All language subtitles for Song of Love (1947).eng

Pedal.

Crescendo.

- More pedal! Crescendo!
- Yes, father.

She’s amazing isn’t she?

A brilliant performance of your music.

How does she make her fingers
move so fast, Mr. Liszt?

Does she never smile?

Attention! Clara pay attention!

Bravo!

Bravo!

The king!

Smile.

"La Campanella".

If you don’t mind father,
I should like to play Traumerai.

La Campanella is the encore.

With Your Majesty’s gracious permission,

my encore
will be the work of a new composer.

It is called… Traumerai.

Who did she say wrote it?

She didn’t say, Your Majesty.
It was written by Robert Schumann.

Bravo!

Bravo!

Bravo!

Bravo!

I planned your program.

And you behave like a silly schoolgirl?

You disgrace yourself,
you insult His Majesty.

I’m sorry father,
he was so displeased.

You displease me!
How can you behave like this?

I did it for him. I did it for Robert.

I did it because I love him.

Bravo!

How did it sound?

Oh don’t tell me how it sounded,
I know it was wonderful!

Clara. Clara!

Your flowers are lovely, and the card.

You should have told me.

When you started to play
I nearly died!

Robert, father nearly died.
I told him.

- Was I right?
- I’m merely frightened.

Miss Wieck, a wonderful performance.

Thank you.

- That was real music, Mr. Schumann.
- Thank you.

- Robert. - Oh Clara. I love you.
I love you very very much.

Mr. Schumann.
I’d like to speak to you.

- I rather expected you would.
- Miss Wieck please.

Miss Wieck, on behalf of
Their Majesties, my uncle and my aunt,

I wish to congratulate you. We--

We… We…

Have listened…

We have listened to your playing with
enormous interest. Thank you.

Thank you, your royal highness.

Miss Wieck, that last piece. It was
wonderful! I thought you were wonder--

Thank you!

Our coach will be leaving in a few
minutes. Will you get ready?

But we are going
to have supper at the Metropol!

I’m sorry, we have to go back
to Leipzig. Will you hurry please?

And bring my cloak and hat.

I believe Clara has told you,
Professor Wieck. We love each other.

About all I can do is confirm it.

Yes. I stand opposed,
you know that, don’t you?

We’d like to be married.

We’d both be a great deal happier
if we thought you approved.

I can give you
a dozen reasons why I can’t consent.

You are ten years older than she is.

She shouldn’t get married at all, not yet.

Her career is too important.
She should marry a man of means.

Or let’s say at least a man with
some slight acquaintance with money,

who will know
how to conserve her income,

even though he can’t support her.

She shouldn’t marry
a man in the profession.

Your careers will conflict.

Or if she must,
then she should marry a man of talent,

at least comparable with hers.

But it’s not fair! Professor Wieck,
I studied with you for years,

I lived in your house, you know my--

You lived in my house and
intrigued behind my back!

- Well that’s not true!
- What would you call it?

Alright sir. But we intend to marry.

Your reasons against it
are good enough, I suppose,

heaven knows I’m older than she is,

I’m unknown, she’s famous and all that.

You might mention, though,
the possibility of making her happy!

When did you ever try that?
I’ve seen you dominate her,

break her spirit
as if you enjoyed it.

I’ve seen you keep her in pigtails
'til she was seventeen!

'Til she was afraid and ashamed
to be seen on the streets!

Why? Because it meant better
business at her concerts.

You understand talent, Professor
Wieck, and I don’t question it,

You understand hers
like a private goldmine,

and that’s another reason why
you don’t want to lose her.

Robert.

Go back to Leipzig, pack your things,
get out of my house!

- Alright, sir!
- If he goes, I go too.

You’ll find, Clara, that
you’ll be forced to obey me.

- Mr. Schumann, there are laws.
- There are laws, Professor Wieck.

Give us our freedom, your worship.

The freedom
to live together under the same sky,

and die if we must.

Together, where our hands can touch.

I love him, proudly,
immodestly, everlastingly.

I beg you! I love him so.

I wonder, Miss Wieck,
if this court for too long,

has judged nothing but human hatred,

and now finds itself helpless and
undecided in the presence of human love.

Your father, whatever his faults,

has proved himself an excellent guardian.

What have I heard
concerning Mr. Schumann?

That you love him. That's all?
You may sit down, Miss Wieck.

Professor Wieck, will you rise?

I cannot say that I enjoyed
siding in your favor.

Silence!

I beg your pardon, your worship.

- Franz Liszt.
- Franz Liszt.

It's just possible that I may be able
to clear up a disputed point.

- What is your name?
- Franz Liszt.

With the spectator's
permission, the court

will follow its
customary procedure.

Will you make your statement,
Mr. Liszt, as briefly as possible?

The question of Mr. Schumann's ability
seems important to this case.

I can't guarantee what Professor Wieck
thinks of my judgment,

or my ability.

In any case, I am not blinded by
infatuation with Mr. Schumann.

Silence! Silence!

It's my estimation that he is
a composer of exceeding promise.

Only last month he received
an honorary doctor's degree in music

with the University of Vienna.

I don't quite understand
this talk of failure.

Professor Wieck himself I believe,
was present

when his daughter played
one of Mr. Schumann's

most exquisite compositions

at her recent concert. If
Professor Wieck was not enthusiastic,

I assure the court
that His Majesty the king was.

Bravo.

Since a good many people agree
with His Majesty's taste,

I personally
am quite hopeful for Mr. Schumann.

That is all, your worship.

Bravo!

For better for worse,
for richer for poorer,

in sickness and in health.
To love and to cherish,

'til death us do part.

Oh, Robert. It's beautiful!

- Up?
- Up.

- Here?
- No. A little higher.

I don't mind climbing stairs,
not a bit.

It's a good thing.

What a tall house!

- How many more?
- There aren't any more.

Your new home.

I'm sorry...

Robert, you're very silly.

Oh, Robert! Robert I love it.

A place like this, it's not so big
that you can lose things.

No, and it'll be so easy to take care of!
And we'll always be near to each other.

Why we couldn't get ten feet apart
even if we wanted to.

- And we're so high up!
- Good air!

Oh I love being high up.

It's all I can give you.
It's the days of my life.

The happy days, the other days...

What I thought about.

How the sun rose
where you were standing,

how it sets when you say goodnight.

It's... me. It's yours.

Do you know a little poem?
It's called Dedication.

I've set it to music.

You are my soul. You are my heart.

My grief... my joy... my counterpart.

You are my dream... my reality...

my life's mirror
of heaven and earth...

Eternity.

It's an odd sort of wedding gift,
but... but it's yours

I wrote it for you.
It's all I can give you.

I've no way of saying rather
how beautiful it is.

May I speak with Professor
Schumann, please?

He's busy.

I have just come from Dresden,
I have a letter for him.

I see. He's giving a music lesson.

Come in.

You can wait in there.

Might be a few minutes!

Here here!
That's no way to treat a baby!

That's my chicken!

Get it!

My chicken!

My chicken!

Get it!

That chicken's for supper!

How many did you count?

Now stop wiggling, stop wiggling!

You'll splash water
all over the floor!

Mama, we got him!

Mama, he was way up on the rafters!

She tried to catch him.
He was trying to kill her!

He would've saved us the trouble.

Who let her out of the cage?

- Ludwig!
- It was not, it was you!

- I did not!
- He did!

How can anybody
get any work done in this house?

If you find out, let me know.

Back and forth,
up and down the hall, a solid hour!

I'm sorry, Robert. Someone
let the chicken out of the cage.

Ferdinand, Ludwig, one of them,
I can't keep track.

It's impossible,
children, children, please!

Can't sell them to the gypsies!

I tried, but they wouldn't have them!

Robert, it's New Year's Eve,
we're having people to dinner.

We're very busy,
they had to catch the chicken.

Alright, alright.

Ferdinand, you're next.
Take your clothes off.

Children! Come on! Marie,
Julie, help me catch him!

Ferdinand!
Ferdinand!

- Bertha, I want to talk to you.
- I am listening.

Bertha, my wife has too much to do.

Was none of my doing
they've got so many children.

No no, no no of course not, but...

Mrs. Schumann is an artist.

She has no business bathing babies,

scrubbing floors, making beds...

What's an artist doing
with all them children?

Get your hands off that cake!
Oh, the chicken...

What I mean, Bertha, is...

Bertha.
In the future, I want you to see

to it that she doesn't
have so much to do.

Are you saying
I don't work hard enough?

- No, no!
- Me?

How many hands do you think I've got?

Maybe you'd like to see my bunions!

- Now Bertha, really, I--
- I don't work hard enough...

Every night
my feet in a bucket of hot water,

then rubbing them with oil,

get up in the morning
and it's still dark,

run and carry
and morning 'til night and...

- I don't work enough!
- Now really--

For two pennies,
Professor Schumann, I--

It's alright, Bertha, it's alright,
I don't blame you, I understand,

but I'm sure in the
future you'll see to it

that things go along
a little smoother.

I'm depending on you.

Bertha.

What are they doing now,
putting total strangers to work?

Professor Schumann! Professor Schumann,
I have a letter here for you...

Bertha. Come on, Felix darling.

Bertha! Come on, Felix.

Bertha! Fine thing!

I'm telling you, Professor Schumann.

Oh I apologize.
How long have you been waiting?

Oh it's quite alright,
she just forgot me.

Joachim.

- How is he?
- He was very well when I left him.

Sit down, please, sit down.

Let me say, Prof. Schumann...

There is no one
with whom I'd rather study.

I know that I'm young.

Never mind all that. Joachim
thinks the world of you, that's enough.

Play something you've written.

It's a rhapsody.

Go on! Go on!

Clara, come here, listen. It's my wife.

Please go on.

Take off your coat,
you'll be more comfortable.

Who is he?

A young composer, Joachim sent him.

Yes, Robert, but who is he? Who?

Brahms. Johannes Brahms.

Go on! Continue.

Thank you.

I wish I could write
something like that, it's...

It's different, it's strange.
It's a new kind of music.

It's magnificent.
Why do you even want to study with me?

- You're joking.
- Oh, no.

Prof. Schumann,
ever since I learned to play,

ever since I first listened to music
and knew what it was

Your music...

I want to study with you.

I suppose it's because I respect you
more than any other composer in Europe.

I suppose you know, Mr. Brahms,

there are a few musicians here and there
who share your enthusiasm

A critic or two in unimportant cities.

We do get
very nice letters now and then.

We get along. I teach.

I do a little criticism
for a few publications.

I write my music, we wait.

I hope we live long enough!

This is a large house. Would you care
to live with us while you study?

I would like it!

You can pay for your board I hope.

The baby! I forgot to feed the baby!

- Bertha! Bertha!
- I don't work hard enough, huh?

Me! Every night
my feet in a bucket of hot water!

Ten years working in this house

and you could sell what's left of me
for hide and tallow!

- Bertha, what are you talking about?
- Ask that man!

Bertha! Bertha! Don't--

What did you do?

Why, uh...

We have eight people coming to dinner!

I swear, Clara, that is...
We had a little discussion,

but we came to a complete understanding!

- Oh you did, did you?
- Word of honor!

In the course of the discussion,
you didn't by any chance

- hit her over the head with a frying pan?
- No.

Oh men,
keep out of my kitchen. Eight people!

What are we going to do?

Robert. Get your coat on, go and
tell them the party's off.

But it's New Year's Eve!

Couldn't we, eh,
that is Prof. Schumann and I...?

- Brilliant! You and I!
- What?

- We'll get dinner!
- No.

You won't even have to raise a hand.
Don't even come in the kitchen!

Robert!
You can't do this to our friends!

Well... Let's take our coats off.

Ah, beets!

Potatoes.

Bertha didn't even kill the chicken.

The chicken for dinner...

- Kill it?
- Well naturally, we can't eat it alive.

There's nothing to it, all you have
to do is slit its throat.

What are you waiting for, Robert?

Doesn't somebody have to take
the feathers off first?

Nonsense.

Well go ahead, grab it by the legs.

I'm a professor of music,
not a murderer.

- You do it.
- I?

All you have to do is slit its throat.

Well don't be silly, Robert. I mean,
it takes strength, it's man's work!

I'll do it!

Mr. Brahms.
I've known you were a brave man

ever since you said
you'd live in this house.

- Are you sure this knife is sharp enough?
- I'm afraid it is.

I'll go down to the cellar
and get some wine!

Oh no you don't.
If I can stand this you can.

- She's laid an egg!
- What? Clara!

- Is it all over?
- She's laid an egg!

It would be hardly the
thing to do to kill her now,

it doesn't seem quite proper!

Poor thing! Poor thing!

You! You must've frightened her.
Don't you worry.

You can lay all the eggs you want to.

I don't like to mention it,
but what are we going to eat?

This wouldn't make a large enough
omelet for eleven people, would it?

Well if you don't mind, that is as a
New Year's present, perhaps.

I was passing
a butcher shop, I saw a goose.

I swear to you, my friends,
that goose was dead!

- Twelve.
- That's it.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year, Mr. Brahms!

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

Watch it! Watch it, please!

- What's this?
- Time!

The witching hour!

Who has the lead soldiers?

- Here!
- The fish! The fish!

- They'll be alright!
- Not in the coffee pot!

They'll stay awake all night!

Are they going to play soldiers?

It's a tradition.
We melt the lead soldiers

and then we tell fortunes.

Mrs. Hein,
will you turn out the lights?

I'll do it, Miss! I'll do it!

Are you... ready, Heller?

Ready! Who's first?

Clara! Who else?

Isn't there
an old ghost about somewhere?

Look out.

- It's a cradle!
- Oh, Mrs. Hein don't say that!

It's a storer to diamonds!

- That will be for your next birthday?
- It's a heart!

That's nice, a heart! That's happy!

I'm gonna
lock it up in a drawer and keep it.

- It's a heart! You're next.
- Oh no!

Yes! Come on, Johannes, come on!

- Could be a car wheel?
- No. No that's a crown!

A perfect crown.

I don't think
I'd make a very good king.

Why not? Beethoven was a king.

- You're next, Robert.
- All right.

- Come on, Robert.
- It'll probably be a stork!

- No no, a cradle!
- A stork.

- It'll be some diapers!
- Don't say that!

Watch out.

Abracadabra! Abracadabra!

A 100 piece orchestra playing the
complete works of Robert Schumann...

In evening dress!

- Why it's a coffin!
- A what?

Oh how silly! It's a money box.

- We're going to be rich, Robert.
- After all, it could be anything.

Go and play something, Mr. Brahms.

Your turn, Elsie.

There's something wrong with
the piano, isn't there?

What do you mean? It's beautiful.

Thank you, Clara.

What for?

Oh, I don't know.

I can't practice
on the piano, Uncle Brahms.

Mama's asleep in the living room.

She never
slept in the afternoon before.

You probably
never gave her the chance.

- Should I wake her?
- Oh, never never no.

She had quite a night of it.

Well what am I gonna do, Uncle Brahms?

Button me!

- Which one are you?
- Julie.

Don't you know how to button buttons?

- Julie, huh?
- What's the matter?

Your eyes...

You look so much like your mother.

Hmm. She doesn't look like anything
to me. She's not old enough.

Well, Marie,
you're not so old yourself!

I'll wager
you don't even know how to dress Julie.

Why I do too! Come on, Julie.

- What are you doing here?
- I'm the new houseboy.

I came for my wages.

Well, sit down, Bertha.
They'll be here soon.

How did you know my name?

Bertha, I've heard so much about you!

That's no way to wash a dish!

From what they say, I can't expect you
to think very highly of my work.

What do you mean "what they say?"

Oh, just how careful you were. How you
always took care of things so well.

Clumsy!

You fool! One of their best dishes.

Don't hold it against me, Bertha.
I've had no experience.

You see I'm just doing this so that
I can study with Prof. Schumann.

- You won't tell them will you?
- Idiot! No I won't tell them.

Doesn't mean anything to me.
I don't work here.

Thank you, Bertha. Thank you!

I know how they listen to you.
They think there's nobody like you.

Oh... the way Mrs. Schumann cried
when you left.

Did she?

I shouldn't have gone off so quick,
I suppose.

- How was the party?
- Oh, terrible. I ruined everything.

I don't know how many times Prof. Schumann
said what a wonderful cook you'd been.

- Over and over.
- Prof. Schumann said that?

Yes. He said it was like losing
a member of the family.

And Mrs. Schumann said that you
were taking care of those children

just as though they were your own.

Oh and the children, Bertha.
Those poor children.

I heard Ludwig
say his prayers last night.

He said,
"And please, God, take care of Bertha.

Take a little cotton from the clouds
and wrap it around her feet,

so that they won't hurt so."

Oh Ludwig! That little rascal!

- What are you going to do with that?
- Cook it.

They must eat, Bertha.

- Did you ever cook a roast before?
- No, but I can try.

Give me that!

Bertha,
you're not coming back to work!

I can't let you poison them!

But what about me?

Oh, he'll let you go on studying
with him. He's that kind of a man.

Get out of my kitchen!

Bertha! Bertha! Ludwig, Bertha's back!

Bertha!

Bertha!

Bertha!

We're so glad you're back!

Bertha is back.

I'm sorry,
I thought you'd stopped working.

I was thinking.

You must
run up a flag or something, Robert,

so I'll know if you're thinking
or just sitting here.

I've got a headache, Clara.

And in 30 minutes
I've got to start beating music

into the heads
of a lot of young numbskulls.

I'm trying to find time somewhere
to finish this idiotic opera!

Robert, is it the same headache
you've been having for weeks?

Of course not. Why do you say
it's the same headache?

I get a headache and it goes away.
I get another headache.

Why be so silly
as to call it the same headache?

- It's a different headache!
- I'm sorry, Robert.

Robert.
You remember Haslinger, the agent?

He's talked me into giving a
concert in Cologne next month.

We'll make a regular holiday of it.

Johannes can take care of the children,

we'll have to take Bertha
and the baby with us, of course.

I'm going to play
your Carnivale if you'll let me.

I don't even know if I can still play.

Think of it.
2,000 thalers just for one concert.

I'm going to squander every bit of it

I'll buy a coat all trimmed with
fur, the most expensive fur.

You're going to pay my bills.

Our bills...
Robert...

I don't want to talk about it just now.

It isn't as if I couldn't support you.

"Faust"
will pay for everything, you know it.

Of course it will!

But it's an opera, Robert, it's
the biggest thing you ever tried.

It's not even finished yet,
and you can't rush with it.

And nobody will ever listen to it.
Go on, say it!

No I won't say that, that's not true.

You signed with Haslinger. You didn't
even tell me first, you tell me now.

I just happened
to run into him, Robert.

Stop treating me like a child!

I'm a grown man, leave me some
self respect, don't lie to me!

I'm terribly sorry.

Alright, Robert.
I got in touch with Haslinger.

I didn't tell you
because I knew you wouldn't let me

but I couldn't stand it any longer.

Watching you
day after day, year after year,

struggling to make ends meet.

Working, grinding, killing yourself.
For what?

For me, for the children,
for the landlord.

Robert, look at me.
I can make the money so easily.

Why? Because
I'm a performer, nothing else.

I have a kind of fleeting popularity
which people are willing to pay for.

What I do
is here today and forgotten tomorrow.

But you create, Robert.
The things you do will last forever.

If they don't make money today,
that's not important.

You must be free to write your music.

Music to which no man will listen.

Music which
the angels will be proud to sing.

Didn't she skip something?

Amazing. I've never heard her play it
that fast before. Look at her fingers.

Bravo!

Bravo!

Didn't the audience think I'd gone mad?

They thought
you were wonderful. You were.

They thought
maybe I was rushing to a fire.

Miss Wieck... eh, Mrs. Schumann.
I am offering you a fortune.

Minus your 20% commission.

I'll make it 30,000. All expenses paid.

You're not listening to me. Mrs. Schumann,
London will be at your feet. Paris!

Mr. Haslinger, I appreciate your
enthusiasm for geography,

but I have seven children,
I have a husband.

This is nonsense. What I was saying,

a woman like you belongs to the world!

- Not a nursery.
- That will do, Mr. Haslinger.

Alright! You don't have to fight
for concessions with me.

I will pay all expenses. Bring your
children along. Bring your husband along.

Mr. Haslinger. I'm not interested
in your concessions,

and I'm not interested in your tour.

I wanted to give one concert. I gave it. My
children need me, my husband needs me.

He's finished an opera, Hertel has
it now, we expect to hear from Hertel

about its production,
maybe when we get home tonight.

For the last time, Mr. Haslinger,
your tour is out of the question.

- Mrs. Schumann!
- That's enough, Mr. Haslinger.

And stop dropping ashes on the baby!

Robert! Quarantine! They're ill!

Johannes!

Johannes! Marie! Ferdinand!

Mama! Ferdinand, Ludwig, wake up!

Marie, who is ill?

- Mama!
- I'm glad you're home!

- Where is Julie?
- Upstairs.

Why? What is this?

- Uncle Brahms did it.
- Julie's ill!

Julie's got measles all over.

Uncle Brahms says
she looks like a leopard.

Uncle Brahms put it up so
we couldn't go upstairs and catch it.

Mama, can I have the measles,
when can I have the measles?

Oh, be quiet, sweetie.

- Johannes. - We're doing very well,
Clara, there's no use your catching it.

- I've got to see her.
- Why?

The doctor was here
just a while ago and she's fine.

You don't want them
to catch it from you.

- Yes, Clara. The baby.
- Mommy! Mommy!

Don't worry about her.

I'm the one
who may not survive the night.

- How was the concert?
- Alright, alright.

I want the measles!
I want the measles!

Oh be quiet.
Have you had your supper?

I cooked it. Uncle Brahms showed me
how to down the staircase.

Poor Uncle Brahms. Go on into bed.

Go on. Run run run.

That's my side!

Not yet.

It couldn't be here yet, Robert.
Come, we'll put the children to bed.

You go on, I might as well work.

Robert,
forget about Haslinger. He's a fool.

Uncle Brahms. I'm cold, Uncle Brahms.

Well that's the fever, Julie.
Makes you feel shivery.

You said fever's hot.
Why does it make me feel cold?

Talking time's over, darling.
Let's go to sleep now.

- Will you get the measles?
- No, Julie, I've had them.

Now be very quiet.

I want a drink of water.

With lemon in it.

Sugar.

Thank you, Uncle Brahms.
I'll drink it later.

Tuck me in!

- Hold my hand.
- Oh, Julie, you must go to sleep.

Hold my hand!

- Do you like me, Uncle Brahms?
- Yes, Julie.

Do you like me better
than you like Marie?

Well, I like all of you.

Do you like me better
than you like mommy?

A man likes children one way

and grown ups another way, Julie.

Mommy loves me. Do you love me?

Of course, Julie.

Do you love mommy?

Do you?

I told you it was different with
grown ups. Now you'd better go to sleep.

- Tell me some stories.
- I don't know anymore stories, darling.

- I'll play you some music.
- That's alright.

Uncle Brahms! Uncle Brahms!

- Yes, Julie?
- Goodnight!

Goodnight, Julie.

Julie! Julie!

Ludwig? No... Julie?

Marie!

- Oh, Uncle Brahms!
- Mommy doesn't count!

I don't wanna see any doctor!

I'm alright!

You come on!

There we go.

Here we go. Now... open.

- Tongue out. Say aah.
- Aaah.

- Thank you.
- Can I go now?

Do you ever eat... peppermints?

Just a minute. What do you say?

Aah!

He never stops working, does he?

That's a curious piece.
What's he working on these days?

Oh we're still waiting
to hear about the opera.

That's just something he...
Why don't you go in and see him?

- What's the matter with him?
- Nothing. A few headaches.

You talk to him.
Try to make it social.

He gets furious if I even
mention the word "doctor."

Well, that's normal.
Don't worry, I'll be subtle.

- Good morning, Dr. Hoffman.
- Am I disturbing you?

No, not at all. How's Julie?

Oh fine!

You're such a healthy pack of animals,

it'll be months before I have
another chance to see you.

Dark as a pit in here.
Does the light disturb you?

- A little. When I'm working.
- You're certainly working enough.

What was that music I heard you playing?
You know me, a frustrated musician.

A strange sort of melody. Perhaps
it's the dissonances, but

It's not at all like your usual things.

It is not.

It's a poem of Hebbel's,
I came across it the other day,

it's called "The Cursed Forest." Here.

That it if you're interested.
Right here.

"The flowers here grow still and tall,
snow white as if they were dead

One single in the midst of all

alone blooms scarlet red."

Perhaps you can follow it, go on.

"The red is not the reddish tan of sun

no morning glow

her roots drank from the blood of man

which drenched the earth below."

Quite dramatic. Must have fascinated you.

The idea...

I don't know, one flower drenched in
blood singled out, standing alone

It's horrid in a way,
but it happens to people too

sometimes, you know.

- They can't say I copied this.
- Do they ever?

- You know they do.
- Who?

People! People.
How do I know who they are?

I hope I don't sound as idiotic to
you as I do to myself!

It's like the "A" I suppose, in my own
head, that doesn't make it any less real.

- The what?
- The "A!"

A, A, A, A, A!

It's like a blot in a manuscript it
used to smear up other people's music,

now it's creeping into mine!
Like that! A, A, A, A!

- It's obscene!
- Sit down.

You get headaches don't you? Where?

Does this hurt?

Not where you're touching it though.

Stop doctoring me!

You musicians!
I'm glad I'm only a frustrated one.

A doctor never has to get excited
about anything more serious

than life and death.

Ease up on this work, do you hear
me? You can't work like this.

Nobody's nerves'll stand it.

Get some rest, that's all I mean.

I'll send you something to help
the headaches and you take it.

I'll look in on you in a few days.

Doctor.

- What do you think?
- Overworked.

- You don't need to be gentle with me.
- Who's being gentle with anybody?

Here. It's a sedative.

Now he's perfectly sound.

See that he doesn't work so hard and
make him sleep, make him get some rest.

There is nothing wrong with him.
I'll be in again on Friday.

To see if there's still
nothing wrong with him?

His sister's mind broke down.
She killed herself.

- You're afraid, aren't you?
- Clara, where do you get the courage?

I love him, doctor. You know everything
about someone you love.

- Oh excuse me.
- No, Johannes, stay.

The doctor thinks
Robert may have melancholia.

- I didn't say that.
- Be careful, he may hear you.

Clara,
I can't say anything for certain truth.

Melancholia, his mind,
what does anybody know about the mind?

Hardly anything yet.

We know about him, don't we?
We know he's a man of genius.

What is it like
to have such a thing inside you?

All your life, something inside
you that wants to come out,

that wants to sweep the earth.

If only he were mediocre,
how easy it would be.

Is there any chance he might
have some success? Soon?

The opera.

It could do more for him
than any doctor.

Keep him quiet.
I'll see you on Friday.

- Johannes.
- Hertel. There's the opera.

Oh no!

Please. Clara, don't.

There's too much depending on you.

- How can I ever tell him?
- You won't. I'll hide it somewhere.

Just say that it hadn't come yet.
I'll look after it.

You spoke as if something
might be the matter with Robert.

You're an odd specimen, Mr. Brahms.

A normal composer would be
bringing me his own music.

You don't know how much Prof. Schumann

and Mrs. Schumann have done for me.

Is she still as ravishing
as she used to be?

Well I suppose so...

I've always had quite a weakness
for her myself. I can understand.

She doesn't know about me though.
You won't give me away, will you?

Ah, women, women.

I've just had an idea.

Princess Hohenfels, Mr. Brahms.

- Enchanté.
- I'm honored.

Don't let her bother you,
she was only married to a prince,

it's the only French she knows.

Listen, my dear.

Would you get hopelessly confused
if I asked you to ensnare a man

for a good purpose?

- Not him!
- Somebody else?

I said for a good purpose. Tomorrow
night at the soiree. Mr. Reinecke.

- Who is Mr. Reinecke?
- Mr. Reinecke is not your type.

What little hair he has
is confined exclusively to his chin,

and he happens to be
the greatest living conductor.

He's the man to help us.

Reinecke,
when does he pull out the rabbit?

He always pulls out
some kind of a rabbit.

Oh I'm so sorry.

There's your rabbit.

Bravo!

Bravo!

Thank you. I'd like to play something

never before heard in public.

A paraphrase, arranged by
myself on a superb melody.

Dedication. By my esteemed
colleague, Prof. Schumann.

My wedding present.

Dedication to love.
Dedication to pyrotechnics.

It's very interesting.

Bravo!

- The Princess Hohenfels.
- An honor.

Enchanté.

Such technique, Mr. Lizst.
I don't know what to say.

Better not say it. It's sacrilege.

In the presence of
the reigning saint of music.

It's so long
since I've heard you play, Clara.

Is there
any known ruse to persuade our Robert?

I'd love to, Franz! That is, for you.

You're a brilliant artist, Franz.
I envy you.

I wish I had the power
to translate the commonplace

into such stupendous experience.

Once in a while though,
a little moment comes along

which seems to defy such translation.

Do you know what I mean, Franz?

The littlest things.
The wonder and the magic.

Two hearts
that speak perhaps one to another.

The unimportant things.

Love, Franz. As it is.

No illusions. No storms at sea.

No gild. No glitter.

Not the rustle of silk and
the diamond garter, Franz.

Just love. Unadorned.

Or do you know what I mean?

I'm starving,
Robert, take me into supper.

Coming, Johannes?

Why, why Franz she insulted you!

She did much worse
than insult me, my dear.

She described me.

Wouldn't you say
she was right, Mr. Reinecke?

And you stand there
and take her insults?

Go away, my dear. Enchant someone.

I seem always to be tampering with
the works of men greater than myself.

This Prof. Schumann is extraordinary.

I'd like you to see his newest work.
It would be ideal for the Gewandhaus.

Perhaps you could even get him
to conduct it himself.

Enchanté!

Bertha, guess what! Oranges,
straight from Spain!

Isn't it fantastic?
And in the middle of winter.

You're having foot trouble.

- He's going away.
- Who?

Mr. Brahms. He's packing.

Packing?

- Johannes.
- Good morning.

What do you think you're doing?

Well, you know how it is, Clara.
I would have to someday.

- Of all the idiocy.
- Clara.

I can't impose on you forever.

Johannes, please don't talk
like that, you sound foolish.

But I can't.

What should we do if you left?

I should have to engage a nursemaid.
A cook, a manager.

We couldn't afford it. Now stop that.

We could never
buy a friend like you in any market.

What's the matter?

Please, Clara.

You stayed with us
through all the hard times.

Now things get better.

Robert conducting Faust himself
at the Gewandhaus.

It's a silly time for you to leave! What
is it? What's the matter?

I can't tell you why.
I simply must go and that's all.

It's the children. You can't get any
work done, that's it, isn't it?

I don't blame you,
they are unbearable.

I don't know whether
I'll be able to work without them.

What is it then?
Did Robert say something?

You know how he is,
he gets angry once in a while.

- He gets angry with me.
- Please, Clara.

Well, someone must have hurt you.
Did I say something?

Last night
when I was joking about your clothes.

Well, you do look like
a broken down bed, look at you.

I'll fix this later.

You can no more leave here than Robert.

I forbid it.

I love you, Clara.

I loved you I suppose
from the first day I came here.

From the first moment when you walked
into the room and I was playing

and Robert was listening.

I've tried. I've tried everything.

I thought it was because I was
lonesome, and I'd get over it.

The one man in all this world.

I can't help it. I still love you.

I can't live here anymore.

We'll miss you, Johannes.
We'll miss you terribly.

You like it?

Very much.

I had to get away from "Faust"
for a while, it just came to me.

I thought of calling it "Arabesque"

Johannes is leaving!

I was afraid that was coming.

He is in love with you.

- Did he tell you?
- Of course not.

But anybody would know
except you I suppose.

My Clara, what did you expect?
You go around like an angel.

Innocent, busy, shining.

You make yourself
so necessary to people

it shocks you when you find out
they can't get along without you.

What are we going to do with him?

Poison him. Shoot him.
Bury him under the house.

Oh Robert.

Listen, Clara.
These things happen, that's all.

People fall in love
with things they know

in their hearts they can never have.

I'm so unhappy.

My poor little Clara.

Perhaps I'm wrong, Clara.
Perhaps he'll get over it, he's young.

He's got enough genius,
perhaps he'll be lucky too.

At any rate,
he hasn't known you as long as I have.

Come, Robert. We're going to go home now.

Come.

No please I can...

Please, just sit down. Just sit down.

We're fine. Down one step.

When you go in to see him I suggest
you be very careful about what you say.

He hasn't seen anyone in some months.

Not since
he tried to take his own life.

But he is getting better.
He is, isn't he, Doctor?

I've waited so long

You kept writing me
how he's improving.

Yes I'm sure he is, but with
these cases, one never knows.

There are good days and bad days.

- And today?
- Is a good day.

Wait just a minute.
I want to take my hat off.

He's used to seeing me, just, um...

It's a beautiful garden, Robert. Perhaps
you will be able to go out there soon.

Perhaps I will.
I'm getting stronger every day.

- Clara.
- My Robert!

How long has it been? Without
you I lose all track of time.

- So do I.
- The children. How are the children?

Wonderful. You'll be seeing them soon.

The doctor is very hopeful.

I seem to be getting along quite well.

I've been working.

So I see.

You know I was afraid perhaps
I couldn't work anymore. I was silly.

- I work just as easily.
- Of course you do.

I'd like to play you
something I've just written.

Wait, I'll move the chair.

I'm not so strong today.

I just finished it.
I wrote it for you.

I hope you like it.

Do you like it, Clara?

It's beautiful, Robert.

Mr. Brahms!

If the world
hasn't done well with you!

- Bertha, how are you?
- Five years older!

I'll tell her who is here.
She'll be amazed.

Bertha.
Where are the children? Where's Julie?

They are all away at school now.

She doesn't come downstairs
very often. She may be a minute.

- Clara!
- Johannes!

- You look so small.
- And you look wonderful.

- I've been reading about you.
- Have you?

I've been very very fortunate.

Well,
if you had to conquer every capital

from London to St. Petersburg
just to get some new clothes,

then I should say your triumphs
have been justified.

- Where are you on your way to now?
- Cologne.

Tonight they're giving
the first performance

of the first symphony I've ever
been foolhardy enough to try.

Would you come with me, Clara?

- That's why I came here.
- That's good of you, Johannes.

It would mean so much to me.
I've kept the coach waiting.

I'm sorry, Johannes, it's a
long long trip, and... well...

You don't play anymore do
you? You don't even go out?

Johannes, please.

Clara...

One of the most unforgettable
things about Robert,

the most unforgettable for me at least,

was the way, no matter what happened,

he kept on writing his music.

What would you call it?
The will to create?

Did you ever know Robert to stop
and retreat in the face of anything?

Even that last afternoon. "Traumerai."

He didn't know
that it was an old piece.

He thought it was new.
To the very end he was trying.

Trying, trying. Until he couldn't
try any longer. And he died.

- Will you ever forget that, Clara?
- Stop it!

Stop it.

- You seem to forget.
- Johannes.

- I never knew Robert to lock the piano.
- If I can't listen to it, if I can't...

Other people have suffered, Clara.

I don't know of anyone who suffered
more intensely than Robert did.

But when you suffer and run away,
then it's nothing but self pity.

You surprise me, Johannes.

Where did you purchase your brutality?

In the same shop
where you purchased your clothes?

I'm sorry, Clara. It just goes hard with
me to see you hiding away like this.

Won't you change your mind and
come to Cologne with me?

I wanted it so much.

Goodbye, Clara.

Goodbye.

I don't need to say
that I'm glad you're here.

- You were quite right, Johannes.
- Well perhaps.

But I still had no right
to talk to you like that.

Honestly, Clara, when I looked up
and saw you sitting here...

Come, Clara, let's...

I'm hungry.

Poor barbarian! Doesn't that man
know great music when he hears it?

That particular barbarian
happens to be Johannes Brahms.

I didn't know I could still dance.

It's fun, isn't it? Being alone all
by ourselves where nobody knows us.

Nobody knows you...

It's wonderful, Johannes
Your music. People listening.

I'm so happy for you,
I know what it means to you.

Do you?

Will you marry me, Clara?

Forgive me for not looking at you.
I can't look at you.

- Johannes.
- I love you.

I can't tell you how I love you.
I told you once.

I love you now more than ever.

Clara, please say something I'm dying.

Johannes,
be sensible, I have seven children.

I am being sensible.
I love your children.

I want your children
almost as much as I do you.

Believe me, Clara, they need me.

You need me.

I've stayed away from you
for four years.

I wanted you.
But it didn't seem right.

Then when I saw you
alone in your house,

all alone like that, I knew
that I had the right to come to you.

Johannes,
I'm older than you, I'm so much older.

- What's that?
- But I am!

- If I were young...
- You are, Clara. You are!

You're endlessly young!
What is a matter of age

when the years don't touch you?

Please, Clara. I need you.

The music and the glory. They're
meaningless when a man's alone.

You need me, Clara.
I know all about loneliness.

You won't like it.

You... and I.

It's the first time I've had it played
for me by someone else.

- How did you happen to know it?
- I'm a musician, madame.

Dear Clara.

- Johannes. I'm hurting you so.
- You can't help it.

We talk, you and I, about

my needing you and your needing me.

I could never stop loving him.

And he could never stop needing me.

All the things
he's wanted and never had.

He still lives.

Yes, Johannes. He still lives.

In the hearts of a few for a while.

I could help him to live forever.

I was 11 years old
and she was just a girl.

I still remember
the speech they taught me.

"Miss Wieck, we have listened to your
playing with enormous interest.

Thank you!"

Your Majesty. Ladies. And gentlemen.

It's a long time.

It's so good, you and I,
how through these years,

we have come to love the same music.

My husband and I. We thank you so.

Your Majesty, you may not recall, but,

oh so many years ago,

I played a little composition of my
husband's for the very first time.

It was his favorite, I believe,
until the day he died.

May I play it again?

Please.