Some things I dug up while researching my novel Beethoven's Assassins.

Beethoven in Fiction
When was Beethoven born?
What caused his deafness?
Who was the “Immortal Beloved”?
Why "Moonlight" Sonata?
Was Beethoven a Freemason?
What was the "Incident at Teplitz"?
Why "Hammerklavier" Sonata?
Who first played the Hammerklavier Sonata?
Bibliography

Who first played the Hammerklavier Sonata?

It's widely said that the first public performance of the Hammerklavier Sonata was by Franz Liszt in Paris in 1836. The situation is more complicated though. "Public" is a matter of definition, and by most standards, Liszt's performance at the Salle Érard wouldn't count. As we'll see, ordinary concert-goers had little chance to hear Beethoven's Opus 106 anywhere before the 1850s - and when it comes to who played it "first" there are a number of contenders.

Discussing the Hammerklavier Sonata in 1860, Wilhelm Lenz wrote, "As first to interpret it in public performance in Germany (1843) and later Russia (1853), Mortier de Fontaine has taken his place in the history of Opus 106. After him, Klara Wieck [Clara Schumann] and the Englishwoman Arabella Goddard let it be heard publicly, the latter (now Mrs Davison) as an anglicized travesty [als englisches Zerrbild]."¹

Lenz praised Liszt as the finest interpreter, but not the first. His source of information on Henri-Louis-Stanislas Mortier de Fontaine was the pianist himself; the same person who gave Lenz the "50 years" story discussed here. Mortier de Fontaine considered himself the first to have played the Hammerklavier Sonata anywhere in public, and he held on to his self-appointed "place in history" for long afterwards.²

The earliest review I can find of Mortier de Fontaine playing the Hammerklavier is from a concert he gave in Leipzig on 25 May 1851. There might of course have been earlier ones I've failed to spot, but the reviewer's comment is significant. "As far as we know, this is the first time it has been played before such a large audience. Under such circumstances, in the case of a work where performance has not been established and basic features have not passed through tradition, different opinions will of course assert themselves, one person wishing this, another that. So much is certain, however, that Herr Mortier, like few others, is qualified for a task of this kind and has overcome the existing great difficulties in an extremely commendable, indeed admirable manner."³

A few months later, Marie Wieck (Clara Schumann's sister) gave a recital in Dresden that included the first movement of Opus 106.⁴ The earliest complete performance I've found by Clara Schumann was on 8 December 1855 in Leipzig.⁵ An 1856 retrospective summary of Clara Schumann's concert career gave her total number of Hammerklavier performances to that date as two. The other Beethoven sonatas she had included in concerts up to then, and their frequency, were the Appassionata ("nearly 40"), Waldstein (25), Tempest (14), Moonlight (6), Opus 101 (5), Les Adieux (3) and Opus 7 (1). The only works that came anywhere near the Appassionata in her concert repertoire were Mendelssohn's Variations sérieuses, Opus 54, and Robert Schumann's Piano Quintet, Opus 44, each of which she'd performed thirty times.⁶

Arabella Goddard played the complete Hammerklavier Sonata at Willis's Rooms in London on 14 April 1853.⁷ The first three movements were done from memory.⁸ Contrary to Wilhelm Lenz's dim view of Goddard's "anglicized travesty" (based on what evidence?), a reviewer who heard her wrote, "Such a tour de force from a Lady pianist of any country, of any age, we hardly can recall; and it is one which implies the existence of too much sound musical attainment not to merit record, not merely because it is satisfactory for the present, but because it is promising for the future."⁹ Ludwig Rellstab was equally impressed when Goddard played the sonata in Berlin in March 1855. He wrote:¹⁰

"This sonata, during the thirty years or thereabouts that it has been known to the select musical public, has constantly employed the utmost energies of all musicians, who have in vain exercised their powers of execution and judgment on this enigmatical Sphinx. For our own part, we have only heard it played in private by a few, and that more as an attempt of detached portions than a great whole. A less celebrated, but still clever, pianist, Mortier des Fontaines [sic], intended to play it in public; Liszt is said to have done so; while Mendelssohn, we are assured, several times attempted it, but declared he found the last movement insurmountable, on account of the long, continuous exertion requisite. One thing is certain: it is a most stupendous task for the pianist, and even supposing others can accomplish it, the so highly-gifted bénéfiçiare [Goddard] in the present instance has the threefold merit of having played it here first, of being a lady who did so, and of having done so with a fluency of perfection, in which it is doubtful that any man ever equalled, much less surpassed her."

Mortier de Fontaine had done more than "intend", though he was indeed "less celebrated". In 1854 a writer for The Musical World had reported from St. Petersburg, "M. Mortier de Fontaine, who has permanently settled here, has given a series of so-called historical concerts to empty benches."¹¹ At least one of those concerts had included the Hammerklavier.¹² And in response to Rellstab's remark about Mendelssohn, an unsigned English editor (possibly J.W. Davison, Goddard's later husband) wrote, "Mendelssohn played the whole sonata from memory at a private party in London - how we need hardly say."¹³

If in searching for the earliest Hammerklavier performances we're to count private ones like Mendelssohn's, we could go right back to November 1819, when the pianist Joseph Czerny (no relation to Carl) wrote in Beethoven's conversation book, "Zmeskall now listens to no music other than your Sonata, Op. 106, which I have already played for him several times."¹⁴ A few days later Czerny wrote, "Frau [Nannette] Streicher has already studied your last Sonata for 3 months and still cannot [play] the exposition. She complains the most about the beginning."¹⁵ In December 1819 the newspaper editor J.C. Bernard wrote in the conversation book about plans for an Akademie concert of Beethoven's music, to include "your new Sonata, played by you."¹⁶ An astonishing suggestion that of course never materialised. Most intriguing of all is the possibility that Carl Czerny gave a private performance, possibly around 1820, to an audience that included Beethoven himself (see here).

In March 1820 a person involved with the publisher Artaria wrote, "Out of curiosity, they desired the Sonata even in Milan, although not a person lives there who can play such a thing.¹⁷ A week later, the same person (possibly Georg Adam Sattler) wrote, "We sent the Sonata everywhere, and if you want, I can show you the letters in which you can see what was said about it. Leipzig, Munich, Bonn, Paris, London, Milan, etc., etc. It is difficult to sell."¹⁸ Nannette Streicher clearly persevered, however, as in April 1820 she wrote in the conversation book, "Please tell me about a couple of places in your Grand Sonata [Op. 106], whether I am taking them correctly."¹⁹

The slow movement was the part of the Hammerklavier Sonata that drew most admiration in the earliest years. There was even an arrangement of it for voice and piano, "Das Grab ist tief und stille," by J.G. Hübner.²⁰ In 1839 Carl Czerny gave performing advice on the sonata as a whole. "The chief difficulty lies in the unusually quick and impetuous time prescribed by the author; also in the performance of the melodious passages, which are in many parts, and require to be given strictly legato; in the clear delivery of the roulades, extensions and skips; and lastly, in the steadiness which the whole requires... [The] Finale is one of the most difficult pianoforte pieces, and can be most suitably studied by first practising it slowly and in small portions – line by line, and page by page. The performer will himself discover, that it must be played in a very lively and energetic manner – with the observance of all the marks of expression, as well as with the utmost certainty in the bravura passages."²¹

Ludwig Rellstab's previously quoted review of Arabella Goddard credited Liszt as reputedly the first to perform the Hammerklavier anywhere in public. Another reviewer of Goddard's 1855 Berlin performance took the same view. "The great feature of the evening was Beethoven's grandest and most difficult sonata (in B flat, op. 106), which had previously been considered impracticable, and at the bare mention of which all right-minded musicians devoutly crossed themselves. For a long time, like the Ninth Symphony, it was regarded as the abortion of a shattered mind... Miss Goddard played the Sonata with astonishing power, decision and correctness. The execution of the concluding fugue, which had hitherto been hazarded in public by Liszt alone, [is] in a technical point of view, the most difficult feat that can be attempted by a pianist, and the facility with which it was accomplished on this occasion, entitle the fair artist to one of the first places among the pianoforte aristocracy of the present day. The distinguishing qualities of her style are her quietude, clearness, and discreet moderation, in the greatest as well as the smallest details."²²

A report of a new achievement by Goddard in 1857 adds a further twist:

"No pianist in Europe has hitherto been able to boast of having performed the five last sonatas of Beethoven in public, at five alternate soirées, with very brief intervals between; but Miss Goddard has accomplished this feat, and accomplished it to admiration. Each of these extraordinary works has taken the most skilful players years of study; and one of them, the Op. 106, baffled even Liszt himself, who has always declined to attempt the 'Fuga a tre voce, con alcune licenzie' – that formidable and seemingly impracticable finale - in public. Of the three who, in our remembrance, have ventured upon such a task, one - M. Mortier de Fontaine – who spent twelve years at it (by his own avowal), played more false notes than right ones; while the others would no doubt have succeeded better had they devoted as many years as M. de Fontaine to the labour."²³

Impossible to say if the reviewer ever actually heard Mortier de Fontaine play, but his opinion was certainly at odds with the reviewer quoted above who'd witnessed the 1851 Leipzig concert. What's certain is that during the 1850s the Hammerklavier became a fixture in the public programmes of several pianists, including Liszt. In 1858 Liszt played Opus 106 at a concert in St. Petersburg, after which A.N. Serov wrote, "The fugue - that fearsome mix of voices - went at an almost unbelievable speed, without even the smallest note being lost, and the trills at the end were played in octaves."²⁴

Liszt's claim to priority in Hammerklavier performance rests on an article by Hector Berlioz that appeared in the Revue et Gazette Musicale on 12 June 1836. There Berlioz described how, at the Salle Érard in Paris, the 24 year-old Liszt had played "Beethoven's great sonata, that sublime poem regarded by almost all pianists till now as the riddle of the Sphinx. A modern Oedipus, Liszt interpreted it in such a way that the composer must have quivered with joy and pride in his grave... It was the ideal performance of a work reputed to be unperformable. In his playing of a work still barely understood, Liszt proved himself to be the pianist of the future."²⁵ Berlioz didn't actually say which "great sonata" he meant, though obviously it was the Hammerklavier, and he certainly heard Liszt play the entire piece: "Not one note was omitted; not one, added (I was following the score)."²⁶ But there's a catch. Liszt, a young rising star, had just returned from Geneva and people were eager to hear him play. Berlioz wrote:

"He gave no concerts as such, but the throng of music lovers and distinguished artists following Liszt about wherever there was some hope of hearing him play was as impressive as anything we see at the Conservatoire. M. Érard's reception rooms were thus invaded more than once – as they are often not, even when a full-scale concert there is trumpeted by all the city's newspapers and huge billboards... Yet the crowd came – despite the fact that ten or twelve invitations, at most, had been issued. But the news of Liszt's reappearance had spread so fast and excited such curiosity that four or five hundred persons showed up nonetheless, so that, instead of his expected circle of friends, Liszt faced a real audience..."²⁷

Berlioz doesn't say how many times Liszt played at the venue (only that it was "more than once"), or tell us how many of the (perhaps greatly over-estimated) total crowd were there when the Hammerklavier was played – but he does make clear that Liszt's performances were not public concerts in a strict sense. So whether we give Liszt the crown hinges on a technicality. All the early Hammerklavier performances I can find by him were for an invited non-paying audience, possibly joined by gatecrashers. If that's allowed, we might also wonder how many people were in the room when Joseph Czerny played the Hammerklavier in 1819, or if anyone stood listening in the street.

On 25 March 1846, Liszt played at an event to commemorate the nineteenth anniversary of Beethoven's death, which fell the following day. The venue was the salon of Vienna publisher Carl Haslinger (son of Tobias), and the invited guests were "a select circle of musicians and poets, of connoisseurs and art lovers,"²⁸ among them Heinrich Adami who reported it in the Allgemeine Theaterzeitung. Liszt played all four movements of what Adami called "die große Sonate (op. 106) für das englische Hammerclavier"²⁹ - an indication that the word was now taken to mean pianos with the modern English action rather than the older Viennese one – and Adami found it "extremely interesting to hear this sonata, which, to my knowledge, is hardly ever heard in public."³⁰

Liszt's friend Hans von Bronsart described a performance in Weimar on Sunday 1 July 1855. "This morning at 11 o'clock, the time of Liszt's weekly musical matinees, I found an extraordinarily large audience in the rooms of the Altenburg [Liszt's home], because Liszt had promised some of his friends that he would play Beethoven's great B flat major sonata, Op. 106. The thought that we should be granted a pleasure which the great creator of this immortal work himself had never been granted made us all serious and solemn." Bronsart ended his account by saying, "May these words of enthusiastic gratitude be expressed here on behalf of all those who have had the good fortune to belong to Liszt's close circle of friends and to live with him in his artistic endeavours."³¹

If Liszt loses on a technicality, should we restore Henri-Louis-Stanislas Mortier de Fontaine to the place he laid claim to, and once held, as first to play the complete Hammerklavier Sonata in a public concert? Actually no. Even if he really did do it in 1843, as Lenz reported, his event still wasn't the first. The earliest I've found was a matinee concert by Ignaz Moscheles in London on 14 March 1839. A reviewer for the Athenaeum wrote, "To ourselves, the greatest treat of the morning was Beethoven's grand Sonata, Op. 106, for the sake of its slow movement (the most impassioned of slow movements); the strange, confused finale alla fuga does not become clear and comprehensible, even when rendered by Moscheles – its difficulty is immense."³² Lest we think of denying Moscheles the title on the grounds that he botched the finale, consider what another reviewer wrote. "The modern school opened in full force with Beethoven's Op. 106; one of his latest Sonatas, but pregnant with all his fire and imagination. Under the hands of Moscheles, it seemed like the extemporaneous production of its author – as if Beethoven were sitting down at his instrument to pour out his luxuriant imagination for his own gratifications; thought succeeding to thought in rich profusion and boundless variety, and assuming every alternate form of expression - now dark and misty, then tempestuous, and awhile serene and lovely as a cloudless sky. The conduct of the final fugue is one of the most masterly and occasionally beautiful things we ever heard on the pianoforte."³³

So there we have it. The first person who played the complete Hammerklavier Sonata to an audience was possibly Joseph Czerny in Vienna in 1819. The first who did it in a concert hall was possibly Franz Liszt in Paris in 1836. The first who did it for the general public was possibly Ignaz Moscheles in London in 1839. The first who said he was the first was H.L.S. Mortier de Fontaine, who maybe gave the first German performance in 1843. The first woman who learned the Hammerklavier Sonata was possibly Nanette Streicher, and the first to play it in public concerts was most likely Arabella Goddard. Respect to all of them.

Addenda

1. In 1861 Dwight's Journal of Music reported, "For some time past three men in Germany have made the study of the last Piano Sonatas by Beethoven their especial business; Hans von Bülow, the son-in-law of Liszt, Bronsard [Hans von Bronsart] and Mortier de Fontaine... They have done a great deal in making German audiences familiar with those works that are so little known, though they deserve to be so widely known."³⁴ In 1875 the Athenaeum reported, "M. Mortier de Fontaine is a pianist of some continental repute, who acquired his fame chiefly through his performance of the works of Beethoven, particularly the sonatas; he played at Vienna, in 1847, with signal success the difficult B flat, Op. 106, which was first executed here by Madame Arabella Goddard, and only recently by Dr. Von Bülow."³⁵ In 1895 the New Quarterly Musical Review said, "Mortier de Fontaine was a celebrated pianoforte virtuoso who, after a long and wandering career, died in 1883, quite forgotten, in London, where he had resided for some years."³⁶ The American musician William Mason, who met Mortier de Fontaine in Hamburg in 1849, recalled in 1901 that he "was very well known in his day as a Beethoven-player - had, in fact, won considerable fame as the first pianist to perform Beethoven's Sonata, Op. 106 in public. That was his label."³⁷

2. Carl Reinecke remarked on the significance in the Hammerklavier Sonata's thematic architecture of the interval of a third. He insisted he was "hardly the first who has made this discovery", but may have been the first to put it in a book, which he wrote in 1897.³⁸

3. Among early private performances, Lenz also reported "Bodley in Vienna, Ries in London," and an "unsuccesful attempt" by Cipriani Potter in London (March 1819).³⁹ In 1852 Carl Czerny wrote some notes on Beethoven that were passed to Anton Schindler. Czerny admitted he couldn't be certain about everything, and Schindler added comments of his own. Czerny wrote, "In the years from 1818 to 1820 I organized concerts by my pupils every Sunday in my lodgings... Beethoven was usually present; he still improvised even then...", to which Schindler added, "Twice only: the first time when Frau Ertmann played one of his sonatas, the second time when Herr Czerny played Op. 106 which he had often studied with him at an earlier time. In the years after 1818 Beethoven no longer improvised except at home."⁴⁰ If Schindler is correct, and "twice only" refers to occasions when Beethoven improvised, the event would have to have taken place in 1818, before the sonata was published - in which case how could Czerny have studied it "at an earlier time"? If "twice only" refers to the occasions when Beethoven attended, and if Czerny is right about the date period, and Schindler is correct about the "earlier time", and if both men's memories can be trusted after more than thirty years, we could guess that Beethoven heard (or at least saw) the Hammerklavier Sonata performed for him by Carl Czerny in 1820.

4. Carl Czerny's pupil, Franz Liszt, first played the Hammerklavier Sonata at the age of 10 (in 1821 or 1822), without Czerny's instruction, and "very badly, no doubt".⁴¹

References

1. Lenz 3, Part 4, p49
2. Baker, p624
3. ,NZfM34 30 May 1851, p238
4. RMZ 2, 20 December 1851, p614
5. Signale 13, December 1855, p420
6. MfTM 2, pp408-9
7. Athenaeum 53, 9 April 1853, p452
8. Athenaeum 53, 16 April 1853, p483
9. Athenaeum 53, 16 April 1853, p483
10. MW 33, 31 March 1855, p194
11. MW 32, 15 April 1854, p251
12. Lenz 3, Part 4, pp 32,49
13. MW 33, 31 March 1855, p194, footnote
14. Conversation Books, Vol 1, p80
15. Conversation Books, Vol 1, p98
16. Conversation Books, Vol 1, p119
17. Conversation Books, Vol 1, p321
18. Conversation Books, Vol 2, p15
19. Conversation Books, Vol 2, pp176-7
20. Lenz 3, Part 4, p30
21. Czerny, pp64-5
22. MW 33, 7 April 1855, p213
23. MW 35, 9 May 1857, p294
24. Lenz 3, Part Four, p50
25. Berlioz, p235
26. Berlioz, p235
27. Berlioz, p232
28. AT 39, 27 March 1846, p295
29. AT 39, 27 March 1846, p295
30. AT 39, 27 March 1846, p295
31. NZfM 42, 6 July 1855, p22
32. Athenaeum 39, 16 March 1839, p205
33. Spectator 12, 16 March 1839, p253
34. Dwight 19, 29 June 1861, p102
35. Athenaeum 75, 4 December 1875, p759
36. NQMR 95, February 1895, pp189-190
37. Mason, p31
38. Reinecke, p112-116
39. Lenz 3, Part 4, p49
40. Czerny, p16
41. PQ 69, p12