Meeting the Emperor in Beethoven's Piano Concerto No 5
The Backstory

Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat major, Op. 73

Beethoven presenting the backstory of his Piano Concerto No 5
I'm Ludwig van Beethoven, and this is the backstory of my Piano Concerto No 5. You'll find out why I wasn't the one at the piano when it was first played in Leipzig in 1811, and what that meant for a pianist like me. Here on this site my fellow composers and I teach you to recognize our pieces the moment they begin, so why not  test yourself in the Trainer ?
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A Title I Never Chose

People often call this piece the "Emperor" Concerto, but that name was never mine. Nobody agrees on who came up with it, though some credit the British writer George Grove in 1879 and others a publisher. The piece has nothing to do with an emperor or with Napoleon, and I suspect I would have rolled my eyes at the label. I simply called it my Piano Concerto No 5 in E-flat major, and that is the name I stand by.

Writing Music While Someone Else Writes History

I wrote most of this concerto in Vienna around 1809, and the timing was awful, because Napoleon's armies were besieging the city. Try finishing a long, careful piece of music when the neighbourhood is part of a military operation. I had started the work the year before, and I finished it in the middle of all this commotion. Looking back, it is a little odd that such a confident, heroic piece grew out of such an anxious time.

Pillows Make Poor Earplugs

When the bombardment began in May 1809, I reportedly hid in my brother's cellar with pillows pressed over my ears. The story goes that I did this to protect my hearing, which was already failing. I can't swear to every detail, but it sounds exactly like something I would have done. A composer who is losing his hearing guards what is left of it very jealously.

The Offer I Politely Declined

A year earlier, in 1808, Jérôme Bonaparte had offered me the post of Kapellmeister in Cassel. That alarmed my Viennese supporters, because they did not want to lose me. So Archduke Rudolf, Prince Kinsky and Prince Lobkowitz promised me a yearly pension of 4,000 florins if I stayed. I stayed, and I like to think this concerto was part of my thank-you.

A Promise Written in Pencil

Sadly, a pension is only as good as the people who pay it. Prince Lobkowitz went bankrupt in 1811, and Prince Kinsky died in 1812. I ended up taking the matter to court, and the money finally reached me in 1815. It is a rather unglamorous story to attach to such a grand piece of music.

A Dedication to a Friend with a Title

I dedicated the concerto to Archduke Rudolf, who was my patron, my friend and also my pupil. That is a lot of roles for one person, and he handled all of them with patience. He was one of the men who helped keep me in Vienna, so the dedication was a way of saying thank you. Not every composer gets to write a thank-you note that lasts nearly forty minutes.

Three Courses and No Intermission

A concerto is divided into movements, which are separate chapters of one piece, much like the courses of a good dinner. The first movement, marked Allegro, is the hearty main course, lively, heroic and a little military in character. The second, marked Adagio un poco mosso, is the quiet dessert, a slow and dreamy nocturne that feels like a walk through a calm night. The third is a Rondo marked Allegro ma non troppo, where a cheerful tune keeps coming back like the chorus of a song, and I join it to the slow movement so that you glide straight in without any pause.

The Premiere I Had to Miss

The first performance took place in Leipzig on 28 November 1811, with Friedrich Schneider at the piano. I wasn't the soloist, because my hearing had declined too far for me to play it. That was a bitter thing for a pianist to accept, since I had always been proud of my own playing. Vienna heard it on 12 February 1812, when my pupil Carl Czerny played the solo part.

The Critics Take Their Seats

The first reviews praised the concerto for its originality and its beauty, which pleased me. But some critics complained that it was too long. One of them found the digressions hard for amateur listeners to follow. I understand the complaint, but I had a lot to say, and I don't think anyone needs to apologise for that.

A Long and Busy Afterlife

Franz Liszt took up the concerto with enthusiasm and played it throughout his life. Mendelssohn played it in England in 1829, and the first complete recording was made by Frederic Lamond in 1922. By 2021 it had become the most performed piano concerto at Carnegie Hall, with 215 performances. For a piece that began in a besieged city, I find that a very comfortable place to end up.
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I hope you enjoyed learning about the backstory of my Piano Concerto No 5. Looking back, it still amazes me that this music came out of such an unsettled time, with a city under siege and my hearing slowly slipping away. I never played the first performance myself, and yet the piece found its way to Leipzig, then to Vienna, and eventually to concert halls all over the world. I find it moving that it still has so many listeners today. There is much more to discover about this concerto than I could fit into one story. You could listen for the quiet moment in the finale where the timpani beat a distant march and the whole orchestra seems to hold its breath. You might also follow how the slow movement drifts straight into the finale without any pause, as if the music simply wakes up. If you're curious to hear and explore more, please click on the links on this page and carry on with your own discovery of my Piano Concerto No 5.