The composer and poet E. T. A. Hoffmann began his in-depth review of Beethoven’s two piano trios, Op. 70 (published in the March 1813 issue of the Allegemeine musikalische Zeitung), with the following appreciation of their creator’s peculiar genius:

“Some time ago, the present critic reviewed one of the most important compositions of Beethoven—the great, ingenious Symphony No. 5 in C minor—and tried at that time to fully express his thoughts on the spirit and style of that highly gifted master. As a result of his zealous study of Beethoven’s works, he asserted at that time his hypothesis that Beethoven was a purely romantic composer, more so than any other. . . . He finds this impression strengthened by each new work of the master that is brought to his attention. These two excellent trios give fresh proof of how Beethoven has the romantic spirit of music deeply imprinted on his soul, and with what great gifts and power of mind he animates his works. Every true fortepianist must be delighted and inspired at the appearance of a new composition for his instrument from the pen of this master, who is himself a fortepiano virtuoso and thus understands exactly what can be played upon the instrument and what will make a strong effect, and therefore intentionally favors these aspects.”

Nearly thirty years later Carl Czerny, in his tract “On the Proper Performance of all Beethoven’s Works for the Piano,” could, with the hindsight provided by the passage of more than a decade since Beethoven’s death, speak to the greatness of the oeuvre as a whole:

“Beethoven commenced his career with compositions for the pianoforte, of which the first great works (Three Trios, Op. 1) appeared about the year 1795. His pianoforte works so far surpass all which were previously written for this instrument, that even to the present day they remain unequalled, and the complete collection of them forms a store of imperishable masterpieces for all time. . . . But the mental conception of their performance demands, as well as the vanquishing of their technical difficulties, which are not slight, can only be attained by a thorough study of them. For though an experienced player, with the assistance of an intelligent advisor, may learn a single piece to a certain degree of perfection, he will still remain a stranger to that spirit and peculiar humor, to that genial freedom, and deep feeling for the beauties which lie concealed in the great bulk of Beethoven’s compositions, and therefore in a measure form the key to each work. . . .

The general character of Beethoven’s works is fervent, grant, energetic, noble, and replete with feeling; often also humorous and sportive, occasionally even eccentric, but always intellectual; and though sometimes gloomy, yet never effeminately elegant or whiningly sentimental. Each of his pieces expresses some particular and well-supported idea or object, to which, even in the smallest embellishment, he always remains true. The melody everywhere pervades the musical thought; all rapid passages and figures are only employed as a means, never as the end; and if (particularly in his earlier works) many passages are found which demand the so-called brilliant style of playing, this must never be rendered principal. He who should only display his agility of finger therein, would entirely miss the intellectual and aesthetic, and prove that he did not understand these works.”

Czerny’s description of the “proper” performance style for the opening movement of the D major trio heard tonight may be applied, with only slight modifications, as a conceptual guide to the entire opus: “The unity of the whole must not be disturbed by any protraction or dragging expression but all must constantly flow onwards like a stream.” He finds the character of the Largo assai ed espressivo (from which the D major trio received its sobriquet “the Ghost”) “ghastly awful, like an apparition from the lower world.” The concluding Presto is “very quick, light, brilliant, gay, and humorous.”

Like Czerny, Hoffmann requires of the performer:

“ . . . an understanding of the pieces, so that one penetrates deep into their very nature, and consecrates one’s being, audaciously daring to enter the circle of magic vision that their powerful spell invokes. If one does not possess this inner consecration, but views music only as an amusement, a way of filling idle hours, a momentary way to charm dulled ears, or mere ostentation, he will always be kept at arm’s length from Beethoven’s works. . . . But just as there are few real artists, few true virtuosi, so too are there few true connoisseurs who become truly stimulated and uplifted by the deeply spiritual compositions of the master. Since it has become fashionable to use music only to enliven social gatherings, preventing them from becoming tedious, everything must be light, pleasant, and comfortable, that is to say, without any meaning or profundity. And since, moreover, there are, unfortunately, many composers on this earth who are happy to indulge this Zeitgeist, there is also plenty of mindless playing. Many not altogether bad musicians bemoan the incomprehensibility of Beethoven’s, and even of Mozart’s, works. The problem really lies, however, with their own subjective imbecility, which does not allow them to take in and digest the entire compositions in their component parts.”

The challenges thus presented, not only by the Ghost trio, but by the other great works on this evening’s program, concern not only the performers, but the audience as well. Only when they are met head-on and given full attention can we hope to be, with Hoffmann, transported to “the far-off spirit realm of Tones.”

—Kenneth Slowik