//------------------------------// // Chapter 38: To Write a Symphony // Story: The Second Life of Moztrot // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// For many weeks, I pondered over the problem of what symphony to introduce to Star Swirl. For the longest time, between composing, sending and reading letters, greeting unexpected and expected guests – I pondered over this puzzle. What exactly does one show a pony who has never heard a symphony in his life? Especially the father of music himself! As a child, I had already known that he invented musical notation. The earliest surviving melodies existed because of his efforts. So in a way, it’d be like showing one’s grandparents how much their children have grown up. Such a problem that I fretted over for several sleepless nights. Me in bed with dozens of scores, weighing the sophistication and clarity of each. I had ordered copies of symphonies from other composers to be judged under my scrutiny, in addition to my own work. And it might come as a surprise to you the reader that out of the forty-one symphonies, I ended up rejecting nearly all of them. In fact, I narrowed down my own work down to three: the 25th, 40th and 41st. But even then, I also considered Beethoven’s 3rd, 5th and 9th. However, to my mind, while all of these pieces are without a doubt clever, there was something that was lacking. I wrestled with the problem to find the perfect symphony to impress the old wizard. Something to show him great magic in sound, something that would amaze him. But even with all the scores that were strewn on my bed, as accomplished as they were, they were still missing that vital magic which makes music incredible. At one point, I wondered if there ever had been such a thing. And then one spring day I went down to Ponyville to teach. I meet Sweetie Belle at our usual spot by the pond. She was already there composing underneath the shade of the tree. “What’s that?” I asked her as I approached. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out myself,” she confessed. “Lately I’ve been worrying a couple of ideas over the last few days. The only problem I have is what exactly to do with them. I’ve been making a few variations of them but nothing’s really jumping out at me.” She levitated the scraps of paper over to me and asked what I thought of them. “Well, let’s see what we have today.” Sitting against the back of the tree, I looked over at the sketches. She had jotted down two main melodies which did show signs of struggle to get the variations just right. “These are good,” I said to her. “Is there anything you want to work on today?” “I’m trying to figure that out as well. We wrote that sonata, the aria, and an overture, so what’s there to learn next?” I glanced at the sketches again, “Tell me Sweetie Belle, what’s the most ambitious work you’ve attempted?” “Well… I did try to write a piano concerto once, but I ended up scrapping it because it wasn’t all that good.” Under the shade of that tree, an idea came to me. It was risky, almost bound to fail from the start. However, given how gifted she was, the attempt could be worth it in the end with some guidance on my part. “Ms. Belle,” I asked, “Have you ever thought of writing a symphony?” She looked at me as if a creature had crawled into my powdered mane and died. “A symphony?” “That’s what I said.” “Um…” she sat there uncomfortably. “Not really.” “How about we write one, just from the sketches you have?” She avoided looking at me and I asked her what the matter was. “I don’t know if I could write a symphony. The last time I tried something this complicated was with the concerto, but… I don’t know, everything just went wrong. I couldn’t figure out how to piece it together. It became so big that it just fell apart. And even if I could, I don’t know if anypony would like it.” “At least you have one advantage now that you didn’t have back then.” “What’s that?” “Me,” I smiled. “I know how daunting such a task can be. Trying to figure out which instrument in the orchestra should get what turns and how to make it pleasant to the ear without displeasing the players or the listeners. In fact, even I had doubts about my own work.” “You did?” I nodded, “Oh yes. When I was several years younger than you are now, my family and I were in Trottingham for a tour that we hoped would bring great wealth to us. However, even though my sister and I were quite popular, it didn’t reap many cash rewards. And to make things worse, my Papa fell ill and had to remain bedridden. He was the leader of the family and if we lost him, why we might be stranded, destitute. So at the age of nine, I knew that I had to do something. In fact, I had to break a rule.” “What rule?” “At the time, Papa made it clear that I should only write small things like for the keyboard and such. But when it came to large scale orchestral pieces, he thought they were too complex for me. So when he became sick, I took the opportunity to write a symphony to try and save the family. However, to be honest, when the concert was organized, and the musicians had rehearsed it, I was scared stiff about how the audience would take it. In fact, I was scared that they wouldn’t take it seriously because it was written by a colt. Something that had never happened before in the history of the world. And I was terrified that it wouldn’t be good.” “Of course it would be,” my student remarked, “You’re Moztrot.” “True, but back then I was a nobody. Just a colt that knew how to play the keyboard blindfolded. I had never before attempted to write something as big as a symphony, and I wasn’t sure how ponies would take it. And you know what? I am glad that I took that first step. While I have certainly gotten better over time, I don’t think that I would have gotten to where I am without taking that first big risk. Besides,” I patted her head. “I do know where you’re coming from, and I must say that you should remember that you do have a talent for composition when you put your mind to it. All I’ve been doing is giving you some tricks and tools of the trade. What I can’t ever do, is to dictate to you what your music should sound like. I may try to imitate your work, I cannot fully capture your sound. You alone can accomplish that.” The little mare sat there in silence for a full minute, looking at her sketches. “What do I do?” “Remember our method?” She nodded. “It’s just like how we wrote the overture, only this time you’re writing it four times over. The first thing is to decide in what order do you want these melodies to go. With me, I always try to put the most interesting at the beginning and the most exciting at the end.” “What about the slow movement?” I waved a hoof, “Traditionally that can easily fit in either the second or third movement. Once again, it all depends on the flow of the piece as a whole.” Humming in thought, Sweetie scanned over the pages of her sketches once more before taking up a pencil to create not only new variations but even paired them with a bass clef. I watched on wondering what this filly was going to do. “Would it be possible if I wrote it like a story?” “Hayden did write many of his symphonies based on various themes and ideas. So, I think that you can give it a try.” Her eyes widened, “Oh!” she cried out as she suddenly got up. “Mr. Moztrot, stay right there, I’ll be right back.” And just like that, she galloped home and a few minutes later she came back with a thick book in her aura. “What’s that you’ve got there?” I asked. “I think I know what I want to write about,” she said as she showed me the cover. It was a blue book with intricate patterns of gold, white, red and light blue. There in the center of this beautiful book was the title. I read aloud, “‘The Thousand and One Saddle Arabian Nights’? What’s it about?” “This is one of my favorite stories that Princess Twilight turned me onto. It’s about a king who discovers that his wife has cheated on him, and he decides that he would marry a new wife every night only to execute her the following morning.” I blinked, “That’s rather dark for a filly to read don’t you think?” “There’s more,” she held up a hoof. “Eventually, the advisor’s daughter decided to volunteer in order to stop this. And the way she does this is, every morning just before the sunrise, she tells the king a story that captures his imagination. Stories full of adventure and romance, of magic and mythical creatures. But just when she gets to the good part, she does something very clever. She stops.” “And how is that clever?” “She leaves him on a cliffhanger every time,” she smiled. “So the king can’t execute her, or he’ll never know how the story ends. So in that way, she is able to keep her head night after night.” I put a hoof to my chin as I hummed, “Alright. How does it end?” She blinked. “I… I’m not sure, I haven’t gotten to it.” “In that case, if you’re going to do it in a Saddle Arabian theme, look,” I pointed at her sketches. “Change these into their melodic scales, then you got something.” The unicorn flipped through her sketches; I could see the gears turning in her head. “You know what,” she said. “I think this could actually work.” The very next day I walked across the street to visit my neighbor. Fancy’s butler answered the door and let me through the mansion into his garden. To be honest, I was jittery with excitement as I couldn’t wait to ask him my question, so much so I could fart. Fancy was having tea underneath a canopy of white roses with Jet Set and Upper Crust. “Mr. Moztrot,” the white unicorn got up to greet me. “Well, this is unexpected. How long can you stay?” “Not long neighbor,” I said as I shook his hoof. “I came here to ask if you could do a favor for me.” “Oh certainly,” he waved a hoof towards the little tea party. “Can I offer you a little something?” I ended up grabbing something that had frosting on it. “I promise that I won’t take up much of your time Mr. Pants, but I was hoping that you might be able to help me out a little.” “In what regard?” “Well, let me explain the situation,” I said between mouthfuls. “Currently, I have a student in Ponyville that I’ve been teaching composition. Also, on the same day that you three attended the Marriage of Figaro, I ran into Star Swirl the Bearded.” “Yes that’s right,” Upper Crust nodded her head. “I saw him there and I think I saw you talking to him at one point.” “Well, as we did so, I happened upon a little juicy piece of information: He’s never heard a symphony in his life.” The blue unicorn raised an eyebrow, “So?” “So I wanted to introduce him to the symphony, but the problem was that I couldn’t decide which one to show him. For the longest time I couldn’t figure it out – and then my student came along.” “Out of curiosity,” Fancy raised a hoof, “Whom exactly are you teaching?” “Sweetie Belle,” I answered. “She has an older sister, a fashion designer named--” “Rarity.” I blinked, “Yes exactly. You know her?” “She's been a pony of special interest to me for some time now, the type of pony every pony should know. And I’ve heard good things about her younger sister as well.” He lifted his cup of tea, took a sip and added: “So I can safely assume that she wrote her first symphony?” I nodded, “Absolutely. Of course, I did guide her somewhat, giving advice on how to improve the score, but what she has is new. So new that I think ponies are going to go mad for it. Which leads to why I’m here.” “Yes,” Jet Set inquired. “Why are you here?” “I want to ask Fancy Pants over here if I could premiere this symphony in his ballroom.” The snow-white unicorn nearly dropped his cup. “P-Pardon? My ballroom?” “Uh-huh,” I replied. “I mean if you don’t mind too much.” He downed the rest of his drink, “Firstly I must say that this is quite the honor. But secondly, I must ask why.” “Simply put, Sweetie Belle specifically asked for a small audience to, as she puts it, ‘test the waters’ with work this ambitious. She’s feeling a little uncertain as to how others would take it and I thought a small venue would be ideal. Of course, I could go to some of the smaller theaters to see if they would be willing, but I get the feeling that my student doesn’t want too much attention just yet.” Fancy adjusted his eyepiece. “I guess that if you can line up the musicians to perform it and give me a time and date, I suppose that I can do this. Do you have a particular time in mind?” “That depends. My student is doing research about the style of music she’s chosen and I’m assisting her writing it. So I presume that she’ll finish it in about… two… maybe three weeks. And of course, there’s rehearsal so… a month.” “And I’m guessing this will be a personal invite?” Upper Crust asked. “Why not? It’s best to show off one’s art to those we care for most.”