Basking in Beethoven's Symphony No 5
The Backstory

Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67

Beethoven presenting the backstory of his Symphony No 5
I'm Beethoven, and I'm happy to welcome you to the backstory of my Symphony No 5. You'll learn how a handful of notes first written in my notebook in 1803 took years, and a cancelled trip to Paris, before they became the symphony you know. On this site my fellow composers and I also teach you to recognize our pieces the moment they begin, so  give the Trainer a go  and see how quickly it comes to you.
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The Idea That Sat in My Notebook

I first jotted down ideas for this symphony in the autumn of 1803, long before I knew how it would turn out. My hearing had already begun to fail around 1798, so I was used to listening very hard to the music inside my head. I worked on the piece on and off, from early 1804 until March 1808. Four years is a long time to live with a handful of notes, and by the end I knew them very well.

Paris Said No

At one point I planned a trip to Paris, where I hoped to perform the symphony myself. When that trip was cancelled, the work stopped for a while, and the music sat quietly waiting for me. Most of it was then composed between spring 1807 and early 1808, once I had picked it up again. I finished the autograph score in March 1808, which means the handwritten manuscript was complete at last.

Two Names on the Front Page

A symphony needs someone to dedicate it to, and I chose two people instead of one. Prince Franz Joseph Maximilian Lobkowitz and Count Andrey Kyrillovich Razumovsky both have their names on it. I'm not one to do things halfway, so I suppose it was only fair that the dedication was shared. If you ever see the score, you'll find those two long names waiting politely at the top.

Four Chapters, One Story

A symphony is divided into sections called movements, and you can think of them as the chapters of a book, each with its own mood and its own pace, and with a small pause between them. My first chapter, marked Allegro con brio, is a stormy one in C minor, and it's the shortest opening movement of any of my symphonies. The second, marked Andante con moto, slows to a walking pace and plays variations on two themes, while the third is a quick scherzo, marked Allegro, that brings the four-note rhythm back and slips into the finale without a break. The fourth, another Allegro, bursts out in C major, so the story that began in a storm ends in full daylight.

The Latecomers Who Saved Their Entrance

Some of the instruments in this symphony sit quietly through three movements and only join in at the finale. The piccolo, three trombones and contrabassoon all arrive there, and it was the first time a symphony had used the three of them together. They don't play throughout, so when they finally come in, the orchestra suddenly sounds bigger and brighter. It's the musical version of the doors opening at the back of the hall and a whole new crowd walking in.

A Very Crowded Evening

The first performance took place on 22 December 1808 at the Theater an der Wien in Vienna, in a concert made up entirely of my own works. I conducted it myself, which I mention because it will matter in a moment. The Sixth Symphony came first on the program, and the Fifth had to wait until the second half. The same evening also included my Fourth Piano Concerto and the Choral Fantasy, so there was an awful lot of music to get through.

Not Exactly a Triumph

I'd love to tell you the audience leaped to its feet, but that isn't what happened. The orchestra had very little rehearsal, and the performance was poorly received. By the time my new symphony arrived, the audience was also worn out by the sheer length of the concert. Little was written about it in the papers afterwards, so the first night passed without much fuss.

The Critics Come Around

The publisher Breitkopf & Härtel had visited Vienna in September 1808 and received copies of the symphony, and they went on to print the first edition. Then E.T.A. Hoffmann reviewed it and called it "indescribably profound, magnificent". That was a very different tune from the quiet shrug of the first night. From there the symphony's reputation only grew, and it has never really stopped growing.

Who Said Fate Was Knocking?

People often call this the "Fate Symphony" because of the saying "Thus fate knocks at the door". That line comes from Anton Schindler, who wrote his accounts after my death, and his reliability is doubted, so nobody knows for certain that I said it. Another story goes that Carl Czerny claimed the four notes came from the song of a yellowhammer in the Prater. I'll leave you to decide which you prefer, since both are tales told by other people.

From Storm to Sunshine

A performance takes about 33 minutes, which isn't long for a symphony that took me so many years. In that time the music travels from a stormy C minor to the open brightness of C major. A short return of the scherzo drifts back into the finale along the way, like a memory slipping in for a moment. If you remember only one thing, remember that journey from darkness to light, because that is the whole story I wanted to tell.
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Looking back, it still moves me that a few notes in my notebook from 1803 grew into a symphony that people keep coming back to. The first performance in December 1808 was a difficult evening, because the orchestra had hardly rehearsed and the audience was worn out by the length of the concert. Even so, E.T.A. Hoffmann reviewed the symphony as "indescribably profound, magnificent", and I'm glad someone heard in it what I hoped to put there. Did you enjoy learning about the backstory of Symphony No 5? There is still plenty more to explore in this symphony, from the long, tense bridge that leads out of the scherzo into the finale to the journey from stormy C minor to bright C major. If you'd like to keep exploring, please click on the links below and see where they take you. The next time you hear those four opening notes, I hope you'll think of the long road they traveled before they reached you.