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Jumaat, 3 April 2026

When Was the First Public Classical Music Concert?

  

But by the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, a new idea began to take shape: audiences paying musicians to play music for them.

This evolution from sacred service to ticketed performance changed European culture forever and laid the groundwork for the modern concert tradition we still enjoy today.

Today, we’re asking the question, how did paid public classical music concerts start?

Italy and the Ospedales

It took longer than you might think for the concept of public concerts to flourish in Europe. Each country came to the idea in a different way.

Chronologically, the earliest paid public concerts probably took place in Italy, especially in Venice, where a network of orphanages and music schools developed during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

These institutions, known as ospedales, took in orphans or unwanted children (many of them girls, or the unwanted children of prostitutes), and taught the most talented of them how to perform music.

Read more about the Ospedales, and Vivaldi’s connections to them.

They would hold religious services, such as Vespers, with musical accompaniment, then encourage attendees to donate.

These donations helped keep the institutions running, allowing them to continue their charitable work and musical training… all while funding future concerts.

A re-enactment of a Vivaldi performance at the Ospedale   

John Banister’s English House Concerts

John Banister

John Banister
© Unraveling Musical Myths

In December 1672, an English violinist named John Banister began giving daily concerts at his home. This is the first record of money-making concerts in London.

During each show, he’d play instrumental music, songs inspired by literature, and the like.

He charged a shilling admission fee for the experience and took requests from the audience.

The venture must have been worthwhile, because he continued mounting these concerts until shortly before his death in 1679.

Banister’s 1667 work inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest   

Bach and the Collegia Musica

In present-day Germany, ensembles called collegia musica sprang up around the time of the Reformation and focused on the performance of instrumental music.

In 1700, Telemann founded a new incarnation of the old Leipzig collegia musica, and Bach led the group between 1729 and 1737.

Zimmermann's coffee house

Zimmermann’s coffee house

During the eighteenth century, the Leipzig players gave weekly concerts at a local coffee shop.

In the early 1730s, Bach wrote a secular cantata for this gathering called Schweigt stille, plaudert nicht, or “Be still, stop chattering.”

Bach’s Coffee Cantata   

It’s commonly known as the Coffee Cantata today because it extols the virtues of the drink with lyrics such as “If I couldn’t, three times a day, be allowed to drink my little cup of coffee, in my anguish I will turn into a shriveled-up roast goat.”

The societies were closed to amateurs, but allowed members of the public to attend for a price.

To sum up, as Enlightenment ideals spread, and secularisation and education became increasingly important values in European life, musicians and audiences came closer and closer to the modern idea of giving public concerts.

The stage was set for an official concert series to take off.

France’s Concert Spirituel

Concert Spirituel

Concert Spirituel

The Concert Spirituel series began when a royal musician grew fed up with the quirks of the religious calendar.

Royal court musician and woodwind player Anne Danican Philidor founded the Concert Spirituel series in Paris in 1725.

At the time, it was common for Catholic countries to shut down their opera houses to mark various Christian holidays, especially Advent (roughly the month before Christmas) and Lent (the forty days preceding Easter).

However, Philidor had an idea. What if the calendar could be filled with performances of spiritually uplifting non-operatic music, especially instrumental music?

Philidor’s Sonate in D Minor for recorder and basso continuo   

Philidor was willing to test the economic validity of his theory. He paid the Paris Opera impresario 1000 livres a year for the rights to perform, agreeing to mount no opera.

Philidor staged the first performance on 18 March 1725, between 6pm and 8pm.

The venue was the magnificent Salle des Cent Suisses (Hall of the Hundred Swiss Guards) in the Tuileries Palace in Paris.

That first program included a number of works by court composer Michel Richard Delalande, including a violin suite, a capriccio, and a handful of religious works, as well as Arcangelo Corelli’s Christmas Concerto.

Corelli’s Christmas Concerto   

The Growth of the Concert Spirituel

Music from the Concert Spirituel   

Philidor continued to give a number of concerts, expanding the series, but he died in 1728.

After his death, other musicians took on the leadership roles at the Concert Spirituel. Astonishingly, the concert series continued for decades, under a variety of leaders.

Concert Spirituel poster

Concert Spirituel poster

Between 1734 and 1748, the Académie Royale de Musique oversaw the series. It survived into its third decade, which was no small feat, but it also didn’t reach any new heights of cultural relevance.

Things changed between 1748 and 1762, when entrepreneurs and impresarios Joseph-Nicolas-Pancrace Royer and Gabriel Capperan took charge and made investments in the series.

They increased the size of the orchestra, redecorated the concert hall, and hired expensive Italian singers.

The result was that the series became more prestigious – and profitable – than ever.

The Economics of the Concert Spirituel

The Concert Spirituel series may have been open to all paying audiences, but the tickets were priced for the wealthy.

Admission was by ticket, often advertised in newspapers. Prices were steep: mid-eighteenth-century ticket prices ranged roughly 2–6 livres depending on the seat, and were approximately 4 livres on average.

Before the French Revolution, middle-class workers such as clerks and schoolteachers earned between 600 and 900 livres annually. So a single ticket would have cost around two to three days’ worth of wages for them: doable for a middle-class person if you were particularly passionate about music, but certainly not geared toward the middle class or working class as a whole.

The Final Years

The Concert Spirituel’s greatest years were its last ones.

Between 1777 and 1790, Paris Opera singer Joseph Legros led the series. He dropped seventeenth-century motets from the programs and emphasised new music instead.

He commissioned composers like Johann Christian BachJoseph Haydn, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1778’s Paris Symphony was written for the series, arguably an organisational high point).

Mozart’s Symphony No. 31 (“Paris”)   

The final concert of the Concert Spirituel took place in the spring of 1790. By that time, the world had changed. Revolution was in the air. The Bastille had been stormed the summer before, and the Romantic Era and cultural upheaval of the Napoleonic Era were just around the corner. Public classical music concerts geared toward the middle class were about to become bigger than ever before.

Conclusion

By the late eighteenth century, Europe had transformed the idea of music-making.

What began in Venetian orphanages as devotional outreach evolved into a sophisticated culture of ticketed public performance.

The Concert Spirituel in Paris was the culmination of this movement, bringing together musicians, aristocrats, and the rising middle class in one shared musical space.

Given a few generations, the concept spread across the continent, shaping the modern concert hall tradition that still defines classical music today.

Conductors on Conducting

  

The English historian Charles Burney quotes Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who said:

Maurice Quentin de La Tour: Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 1753 (Musée Antoine-Lécuyer)

Maurice Quentin de La Tour: Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 1753 (Musée Antoine-Lécuyer)

The more time is beaten, the less it is kept…

This is a wonderful way of both condemning conductors who wave their arms too much and describing the attention their orchestras pay them.

Rousseau then goes on to explain what happens when everything falls apart:

…and it is certain that when the measure is broken, the fury of the musical general, or director, increasing with the disorder and confusion of his troops, becomes more violent, and his strokes and gesticulations are more ridiculous in proportion to their disorder.

Liszt saw the role of the conductor as very hands-off:

A. Göschl, “Liszt Ferencz,”, Borsszem Jankó 6, no. 276 (1873): 5. (Budapest National Széchényi Library)

A. Göschl, “Liszt Ferencz”, Borsszem Jankó 6, no. 276 (1873): 5. (Budapest National Széchényi Library)

The real task of the conductor consists, in my opinion, in making himself ostensibly quasi-useless. We are pilots, not drillmasters. (1853)

Gounod had a similar view. Instead of being Rousseau’s general, he saw the conductor as someone who had his own taskmaster, the composer:

Étienne Carjat: Charles Gounod

Étienne Carjat: Charles Gounod

The conductor is nothing more than the driver of the coach engaged by the composer. He should stop at every request or quicken the pace according to the fare’s orders. Otherwise, the composer is entitled to get out and complete the journey on foot.

The composer and conductor Hans von Bülow, speaking with the composer and conductor Richard Strauss, talked about musical knowledge:

Hans Schließmann: Hans von Bülow conducting, 1884. (Figaro)

Hans Schließmann: Hans von Bülow conducting, 1884. (Figaro)

You must have the score in your head, not your head in the score.

Rimsky-Korsakov, on the other hand, saw conducting as a particular skill:

Conducting is a black art. (1909)

In a note to his 10-year-old sister, Thomas Beecham downplayed the whole performance:

Emu: Thomas Beecham, 1910

Emu: Thomas Beecham, 1910

It’s easy. All you have to do is waggle a stick.

In 1927, Richard Strauss wrote his 10 Golden Rules for a young conductor, and he cautioned that:

Strauss conducting, 1916

Strauss conducting, 1916

You must not perspire while conducting; only the public must get warm.

He also had something against the wind sections:

Never let the horns and woodwinds out of your sight; if you can hear them at all, they are too loud.

English conductor Eugene Goosens loved the podium:

Eugene Goosens (photo by Tully Potter)

Eugene Goosens (photo by Tully Potter)

It is the most wonderful of all sensations that any man can conceive. It really oughtn’t to be allowed.

Russian-American conductor Nikolai Malko cautioned against conductors who resorted to other means to get their directions across:

Nikolai Malko

Nikolai Malko

He should rely on gestures more than words. It often happens that a conductor begins to talk when gestures fail him and then becomes accustomed to his own chatter.

Sometimes the soloist has to reassure the conductor. Hornist Barry Tuckwell told conductor André Previn how to get out of a mess:

André Previn

André Previn

When you get lost, and you will, everybody does at one time or another, just make some elegant vague motion, and we’ll put it all to rights quickly enough.

Pianist and conductor Daniel Barenboim had his doubts about conductors and their egos:

Daniel Barenboim

Daniel Barenboim

Today, conducting is a question of ego: a lot of people believe they are actually playing the music.

Barenboim, of course, made his early name conducting piano concertos from the keyboard, thereby knowing that he was actually playing the music in at least one sense!

Russian-American composer and conductor Igor Stravinsky was with Barenboim on how conductors considered themselves:

Stravinsky conducting

Stravinsky conducting

‘Great’ conductors, like ‘great’ actors, soon become unable to play anything but themselves.

Hmmm. Sean Connery, anyone?

San Francisco Symphony’s conductor Michael Tilson Thomas said it most plainly:

Michael Tilson Thomas (illustration by Zach Trenholm)

Michael Tilson Thomas (illustration by Zach Trenholm)

Conductors are performers.

English clarinettist Jack Brymer wondered why conductors were regarded so highly when they abandoned playing in the orchestra for the podium:

Why is anyone who adopts successfully this strange form of extroversion regarded instantly as being of so much greater moment than he was last week, when he was just a player?

Brymer also saw the orchestra in a different light than many people:

No wise conductor tries to outdo that bunch of professional comics, which is the average symphony orchestra.