Stabat Mater for S-A-T-B & Chorus, 2 Oboes & Strings
Once again we face the eternal question: Haydn or not? With the added fillip of '1767 or 1757?'. Eventually we will work our way forward onto more solid ground, just not quite yet, I'm afraid. In this case, the culprit is Hob 16:12 (Landon 12). But to balance it out, we also have Hob 16:19 (Landon 30) which exists as an autograph, dated score! So it's a typically Haydnish, rags to riches sort of historical situation. Followed in the moment by one of his great pieces which formed the core of his reputation.
Trying to sort out Sonata #12 reminded me again how the situation with the sonatas is far more jumbled than with any other genre. I am overrun with literature dealing with this work, yet after reading and rereading I still know nothing about it; i.e. – nothing I can say beyond a reasonable doubt. As a result, I don't aim to prosecute this work, merely to listen to it. And it is a gracious listen too. Given that Landon and Hoboken both numbered it '12', having listened to it several times lately I agree with them more than I usually would, and the several sources which give it a date of 1767 seem to be off base. It is a fine example of Haydn's work from 1758 though. Of course, it is a very Haydnish trait to take two steps forward and three steps back stylistically, but it would still be a stretch to place this work on a par with its mate from this year, the solidly dated Hob 19. Have a listen for yourself and I think you will agree, despite the unreliability of dating by listening!
The keyboard sonata in the 1760's bears no resemblance to what we hear post-Mozart. Even Mozart's sonatas are not what we expect post-Mozart! Beginning in the late 1770's and increasing steadily thereafter, public music-making, and the rise of traveling keyboard virtuosos drove both the development of the pianoforte itself, and the music being written for it. Mozart himself developed the concerto as his response to this demand, but the sonata was the choice of many others, not least because they didn't have to rely on organizing (and paying for) a band. So when you read that this work is part of the line of Haydn's stylistic tradition of concert sonatas, you don't want to have your expectations attuned to an 8' grand pianoforte on a raised stage with the hushed audience of hundreds hanging on every note. No. Rather, let's pull forward and note we are in a drawing room at Eisenstadt with a young lady cousin seated at the harpsichord, a few friends and family sitting on a divan and Papa on a chair in the corner while she performs the 'world premiere' of Haydn's latest sonata in D major for their enjoyment. A few minutes later, Haydn himself appears with the Prince and Weigl, and they play two or three trios for baryton, viola and cello. After dinner the band performs in the big hall. And another day passes at Schloss Esterházy. This may all seem fanciful since it doesn't jibe with our conception of how this same music is used today, but in its own place and time, music had to earn its own way, just like the composer and players did. As a note of interest about this particular piece, the third movement marks the first time which Haydn, or any other known composer, decided to combine the rondo form with the variation form, and so every time the rondo refrain returned, as rondos do, he made it a variation of the original. The result is ear catching, and also marks the beginning of a stylistic trend with Haydn, who readily combined various sonata forms throughout his career. Nice work, you should get a young lady keyboard student to come in and play it on your harpsichord for you one afternoon…
The final work we will look at this year is a major piece of sacred music, a setting of the 13th century poem, the Stabat Mater. As the setting of many verses of a long poem, it can be most nearly described as a long cantata, with a combination of solo voices and chorus. It had been set dozens of times over the intervening centuries, but had never been allowed as an official part of the liturgy until early in the 18th century, when it was allowed on two occasion in the Liturgical Calendar; the feast of the Seven Sorrows of Mary in September, and on the Friday before Holy Week. De facto, it was used on Good Friday at the observance of the Stations of the Cross, probably most of all. As you can imagine, it is not a series of lively little tunes, but as with the earlier, ultra-famous version by Pergolesi, each part of it is uniquely listenable. My own reaction to it is Haydn learned something from this work which enabled him to essentially recreate it twenty years later in the Seven Last Words of Christ on the Cross, and not fall into the same trap of presenting an hour of unending sorrow as unending sorrow. That said, the Stabat Mater is a beautiful work, and despite the fact many modern scholars appear to hold it against Haydn that he didn't manage making it into something light and airy (Landon is a good example of this attitude), Haydn's own contemporaries including Johann Adolf Hasse, the leading Viennese composer of the time (although at the very end of his career) who praised it mightily. So despite its relative obscurity and disfavor in modern times, in his own time it was the most widely disseminated work Haydn composed! It literally made his reputation throughout Europe, particularly in France where it became the first of his works performed in public, and where its popularity lasted through the 1780's. There is solid evidence that the commission for the 'Paris Symphonies' was based on the popularity engendered by the Stabat Mater! So the claim of this being a successful work which influenced his entire career is a very valid one. Listen to it, in pieces if the entire seems a bit overwhelming, and you will see why. Truly a fine representation of its time, and a symbol of Haydn's lifelong devotion to the Marian aspect of his Catholic religion.
Next time, we move ahead to 1768, another year of settling in at Eszterháza, and one which produced several works in Haydn's new, dramatic style.
Thanks for reading!
Comments
1767 – The music part 3 – Big work, little works
Hob. #
Genre
Key
Instruments / Notes
16:12
Sonata #12
A
Solo keyboard
16:19
Sonata #30
D
Solo keyboard
20:bis
Sacred Cantata
g
Stabat Mater for S-A-T-B & Chorus, 2 Oboes & Strings
Once again we face the eternal question: Haydn or not? With the added fillip of '1767 or 1757?'. Eventually we will work our way forward onto more solid ground, just not quite yet, I'm afraid. In this case, the culprit is Hob 16:12 (Landon 12). But to balance it out, we also have Hob 16:19 (Landon 30) which exists as an autograph, dated score! So it's a typically Haydnish, rags to riches sort of historical situation. Followed in the moment by one of his great pieces which formed the core of his reputation.
Trying to sort out Sonata #12 reminded me again how the situation with the sonatas is far more jumbled than with any other genre. I am overrun with literature dealing with this work, yet after reading and rereading I still know nothing about it; i.e. – nothing I can say beyond a reasonable doubt. As a result, I don't aim to prosecute this work, merely to listen to it. And it is a gracious listen too. Given that Landon and Hoboken both numbered it '12', having listened to it several times lately I agree with them more than I usually would, and the several sources which give it a date of 1767 seem to be off base. It is a fine example of Haydn's work from 1758 though. Of course, it is a very Haydnish trait to take two steps forward and three steps back stylistically, but it would still be a stretch to place this work on a par with its mate from this year, the solidly dated Hob 19. Have a listen for yourself and I think you will agree, despite the unreliability of dating by listening!
The keyboard sonata in the 1760's bears no resemblance to what we hear post-Mozart. Even Mozart's sonatas are not what we expect post-Mozart! Beginning in the late 1770's and increasing steadily thereafter, public music-making, and the rise of traveling keyboard virtuosos drove both the development of the pianoforte itself, and the music being written for it. Mozart himself developed the concerto as his response to this demand, but the sonata was the choice of many others, not least because they didn't have to rely on organizing (and paying for) a band. So when you read that this work is part of the line of Haydn's stylistic tradition of concert sonatas, you don't want to have your expectations attuned to an 8' grand pianoforte on a raised stage with the hushed audience of hundreds hanging on every note. No. Rather, let's pull forward and note we are in a drawing room at Eisenstadt with a young lady cousin seated at the harpsichord, a few friends and family sitting on a divan and Papa on a chair in the corner while she performs the 'world premiere' of Haydn's latest sonata in D major for their enjoyment. A few minutes later, Haydn himself appears with the Prince and Weigl, and they play two or three trios for baryton, viola and cello. After dinner the band performs in the big hall. And another day passes at Schloss Esterházy. This may all seem fanciful since it doesn't jibe with our conception of how this same music is used today, but in its own place and time, music had to earn its own way, just like the composer and players did. As a note of interest about this particular piece, the third movement marks the first time which Haydn, or any other known composer, decided to combine the rondo form with the variation form, and so every time the rondo refrain returned, as rondos do, he made it a variation of the original. The result is ear catching, and also marks the beginning of a stylistic trend with Haydn, who readily combined various sonata forms throughout his career. Nice work, you should get a young lady keyboard student to come in and play it on your harpsichord for you one afternoon…
The final work we will look at this year is a major piece of sacred music, a setting of the 13th century poem, the Stabat Mater. As the setting of many verses of a long poem, it can be most nearly described as a long cantata, with a combination of solo voices and chorus. It had been set dozens of times over the intervening centuries, but had never been allowed as an official part of the liturgy until early in the 18th century, when it was allowed on two occasion in the Liturgical Calendar; the feast of the Seven Sorrows of Mary in September, and on the Friday before Holy Week. De facto, it was used on Good Friday at the observance of the Stations of the Cross, probably most of all. As you can imagine, it is not a series of lively little tunes, but as with the earlier, ultra-famous version by Pergolesi, each part of it is uniquely listenable. My own reaction to it is Haydn learned something from this work which enabled him to essentially recreate it twenty years later in the Seven Last Words of Christ on the Cross, and not fall into the same trap of presenting an hour of unending sorrow as unending sorrow. That said, the Stabat Mater is a beautiful work, and despite the fact many modern scholars appear to hold it against Haydn that he didn't manage making it into something light and airy (Landon is a good example of this attitude), Haydn's own contemporaries including Johann Adolf Hasse, the leading Viennese composer of the time (although at the very end of his career) who praised it mightily. So despite its relative obscurity and disfavor in modern times, in his own time it was the most widely disseminated work Haydn composed! It literally made his reputation throughout Europe, particularly in France where it became the first of his works performed in public, and where its popularity lasted through the 1780's. There is solid evidence that the commission for the 'Paris Symphonies' was based on the popularity engendered by the Stabat Mater! So the claim of this being a successful work which influenced his entire career is a very valid one. Listen to it, in pieces if the entire seems a bit overwhelming, and you will see why. Truly a fine representation of its time, and a symbol of Haydn's lifelong devotion to the Marian aspect of his Catholic religion.
Next time, we move ahead to 1768, another year of settling in at Eszterháza, and one which produced several works in Haydn's new, dramatic style.
