G, D, G, D, A, D, G, A, D, G, D, D, G, A, A, A, D, G, A, D
Baryton, Viola & Cello – Volume 3
16:46
Sonata # 31
Ab
Keyboard
26a:37
Lied
E
Solo voice & Keyboard - Beim Schmerz, der dieses Herz durchwühlt (When pain ransacked this heart)
Those of you who are not especially fond of baryton music must think I am a bit over the top with my great fondness for it. I am the first to admit it is an acquired taste, but once you have done so there is no turning back. However, the first piece we are looking at here, Hob 10:10 the Quintetto (or Divertimento) in D for Baryton, 2 Horns, Viola and Baßo (probably cello) doesn't require any special license for the baryton, it is a fine work for anyone who appreciates the music of this era. Landon speculates it is actually a piece which was composed earlier times for the Princely Grenadiers, in other words, a wind band work. I wouldn't argue with him (this time) because I can say it is equally ideal for either combination. In addition, the horn writing is as virtuosic as we have seen in the earlier works since the advent of the Carl Franz era in 1763. If you will note the instrumentation for a moment, you will see a standard 'Baryton Trio' with two horns added. This is highly reminiscent of other chamber group reinforcements of the era, most particularly the addition of two horns to a string quartet. Among other points of interest in this work, we see the first ever surviving employment of mutes in the horns for the entire duration of the work. The viola is muted as well. Clearly no one will step on the Prince's lines! The first horn is the star of the show, however, with truly difficult and beautiful parts throughout. We are very fortunate today to have several recorded performances to choose from since it is nearly always recorded along with the much later divertimento/octets of 1775. So if you have any recordings of those works, give an ear to this little orphan. It is a delight!
Once again, of course, we have a new crop of Baryton Trios to enjoy. Haydn's ability to be so prolific is difficult to grasp. Along with the final four trios from last year, the remaining twenty were ready for the bookbinder by July of this year. Twenty-four new baryton trio works between September last and this July. Which doesn't take into account everything else he wrote in this time period. As always, despite the overall high quality of the group, certain ones catch the ear. #57 has a lovely opening Adagio, and overall it is enough a standout to have been specially bound (along with a trio by Purksteiner, a band member cum composer) in gold silk on special paper for 16 florins as a gift for the Prince, reason unknown. Another fine trio is #59, with another fine Adagio first movement and a brisk, entertaining Allegro inner movement. There are plenty of other highlights to be heard here too. This is true Hausmusik, if you happened to have a Baryton laying around loose, that is. So we see three volumes totaling 72 trios from late 1765 to mid-1768. After this burst of activity, there will be only two more volumes and they will be stretched out over the next seven years. This slowdown in baryton trio activity will allow for a new treasure beginning next year; the beginnings of our first new string quartets since 1760!
The lone keyboard survivor of the house fire from this year appears to be Hob 46/Landon 31 in Ab. Since I am not an expert at such things, either analyzing nor conveying my thoughts, I am forced to limit my discussion by avoiding the 'why's?'. So I will make a few statements here which, if you are a knowledgeable keyboardist, you can verify for yourself. It seems as though Haydn has made a great leap forward with this piece, abandoning the galant style of earlier times and composing the most modern-sounding work which I have heard in any genre from the 1760's! At first I thought this might be because the version I prefer is performed by Paul Badura-Skoda on a later model fortepiano, so I listened to it on a harpsichord (a wonderful performance by Robert Hill) and noted the same phenomenon, in fact it sounds as though the music has outclassed the instrument! There is a lot of (mis)information about Haydn, the keyboardist. If we listen to his own words, spoken years later to Griesinger; "I was a wizard on no instrument, but I knew the workings of all…", we are struck by the humility of a superb musician probably being nothing more than frank. But then if we compare this self-assessment with the fact that the Prince was suddenly very fond of Haydn's keyboard playing, and the additional fact that Haydn was the only keyboardist in the Prince's employ except for the one who played organ continuo at the Eisenstadt chapel, we come up with an anomaly. While most of these works don't require a true virtuoso, neither are they simplistic. True, many were composed for students, but an equal number were written for performance in the music room, for a 'mini-concert' as it were. So while Haydn may not have been a 'wizard', he was clearly a very fine player indeed. All of this makes me mourn for the six contemporaneous works which went up in smoke with Haydn's house this year. The whole set would be a fine addition to the 18th century keyboard literature.
Our final small piece of this year is Haydn's earliest surviving Lied, Hob 26a:37 in E major for Solo voice & Keyboard, Beim Schmerz, der dieses Herz durchwühlt (When pain ransacked this heart). It's origins and purpose are entirely unknown, only the study of the paper it was written on has yielded a date. So we resort to speculation, which amounts to only a couple of possibilities; it was either composed for insertion into one of the many spoken plays for which Haydn provided music, perhaps a scene with our hapless heroine crying out her anguish, or it was written for some special occasion at Das Schloss where it was either sung by Barbara Dichtler the Prince's soprano, or possibly it was a vehicle to allow a visiting young lady to show off her stuff. No matter, it is an attractive little song which fits right in with an evening of Hausmusik.
Despite the quantity of music which we have surveyed so far, we still haven't touched the half of it! Next time we will look at the sacred music for the year, followed by the large cantata and a delightful opera. Lo speziale makes you wish Haydn always had a Goldoni to write his librettos!
It's the names, you see, the names which make all the difference! I wonder what Haydn would think, since of course, he had nothing to do with them. Now you see, three of four are named, and it's only they didn't think of one that saved the fourth. In any case, I've already been told I'm no fun at all, so no point in writing me about it.
Names or no, this year's crop has some mighty fine symphonies. Our first one, Hob 59 in A, got its name not because of its fiery nature, as many seem to believe, but because there is a documented instance of its use as incidental music for the play Die Feuersbrunst ('The Burning House') in 1774. Clearly it was used because it was already there, a symphony which seemingly could have been written as incidental music to begin with, only six years earlier. Here is something to keep in mind from this time; the Prince had a group of dramatic players under contract every summer, and in addition to operas, concerts and various other entertainments, there were a constant stream of plays performed, for which Haydn wrote incidental music. Much of it no longer exists, but some of it was in the form of symphonies. When I substituted the word 'dramatic' for Sturm und Drang, the word was not chosen randomly or only because of the frequent tension built into the music. Music which is used to accompany dramas is by definition dramatic music. The Presto opening movement differs from much of Haydn's music in that the rhythmic profile tends towards relaxation of tension in places where Haydn would normally increase it, for example right at the beginning after the fast opening, the music slows a bit and the surface activity becomes simpler rather than more complicated. The second movement Andante o pìu tosto Allegretto contains one of Haydn's personal amusements. While it is scored for full band, the winds don't enter until well into the middle of it, after having led you to believe it was scored for strings alone. The Andante is already in 3/4 menuetto tempo, and in fact it feels like a minuet in places, and Haydn adds a bit to the illusion by starting the real minuet with the same series of pitches. He also uses a few phrases from the Andante in the Menuetto, tying the two together. Even if you aren't an overt 'noticer' of such things, you will still get a subtle feeling of the kinship of these two movements. The finale opens with a horn call, answered by the oboes, and takes off from there. Here the oboe gets a good workout, also closing out the middle of the movement with a nice dialog with the strings. The horn calls continue and in fact, they close the movement out. If there really was a Sturm und Drang, it is hard to see where this symphony would fit into it, despite the wisdom of the ages; it just doesn't have any angst to go along with the interesting tempos, key changes and obbligato instrumentals. It well deserves its popularity nonetheless!
Our next symphony marks the return to one of Haydn's stalwart forms for the very last time. The sinfonia da chiesa had stood him in good stead since earliest times, and Hob 49 in f is his finest effort in this genre. Since the playing of symphonies in church was forbidden during Holy Week, the common belief of this being composed as a Passion service accompaniment is clearly off-base. In fact, there is no whiff of
A fine #49
authenticity in the name, just like nearly all the other Haydn 'named symphonies'. It is interesting to note the phenomenon of suggestion taking over one's perception of a musical piece. La Passione + f minor = deep sadness. In fact, when the baggage attached is stripped away, this is a symphony composed in the typical da chiesa style with an Adagio opening (they all do, it is the definition!), followed by a superbly rhythmic Allegro di molto, a similarly bright and cheery Minuet & Trio, and a closing Presto of great character. Elaine Sisman, in her monograph on Haydn's theatrical symphonies, calls this work 'light-hearted', and it may be that I am the only other person who agrees with her, but I do. Maybe the preconceptions of Sturm und Drang or 'Romantic Crisis' are just that hard to shake off!
Our next symphony, Hob 26 in d, is another candidate for misinterpretation of the composer's intentions. While it is based on a theme from The Lamentations of Jeremiah, like #49 it is far from unrelieved serious
A little known #26, nicely played
music. Even the Lamentations are countered by a simultaneous playful, even frivolous, reply by the first violin. The Adagio chorale, which is played by the second violin and oboe, consists of their serious statements of the theme interwoven with the saucy rejoinders of the first violin. Of course, I am making no claim here for this being theatrical music, but it is easily within the bounds of reason to say it could have been. Haydn was brilliant at molding his actual theater music to the overall themes of the work, as we shall see in a couple of years when we examine Symphony #60, Il Distratto. The premise which is finally achieving some acceptance, which is the concept of theater music over Sturm und Drang as an explanation for the dramatic aspect of the symphonies (and many non-symphonies too) of this time. Of course, you can think anything you want when listening to these works, the important thing is that you listen to them. They are brilliant and entertaining music, well worth the investment of your time!
Our final symphony of the year has no relationship to Sturm und Drang, nor to theaters. This is a 'Festive C major' work, although the cause of the festivities is still a mystery. As is often the case in those times, the instrumentation today calls the 'trumpets & timpani' "optional". A brief explanation of this phenomenon
A favorite #41 w/trumpets & Timp
seems relevant here. When Haydn composed a symphony, he didn't write parts for instruments which he had no access to. What composer would do that (in the 18th century)? At this time, there were no trumpets and timpani at either Schloss Esterházy in Eisenstadt nor at Eszterháza Castle. When their services were required, Haydn could import a group of players from Pressburg, but this would be for special occasions only. At a later period, when a 'special occasion' arose, Haydn did write out a part for the trumpets (usually two) and drummer. For this reason, the parts are considered optional, but the word doesn't accurately convey the real situation, which is more like 'Haydn always wanted trumpets and drums, but only wrote them out when he finally did have them'. In the meantime, Haydn wrote brilliant parts for his horns in C alto to take the place of the trumpets, and later, when the trumpets
For contrast, the only #41 without trumpets & timpani
finally showed up, to accompany and reinforce them.
The high point of #41 is, for me, the second movement Un poco Andante, the only place where the solo flute plays. It is a lovely, lyrical, nearly chamber music style conversation between the strings, the solo flute, and the horns, now playing in C basso instead of alto. Rather than looking back on the obbligato portions of previous works, it seems to be more like a precursor of future trios and slow movements; in short, a very modern sounding movement. The remainder of this symphony is a classic galanterie, including the aristocratic sounding minuet, for example, which sounds more like a classic minuet than many of Haydn's others, especially by 1768! However, the soloistic writing for the high horns goes a long way towards rescuing this from any sort of normalcy. And the Finale, Presto, has the feeling of a saltarello dance such as Mendelssohn wrote much later in his Italian Symphony. A very nice closing gesture in a very nice piece. Sorry though, no Sturm und Drang!
Next time we will look at a couple of interesting pieces for the baryton, and the surviving works for solo keyboard.
From time to time in the reading of the history of any notable person, we find years of tedium, years of ill fortune, and then, occasionally, years of great achievement with just a modicum of sorrow to use for spice. 1768 is such a year, and also seems to mark the time when we finally have enough documentation so we can actually piece together a whole year. I won't, of course, but the many highs and the one major low will suffice for now.
Two events which actually commenced the previous year will serve as a beginning. In March, Haydn used his newfound power of manipulating Nicholas by sending him a letter about the Stabat Mater, which can be easily summed up by saying this; Haydn discusses sending the score to Hasse for review and suggestions for improvement, but Hasse sent back a letter with such high praise that Haydn would have seemed churlish if he didn't accede to Hasse's request to hear the work played and sung properly. Therefore, Nicholas would accrue great honor to himself if he allowed his humble servants (Haydn and the singers) to go to Vienna and perform the work for Hasse and select company. Although the reply to this doesn't exist, we fully expect in the event it happened as hoped for. It is hard to know how Nicholas felt personally about what we see as overt manipulation, perhaps it wasn't, really, maybe it was just the way things were done. I am sure it was a grand time though, and certainly a great opportunity for Haydn to sit and commune with his older peer.
The second event leads to an interesting piece of large music, and some idea of how much Haydn's name has become known within Austria. In November of 1767, Haydn was commissioned, presumably through the Prince himself, although this isn't documented it must have been so, to compose a uniquely Austrian piece of music called an applausus musici. These came into being in the 1730's and were basically large, heavily orchestrated, Italian style cantatas written to honor (applaud) someone at a big event in their lives. An example is the huge one composed by Albrechtsberger to be performed at the honeymoon stop of Joseph II and his second wife at Melk Abbey, west of Vienna in 1765. The genre as a whole seems to have completely disappeared in 1775, but in its short lifespan produced many works, most of which don't exist any longer because they were the epitome of 'occasional music'. They were played/performed once and never again, most often there was only one copy, given as a presentation to the honoree after the performance. Haydn, knowing this, kept a copy for himself in Eisenstadt, and over the next few years we shall see he turned various numbers into sacred music. Ever thrifty.
1768 Zwettl Abbey today
Haydn's Applausus was composed for the Abbot of the Cistercian monastery in Zwettl, Lower Austria, on the occasion of his 50th anniversary of taking his vows to the monkhood. We know a little about the occasion because a list of gifts presented to the Abbot was sent out by the monastery's Vienna office, including the music and a set of porcelain china which cost at that time nearly 500fl.! It still exists today and can be seen in a Vienna museum, although one can only imagine the price in today's currency! Some copies of the libretto still exist, including the Abbot's own. Through good fortune, the autograph manuscript also exists, comfortably ensconced in the archive of The Friends of Music in Vienna. A point of note is the signature. It reads (in his own hand) thusly: 'hVnC appLaVsVM feCIt joseph haIDn' (This 'Applausus' made by Joseph Haydn). For those who have wondered about Haydn's level of scholarship, given his concentration on music and little else in school, it is interesting indeed to see that he signed this work, for the pleasure of the monks, with a chronogram. Chronograms were a word play game of the Middle Ages and through the Baroque, in which certain letters in a Latin name or phrase were capitalized to represent Roman numerals. These were extracted and formed an anagram of a date (usually). I will leave you to solve this one yourself here (answer at bottom of page), with the hint that 'V-V' could equal 'X' if you were a game player. This bit of cleverness displays rather nicely Haydn's abilities outside of merely composing music.
One other thing which has come from the Applausus project is a letter which Haydn wrote to the music director of the Abbey instructing him how to perform this work. The letter has become a mainstay, not only of modern Haydn performers but of historical performance practitioners in general. I can't type out the entire letter here as it is not inconsiderable, but the closing paragraph shows a personal side of Haydn, and his pride in his work which may be underappreciated by many of us today:
"Finally, I ask everyone, and especially the musicians, to apply the greatest possible diligence in order to advance my reputation as well as their own; if I have perhaps not guessed their taste, I am not to be blamed for it, for I know neither the persons nor the place, and in truth the fact that these were concealed from me made my work very difficult. For the rest, I hope that this Applausus will please the poet, the most worthy musicians, and the most honorable reverend Auditorio"
Clearly there are inferences to be made from this paragraph, and many have been, in addition to the obvious which we have discussed previously; Haydn knew how to get the best from musicians, whichever form of cajolery was needed. Another is the more subtle message that Haydn felt his music wouldn't travel well, without him and his virtuoso band maybe the music itself wasn't up to par. This betrays a surprising and totally unwarranted lack of self-confidence. It is possible this was a personality trait which haunted him for most of his life, at least until the journeys to England. Later we will look at his reply to a request for an opera for Prague, in which, while recommending Mozart for the job he also states outright that his music wouldn't travel well. History has proved him wrong, of course, but too late for his personal use!
Another major event of 1768: Haydn's new house in Eisenstadt burned to the ground! Along with that whole end of town. According to the town's estimate of damage, Haydn personally was out 1150 florins! This was well over a year's pay, and a man without his connections would have been broken by it. As we have discussed previously, Haydn really was the apple of Nicholas' eye. In later times when we talk about why Haydn hung on to a life of servitude and virtual slavery (as the 19th century saw it), some consideration might be given to the fact Nicholas rebuilt Haydn's house at his own expense, not even as a loan. Of course, even with that, just like with insurance today, no amount of money can cover the loss of such things as the manuscripts of his early operas, six keyboard sonatas which we know about because of their presence in the Entwurf Katalog, and most likely the remainder of the a Capella mass which we will examine this year, Hob 22:02 Missa Sunt bona mixta malis (with good mixed with bad). And this is just what we know about. In any case, as bad as it is getting burned out (it happened again in 1776!) Haydn had occasion to learn who his friends were, and also, more subtly, to get bound tighter than ever to his patron and employer.
Among the other large works of the year were the wonderful mass in Eb, The Great Organ Solo Mass in Honor of the Blessed Virgin (Große Orgelsolomesse) which we spoke of in an earlier essay in performance with the 'Philosopher' Symphony, and another opera buffa, Lo speziale (The Apothecary), a superb work which displays well the progress Haydn was making towards becoming a first-rate opera composer. In addition, some of my favorite symphonies and a unique baryton work. So much really fine music for one year, it can only be viewed as one to treasure!
So these are the high (and low) points of 1768. As we look at the music, this context might help to fit the pieces together. Hard to imagine how so much can fit into so little time!
Thanks for reading!
Answer to the chronogram - V-C-L-V-V-M-C-I-I-D = MDCCLXVII = 1767 the year of the commission.
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.
D, A, A, D, A, D, G, A, D, D, D, D, D, D, D, A, G, D
Baryton, Viola & Cello Book 2
11:49 - 52
Trio
G, D, A, D
Baryton, Viola & Cello Book 3
15:39
Trio
F
Keyboard trio arranged from movements from various keyboard sonatas
History is actually the documentation of the tradeoffs which are presented by life. Without being able to know 'what if…?', we can only surmise the probability of not even having heard of Haydn if Prince Paul Esterházy hadn't been in the right place at the right time when Haydn's talents suddenly came on the market. And a year later when Paul died, his brother Nicholas was an even greater music fan who turned Haydn into an international treasure for the ages. So where is the tradeoff?
It could be argued, if one was inclined to do so, that the kernel of a chamber music specialist which we saw being formed ten years earlier, was channeled away from small ensemble music into areas which Nicholas preferred. There is certainly a great amount of truth in this statement, presented baldly like this. But let's add some context and then see how things shake out.
The Music Room at Eisenstadt
To start with, something which rarely receives enough emphasis to divert modern opinion is the fact that in Haydn's time, especially pre-1780, symphonies were 'chamber music'. Fifteen musicians was considered a large ensemble with endless possibilities. The only other purposes for symphonies at the time were in church and to open a play or opera. In church, the fifteen musicians were more than enough, given the acoustic. At an opera or play, little if any augmentation was required. So here's the deal: if you can afford to have a 'chamber group' in your employ, then you can afford the 30x60' living room for them to set up in! Is it any real mystery why music was the domain of the super-wealthy until then? Which includes 'community wealth' like the Church? So, big chamber, big music to match.
Another huge consumer of Haydn's time and musical invention in the mid-'60's was the Baryton Trios and other music for baryton, all chamber music, of course. With the eventual demise of the baryton within Haydn's lifetime all of this wonderful music was consigned to near-oblivion, except for the fraction which had been transposed for other instruments. And so all of the time and ingenuity spent by Haydn went to support this rather odd predilection of the Prince. Ultimately, what was the trade? Well, everything else which has passed down to us which we might have been deprived of if history had evolved differently. So, a tradeoff, but hardly a big price to pay. I would have liked some more string trios though…
All this is not to say we don't get a gem or two of the non-Baryton variety though. An good example is the Divertimento à Tre which Haydn composed for Carl Frantz, his virtuoso hornist at the time. This work was more than just an exercise for the horn player. Perhaps there is some unspoken tradition in Austria called 'smite the hornist'? The object of the game appears to be writing totally exposed parts which can scarcely be blown. See if he trips over his lip and falls down. Haydn does this routinely, and Mozart followed in his footsteps. In this case, in addition to the chromatic runs all over the upper range of the instrument, Haydn throws in frequent pedal notes for him, underpinning those moments where the violin takes the lead. Since changing from upper range to lower requires a different embouchure (how the facial muscles interact with the mouthpiece), this work is challenging for today's hornists even, it must have been more so for a natural hornist. A great opportunity for Frantz to show his abilities!
Of course, this is still the peak years of production for baryton music. We infer from the slightly available evidence a production of twenty-two more this year, since the second volume of twenty-four was published in September. Once again I bemoan the fact these were considered to be occasional music, so to speak, and quantity and newness were more treasured, apparently, than quality. If there were only a dozen of these works extant, they would be dissected and examined and subsequently put on a pedestal. With 126 of them, nearly all still intact and complete, their varied beauties can scarcely be contemplated. And there are some beauties here, too. The Cantabile opening movement of #42, for example with its long, Adagio melodic line, would be a highlight if it were found in a group of quartets. Trio #52 closes with the Menuet alla zoppa (Limping minuet) which we discovered in the contemporaneous Symphony #58. It is perhaps even a bit more intriguing in the smaller scale, since it can be mentally dissected and appreciated far more easily. In fact, virtually every one of these trios has at least one movement which is memorable and uniquely interesting. As a group, they hold up well to appreciative listening!
Finally, we move on to one of those quasi-spurious works which no one, really, has the final say on. Although all of the experts have something to say, as you would expect. I'm not even an expert, but I have something to say too. So this would be Hoboken 15:39, published in 1767 as 5Triosatzen (Keyboard movements) for Keyboard, Violin & Cello. So what do we make of this? Four of the five movements are lifted whole from Haydn's contemporaneous keyboard sonatas. One is the Allegro from sonata Hob 9, another is the first movement of Hob 8. The Menuet & Trio are actually not a pair, the minuet coming from Hob 9, the Trio from Hob 5. There is also a slow movement (Andante) of unknown origin. If you look up Hob 16:5, 8 & 9, you come up with a date of 1757 – 1760. This is probably a more accurate dating for this trio, since 1767 is really just the date when Hummel published it.
So what do we make of this? Do we want to listen to it? On the one hand, there is no knowing for sure who wrote the violin & cello parts. One will say they aren't done the way Haydn would do them. I have my doubts about statements like that. They are too frequently made in order to buttress an argument which doesn't exist otherwise. On the other side, there is no doubt the sonatas themselves are composed by Haydn. And as we have already seen, keyboard trios in those times were actually keyboard sonatas with the accompaniment of etc.. It is easy to be of two minds about works like this, but if you have a recording, there is no reason at all, that I can tell, for you to not listen to it with interest. I do. It helps to make up for the many works of chamber music (modern definition) which Haydn didn't have time to compose at the time.
Next time, a pair of keyboard sonatas which he DID have time to compose, and a major piece of sacred music which eventually shaped the course of his career.
2 Oboes, 2 Horns (in C alto) & Strings (2 Trumpets & Timpani added later)
58
F
42
45
2 Oboes, 2 Horns & Strings
35
Bb
43
41
2 Oboes, 2 Horns (in Bb) & Strings
Sturm und Drang, What else?
One of the most deceptive concepts ever perpetrated upon a gullible , music-loving public was produced in 1909, the year of the centennial of Haydn's death. Prominent French musicologist Georges de Saint-Foix, in a centennial essay, was at a loss to explain why Haydn's symphonies, for a period of a few years, took a turn for the dramatic. He wanted to attribute this to some great heartbreak in Haydn's life, a la Beethoven's 'Immortal Beloved', but the total lack of even the slightest shred of evidence dissuaded him from this 'Romantic Crisis' idea. But being a Romantic, and with the Romantic viewpoint of a composer's music being the outward manifestation of the inner man, Saint-Foix had to come up with something to fill this terrible void. The result was an (highly successful) effort to tie Austrian music of the time to the German literary movement begun with Goethe's book, The Sorrows of Young Werther. Now, over 100 years later on, and despite all knowing better, we have saddled ourselves with Haydn's (and Vanhal's and many others'; hell, half of Vienna!) period of Sturm und Drang.
I won't, here, present the manifold arguments against, such as the dates being completely wrong, Haydn's remoteness at this time from the sorts of literary salons which would one day carry the torch for Werther, and the essential non-Haydnish character of the whole business, but neither will I bow before the inexorable stream which washes away too many interested listeners with the idea of an easy explanation for the clear change of course Haydn was taking in this phase of his career. So I won't use the term often, and certainly not to characterize an entire group of works (which phase extends beyond symphonies). While I readily agree Haydn had changed his apparent musical goals, I don't see it as anything more than the maturing process such as any composer undergoes. In Haydn's case, so endowed with genius, the results he obtained stood out as more extreme than did those of others of his less-blessed brethren. No one needs to summon up an unattainable mistress or clinical depression or being in thrall to a faddish literary movement which would appear one day. As Sigmund Freud would say in an entirely different context 125 years later: sometimes a cigar is just a cigar!
We have already looked at the symphony considered by many to be the first of this dramatic phase, 1765's Hob 39 in g minor. There we saw the two outer movements composed in a strongly dramatic style, while the two inner ones were as galant as could be. Suffice to say, without getting into the technical aspects, the stylistic differences are enough to throw the balance of the piece off by a considerable margin. Now we move ahead to 1767, and see how this newfound flair for the dramatic has affected Haydn's work.
Symphony #38, though, is not one of these stormy dramatic works. It is, instead, likely the first true 'festive C major' work of the Esterházy years. Which is to say, the first with actual Haydn composed trumpets and timpani, and scoring including both trumpets and horns in C alto (which is to say, high C). It bothers historians though to discover there were absolutely no occasions taking place during the period when this was composed for which it would have been clearly intended. Nonetheless, it is an extraordinarily nicely conceived and executed piece in which everything in the first two movements seems almost (dare I say?) textbook. How un-Haydnish! At this point in time, the Prince managed to gain a short term commitment to play from one of the finest virtuoso oboists of the day, Vittorino Colombazzo. It is a rather curious thing to discover that the first two movements of this symphony contain nothing more than standard parts for the oboes. Speculation is the work was already 'under construction' at the time of his appearance. In any case, following a rather mundane minuet, the oboe takes over the trio, with leaps and runs of two whole octaves. And the finale Allegro di molto is virtually an oboe concerto! While it is true Haydn catered to his first rank musicians with concertante solos right from the start, as we have seen so many times, this goes beyond, devoting the entire finale to solo oboe vs ritornello orchestra throughout. As with Symphony #39, although for different reasons, it seems like the parts of this work don't fit together quite as seamlessly as Haydn would have wanted. But once again, it isn't for lack of musical quality so much as for what seems like a sudden change of purpose for the work. If one had a choice to sit with Haydn and discuss, the result might instead be a splendid festive finish for the symphony followed by a true oboe concerto for Colombazzo. That would be nice!
Symphony #58 in F is dated all over the place, as late as 1774 in some places, but as early as late 1767 in the sources I have decided to go with. I am constitutionally unable to pick and choose between authorities to suit my own purposes, so I go with the same throughout. A strong argument in favor of 1767 is the Baryton Trio #52, the last believed to be composed in 1767, which shares the same 'Minuet alla zoppa' (Limping minuet). Haydn is well known to have incorporated favorite tunes from other works into trios for the Prince. One of Haydn's favorite forms of humor involves unexpected beginnings and endings. The whole first movement Allegro is an unexpected beginning; it sounds like nothing so much as a large scale minuet! This so atypical of Haydn, especially in this period, where the normal drive of energy and unusual rhythms which prevail in his contemporaneous works give way to a galant ballroom sort of motif. Fear not, though; the second movement begins as though it was in the middle of a bar, fooling you into expecting a Gavotte, and the rhythms are wonderfully slightly off through the exposition. And the third movement Minuet alla zoppa is a masterpiece of strategically placed syncopations and agogic accents expands on the rhythms, which have taken over the work by this point. The Presto finale has its own points of interests, using an harmonic scheme which more nearly resembles gypsy music than anything Haydn has written so far. As Peter Brown sums up this work, it is a Minuet, a Gavotte, a 'limping' minuet and trio and a gypsy finale. The final two movements in particular must have been geared towards the Prince's taste, but also in no small amount towards Haydn's own. And mine….
The final symphony of the year, #35 in Bb, sounds once again to be a traditionally Haydnish galant symphony. Despite its straightforward seeming opening movement, it is in fact a long series of manipulations of the vital parts of the sonata, false expositions, recapitulations in the 'wrong' key, finally corrections to make it 'all right' at the end. The overall tenor is also hard to place, as in one moment it sounds like warm and sunny Italy, while in the next there is a note of the sinister from the horns which seems anything but sunny, then it is gone again. It also has some especially nice figures for the horns all through and again at the last, a reminder of the band's forte. It all puts me in mind of Mozart's letter to his father about his own piano concertos in which he says that even amateurs will be delighted, although they may not know why. Hell, I'm delighted. The second movement, sans winds, has a lovely little tune to it, and also a plethora of rather unique syncopations, as though Haydn is reminding us that this is something which he is incorporating into his style now, get used to it! The minuet welcomes back the horns, as they get to dominate with some nice playing, although not virtuoso, still not easy to toss off either. All the winds sit out the trio though as the strings work out a rather busy set of scalar runs. The Finale: Presto, is rather like a continuation of the first movement, except for the disappearance of the sinister overtones. It is all sunshine, and no less the winner for it. It has been speculated Haydn wrote this work for the return of the Prince from Paris. If so, it is suitably cheerful for such an occasion.
Next time we will look at some other genres which came up in 1767, including one of Haydn's sacred masterpieces, the Stabat Mater, which as we shall see, propelled him to fame far from home.
