//------------------------------// // Chapter 13: First Symphonic Impressions in A Major // Story: Beethoven's Tenth // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// After weeks of rehearsals and sharp criticism from Beethoven later, the Canterlot Philharmonic were now ready for the premiere of Ludwig’s first and second symphonies, ready for the public to hear. Thanks to Twilight’s influence, she got the press to spread the word that orchestra will be presenting music from a different world for the first time in history, in a theater in the heart of Equestria. The fact that they’ve provided a picture of the composer in newspapers help drew curiosity from ponies that didn’t know what to expect from Ludwig’s music. Yes, perhaps it was curiosity alone that had drawn a crowd, leading to a full house in the theater, much to the surprise and delight of the orchestra. Peeking from the side of the velvet curtain, Octavia looked out again to what she was seeing. Yes, there was the usual audience of much older ponies; however, there were some younger, college-age ponies that had sat down, chatting to those around them. Her attention turned towards above the stage where her roommate was setting up a microphone hanging on the catwalk. Once she made sure everything was set, she climbed down and headed towards the machine for Ludwig. To which, the Cellist walked up to her. “Vinyl, I want to say how much I appreciate you coming out here setting all of this up, considering that you canceled a gig for this.” The DJ waved it off as she turned on the machine. After she done that, she wrote her a note. After she read it, Octavia replied, “Yes, it is interesting that you’re manipulating sound, even if it’s for one. Speaking of which, have you seen Mr. Beethoven? He said that he would be here.” The white unicorn shrugged before pointing towards the curtain. “No, he’s not out there yet. Though it’s almost time for us to begin, I couldn’t find any sign of him. He said that he’ll be here. I mean, you would think that he would have shown up, especially when he wrote what we’re about to play.” “They’re here!” As soon as everypony on stage turned to the mare that announced that, they too heard a louder murmur from their audience outside. There were Awe’s and Ooh’s that were mixed with the gasps and shocked voices from behind the curtain. Octavia quickly went over to peek at what was going on. Just on the other side of the stage where the headphones were was Mr. Beethoven had crawled his way into one of the lower box seats and sat as closest to the stage as he could. In which he was quickly joined by Princess Twilight as she sat next to him. There was polite applause, as the alicorn waved to them; Ludwig proceeded to put on the earphones around his head. Then another pony joined them, a white unicorn with an elaborate, violet manestyle. “It’s seven o’clock,” their conductor said. “Let’s tune those instruments now before the curtain rises.” While an announcer went on stage to give an introduction, Octavia took her place and tuned up her cello along. Instruments from the strings to the percussionist tried their best to hum along as their audience still chatted away. This took a minute until each and every member was certain that they were ready. “Well,” Sea Sharp commented before the curtain parted. “Here we go everypony.” Taking a deep breath, Octavia watched at the vial between them and their audience was parted. The lights over their listeners had dimmed while their lights have grown brighter. Their conductor trotted up to center stage, taking up the thin baton in her aura. After giving a bow to them and the princess, she turned her attention towards the orchestra and waited for a moment as everypony raided themselves for this new piece to begin. The very first thing that the audience heard was a pizzicato of two notes that was held together by the wind and brass section before a moment of silence. This was repeated only a few times, getting louder until the percussionist welcomed the main theme of the opening movement. Strings hummed in harmony and counterpoint as the wind and brass give a kind of glow to the music, like a sunrise. For a moment, it sounded warm, inviting the listeners to stay to enjoy this light. Then suddenly, a quicker variation took hold as the increasing crescendo lead to a much brighter, increasingly majestic sound that vibrated off the theater walls. As the movement drove on, Rarity, who was sitting next to Twilight, leaned over to her. “It sounds like a late Moztrot, doesn’t it?” Twilight nodded, glancing over at the human who had one hand firmly pressed against the headset and the other waving around as if he was conducting, she whispered back. “There’s some similarity to the sound of it.” She waited for a moment, “Yet, at the same time, it’s not quite Moztrot or Haydn. Its close but this still sounds rather unique.” “I think I know what you mean,” Rarity returns her gaze back to the stage. “It’s as if he’s trying to strike a balance between the emotional and the graceful, but he’s having trouble finding it.” Indeed, the music’s attitude shifts from bold notes one moment to gentle moments, yet, each instrument keeps moving to advance the other so that there’s never a dull moment. Complexity and simplicity danced together among the members of the orchestra, where the sublime and the excitement walked closely together for several moments. The lyrical and the virtuoso sang together in a song without words that progressed in every change of key. But a few minutes later, the orchestra brought the finale of the movement by its closing cords. Ludwig looked over at the audience in which he saw many were stomping on the ground, looking pleased. _*_ The fourth movement began as an invitation by its horns and strings as if they’re struggling to tune up before it quickly turned into the sound of a dance. It was a kind of quick dance that had reflected its enthusiasm of a folk song. Somehow, the music sounded like a celebration from an off country where strings sang and the horns kept the perpetual beat. Beethoven however, could barely hear the soft moments, even with the headphones set on full volume and pressed against his skull. He looked at the audience for the who-knows-how-many time to pay attention to their reactions. Since they were at the last, short movement, he paid attention at the sea of expressions as many looked on with interested curiosity – while others tapped their front hooves to the rhythm from the orchestra. However, he felt the vibrations of the last notes of his first symphony, in which he got an immediate reaction from the ponies. They were stomping their hooves, wore satisfied smiles, and from the microphone, he could barely make out some of them saying, “Bravo.” Then the conductor turned around and announced, “We’ll be taking a ten-minute intermission in which we’ll proceed with the second symphony,” and with that, the curtain was closed. Ludwig took off his earphones and turned to the two ponies next to him. “They’ve done a decent job,” he pulled out a conversation book. “What do you think?” Twilight opened up to a blank page and wrote her thoughts, but before she could pass it back, Rarity asked for the book and wrote down her response too. I thought it was pretty interesting. I really liked what you did with the opening and closing movements. They did sound at times like a lost Moztrot symphony at times, but you somehow gave the music a fresh perspective. –T Not bad, I’d rather like it. As of what Twilight had said, it has some familiar sounds, but there were some bold moments that kept one’s attention. As of now, I’m very curious about how your next symphony is going to sound like since that was indeed a masterpiece. – R Ludwig turned to Twilight, “That was because I was trying to imitate as my idol at the time. Back then, I had learned composition from Herr Haydn and I felt ready to write a symphony to prove that I was a serious composer. Although it did take a while to find someone who knows the business skills of promoting it in the first place since I’m always bad at it. “Still,” he leaned over from the box seat. “At least they’ve enjoyed it so far. Let’s see what they’ll think of the second.” _*_ “What do you think the third symphony is going to be like?” Alto asked Octavia while she plucked the loose hairs on her bow. The cellist gulped down some of her water bottles, wiping the sweat off her brow from the heat of the lights. “No clue. If we’re really lucky, Mr. Beethoven’s symphonies won’t be as difficult as that introduction piece I’ve played for all of you. Celestia, he can make things really difficult if he wants to.” “Maybe it won’t be that bad,” the Violist shrugged as she noticed somepony starting to trade their scores from the stands for the other symphony they're about to play. “You know, I don’t think I’ve asked this but, what did you think of the music so far?” “It’s alright,” Octavia rosin up her bow. “While it’s quite nice to listen to, the second and third movement isn’t that memorable to me. However, I am looking forward to the next symphony, particular in the slower, second movement.” “Yeah, I can see why,” the mare looked back at the curtain. “You know, this is gotta be the first time I’ve seen a full house like this, especially when it’s for this kind of music.” “That’s because the one that wrote all this music, isn’t equine,” Octavia pointed out. “I mean, everypony knows that’s the reason why they’re even listening to this. It’s because that he’s different, the fact that he doesn’t look like anything we’ve ever seen, and the fact that he’s deaf is the only reason why we have an audience. Can you imagine if the composer that we’re playing is a pony and has perfect hearing, would anyone come?” Alto hummed in thought, “I suppose you have a point. Still, for what we’re playing, it’s not that bad for what we got so far.” “One-minute everypony!” someone cried before the orchestra scrambled back to their places. The curtain parted once more and Sea Sharp walked on stage to the applause of the audience. She took a moment to give a bow to the composer before turning to the Philharmonic. When she saw that everyone was ready, she began conducting. It started with two, theatrical notes as a sort of a “Ta-da!” before the wind section played on a Mozart like tune for a short while until the same opening notes interrupted, giving way to the idea of the strings and brass. Unlike the previous symphony, this movement seemed much more confident in establishing what identity it wants to portray. This time, the transitions of moods and attitudes are not only much more familiar but smoother as the instruments explore this musical fantasy. “Seems much more dramatic this time around, don’t you think?” Rarity whispered. Indeed, the violins and cellos had minutes in which they went into a heated debate while the wind instruments such as the flutes seem to hover above them. At other times, the clarinets seemed to sneak around the strings as if they were spying on them. Every so often, the horns would give out a noble theme that was accompanied by the flutes. However, at the music went on, many ponies in the audience had started to check their watches as it went past the ten-minute mark. Beethoven already knew what they were thinking, and he wasn’t going to be surprised to find out that they’re going to complain that this second symphony was a bit too long. Nearly fifteen minutes in, the orchestra played the final ending chords before they moved onto the next movement. Although Ludwig could barely hear it through the headphones, he already knew what they were playing. It was the very sound of nostalgia. He could hear the violins and horns in his mind as he remembered what was waiting back in Vienna. After all, he’s been gone for about a month now, he could only imagine the sheer panic that was going on in his home city at this moment. His most devoted of fanatics searching high and low, looking for him in places that he knew will never find him. Then he remembered his friend Schiller. One of the very few people that could tolerate being in the same room as him. He’s the one who after all these years, even after he went completely deaf, that he still remained loyal despite the change of Europe, his never-ending change of address, or the change of what music can do. Yes, Schiller, the one who he set his poem to be performed nearly over a year ago and ended in a financial flop. Still, he remembered how often he visited him even when his hearing decomposed faster than he could compose the masterpieces. All those years of loyalty when others fade away, all reduced because of money. Before the orchestra could begin on the third movement, his thoughts turned to the closest relative that he knows. His nephew Karl van Beethoven, he wondered what he was doing right now. That by itself was a frightening thought. After all, there was plenty to worry about since he tried to raise him to forget that… Schlampe of a mother that he tried to save him from – or at least, he hoped that he did. By the time he takes off the headphones, listening to the silence of the ever ringing. In the stillness of sound, he reflected the times he was raising him. Although he tried his best for several years to get his custody from his mother, twice, he compared how the boy was then, and what he is now. Back then, he had hopes that he could shape Karl on the pillars of virtue, that he would bestow his musical gift to him by having teachers train him to play the piano. Yet… looking at what he is now, that he prefers to spend more time with his friends then him, that he owes debts, that he quit playing the piano, and even tried to see his mother several times despite court orders, he began to wonder if he’d messed up. How many times had he yelled at him again? How often has he chastised his behavior every time he came by? Did he ever cry and didn’t hear it? Even more terrifying was one single thought that drove him to take out a sheet of paper and start composting: Did he become like his father to Karl? Oh, how ugly must the music of his temper sound to him? And with the thought it might have been so often, a double theme for a fugue came storming in. _*_ While Beethoven worked on a new piece of a string quartet, the orchestra moved onto a grand and exciting dance. The strings almost seemed to leap while the wind instruments paint the background. Horns and percussion often gave the piece of playful power. It was almost like a fantastical ballet without dancers or scenery to look at, only to hear. In the minds of those who were listening, it inspired fantasy for those to wonder what exactly this strange but childlike dance looked like. Although it was growing late in the evening, the audience stayed to listen to such a curious yet sophisticated music that jumped, ducked, tripped, fallen, gotten up, and glide through the air like a flock of sparrows by the sea. It was almost dizzy but interesting to hear. But like all music, it too came to an end. When the last notes of the night were played out, the ponies stood up applauding. However, when they looked at the box where the composer was, he didn’t look up. His head was bent over as if concentrating on something. It wasn’t until the Princess Twilight that pulled on his sleeve did he look up. To this, the audience cheered, they stomped their hooves, waved their arms to let him know, that what they heard, was good. Twilight had gotten the conversation book to write him a message. That was great! The music was beautiful! Come, let’s go into the lobby and let’s see what they all think of it. Soon, all three went their way towards the entrance of the theater to confront their audience. While they tried to show him of their approval, Ludwig couldn’t understand what all of them were saying. He turned to the alicorn and the unicorn, “What’s going on?” Rarity flipped opens the notebook to a blank page, she wrote in it to condense what all these other ponies are saying. They said they loved what they’ve heard! Some of them are proclaiming you to be the successor of Moztrot. Beethoven held the message in his hands. For a long time, he stared at that last sentence. He didn’t notice that the crowded lobby went quiet, waiting for his response. Then finally, Ludwig looked up, he said “Thank you,” before he crawled out the door, and left the theater without saying another word with two ponies following closely behind him. Neither of those ponies took noticed, however, that as they walked down the street, that Beethoven had an extra shadow following close by. _*_ A few days later, the Canterlot Philharmonic was gathered together to open a rather large package that came from Princess Twilight, when it was opened up, they found copies of the next symphony therein. Sea Sharp was the first to draw out her copy of the score, “Whoa, it’s really thick.” She said as the others too grabbed their copies. “What in Equestria?” “Do you see bar thirty-six?” “Look at all of these markings!” “Is this some sort of joke?” “Look how many pages there are in the first movement alone!” Curious at the commotion, Octavia reached in and found her copy in the cello section. She flipped open over the score and quickly realized what has gotten the whole orchestra so worried. When she saw what this symphony, this “Eroica,” only two words came to mind: “Bloody Tartarus.”