Grieg himself played his piano concerto at a Leipsic Gewandhaus concert
in 1879, but it had already been heard in the same hall as early as
February 22, 1872, when Miss Erika Lie played it, and the work was
announced as new and "in manuscript." Before this time Grieg had shown
the concerto to Liszt. The story is told in a letter of Grieg quoted in
Henry T. Finck's biography of the composer:
"I had fortunately just received the manuscript of my pianoforte
concerto from Leipsic, and took it with me. Besides myself there were
present Winding, Sgambati, and a German Liszt-ite whose name I do not
know, but who goes so far in the aping of his idol that he even wears
the gown of an abbe; add to these a Chevalier de Concilium and some
young ladies of the kind that would like to eat Liszt, skin, hair, and
all, their adulation is simply comical.... Winding and I were very
anxious to see if he would really play my concerto at sight. I, for my
part, considered it impossible; not so Liszt. 'Will you play?' he asked,
and I made haste to reply: 'No, I cannot' (you know I have never
practised it). Then Liszt took the manuscript, went to the piano, and
said to the assembled guests, with his characteristic smile, 'Very well,
then, I will show you that I also cannot.' With that he began. I admit
that he took the first part of the concerto too fast, and the beginning
consequently sounded helter-skelter; but later on, when I had a chance
to indicate the tempo, he played as only he can play. It is significant
that he played the cadenza, the most difficult part, best of all. His
demeanour is worth any price to see. Not content with playing, he at the
same time converses and makes comments, addressing a bright remark now
to one, now to another of the assembled guests, nodding significantly
to the right or left, particularly when something pleases him. In the
adagio, and still more in the finale, he reached a climax both as to his
playing and the praise he had to bestow.
"A really divine episode I must not forget. Toward the end of the finale
the second theme is, as you may remember, repeated in a mighty
fortissimo. In the very last measures, when in the first triplets the
first tone is changed in the orchestra from G sharp to G, while the
pianoforte, in a mighty scale passage, rushes wildly through the whole
reach of the keyboard, he suddenly stopped, rose up to his full height,
left the piano, and, with big theatric strides and arms uplifted, walked
across the large cloister hall, at the same time literally roaring the
theme. When he got to the G in question, he stretched out his arms
imperiously and exclaimed: 'G, G, not G sharp! Splendid! That is the
real Swedish Banko!' to which he added very softly, as in a parenthesis:
'Smetana sent me a sample the other day.' He went back to the piano,
repeated the whole strophe, and finished. In conclusion, he handed me
the manuscript and said, in a peculiarly cordial tone: 'Fahren Sie fort;
ich sage Ihnen, Sie haben das Zeug dazu, und--lassen Sie sich nicht
abschrecken!' ('Keep steadily on; I tell you, you have the capability,
and--do not let them intimidate you!')
"This final admonition was of tremendous importance to me; there was
something in it that seemed to give it an air of sanctification. At
times when disappointment and bitterness are in store for me, I shall
recall his words, and the remembrance of that hour will have a wonderful
power to uphold me in days of adversity."