later,

I married Count Gallenburg.



And you never

heard from him again.



He wrote to me.



It was after the war.

There had been some...






It was a bad time.



They who think me hostile,

obstinate or misanthropic...


            unjust they are to me.



For they do not know

the secret reason I appear that way.



It is not possible for

me to say, "Speak louder. "



"Shout. I am deaf!"



How can I live if

my enemies, who are many...



...believe I no longer

possess the one sense...



... that should be perfect to

a higher degree in me than in others?



Not so fast.



So what will you do?



See every shallow countess

Ludwig gave a dedication to?



They are liars

who want a piece of him now!



I have the lady's signature.



I shall study his correspondence

to find the hand that matches.



It is illegible!

You're wasting your time.



No court will uphold this nonsense!



Help me, then.



Are you mad?

Help you to cheat me?



I will tell you this:



There is no lady at

the end of your search.



Ludwig was a woman-hater!

Look how he behaved with Johanna.



He had every right. Your brother

took a bride of low character.



You are too much under

Ludwig's influence to see the truth.



He wanted Caspar under his thumb...



...running his errands.



He hated Johanna

because she took him away.



There she is.



She's so beautiful.



A marvelous creature.



She will be mine.



So you will betray me for that?



Where is your book?






She can be bought.

All women can be bought.



You are insulting the woman I love.



At first, it will

be all enticements.



Then, snap! The trap shuts.

There's always a price to pay!



I would never betray you

for one of those creatures.



Brothers, I have

some wonderful news!



She has finally consented.



-You are to be wed?




You explain to him.



May I present my bride?



Is this a joke?



You cannot be serious.



By all means, copulate with her.

But marriage?



What for?



You will be a laughingstock.



Every farmhand in the region

has enjoyed her for free.



Why should you pay more?



I know you cannot hear me,

and I don't care.



What I have to say

is for Caspar, not you.



I have had lovers...



...but that is not a crime.



I told you it was impossible.



I only want what is right.



He was jealous of his brother.



Why, she will destroy him.



Jealous of his happiness.



I'm Ludwig van Beethoven,

and I need your help.



Break the door down.



What are you playing at?!



Arrest that whore.



Don't touch her!



Arrest that whore!



That is slander!



We were married yesterday.



And she is with child.



Now, leave!



He behaved no better

when I married Therese.



He wanted us both

at his beck and call.



Give up the search.



I cannot.



I have my reasons.



I will find this lady.



And she will claim her legacy

with the full force of the law.



"The journey was dreadful.



The coach had to go and

break down on such a terrible road...



...and for no reason,

just a country road.



I have to see you.



However much you love me...



...I love you more.



Never hide yourself from me. "



Excuse me, I'm looking

for the Countess Erdody.



I'm looking for

the Countess Erdody!



Schindler. You do not recognize me?



Please sit. Join me for dinner.






Anna Marie. These are

my people. I'm home now.



I don't have to

play the countess. I'm free!



Poor Louis.



I miss him so much.



His death has left a void.



The way they treated him...



...disgusted me.



He was too good for them.



His fire offended

their small brains.



But not you.



I could match his temperament.



You gave him rooms at your palace?



I wanted him near me.



Was he your lover?









From the beginning.



From the beginning.



From the beginning!



That was how I met Louis...



...and how the world

learned of his deafness.



I was separated from my husband.



I lived an independent life

in Vienna with my three children.



I will arrange a housekeeper.






I had one.



She cheated me.



We had thought of Napoleon

as a liberator...



...a force for change.



Now we saw the truth.



Bonaparte had

declared himself emperor...



...and set out to conquer the world.



He said he brought

freedom from the tyranny of kings.



But he was Saturn,

gobbling up his children.



His cannon fired night and day...



...on the city of Vienna.






There is a strange gentleman here

to see you.



I cannot receive anybody.



I think he's deaf.



He will not go away.



The countess will see you now.



Your son....



We will speak in music.



Napoleon was victorious.



The whole of Europe

was at his feet.



He took a Hapsburg princess

as his bride...



...and set up court

at Schonbrunn Palace.



He proved himself no

different than any aristocrat.



Everybody was betrayed.



This was the way

of the modern world.



The year Louis lived with us...



...was the happiest of my life.



And, I think, of his too.



He opened his heart to me.



He called me his father-confessor.

He told me everything.



You must have loved him

very, very much.



With all my heart.



And he, you.






I don't think so, no.



Then he was a fool!



I like you better drunk.



It's good to talk about him.



Is this why

you came all this way?



No, not only.



You said there was

unfinished business.



There is.



But how can I help you, Anton?



Perhaps it's nothing.



But then perhaps

it's the key to him.



Perhaps they're right and

I should let it go, but I cannot.



It's impossible for me.



But why?



It was that damned sonata...



...the Kreutzer.



At the time, I entertained

ambitions of a musical career.



I'd gone to Vienna

and was fortunate enough...



... to be taken by

Schuppanzigh as a pupil.



He and George Bridgetower,

the virtuoso from Africa...



...were about to premiere

this new Beethoven sonata...


            Count Razumovsky's

that evening.



And I was allowed

to attend the rehearsal.



It was there that the seed

of a mystery was planted...



... that haunts me to this day.



Do you like it?



I cannot hear them...



...but I know they are

making a hash of it.



What do you think?



Music is a dreadful thing.



What is it?



I don't understand it.

What does it do?



It exalts the soul.



Utter nonsense!



If you hear a marching band,

is your soul exalted?



If you hear a waltz, you dance.

If you hear a Mass, you take Communion.



It is the power

of music to carry one...



...directly into the mental

state of the composer.



The listener has no choice.



It is like hypnotism.



So now...



...what was in my mind

when I wrote this?



A man is trying

to reach his lover.



His carriage has

broken down in the rain.



The wheels are stuck in the mud.



She will only wait so long.



This is the sound

of his agitation.



"This is how it is"...



...the music is saying.



"Not how you are used to being...



...not how you

are used to thinking.



But like this. "



Who was the woman?

He never told me.



I knew better than to ask.



He made me see the world

in an entirely new light.



I abandoned my petty ambitions.

I fetched and carried for him.



I wrote his letters and

smoothed over his domestic disputes.



I became his secretary.



The hag has sold it

in the market for a souvenir.



It's lost!



Gone forever.






Maybe not.



He was sure he'd left

the sketch for his symphony...


            his brother's safekeeping.



-My God.




The brothers had barely

spoken for eight years.



This is Herr Schindler.



This is my brother, Caspar...



...and my nephew, young Karl.



Had I realized this,

I would've 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'd 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...


            and this foul slut

you call a wife!



You have betrayed me!



-Maestro, please!

-Stop it! Stop it!



He is 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

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?






"By order of the Landrechte...



...Ludwig van Beethoven is the

legal guardian of his nephew...



...owing to the low moral character

of his mother, Johanna van Beethoven.



Rights of visitation

will be at the discretion...



...and convenience of

the legal guardian. "



Too watery.






Then we shall have to

find someone who can cook.



She has a swinish face anyway.



Were you taught music?






I have a gift for you.






Can you read?






Let me show you.



You shall be a musician.



I want to be a soldier.



A composer?



No, a soldier.



I gave my first concert

when I was your age.



And I was terrible.



Your grandfather thought

that he was...



...going to make a fortune

out of me as a child prodigy...



...Iike Mozart's old man.



But I was pigheaded.



I wouldn't play that tinkly,

pretty stuff that was in vogue then.



But the keyboard

was not up to it.



The first time I played

a chord, I broke four strings.



The boy is hardly a Mozart, is he?



I was   ...



...but Father told

them I was  .



Mother died of consumption...



...and I became

the head of the family.



Your papa...



...I loved most of all.



As I love you...


            dear Karl.



His eyes shone with joy

when he looked at the boy.



All the love in his rich nature...



...seemed to concentrate

on this boy.



There was no more tender father.



You should hear him play.



He's 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 are scoundrels.



You're impossible.






You and l....



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 is his mother!



She is his mother!



What new insanity is this?



It's come to our attention

that you've bribed servants...


            order to have

access to the boy in secret.



Herr Beethoven

would not allow--



You are talking about my son.



My son who l

have not seen for a year.



My son who's been

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...



...that I have no right

to see my 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 landlords would chuck

him out from his carrying on.



The boy is just as bad.

His uncle encouraged him.



I overheard them discussing how

they were 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?






-He has a hot temper, does he not?




-Do you fear his temper?




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?






Speak up.






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?






Do you miss her?






Then would you not prefer

to live with her?



Uncle needs me.



What I would prefer...


            that we might

all live together.



This way, gentlemen, please.



Herr Beethoven, our

most accomplished composer.



It is an honour.



Chancellor Metternich.



Due to his infirmity,

Herr Beethoven has requested...



...that I speak for him.



As you wish.



His case in the magistracy

is not going well.



Frau Beethoven has bribed

witnesses to testify--



I need your help.

My young nephew, Karl...


            being corrupted by

this woman's poisonous character.



Why should I help you, Beethoven?



"Metternich is a worse

tyrant than Napoleon."



That was recorded

last Tuesday at the Swann Tavern.



"Metternich should be

forced to eat my shit."



And so on and so forth.



There are many forces in

Austria that foment revolt.



I'd like a lively discussion

as much as anyone...



...but I fear that these days

we cannot allow quite so much...


            can I put it...






Perhaps it would be

better if our great artists...



...were more circumspect.



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 what

was to be his most tragic endeavour:



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, not the Mass

for the London Philharmonic Society...



...not the great symphony

he spoke of endlessly.






In Vienna they thought he

was finished, deaf, written out.



Rossini had performed The Thieving

Magpie, and Italian opera was the rage.



Beethoven was no longer performed.



It's late.



I'm sorry, sir.



It's disgusting.



Why does she disobey me? She knows

my bowel's in a terrible state.



You're trying to poison me!



Well, she might appear plump

and pretty to you...



...but she is a vulgar bitch.



Gossips about me all over town.



Yes, sir.



Your food is poison.

You are fired.



You foul old bastard.






Where are you going?



-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 are worthless!






I'm sending for the doctor now.









Play for me.



Not now.



It will calm me.






I found this the other day.



"Maestro Ludwig van Beethoven

announces a concert...



...which will be the debut of his

nephew and ward, Karl van Beethoven...



...a prodigy instructed

by the maestro."



Why, this is wonderful!



The very thing that will raise

his spirits. You must be 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?



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.



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 had your uses,

and now you have none. Get out.



Get out.



Wake up, bastard!



Wake up!



He's gone, on your account.



My Karl shot himself.



A farmer found him in the ruins

and carried him here.



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'm very busy.



Frau Beethoven...



...may I see a sample

of your handwriting?









...indulge me.






Is this your handwriting?



What is this?



A page from the registry

of a hotel in Karlsbad.



I would like you to go.








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 insulting and

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  th Symphony...



... the gossip was everywhere.



Ludwig had fought with the singers.



He had fought the theatre.



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.



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.



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.



-ls he sleeping?

-I don't think so.



He is composing.



The comedy is over.



I once loved him.



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...


            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.



No, Caspar will come!



But 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.






The journey was dreadful.



I did not arrive here

until   in the morning.



At the last stop, they told me

not to travel at night...



...and tried to frighten me

about a forest...



...but that only tempted me.



The coach had to 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.






While still in my bed,

my thoughts turn to you...


            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're my life, my everything.



Farewell, then. Go on loving me.



Ever yours, ever mine, forever.

Special help by SergeiK