The Last Night of Ludwig van Beethoven
Part One
A lightning storm was raging outside the home as he sat at his piano, rubbing his eyes. Several candles stubs littered the top of the piano and on the various shelves. A clock chimed somewhere in his house announcing that it was midnight.
Ludwig van Beethoven stretched on his bench and rubbed his eyes. Facing him was his half-finished 10th Symphony. His heart swelled with pride as he stared at it. However, it was late and he needed to sleep some more.
Suddenly overcome by a coughing fit, he jerked out his handkerchief and coughed into it. His throat was getting raw and his stomach seared with pain. He finally finished and took deep breaths. He was about to have a calming cup of tea when suddenly ceiling high flames gushed from his carpet, making him yell and back into his bench, nearly falling into the piano.
In the middle of the flames a figure emerged. Ludwig blinked his eyes furiously, wondering if this is a dream. The flames disappeared and Beethoven got a good look at what was standing before him.
Nearly seven foot tall, the man – could it be called a man? – was grinning evilly at him. His body was covered in a black robe and cloak that reached the floor. His face was pale and his eyes were red with black hair. Two long fingered pale hands were clasped in front of him. His eyes had a hungry quality as he surveyed the hunched man before him.
“Ludwig van Beethoven,” he said, lips curled into a thin smile. Ludwig felt diminished and chills ran down his spine at the cold deep voice. “How I have been longing to meet you.”
Beethoven found his voice. “Who are you?” he demanded, sounding braver than he felt.
“I,” he said, throwing his cloak back as he paced in front of Ludwig, “am Mephistopheles.”
Ludwig frowned. “Mephistopheles?”
The man sighed, still smiling that cold grin. “That is what I am known as tonight. To most, though, I am known as Lucifer.”
Ludwig was silent then let out a small laugh. Surely another composer was trying to distract him from finishing what was become his most beloved masterpiece.
“I do not have time for this,” Ludwig said impatiently. “Tell your boss that his foolish attempt at distracting from me my Symphony will not work.” Mephistopheles grinned but did not move. “Shoo! Be gone with you!”
“I am afraid that is not so easily accomplished,” he replied. “Do you not know why I am here?”
“Because…”
“It is not a silly squabble between composers. Look at your handkerchief.” He pointed to the cloth resting on the piano keys. Shooting Mephistopheles a suspicious glance, he hobbled over and looked at it carefully. He gasped and rubbed his eyes again. “No need to pretend you do not see it. That is blood, my dear fellow. Tonight is the last night.”
Feared clutched his heart as he slowly turned back to him.
“I am not going back with you,” Ludwig said defiantly. “I see no reason why I should.”
Mephistopheles opened his mouth to respond when the door opened of its own accord. A beautiful young woman was walking in a billowing white dress. Blond hair hung to her waist as she surveyed Mephistopheles with an impassive face, her light blue eyes flickering from Mephistopheles and then to Ludwig. What followed behind her made Ludwig gasp. A young man crawled in. Ludwig was reminded of a spider. It was as pale as Mephistopheles but with straggly red hair and a mischievous grin spread across his lips.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Mephistopheles sneered. “So wonderful to see you again, Fate.” His eyes landed on the creature beside her. “Ah yes, you brought your son!”
The woman turned to Ludwig. “Good evening, Ludwig.” Her voice seemed to come from everywhere and like a thousand angels were singing. He felt some of his fear leave him. “This is my son, Twist.” Ludwig tried to smile and say something but all that came out was a kind of gurgle. “And I wish I could say that is nice to see you,” she added coldly to the devil.
Mephistopheles’s grin grew more as silence stretched for what lasted forever. “I see,” he whispered, eyes still fixed on Fate. “I see. Well, let’s make this more interesting, shall we?” Fate remained silent and he turned to Ludwig. “I will give you one hour,” he said in a low voice that still traveled around the room. “I will let you live on one condition: I will erase every memory, every symphony, from your memory.”
Before Ludwig could answer, he vanished in another flash of flame. After a moment, Ludwig turned on Fate.
“What is this?” he demanded loudly. “What is going on!?” Her grim face held the answer and he gazed at her. “I really will die tonight?” She inclined her head sadly. “This is all your fault!” he spat, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. “If you hadn’t given me such a poor life, I wouldn’t be going to hell, now would I?”
Fate let out a small, beautiful sigh and approached Ludwig slowly. “Many men have asked that same question.”
“Then what is the answer?” he asked. “If I’m going to die tonight, I might as well be told!”
“Alas, this question cannot be answered for Man cannot know.” Frustrated, Ludwig continued to blame Fate for this end he was facing. “You have an hour,” she said. “By all means, take me to those times in the past that I have dealt you wrongly.”
One such time immediately popped into Ludwig’s memory. “When I was a boy,” he told her, “and I did not make it into the Imperial Court.”
The room around them faded and it felt like they were being dragged through time. Suddenly, they stood in a dark room. The ceiling was high and 20 lift-top desks sat in neat rows facing a chalkboard and piano. The chalkboard had music symbols that had been drawn meticulously in chalk. A man’s voice rang loud and clear through the room and Ludwig slowly approached them, not scene.
“Disappointment,” the man snapped and slapped the boy before leaving.
Young Ludwig’s eyes began to tear and the boy cried silently. Old Ludwig watched, his throat tight, as he relived the harsh treatment. What was he to do, demand that they change his mind? He was just a boy.
“I don’t need this,” he says as Fate drifts to his side. “Look. I was so young. My mother dead, kids hating me, and now my tutor doing the same. Please, take this away.”
Fate raises her hand to do so then pauses. “You do realize that, should I take this, your sixth symphony will not have been written, right?”
Ludwig blinked. “Well, of course it will be written! I wrote it, didn’t I?”
“The question is not if you can write it,” she said. “Without this harsh life, the inspiration for the symphony will not be there.”
Ludwig stared at his younger self wiping his eyes on his sleeve and standing to leave the room. He eyed the piano sadly.
“I understand. Keep this one… for now.”
“Very well,” Fate said. “Let us then go forth to a happier time.”
Again the room disappeared and they sped through time. Ludwig soon found himself in a sight that took his breath away. The cobbled streets seemed to glow from the many lamps that hung from building doors and horse and buggies. A large clock tower stood over the city. Men, women, and children were laughing and huddled against snow that began to fall.
“Vienna,” he breathed, taking the beauty in with every breath and blink of his eye. “Oh, how I longed to go here,” he said to no one in particular. “It was always a dream of mine. I had come here to see Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”
Suddenly, the concert hall’s doors flew open and Ludwig saw himself in the early years of his adulthood teeming into the hall with the other eager people. Fate and Ludwig followed, Ludwig grinning as he relived the memory.
“But why show me this?” he asked as they followed himself around the crowd and through the back door, an invitation clutched in his hands.
“You will see.”
Ludwig knocked on a door and handed the man his invitation. He nodded and Ludwig entered the room nervously. Mozart sat at a desk, going over the songs he would be preforming that evening. Mozart looked up and grinned at Ludwig.
“You must be young Ludwig van Beethoven,” Mozart said, standing and extending his hand.
Ludwig was lost for words but Mozart led him to a piano where the two men talked and began to play on the piano together. Lost in the happiness, Ludwig did not hear the person enter the room. Fate rested her hand on his shoulder and he turned to receive a blow in the gut as she walked in. She curtsied to the composer.
“So nice of you to come tonight!” Mozart cried. “Ludwig, this is a young woman who teaches music. Her name is –.”
“Theresa,” Ludwig breathed.
Ludwig van Beethoven stretched on his bench and rubbed his eyes. Facing him was his half-finished 10th Symphony. His heart swelled with pride as he stared at it. However, it was late and he needed to sleep some more.
Suddenly overcome by a coughing fit, he jerked out his handkerchief and coughed into it. His throat was getting raw and his stomach seared with pain. He finally finished and took deep breaths. He was about to have a calming cup of tea when suddenly ceiling high flames gushed from his carpet, making him yell and back into his bench, nearly falling into the piano.
In the middle of the flames a figure emerged. Ludwig blinked his eyes furiously, wondering if this is a dream. The flames disappeared and Beethoven got a good look at what was standing before him.
Nearly seven foot tall, the man – could it be called a man? – was grinning evilly at him. His body was covered in a black robe and cloak that reached the floor. His face was pale and his eyes were red with black hair. Two long fingered pale hands were clasped in front of him. His eyes had a hungry quality as he surveyed the hunched man before him.
“Ludwig van Beethoven,” he said, lips curled into a thin smile. Ludwig felt diminished and chills ran down his spine at the cold deep voice. “How I have been longing to meet you.”
Beethoven found his voice. “Who are you?” he demanded, sounding braver than he felt.
“I,” he said, throwing his cloak back as he paced in front of Ludwig, “am Mephistopheles.”
Ludwig frowned. “Mephistopheles?”
The man sighed, still smiling that cold grin. “That is what I am known as tonight. To most, though, I am known as Lucifer.”
Ludwig was silent then let out a small laugh. Surely another composer was trying to distract him from finishing what was become his most beloved masterpiece.
“I do not have time for this,” Ludwig said impatiently. “Tell your boss that his foolish attempt at distracting from me my Symphony will not work.” Mephistopheles grinned but did not move. “Shoo! Be gone with you!”
“I am afraid that is not so easily accomplished,” he replied. “Do you not know why I am here?”
“Because…”
“It is not a silly squabble between composers. Look at your handkerchief.” He pointed to the cloth resting on the piano keys. Shooting Mephistopheles a suspicious glance, he hobbled over and looked at it carefully. He gasped and rubbed his eyes again. “No need to pretend you do not see it. That is blood, my dear fellow. Tonight is the last night.”
Feared clutched his heart as he slowly turned back to him.
“I am not going back with you,” Ludwig said defiantly. “I see no reason why I should.”
Mephistopheles opened his mouth to respond when the door opened of its own accord. A beautiful young woman was walking in a billowing white dress. Blond hair hung to her waist as she surveyed Mephistopheles with an impassive face, her light blue eyes flickering from Mephistopheles and then to Ludwig. What followed behind her made Ludwig gasp. A young man crawled in. Ludwig was reminded of a spider. It was as pale as Mephistopheles but with straggly red hair and a mischievous grin spread across his lips.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Mephistopheles sneered. “So wonderful to see you again, Fate.” His eyes landed on the creature beside her. “Ah yes, you brought your son!”
The woman turned to Ludwig. “Good evening, Ludwig.” Her voice seemed to come from everywhere and like a thousand angels were singing. He felt some of his fear leave him. “This is my son, Twist.” Ludwig tried to smile and say something but all that came out was a kind of gurgle. “And I wish I could say that is nice to see you,” she added coldly to the devil.
Mephistopheles’s grin grew more as silence stretched for what lasted forever. “I see,” he whispered, eyes still fixed on Fate. “I see. Well, let’s make this more interesting, shall we?” Fate remained silent and he turned to Ludwig. “I will give you one hour,” he said in a low voice that still traveled around the room. “I will let you live on one condition: I will erase every memory, every symphony, from your memory.”
Before Ludwig could answer, he vanished in another flash of flame. After a moment, Ludwig turned on Fate.
“What is this?” he demanded loudly. “What is going on!?” Her grim face held the answer and he gazed at her. “I really will die tonight?” She inclined her head sadly. “This is all your fault!” he spat, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. “If you hadn’t given me such a poor life, I wouldn’t be going to hell, now would I?”
Fate let out a small, beautiful sigh and approached Ludwig slowly. “Many men have asked that same question.”
“Then what is the answer?” he asked. “If I’m going to die tonight, I might as well be told!”
“Alas, this question cannot be answered for Man cannot know.” Frustrated, Ludwig continued to blame Fate for this end he was facing. “You have an hour,” she said. “By all means, take me to those times in the past that I have dealt you wrongly.”
One such time immediately popped into Ludwig’s memory. “When I was a boy,” he told her, “and I did not make it into the Imperial Court.”
The room around them faded and it felt like they were being dragged through time. Suddenly, they stood in a dark room. The ceiling was high and 20 lift-top desks sat in neat rows facing a chalkboard and piano. The chalkboard had music symbols that had been drawn meticulously in chalk. A man’s voice rang loud and clear through the room and Ludwig slowly approached them, not scene.
“Disappointment,” the man snapped and slapped the boy before leaving.
Young Ludwig’s eyes began to tear and the boy cried silently. Old Ludwig watched, his throat tight, as he relived the harsh treatment. What was he to do, demand that they change his mind? He was just a boy.
“I don’t need this,” he says as Fate drifts to his side. “Look. I was so young. My mother dead, kids hating me, and now my tutor doing the same. Please, take this away.”
Fate raises her hand to do so then pauses. “You do realize that, should I take this, your sixth symphony will not have been written, right?”
Ludwig blinked. “Well, of course it will be written! I wrote it, didn’t I?”
“The question is not if you can write it,” she said. “Without this harsh life, the inspiration for the symphony will not be there.”
Ludwig stared at his younger self wiping his eyes on his sleeve and standing to leave the room. He eyed the piano sadly.
“I understand. Keep this one… for now.”
“Very well,” Fate said. “Let us then go forth to a happier time.”
Again the room disappeared and they sped through time. Ludwig soon found himself in a sight that took his breath away. The cobbled streets seemed to glow from the many lamps that hung from building doors and horse and buggies. A large clock tower stood over the city. Men, women, and children were laughing and huddled against snow that began to fall.
“Vienna,” he breathed, taking the beauty in with every breath and blink of his eye. “Oh, how I longed to go here,” he said to no one in particular. “It was always a dream of mine. I had come here to see Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”
Suddenly, the concert hall’s doors flew open and Ludwig saw himself in the early years of his adulthood teeming into the hall with the other eager people. Fate and Ludwig followed, Ludwig grinning as he relived the memory.
“But why show me this?” he asked as they followed himself around the crowd and through the back door, an invitation clutched in his hands.
“You will see.”
Ludwig knocked on a door and handed the man his invitation. He nodded and Ludwig entered the room nervously. Mozart sat at a desk, going over the songs he would be preforming that evening. Mozart looked up and grinned at Ludwig.
“You must be young Ludwig van Beethoven,” Mozart said, standing and extending his hand.
Ludwig was lost for words but Mozart led him to a piano where the two men talked and began to play on the piano together. Lost in the happiness, Ludwig did not hear the person enter the room. Fate rested her hand on his shoulder and he turned to receive a blow in the gut as she walked in. She curtsied to the composer.
“So nice of you to come tonight!” Mozart cried. “Ludwig, this is a young woman who teaches music. Her name is –.”
“Theresa,” Ludwig breathed.