Sitting in a pristine 21st century concert hall, listening to an impeccable performance of a work by one of the great masters of the past, modern audiences are normally blissfully unaware of the frequently chaotic and even disastrous circumstances surrounding the premieres of some of our most revered works. Whereas today’s most celebrated composers are normally blessed with a well-rehearsed, and well rested orchestra at the premieres of their new pieces, such was not the case in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Beethoven frequently presided over programs where he had not only composed all the music, but had also secured an orchestra, a venue, and funding, not to mention conducting and/or performing as a soloist. His questionable organizational skills, coupled with the complexity of mounting these concerts, often led to mammoth programs that were performed with little rehearsal by an exhausted (and frequently angry) orchestra. Such was the case on April 5, 1803 at the premiere of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto in C Minor.
The concert, billed as a benefit concert, (meaning a concert to benefit Beethoven), was held at 6:00 pm at the Theater an der Wien. Included on the program were three world premieres—Beethoven’s Second Symphony, his Oratorio Christ on the Mount of Olives, and the Piano Concerto in C Minor—as well as a reprise of his First Symphony, which had been premiered a year earlier. According to Beethoven’s pupil Ferdinand Ries, there was exactly one rehearsal scheduled for the program, and it began at 8:00 am that morning. Apparently, the best players in Vienna had been hired for a performance of Haydn’s The Creation that same evening, so Beethoven was left with a collection of decidedly “junior varsity” players. “[It] was frightful,” Ries recalled. “At half past two everyone was exhausted and dissatisfied. Prince Karl Lichnowsky [one of Beethoven’s patrons], who was at the rehearsal from its beginning, sent out for large baskets of buttered bread, cold meats, and wine. He invited all the musicians to help themselves, and a collegial atmosphere was restored.” Complicating things further, Beethoven had not finished writing out the piano part to the concerto by concert time, which meant that he was improvising a great deal. Another of his students, Ignaz von Seyfried, had been tasked by Beethoven to be his page turner at the performance, and his recollection of the experience gives a sense of the “fly by the seat of your pants” nature of the concert. “I saw empty pages with here and there what looked like Egyptian hieroglyphs, unintelligible to me, scribbled to serve as clues for him. He played most of his part from memory, since, obviously, he had put so little on paper. So, whenever he reached the end of some invisible passage, he gave me a surreptitious nod and I turned the page. My anxiety not to miss such a nod amused him greatly and the recollection of it at our convivial dinner after the concert sent him into gales of laughter.”
Despite this inauspicious premiere, the concerto was a success, and has remained a beloved representation of Beethoven at the beginning of his extraordinary “middle period”—a time when, despite his ever-worsening hearing, Beethoven’s determination to continue to compose, and his convictions about the validity of his musical vision, resulted in some of the most important and revolutionary works of the 19th century.
The first movement is structured in traditional classical period style, and opens with a full orchestral exposition wherein all the melodic material for the movement is presented. The first theme is introduced in hushed strings, then woodwinds – a sneaky three-note figure that climbs up, then abruptly drops back down again. It is a perfect example of Beethoven’s ability to take an inordinately simple melody and turn it into the basis for seemingly endless invention. The second theme is a happier affair in a major key, but the sunny moment is short-lived as the opening three-note figure returns in a thunderous end to the orchestral introduction. The piano enters with dramatic scales, joining the orchestra in new presentations of the both the fierce first theme and tender second theme. An orchestral interlude precedes the development section, during which orchestra and soloist trade snippets of both melodies. Dramatic flourishes in the piano lead into the recapitulation and finally to the soloist’s cadenza, where the pianist gets to pull out all the stops. The orchestra eventually sneaks back in, joining the piano in propelling the movement to a fiery conclusion.
The mood changes abruptly as the Largo begins with the pianist softly playing a wistful tune, presented with a simple nobility that we now recognize as uniquely Beethoven. The achingly beautiful melody is then taken up by the orchestra in a lush presentation by muted strings and woodwinds. An interlude features plaintive solos for bassoon and flute, as the piano retreats to the role of accompanist, before eventually reemerging with a reprise of the opening music. Just as the breathtakingly delicate movement draws to a close, Beethoven snaps us out of our reverie with a full orchestra, final chord, as if to say “enough heaven, back to earth now.”
As “worldly delights” go, there are few more exuberant than the final Rondo, which features a rollicking tune that recurs throughout the movement, interspersed with interludes that range from virtuosic to quirky. At one point, as if to show off, Beethoven inserts a mini-fugue that begins in the cellos and spreads throughout the orchestra, as the “everything but the kitchen sink” movement races on. A final moment of repose for the pianist precedes a breakneck coda section which concludes the high-spirited movement in grand style.
Following the premiere performance, it would take Beethoven more than a year to fully notate the concerto so other pianists could play it. It was his student Ferdinand Ries who gave the second performance. By that point of course, the drama surrounding its premiere had faded, and audiences were left with a perfected “recipe,” and only the legend of the “mad chef” who had created it.
Program notes by © Betsy Hudson Traba 2024