Haydn Seek

1767 – A peek out at the world

By the standards of our era, possibly even by the standards of his own time, Haydn led a fairly sheltered life. True enough, not everyone could say he had been as much as a hundred miles from home, but if you subtract Vienna and (possibly) Prague from the list, Haydn was scarcely more traveled than his father had been.

The modern day Slovakian capitol of Bratislava, then called Pressburg, was also a major administrative center in the 18^th century, and remained so until the early 1780's when Joseph II brought the Hungarian crown jewels to Vienna in an attempt to strengthen the bond between Austria and Hungary. I admit to being a bit puzzled by his logic there, but suffice unto the moment to say Prince Esterházy had a palace there also. In February, then, he packed up his retinue, including a dozen or so musicians and some singers and headed to Pressburg for Carnival, which was celebrated there in identical fashion to Vienna. Possibly he intended the trip, on the musicians' part, as a reward for their service, since he also was quite free in handing out the bonus money to go along with it. Of course, Haydn left no diary entry describing his adventure, but we are fortunate there is yet plenty of documentary evidence by others in attendance, either as guest or service person. Where the musicians go, so too their instruments. We have bills, countersigned by Haydn, of all the maintenance required on things like 'the large cembalo' and the two spinets, and the various stringed instruments in need of… well, strings! Plus, we actually do have diary entries, in this case by a guest who attended a 'little Italian opera' by 'The Prince's Kapellmeister, Herr Haydn', which was, in fact, the newly composed La Cantarina. It is unknown if this was the 'World Premiere', or in fact if it had been performed in Eisenstadt last autumn, but its great reception led to a handsome 'shower of gold' for the composer and players. Among other novelties of the presentation, lead tenor Leopold Dichtler dressed in female costume and sang the part of the Diva's 'mother', while Dichtler's wife (in real life), Barbara, sang the part of Don Ettore, the suitor, in a 'pants role'. This being Carnival, no doubt this added bit of spice was greatly appreciated by the patrons.

A spinet from 1753

Despite the fact they make frightfully dry reading, the bills from instrument makers which are submitted for payment by the Esterházy treasury harbor the few clues available about what instruments Haydn had at his disposal, something nice to know when determining the makeup of the orchestra at some given time, or which keyboard instrument a certain sonata was written for. We know that Haydn had the large cembalo in Pressburg (to play continuo at the opera, no doubt), and also two spinets. This is really the only hint we get as to what keyboard instruments were available, with the addition of Haydn's own Klavier (clavichord). We also discover in the purchase/repair list 'a case for the large violone', indicating by inference there were two of them, a large one for Church & concert use, and a smaller one for the chamber. Smaller ones, looking at first glance like nothing so much as a very fat cello, were the everyday instrument in universal use throughout Austria at anything short of a very large venue. There is a huge body of inferential evidence which would be unknown to us save for this treasure trove, the habit of the Esterházy's to send every scrap of paper to the archive. At least if it involved spending money!

Even before the trip, though, we already had some drama to deal with, back at Eisenstadt. When Haydn bought his new house the previous Spring, the contract had a standard clause stating that the landlady would carry the mortgage, but if she would die, then it must be paid in full to her estate. Haydn's luck being what it was, right after New Year, she dropped dead. So after only a few payments, suddenly the entire principal came due. Haydn ended up borrowing a considerable amount of the sum from his father-in-law and escaped disaster. It is theorized, however, that the sudden flow of gold coins which landed on Haydn in the next year from both The Prince as well as his wife, while ostensibly being rewards for musical feats, were actually attempts to help out a highly esteemed employee without appearing as charity. It is not as though they couldn't have known about the whole story. I mention this now because in later years a discussion will erupt over Haydn's supposed servitude to the Family. This is one example of many we will see where they gave him every reason to return their loyalty and generosity.

In autumn of the year, we find the bill for binding Volume 2 of the Baryton Trios. I was personally interested to discover not only Haydn's contribution, but also that of Anton Neumann, bound in the same volume. Although it is generally known (though rarely discussed) that the Prince had several people writing trios for him, the idea they were not each in their own volumes simply never occurred to me. Now I know, and so do you! For those keeping count, Haydn's own share in the two years which have elapsed since his admonishment now totals forty-eight!

The final point of interest for the year is the big trip to Paris. Since Nicholas took along his architect, it is presumed the trip was for the purpose of adapting design ideas from Versailles (since it was done, what better time to have managed it?). No Haydn, but for unknown (now) reasons, at the last moment it was decided our Luigi Tomasini would go along, perhaps to help fiddle away the long hours on the trip. It was most assuredly from this junket that Haydn discovered the great depth of his popularity in the world at large. There were easily a dozen publishers in Paris who were publishing pirate copies of his works, or if not his, then works they were attributing to him. Luigi was, in addition to being the concertmaster of the orchestra, also one of Haydn's best friends. So in addition to telling him all he had seen there, it is circumstantially evident he also made some contacts in the music business for Haydn. Within two or three years, one or two publishers were putting out works which were without the multitude of errors which pirating usually engendered. Hard to imagine the originals came from anywhere but Eisenstadt itself.

So our lad who hasn't seen the world now has a taste of it, even though by proxy. And a solid idea that his music has possibilities outside of the close confines of western Hungary. It would be several more years before he would be contractually free to make use of this knowledge other than under the table, but one can't help but believe a seed was planted.

Thanks for reading!

1766 – The music part 3 – Puzzles and more!

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Instruments / Notes
22:05	Mass	C	Missa Cellensis
28:02	Opera buffa	La Cantarina	in 2 Acts - for 3 Sop., 1 Tenor, 2 Flutes, 2 Oboes, 2 English Horns, 2 Horns, Strings, Cembalo & Bassoon (continuo)

It had been many years since Haydn was known to have composed a mass, way back in 1749-50 in fact. But when he came back to it, it was with a vengeance! The Missa Cellensis presents us with yet another Haydnish puzzle, one which may finally have been resolved (but really, who knows?).

As we discussed earlier, with the passing of Werner, Haydn was given full responsibility for all the music at Eisenstadt / Eszterháza. I wonder if the Prince thought at the time that his new Kapellmeister would, right out of the gate, compose the largest sacred work of his career, an Italian cantata-type mass which would strain the resources of any but the largest church? Here is the array of forces needed for a full performance: Soprano, Alto, Tenor & Bass soloists, plus Chorus, 2 Oboes (doubling English Horns), 2 Bassoons, 2 Horns, 2 Trumpets, Timpani, Strings & Continuo (Organ). Clearly this wasn't intended for the chapel in Eisenstadt!

In a nutshell, the first three movements were known for years, and clearly dated 1766. In far more recent times, a large fragment including the final two/three movements was
found. These are all autographs in Haydn's own hand. The second fragment, from Bucharest, Romania, is undoubtedly not from 1766. One doesn't even need to know that the watermark of the paper is well known as 1769-73 era paper (lots of Haydn's works with known dates are written on it), the differences in notation, orchestration and musical structure are enough on their own to show this was a newer piece of work. There are two theories to explain this, both plausible, but neither more than a theory. The first is the original mass consisted of just a Kyrie, Gloria and Credo. While this seems strange, in the 18^th century it was commonplace, particularly in Italy and southern Austria, to compose just this part of the Ordinary. At a later date, perhaps when it was required for performance in a different venue under different circumstances, the Sanctus/Benedictus and Agnus Dei were added. The second theory states that the original mass existed complete, but the last half of it was destroyed in one of the many fires which we shall see plagued Haydn and the Esterházy's in general. Haydn actually recomposed an entire opera which suffered this fate a few years later. For now, you will have to decide for yourself whether either or neither seems like a plausible explanation to you. It may never be solved!

Despite the mistaken name, St. Cecilia
is only notable by her absence!

But what of the mass itself? It is a cantata mass, so called because rather than the five or six parts which an Ordinary usually maintains discretely, the entire is broken up into smaller parts, seventeen or eighteen of them in this case, depending on how they are divided. It is without doubt Haydn's largest sacred work, with some stunningly lovely vocal and instrumental parts. If you are looking for a definition of a 'cantata mass', one that is consistent across the board, I think you will be lucky to find it! Even The New Grove Dictionary... is ambivalent at best as to what one consists of. But like so many other things, you know it when you hear/see it. Like a Neapolitan cantata (which Haydn learned from a master, Porpora, you will recall), it alternates between recitative and aria, thus the breaking up into smaller parts. If you enjoy sacred music in general, you will quickly become enamored of this jewel. The air of mystery surrounding its origin adds a special cachet to it all, something to ponder as the beauties unfold.

Solemn Mass à Opera buffa. A natural next step, yes? It is one Haydn took, in any case, when in later 1766 he turned out a charming little Intermezzo with a libretto by the justly famed Anonymous. La Cantarina ("The Diva" as we would say today) is a cynical two act comedy of deception. A thumbnail of the plot has a woman posing as the mother of a young woman, they are living with an old music teacher who is training the young lady to be a singer. And planning to marry her also. But she is only in it for the free training, she is in love with another young fellow. The old maestro becomes aware of the deception, hilarity ensues.

An amusing plot with some fine arias to go along with. One of the most amusing subtexts of this Intermezzo is its merciless lampooning of the norms of opera seria. Both the vocal constructions, such as the huge ritornellos broken up by tiny bits of inadequate text, and the musical ones, like the out of control horn solos parodying the over the top virtuosos in the operas, provided out and out belly laughs for the auditors, who were treated to the real thing on a regular basis, and so recognized the barbs for what they were. One of the high points is the lovely aria for the heroine, Gasparina, 'Non v'è chi mi aiuta'. She is accompanied by the two English Horns, in one of their rare excursions away from Eb. Here, despite the fact she is seemingly desperate, the desperation itself is another parody of the situations Prima's found themselves in all too often in seria. Haydn really winds her up though, and the result is a highlight of the work, in my opinion. One other feature to notice in this little opera is the quality of the ensemble finales. All in all, this is a nice look ahead to the much larger works of the late 1770's. Haydn never fails to surprise with his early mastery of genera which he should be still a novice at. Genius is funny that way!

Next time, we will begin to look at 1767, yet another interesting year musically. Some intriguing ideas are beginning to crop up symphonically!

Thanks for reading!

1766 – The music part 2 - A little of this

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Instruments
11:13 - 24	Trio	A, D, A, A, D, A, A, D, A, A, D, D	Baryton, Viola & Cello Book I
11:25 – 30	Trio	A, G, D, D, A, G	Baryton, Viola & Cello Book II
12:19	Cassations	12 - in A, A, D, A, A, D, A, A, D, A, A, A	2 Barytons & Violone
16:45	Sonata	Eb	#29 for Keyboard
18:03	Concerto	F	Keyboard & Strings (2 Horns optional)

I hope, at this point, you have already fallen in love with Baryton Trios and have even listened ahead a bit! If so, you already know about the wonderful little Allegro di molto inner movement in #14, or the splendid little Adagio that cuts off after 3'25" in the opening of #22, of which the remainder has ceased to be. Or even #23 with its 0'16" truncated opening with the promise of beauties to come, sadly lost. Each excursion with these virtually unknown works is a voyage of musical adventure.

As you recall, we spoke about the fact Haydn composed twenty-four trios, usually three or six at a time, and then they were bound into a presentation book for the Prince. Book I was thus completed in late summer of 1766, and Book II begun nearly immediately, since it was completed and published in mid-1767. Somewhere in between all of this, Haydn found time, either in 1765 or '66 , to compose this little set of 12 Cassations for 2 Barytons and Baß. Each work is a single movement, and the run the gamut of tempos from Largo & Adagio to Allegro di Molto & Presto. With a Minuet and a Polonaise thrown in for good measure. As with the lost duets we looked at last year, I suspect these were, again, études. But they are far from dry, they remind me more of Chopin's highly entertaining sets of sixty years later, at least in their 'enjoyment for the player' value if not in their musical similarity.

I suppose some works are destined for the quiet road, even if they are performed from time to time, it seems no one wants to talk about them. Our present keyboard sonata, Hob 45 (Landon 29) is like that. Historically, it is considered to be a predecessor to one of the two major lineages of Haydn's keyboard sonatas, the 3 movement concert works. Although when you listen to it, you don't really hear a lot of the Janzen sonatas! Of the sonata works of this period, this is one of very few with a dated autograph, so we know it was composed in 1766. It is one of a group of six (only five were actually by Haydn though) that were published in Paris in the late '60's and called at the time 'Progressive Sonatas'. Clearly they could hear something there. In modern times this is considered a 'workshop sonata', one in which Haydn worked out compositional problems which would stand him in good stead later on. While there is little doubt it was a clavichord work, in my opinion it stands up well on cembalo too, and even the rather inappropriate fortepiano sounds right at home. Both the opening Moderato and the inner Andante share a rather pensive feel. When played with its repeats, the first movement spans a solid ten minutes, although never seeming to overstay its welcome. The closing Finale: Allegro di molto is rousing in comparison. Even on the clavichord it has a feeling of cheeriness, and is well-constructed to let the player embellish freely. I can testify this is a work which will grow on you.

On the other hand, concertos always get plenty of ink. Hob 18:3 is the first keyboard concerto which shares some of the traits of the Cello Concerto #1 in being far less of a Baroque holdover stylistically than a contemporary 'Classical' concerto. The fact it was composed for cembalo didn't deter anyone even then from playing it on the fortepiano. Despite Haydn not having one at his disposal as early as 1766 (as far as we know), doesn't mean there was any shortage of them in Vienna or Paris. Without going into the depths of music theory, it is difficult to discuss the structure of a concerto. Suffice to say, Haydn wasn't breaking new ground structurally, in fact, like most other musicologists before the present day, Robbins-Landon is harsh beyond reason with it. If you read a lot of his writings though, you see how opinionated he can be when something doesn't catch his fancy. Unfortunately, his influence among musicologists (and probably musicians too) was such that the work was retarded in its rise to general availability. Which is a pity, really, since time has proven it a winner, perhaps the greater enlightenment of modern day players and listeners has opened a few ears. It is an interesting lesson in evolution, though, to play the three commonly available-on-one-disk piano concertos sequentially to see how quickly Haydn adapted even the ungainly (to him) concerto form to equal all but a few. Here again, it is a stretch to compare head to head works that were composed for the salon in the mid-'60's with those composed for public performance by professional pianists twenty years later. People do. Don't be one of them.

Next time we will look at the final work of 1766, the first Italian opera in four years. Molto bene!

Thanks for reading!

1766 – The music part 1 – Not just the music…

Hob	Key	NC	HRL	Instruments
28	A	40	38	2 Oboes, 2 Horns & Strings

I confess, I am horrible ranter. There, I've said it. I hunt and hunt for answers, then lose patience and complain they don't exist. Of course I'm wrong sometimes. I freely admit it doesn't happen often, but just once in a while….

A few times in these posts, and probably in the appendix pages with the symphony chronologies, I've mentioned the so-called New Chronology, and its irritating omission of any sort of documentary justification for the end result. Now, I'm not saying here I have finally got my hands on the goods, but if I had an extra several hundreds of dollars and a working knowledge of German, I could buy a book by a lady named Sonja Gerlach which establishes the basis for the New Chronology. Her book, Joseph Haydns Sinfonien bis 1774: Studien zur Chronologie (Joseph Haydn's Symphonies up to 1774: Studies of the Chronology), is, by all appearances, the Brass Ring on this subject.

Of course, this is all spelled out in easy to read plain language somewhere, don't you think? If so, you must have just gotten here! I purchased a Christmas present for myself, a book (The Symphonic Repertoire Vol. II) by musicologist A. Peter Brown which is, generally speaking, way over my head as far as applied music theory goes. There are many things in there which I will have to ask someone about some day! However, inextricably intertwined with all of that, the late Dr. Brown strews fine nuggets of historical information to go along with the theory. To make a short story long, as I was panning for gold the other evening I found Brown listing his idea of what the chronology of the first fifty or so symphonies might be, and then comparing it with his considered authority, Gerlach (whom he assumed I knew). Imagine my surprise when I noticed that the Gerlach list matched the New Chronology entry for entry! So, mystery solved. Well, to my satisfaction anyway.

The item that caught my eye here was his description of Gerlach's working method. She not only takes all the intrinsic evidence which all musicologists so far have taken, such as paper and watermark studies, handwriting analysis, known historical aspects (the Abbot was Haydn's best friend… etc.) and the like, but she also incorporated intensive stylistic analyses. The net result (according to Brown) is that she has reached an almost unnecessary level of precision with her dating. It goes without saying, but I will; I dispute that. There is never too great a level of precision when it comes to dating! Since I have read a few essays by Gerlach, and also have another book and several essays by Brown, I can now proceed forward with greater confidence than before when it comes to using the New Chronology. We'll all sleep better tonight, won't we? No more ranting on that subject, anyway!

So let us now look at (and especially listen to) our one and only symphony for the year. Apparently all of the extracurricular activity did finally affect Haydn somehow, in this case, giving him the lowest production year for symphonies since he began writing them. With that said, however, don't think this one isn't a sort of unique gem! The opening Allegro di molto is one of the most unusual characters which Haydn has produced to date. The opening bars provide the meat for the entire movement, which propels forward with alternating syncopations and modular phrases that sound as though they are in a time signature twice (or half!) or what they really are; that is, 6/8 instead of 3/4. The strings do this on one beat and the winds answer a beat later, and this takes us through the entire movement! Although it sounds simplistic in my description, it is actually a rather intricate procedure in performance, and I am hard-pressed to think of any subsequent work to compare it to. At some point in time we will take a look at rhetoric and its effect on Haydn's music (which is profound, by some accounts), but for now, it is safe to say the rhetorical 'argument' between those instruments playing in 6/8 and those in 3/4 governs this entire movement over any other consideration. The hyperkinetic rhythms here will stick with you well past the listening!

The second movement Poco adagio is longer than the rest of the work combined. I see it described as possibly being incidental music for a play of some sort, but I don't hear it when I listen. Brown goes so far as to suggest it is a funeral march for a play. While it is true that there are march rhythms embedded throughout, I just don't find any reason to think of this interesting movement as anything more than absolute music, to steal a useful term from the Romantics. The third movement minuet, however, is pretty unusual! The strings play a sort of call, possibly a horn call, and are answered by the winds, especially the horns. It is all in a most unusual rhythm for a minuet, in fact I would be hard put to it to identify it as such, out of context. Here we get to enjoy an early example of bariolage, with the violins switching back and forth on the same note between a stopped string and an open one, which produces a different tone color, a difficult thing to put ones' mental finger on when listening. It is a favorite effect of Haydn's, and he would use it rather more famously in a later string quartet, Op. 50 #6. In this case, rather than a frog croaking, it makes the sound resemble a horn call (in my opinion). Surprisingly enough, after all that has come before in this most unusual work, the finale is a straightforward Presto assai with some very nice parts for the two hard-working horn players. For reasons that I haven't been able to discern, period instrument bands have pretty much given this work a miss. The sole exception being the omnipresent savior of us lonesome aficionados of PI, Christopher Hogwood. His Academy of Ancient Music rendition is superb, giving a real sense of what a strange work this is. Listen to it with an ear for the oddity, you will be rewarded. You have to figure, any work that irked the German critics (which this one did!) has got to be worth a listen!

Next time, we will look at the earliest "Piano Concerto" still played today.

Thanks for reading!

1766 – A new record for new

As we've seen so far, Haydn has gone through a whole list of changes in his life, and it is about time for him to settle down for a while. So of course, it is the perfect time for more changes than ever!

To proceed chronologically (as I always try to do), the most important event of the year came first. On March 3, 1766, the titular Kapellmeister, Gregor Werner, died. While it was probably a foregone conclusion that Haydn would immediately take his place as full Kapellmeister, and indeed, while this is just what happened, the repercussions on his work product are perhaps underestimated. Up until now, his main compositional focus had been instrumental work. But the elderly Werner had been in charge of sacred music, and due to his infirmities had left a considerable time period with no new works. One of the things we will see from Haydn now are large works, sacred and profane. Masses and other religiously centered works, and operas will come to the fore. Meanwhile, there isn't really a slowdown in instrumental works either, which basically says that Haydn was working harder now. His actual output for the next 15 years is truly phenomenal!

Haydn spent the greatest part
of his life within this area!

During the previous two years, we haven't actually seen too much of the Prince. His omnipresence at Eisenstadt was only a spiritual one; in fact, he had mainly been spending his time at his former residence, Süttör, the family hunting lodge on Lake Neusiedl. He hadn't been spending this time hunting snipe in the swamp (for indeed, it was good for little more than that), but instead had been overseeing the construction of what would eventually be 'the Versailles of Hungary', Eszterháza. One of the ancestors had begun building a Schloß on the site as early as 1721, and various others had pitched in a bit here and there, but it was only when Nicholas became the head of the family (law required that there be only one heir to everything in order to keep fortunes from being diluted) that things began in earnest. And it was in the summer of 1766 that enough was completed (the entire wasn't done until 1784) for some of the musicians, including Haydn, to pick up and head there for the extended summer period. Even though it was only 25 mi. (40 km.) it was no easy journey back and forth in the half-hour it would take today.

Since the musicians' quarters were not completed until 1768, the musicians were given guest rooms, and some were put up at the village inn. Clearly the wives and families had to be left behind in Eisenstadt, which posed another issue for Haydn to resolve. It was at this time he purchased his first house. One stands today on the same spot, undoubtedly a replica due to the burning down of it. It is a Haydn Museum now, beautifully conserved, and contains some interesting artifacts. Since Eszterháza never became a permanent residence, this house served a valuable purpose for many years thereafter. Here is their web page (it's all in German): http://www.haydn-haus.at well worth a look.

Robbins-Landon (Chronicle & Works Vol. 2) speculates that it was a peculiarly 18^th century sort of project to build a luxury palace, a fairy tale sort of place if one ever could be called that, out in an isolated swamp. Then to stock it with some of the finest art works in Europe, an opera house, marionette theater, gardens, concert hall, the finest musicians in Europe led by the most interesting living composer… it makes one wonder if Nicholas was a bit of a loony! Yet he likely wasn't one, nor was he merely a rich man looking for something to waste all his money on. One can say fairly that the Age of Enlightenment produced some men to whom the dominance of their surroundings, the subjugation of the wild into the grandest display of civilization, was the fulfillment of their personal and philosophical destiny. Certainly Nicholas' death only 6 years after the eventual completion, followed by the nearly immediate abandonment and gradual sinking into oblivion of the 'Versailles of Hungary' seems in some way to reflect the futility of the vision that created it. But for one brief moment in time, with the colored lights and brilliant chandeliers glittering, the costumed courtiers dancing their minuets to the strains of the elegantly liveried orchestra, with the intoxicating scent wafting from the rose gardens, it must have justified itself simply as a physical representation of the possibilities of human creation.

Next time we will begin to look at the music. Things are changing already!

Thanks for reading!

1765 – The Music part 4 – In the Master’s chamber

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Instruments
5:21	Trio	D	2 Violins & Baßo (Cello)
12:20	Divertimento	G	Baryton Solo
12:21	Divertimento	D	Baryton Solo
12:22	Divertimento	A	Baryton Solo
12:23	Divertimento	G	Baryton Solo

In this year we say 'so long' to one of my favorite genres, the string trio. I have to admit I'm not sure I understand what this stray is doing way out here, all on his own. Still, we are assured he belongs here, and so we mustn't ponder too long. This one opens with a dance movement, a Siciliano which is a dance form which Haydn came back to even as late as The Creation. This opening Adagio is a reminder that the Baroque wasn't so long over, and it was not uncommon, in fact it was the norm, to open a chamber work such as this with a slow dance movement. This one has a lovely tune to it, and taken at a quasi-Andante pace, as it is in both of my recordings, it tends to be memorable even among the great pile of string trio movements which are its peers. The inner movement is a pleasant Allegro, and we close with a Menuet and Trio which are surprisingly on the slower side than we have already become used to hearing from Haydn, but again, with a memorable tune. Altogether this is a fitting farewell to a genre which was entirely likely to have been the first purely instrumental one which Haydn composed in. If I haven't given appropriate weight to each of them as they came and went, it is not due to any insignificance on their part, they came at a time when the flood of works from his pen threatens to overwhelm the poor auditor!

Now, what are we to make of these four (surviving?) works for solo Baryton? It is surmised that they may have had accompaniment from a cello, but if so, then those parts are lost too, if they existed at all. I can't really talk about the music itself here, since all that remains of whatever might once have been is a very small (smaller than most!) fragment of each, scarcely more than an incipit, the longest being 24 seconds. But whether they still exist or they don't, the question remains: what were they? In lieu of retransmitting any formally established ideas, which have currently amassed from all quarters to the number zero, I will simply say that the most likely thing I can think of is Haydn wrote some short pieces for Nicholas to use for practice when he was alone. Etudes then. So we probably aren't missing out on a Classical Era version of Bach's Suites for Solo Baryton, or at least I tell myself so in order to not feel too badly about missing some potentially intriguing works. The likelihood we will ever know more about them than we do today is somewhere between Slim and None, and I fear Slim has left the building. So it goes.

And a few more:

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Instruments
16:03	Sonata	C	Keyboard
16:04	Sonata	D	Keyboard
16:05a	Sonata	D	Keyboard
16:47	Sonata	e	Keyboard
17:01	Capriccio	G	Keyboard
17:02	Variations	G	20 Variations Keyboard
23c:4a	Sacred Music	Bb, d, A, Ab	Responsoria de Venerabili "Lauda Sion" for Chorus, 2 Horns & Strings

Whether it was the spur of Haydn's virtuoso harpsichord writing in last year's cantata Qual dubbio, ormai as Landon postulates, or some other, unknown, fancy, we now see a sudden burst of activity in the solo keyboard arena. This is not to say that Haydn ever abandoned the keyboard, virtually every piece of music he wrote was composed at his clavier, and that never changed, but we haven't seen any datable completed compositions since the late Morzin years, circa 1761. What we now have are a nice pair of sonatas in Haydn's traditional style, what was originally thought to be the fragmentary keyboard part of a keyboard quartet (16:5a / 14:5), a forward looking sonata (16:47 #19 in e), and a pair of 'other' keyboard works which include one of Haydn's traditional variation sets on the one hand, and a sort of watershed work on the other.

As always with Haydn's early keyboard works, we are stuck just a bit with the chronology. As much as anything, these works have been nailed down by stylistic means, which is to say they are simply better written than probably earlier works are. And in fact, it is hard to disagree, really. Even the parts which take earlier models bear the signs of being tightened up, and more exploratory ideas both melodically and harmonically than the earlier works do.

It is the non-sonata Klavierstücken of this year which provide the most interest though. And the most fodder for disagreement among musicologists, something which we mere listeners have to be ambivalent about, since what we want are answers, not arguments. The first of these two works is the Capriccio in G on 'Acht Sauschneider müssen seyn' (It takes eight strong men), a very popular old folksong. Oddly, this same tune was used by Mozart at nearly the same time as one of the components of his quodlibet Galimathias Musicum, although this all took place far away in Holland, where the Mozarts were attending the installation of the Prince of Orange. Haydn's Capriccio first appeared publicly in 1788 in a group of (probably stolen) Haydn compositions by Artaria. It is advanced enough in structure that until the original autograph was found with the 1765 date, no one questioned it as a 'current' work. There are such a variety of interesting subjects for debate here, it is no surprise musicologists have hopped right aboard. For example, those who fancy Haydn as a follower of C.P.E. Bach have pointed out that this is put together just like a rondo style used in Bach's monumental Für Kenner und Liebhaber, but since that work didn't appear in print until 1780, the discovery of the original autograph manuscript dated 1765 can only be used here to prove Haydn's psychic abilities!

Another discussion point is the one proposal that Haydn actually composed the work for the fortepiano. Despite the change of the date, surprisingly many, including Robbins-Landon, clung on to that for a long time. However, if you have made the brilliant step of acquiring Tom Beghin's Complete Works for Keyboard (The Virtual Haydn – CD version) box, the included DVD shows a wonderful demonstration which adds the context of the piece in all its importance. Here is a superb example of Haydn's wit, which would be totally lost without being played on a Viennese harpsichord with a 'short octave'. This consists of some keys at the bottom of the bass which are cut into either two or three pieces, thus scrunching together the keys so that a player can reach notes simultaneously which he couldn't have done otherwise. In total, there are four works by Haydn which can't be played as written on any other instrument, one just doesn't have the hands for it. The point of the folk song this work is based on is that it is a round, so to say, in which it takes, at first, eight strong men to castrate a boar, and then on subsequent iterations it takes seven, then six etc. But the point of humor, which would be lost if played on a fortepiano, is no other than the word 'cut', it you were singing along (as people did) is played on the key that is cut in half. Even the choice of key is made for the purpose of placing this note in that place. So whether you choose a clavichord or a cembalo, it needs the 'cut' key to serve Haydn's purpose. Naturally, only the keyboardist would have been in on the joke, even more reason to like it!

The other Hob 17 work from this year is an outstanding set of variations, one which, when it was published along with the Capriccio in 1788, was butchered all to be damned. As written, the 20 Variations in G constitute one of the most important sets of variations of the Classical Era, since they are constructed as a huge melodic arch of connected variations which solve the issue of how to vary the theme in a way which leaves the parts coherently connected to each other. When Artaria got hold of the manuscript, they dumped eight of the variations altogether and changed the order to suit whatever idea they had in mind, thus disrupting the entire structure of the work, and hiding the accomplishment like camouflage. Not to mention changing the key. Robbins-Landon (Chronicle & Works Vol. 1 p549) is a great pains to try and discount the 'short octave' solution for this work as well as the Capriccio, but I fear he is unconvincing. Haydn, even 240 years down the road, still manages to keep his counsel and laugh in his sleeve at attempts to figure him out.

The final piece we look at this year is Haydn's second 'Lauda Sion', which he revisits now fifteen years after his original effort in 1750. That first work, which very nearly was a first work, was in C major in all four responses. Forgive me if I repeat here the explanation I gave in the 1750 essay: The Feast of Corpus Christi was one of the high feast days of the Liturgical Calendar, celebrated throughout the country with masses, processions and various sacred celebrations. One of these involved a blessing given out to the Four Corners of the World, and the celebrant would visit four altars in the church (or in multiple churches) and give a blessing from each in turn. At each direction, a hymn would be played and sung by the musical forces while the priest was saying the prayers. These four motets are for that purpose.  Where these works differ from the first set, in addition to their improved quality of course, is that they are each in a different key, lack the festive trumpets of the C Major Viennese version, and generally have a more somber cast, described as 'penitential' by Wyn Jones. They are very attrractive, and a strong reminder that Haydn hadn't lost his touch with sacred music.

This brings an era to a close. In the next year we will see the passing of Werner and the advancement of Haydn to the top, the moving of the entire household to the Eighth Wonder of the World (Hungarian edition) for better than half of each year, and a whole new suite of music for Haydn (and us) to listen to and enjoy.

Thanks for reading!

1765 - The Music part 3 – How does one approach this achievement?

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Instruments
11:001	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:002	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:003	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:004	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:005	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:006	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:007	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:008	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:009	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:010	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:011	Trio	D	Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:012	Trio	A	Baryton, Viola & Cello

If there is a genre in Haydn's output that is difficult to do justice to, for so many reasons, it is the monumental group of Trios for Pariton (Baryton), Viola & Cello. At this point in history there are many reasons for this phenomenon, but no single one of them is that the music itself isn't first rate. In some ways, the issue is the same as in the essay that discusses Symphony 29; the field is so extensive that one can scarcely encompass it all and absorb it, so a cursory listening is the best they get. In the case of the Baryton Trios, this multitude was compounded by the scarcity of recordings. Even today, the vast majority of trios have only one recording each, while a very few others have as many as ten! The problem then becomes that many of the finest ones simply have gone unheard.

After the modest reprimand of November 1765, Haydn immediately threw it into high gear on the baryton composition front! It is probable that the twelve works listed above were all composed by the end of the year, some of them already being completed, the remainder the work of a few short weeks. According to inferences drawn from an existing sketch, it seems as though Haydn abandoned his usual compositional practice here and adopted an extraordinary method in its place to speed things up. He wrote a series of Allegros, then a series of Minuets, then a series of other movements which could serve as finales, then fitted them together into complete, three movement trios. Of course, that didn't go on for long, but it would have enabled him to make a good showing very quickly. The fact that eleven of the twelve first works are all in the same key (A Major) would seem to have helped out here.

It is clear that the Prince wasn't planning on sharing these works with anyone, and the completed works were treated better than was most music of the time. When twenty-four trios were completed, the parts were beautifully bound up into presentation books. Ten years in the future, the fifth and final one of these books was completed. It is truly a pity that only Volume IV survives, they would have made a handsome set! In any case, Volume I was 'published' in 1766.

As I was bemoaning at the beginning, this body of work is difficult to get a grasp on. The mental picture of the Prince (on Baryton, of course), Haydn (on viola) and Weigl (on cello), playing these works after dinner in the drawing room is not compelling enough to grip the imagination of most people. The somewhat somber tone of three instruments in the alto and lower ranges also tends to appeal to a rather limited crowd. So how do we overcome the basic issues involved? It shouldn't be viewed as a chore to listen to such wonderful music. It will be incredibly difficult for me or anyone else to go through the entire series in rather short order and pick out high points to keep in mind when listening. I have a couple of suggestions, both of which worked well for me when I was learning these works. The first is the easiest; I would never listen to more than three of them at a sitting, that way my attention didn't begin to wander. The second is only difficult in the degree that going shopping for rarities ever is. Here are two disks of transcriptions, not transcribed by Haydn, but certainly in his style. The first is for a standard string trio, violin, viola and cello. This was exactly the way that anyone and everyone who knew these works post-Eszterháza learned them. For the listener who is new to this music, it is a fine opportunity to learn what the music sounds like on a familiar tonal plane. You will be impressed, I believe. The second disk is transcribed for three Bassett Horns, ironically another obsolete instrument which has seen a remarkable comeback in the last thirty years, due mainly to the music that Mozart composed for it. Here again, the wide tonal range of the bassett horn allows for tones more nearly approaching mezzosoprano than the baryton does. So once again, the more familiar tonal ranges make a nice introduction to the music.

All of this is not to say that the music doesn't stand on its own. Over the course of the next ten years, especially the next seven or eight, we will be seeing a lot of these works. Stylistically, they are rather similar from beginning to end. Mainly we are dealing with sonata form, but there are surprising excursions into variations, rondos, canons, fugues, minor modes; in short, Haydn didn't just mail these in, he did the work too. As we advance, I am not going to spend a great deal of time describing each and every piece. I will point out some particularly interesting points to listen for (like next year's Presto of #14) and also some particularly special recordings when the time is appropriate for them. Meantime, if you have the Brilliant Haydn 'Big Box', you have what you need already to make the most of these works. Take three and call me in the morning!

Thanks for reading!