The conductor had saved this piece for his final encore. It was to be his last performance, but he wanted it to mean everything. This was for his idol.

After getting the signal that the audience was at attention, he looked out over his charges. Violins at the ready. Percussion standing by. A choir taking their deep breaths. With subtle flicks of his hand, he counted off the 6/8 time needed. And with a nod, he brought the instruments in for the final movement of the Ninth.

The many stringed instruments played their intro, loudly sending the tones of the great German echoing through the concert hall. As they finished setting the tone, the percussion joined in, a long cymbal roll producing a crescendo designed to invite singing. And sing, the choir did, at full volume:

Freude, schöner Götterfunken,
Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

The lyrics of Schiller joined the glorious melodies and enraptured the crowd who had gathered. But the old master conductor wasn't satisfied. It wasn't enough that they heard this glory; they must feel it! As his baton wagged back and forth in time, his free hand raised upward, encouraging both orchestra and choir to be louder. Always, in his mind, fortissimo, FORTISSIMO, maximum volume!

As the choir switched from German to English, from Schiller to Van Dyke, from Ode to Hymn, the conductor felt it in the podium and in his heart. This, THIS was what the idol had intended. A noise to rock the heavens, a paean to the very feeling of positivity that the universe would sense! Let them know, he thought! Let them all see what humanity can do when blessed with euphoria!

Choir and orchestra ended their beautiful noise in a frenzy of heavenly inspiration:

Melt the clouds of sin and sadness,
Drive the dark of doubt away.
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day!

As the performance ended and the musicians recovered, the conductor waited. The orchestra stood first, as one, and bowed. The conductor pointed to his choir, which in turn took their bows. And as he caught his breath, he saw his first violinist telling him to turn around.

Thousands of men and women, in their finest suits and dresses, were standing, their hands producing a noise that reciprocated the piece. The conductor bowed as well and, after sufficient time, walked off the stage to the back.

Stagehands first, directors second, then his fellow performers -- all greeted him, congratulated him on a fine career and a wonderful finale. The conductor stood and took notice of their words before turning to his interpreter. With a flurry of hand gestures, the interpreter helped him understand what they were saying: Ludwig would have been pleased with that final encore.

He stood and smiled in his personal silence. He had done his idol proud.

[WC: 480]