Haydn Seek

1773 – The Music part 2 - Out in public at last!

Hob. #	Genre	Key	No.	Instruments / Notes
16:33	Sonata	D	34	Solo Keyboard
16:21	Sonata	C	36	Solo Keyboard
16:22	Sonata	E	37	Solo Keyboard
16:23	Sonata	F	38	Solo Keyboard
16:24	Sonata	D	39	Solo Keyboard
16:25	Sonata	Eb	40	Solo Keyboard
16:26	Sonata	A	41	Solo Keyboard

 

Title Page of 1774 Kurzböck edition of Haydn's 'Esterházy Sonatas'

Along with the various other compositions of this year, we suddenly find keyboard sonatas again, and in semi-profusion, too! Not only the occasional solitary work such as we see all too rarely from Haydn. But the first actual set of six, something we have come to expect in other genres but which has so far been missing (as far as we know) from the solo keyboard works.

As in the symphonic genre, Haydn also moved along from his Sturm und Drang period in keyboard works. Notice we have neither minor key works nor an abundance of sharps or flats among the seven of this year, nor, as you can easily hear, do we have the dramatic tension of the works of the recent past. What we do have, though, is highly entertaining and interesting music, written for very talented amateurs, in all likelihood young ladies. We also see the awareness on the part of the composer of the gradual shift in instruments which was taking place in post-1770 Vienna, and the new emphasis on dynamics made possible by the fortepiano.

Hob. 16:33 (Landon 34) in D is the outrider in this group. As is typical with these rare singletons, we don't really know why he composed it. There is no dedication and it was first 'officially' published in London in 1783 by Beardmore & Birchall without Haydn's knowledge (of course), but copies had been circulating for several years. There isn't much information available to share with you short of the sort of analysis which I make every effort to avoid, so no discussion of broken triads and arpeggios and Alberti bass here, even though they are all present in the first movement. Tom Beghin classifies this as one of Haydn's 'workshop sonatas' and performs it on the clavichord, as Haydn would have probably done. There are a couple of features which make this a probable assertion, even though Beghin doesn't say what they are. The first is something unusual for the time period; at the end of the second movement, there is no fermata (the stop sign at the end of a movement), and the music continues right on into the third movement. This procedure, called attacca, was not at all common in 1773, although it quite caught on in the 19^th century. The second workshop feature is the fact the third movement is a set of double variations, something which would become one of Haydn's favorite forms. In a double variation, there are two themes and they are varied alternately, the first theme in the major mode, the second in minor. Haydn didn't invent this form (contrary to popular belief), but he developed it far beyond its origins into a major component of variations in the 19^th century. So beyond doubt, this wonderful little sonata served purposes far beyond entertaining me, if there can be such things!

As we have seen, the Prince held the reins when it came to whether Haydn's music 'officially' got out into the public or whether it stayed locked in the conservatory. In this year, Haydn wrote a set of six sonatas which would be officially published next year. Since it isn't documented, one wonders at the circumstances surrounding this sudden break from tradition. Did Haydn say 'Oh please, Sire, I'll dedicate them to you!'? Or did the Prince approach Haydn and make the offer, perhaps to allow once again an opportunity to broadcast the talents of his Kapellmeister? I rather suspect it was some sort of combination of these two things. Haydn wanted to have some works published which he could feel were legitimate representations of his art. There is no doubt these were conceived and composed as a set. The first three are written consecutively in the same manuscript, and the key signatures run up the scale from a basic C major to a spicy A major. As we have seen, Haydn had a few sonatas already stashed away from the late '760's and early '770's, yet he chose to not use those, but to write out this set from scratch. Why? I have a few ideas; you may do, also. Primarily, the sonatas of his previous style phase were, as we have seen, very much composed for Kenner, educated musicians. This was the period, recall, when he scratched out several measures of the Andantino e cantabile of Symphony #42 because it was "for too learned ears". This shows beyond doubt his awareness of who his potential audience was and what they expected.

So, who was his potential audience for a set of sonatas? Without doubt, it was the Liebhaber, the skilled amateur music-lovers who were going to purchase this music and bring it home to learn and play for their friends. No professional musician was going to play them, he would be expected to write his own sonatas. He might play them through for ideas, but otherwise, not so much. But the skilled amateur would delight in these works, she would eagerly show off her skills with le dernier cri and learn something new besides. For no mistake, these were not the easiest sonatas on the block to play, which is one of the reasons they were so popularly received and so influential. These works were composed in 1773 but not published until 1774, where they became one of the very first sets of works actually published in Vienna! At the time there were less than a dozen other works which had this distinction, because music publishing was just beginning to move into the city after thriving for so long in Paris, London and Amsterdam. The Kurzböck firm did the honor, one of their original prints is featured above. It is believed that the Prince paid the publishing fees, making this a 'vanity press' situation. But if, as was the norm in those days, Haydn sold the rights to Kurzböck, then a fortune was made, and not by Haydn, since this turned out to be a long time bestseller for them.

What are the strong points of these works as a group, then? Christine Schornsheim, in the liner notes for her complete cycle, talks about the slow movements of the first four sonatas, and indeed, the depth of these movements proves yet again where Haydn's strength lay. It is not unusual in sonatas of this period for the musicality to be concentrated in either a brilliant opening or a virtuosic finale. Haydn never throws away a slow movement. Taken on their own merits, these three Adagios and an Andante are everything a pianist would hope for; emotional, involved, intricate, yet playable, in short, well-judged by the composer for the audience he hoped to gain. The last two inner movements, in Tempo di Menuet, are another opportunity for the player to showcase her talent. Number 5 is a surprisingly canonic counterpoint fest. I say surprisingly because it is just that; in 1774 the modern galant keyboard sonata just wasn't inclined in that direction. Haydn was, as usual, taking forms from previous times and fitting them in to modern music. Number 6, in A, shows just how fond Haydn was of his brilliant creation of 1772; the Menuet al Roverso of Symphony #47 makes its return, bumped up from G major to A major, but otherwise intact. Outside of his Baryton Trios, which he used to encore especially favorite movements for the Prince to play, it is quite unusual for Haydn to reuse movement like this.

There are plenty of other places in these works which are easy to love. Both the opening Allegro and the closing Presto of the D major sonata are a handful for any pianist! Don't be fooled by the trolling musicologist who derides the works intended for amateurs, or are early in the series of works, or are of a more popular style. A disk of these, whether played on clavichord, harpsichord or fortepiano (any of the three is suitably authentic here) will provide many happy listening opportunities for you. Have a listen and see what I mean. Next time we will look at the first of our two operas for the year, hope you are able to listen along.

Thanks for reading!

1773 – The Music part 1 - Styles change; style doesn't!

Hob	Key	NC	HRL	Name	Instruments
51	Bb	57	53		2 Oboes, 2 Horns & Strings
64	A	58	59	Tempora mutantur	2 Oboes, 2 Horns & Strings
50	C	59	58		2 Oboes, 2 Horns, 2 Trumpets, Timpani & Strings

Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.         The times change and we change with them.
Quomodo? Fit semper tempore peior homo.         How? Time passing makes mankind worse.
                                        John Owen, Shakespearean contemporary

Along with the various other tasks of musical preparation for 1773, Haydn left us three fine symphonies. I find it interesting, as I always do, to see the named symphony being the one which gains notice. Tempora mutantur has only one advantage over the dozens of other named symphonies in Haydn's oeuvre; he actually named it himself! Well, we'll see about that, too! Let's go in order, it helps my OCD…

Number 51 in Bb is believed to be the first of the year. If not unique, then it is at least unusual in many ways, from the Minuet with two trios to the horn parts which defy gravity!

 I am particularly fond of the Adagio second movement in this work, a serenade in all but name. Haydn's mastery of horn writing is most effective here; he exploits the very top and the very bottom of the range for the Bb alto horn playing solo. This is followed by a long interlude with the muted violins playing a beautiful melody, then returns to the horns to finish the movement.

Many times Haydn's humor is not something the audience ever hears, no matter how intently one listens. For example, in the original manuscript, the bass part of the minuet is only written out once, and after that it is alternately played in several clefs by the appropriate instrument. This is purely for the benefit of the players, who must have been amazingly versatile on the one hand, and dearly fond of their own composer on the other for his ability to amuse them while working! Another unusual (for a symphony) feature of the minuet is having two trios. The first one is just for strings. In the second of the two trios, the horns also get some serious exercise; it seems like a movement from a double horn concerto! The first horn twice has to play Bb``, the highest note ever written for a horn! Meanwhile, the second horn is playing the lowest possible pedal notes he can play! It is one thing to imagine Haydn's own hornists being virtuosic enough to play this sort of thing, but what must have been the reaction of players in distant places when suddenly presented with their parts? Since parts dating from the period show up in various monasteries, one can only imagine they must have been up to it. Or didn't object to playing in lower parallel octaves! Other examples include the contrast in the first movement between the serious, rumbling bass section playing forte accompanied by the violins who are sounding anything but serious! In this section the dynamics alternate as close as a measure apart between ff and p, an indication which requires careful attention by the players to achieve the desired (interesting!) effect. By any measure, this is a Sinfonia con brio!

Tempora mutantur; times change. A not uncommon phrase in the Enlightenment when Roman proverbs abounded, and ones like this, which had received especial attention during the Renaissance, were particularly well known to educated people of all classes and backgrounds. It seems odd to find Haydn writing notes in the parts of a symphony as though he were giving it a name. On the other hand, it isn't unusual at all to find him writing notes to the players to warn them about various intricacies which he had put in the music for them to trip over. And so, when we find 'Times change' on the parts of this highly interesting work in A major, why should we assume Haydn is also changing with the times and naming the work? Which is what we've done, of course. Elaine Sisman, in her highly interesting essay on 'Haydn's Theater Symphonies' has a different take altogether. As we saw in the essay presenting the year 1773, Haydn was reported to be writing the incidental music for the Wahr troupe to perform Hamlet. Wahr's contract with the Prince states that the Prince will supply the music for the various plays. Next year, for example, we will see Il distratto, which becomes Symphony #60 in due time. Sisman's brilliant idea about Hamlet though, rides on the back of some background knowledge of how the main character was conceived at the time, when Shakespeare, translated into decent German, was just beginning to be well known. Despite the fact that he is sometimes thought of as a bold and fiery youth, both then and now, this was not always the case. Wahr portrayed him in another way altogether; cautious, serious and reflective. The end of Shakespeare's first act (and Heufeld, the German translator's, second act) is a couplet which was considered at the time to sum up Hamlet's character;

The time is out of joint. O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!

An excellent Tempora mutantur!

As modern listeners, it is only the odd rarities among us who have rediscovered the lost art of rhetorical listening. I can say honestly, even though I am very well aware of the idea, and modestly well-read in its concepts, I haven't got a grip on it yet, because my personal background, like yours, is steeped in the 19^th century style of listening which throws rhetoric out the window and lets the composer do all the work. In the 18^th century things were different, the audience wasn't people like you and me (unless you are secretly a Count or Baron, in which case, drop me a line!), it was people who had a shared educational background with the composer, and who had learned to do their part in the process of realizing the music. If you were a composer, writing music to highlight this portrayal of Hamlet by Wahr, how might you express this rhetorically through your music? Sisman's idea is interesting, the second movement of this symphony, if indeed it is created from this incidental music, is very much a rhetorical portrayal of 'time out of joint'. As she demonstrates, and what you can easily hear for yourself, is that the cadences, which are the joints between the phrases, are not at the end of the phrase itself, but instead are embedded into the subsequent phrase, further and further into it, in fact, until one loses track of what is the phrase and where is the resolution! There is a missing downbeat, or upbeat as the case may be. This begins right away, with the melody and harmony being a beat apart, and in the next phrase they are two beats apart. The resulting need to wait for things to catch up finally results in exactly the phenomenon desired; time is out of joint! Timing, to be more precise. If the first movement is the overture to the play, then this wonderfully atmospheric Largo, based, as it would be, on the final line of the act, is outstanding entr'acte music, providing some solid meat for the patrons to contemplate while awaiting the next act! Of course, Landon's idea of Symphony 44, or possibly 52, both of which are minor key, serious S & D symphonies, being candidates for the Hamlet music is still a possibility. But the more I consider Sisman's proposal, the more I believe she is correct. Likely we will never know for sure, but sometimes solid speculation can be a fun indulgence!

Our final symphony of the year has a shared heritage with the previous one, if our speculation is true. The first two movements were both born for the stage. This time it would certainly be a marionette opera rather than possibly a play.

Retrospective in many ways, although not more so than other symphonies in C, which seem to form a class of their own. Possibly it was written this way to appeal to Maria Theresia, who was old-fashioned in her musical tastes. I say old-fashioned, but we aren't talking about 30 years, only a decade or so behind the times. The opera was intended to appeal to her tastes right from its genesis, after all.

It has an introduction, Adagio e maestoso, which runs through the C triad up two octaves to High C. Haydn then uses this very same material later on as the theme of the minuet, thus connecting the two movements. This is a more modern trait, and as we discussed earlier, one which is based on the cyclic principle. There are several instances here where he takes material from the introduction, like a descending bass run at the end of it, used again also in the minuet, and some other, similar gestures which show up again in the finale. In this way, this symphony is progressive as well as regressive, since these ideas and structural concepts will become standards in his symphonies in the future. It is interesting to see this contrast! Of course, there are probable reasons for this sort of structure; one of them is that the first two movements are actually the overture to our marionette opera from this year, not Philemon & Baucis, which has its own overture in d minor, but its introductory 'Council of the Gods', Der Götterath. The minuet and finale were newly composed for the symphony itself. The trumpets and timpani are part of the original manuscript this time, so there is little doubt as to their authenticity or necessity! It is interesting, knowing the back-story, how Haydn pandered to MT's well known musical conservatism in many small ways. Things like not using wind instruments in the slow movement were carefully observed (almost), which differed from Haydn's contemporaneous works. Other throwback touches, such as having the cello double the melody an octave lower in the Andante moderato, which harkens back to Symphony #16 of 1763!

The minuet, as mentioned, uses the introduction of the opening movement for a theme. Interestingly, the trio has no written repeats; it begins just as the minuet proper did, but then heads off into a lovely and lyrical oboe obbligato. When it seems as though there must now be a cadence, Haydn leaves the trio behind and returns to the minuet, da capo. When the finale arrives, Presto, we are treated to some nice playing by the high horns and trumpets. Until now they have been playing in unison throughout, but here they have separate parts. It is a typically Haydnish touch that he gives the horn players a bit of a break by letting them rest while the trumpets take the high notes. The last part of the movement goes through some wonderful cadences and dissonances until it finally arrives back on the tonic and bids farewell with fanfares, where oddly enough the timpani are reinforcing, not the trumpets and horns, but the oboes, violins, cellos and violones! This symphony is overall a unique blending of new and old, theatrical and classical, and an orchestration treat. The fact that it was published for the first time ever in 1951 by the Haydn Society is one to ponder.

So there you have our symphonies for the year. You can see we are moving rapidly away from Sturm und Drang and into a stylistic period where a different sort of drama dominates; not the self-contained, inner drama for its own sake, but the one which has a purpose, even if it is one which we don't always know or recognize. While many have mourned the passing of that style, I look at it as a new beginning where Haydn can, and does, really show how he can make music work for his purposes.

Thanks for reading!

1773 – The Year the Empress Came to Visit (the second time)

The Bagatelle at Eszterháza today

When Maria Theresa visited Nicholas Esterházy in his palace in Eszterháza, the prince gave her a royal welcome. He extended the palace with an enormous hall where the celebration would be held but this wing of the building had burned down a short time before the queen's arrival. The prince then immediately decided to have a small mansion built for Her Majesty in the park, in which garden entertainment took place.

After the night's lavish entertainment, Maria Theresa asked the prince how much this wonderful little mansion had cost.

- Eighty thousand florins

- 'O, das ist für einen Fürsten Esterházy eine Bagatelle!' (Oh! This is a mere bagatelle for an Esterházy Prince!)

In the bat of an eye, the word "Bagatelle" was glaring above the gate of the mansion. This has been the name of the luxurious building since then.

                                                                        Sign on the Bagatelle at Eszterháza today

Here comes the Empress! Of all the visitors we have seen so far in Eszterháza, and all the ones to come, this was the orbital apogee of Society. Try as I might, finding other topics of unrelated interest in 1773 has proved to be a snipe hunt. We'll see.

The year started off on a more personal note, as Haydn finally received in hand the year's pay which was left him eleven years previous in Prince Paul's will. Even though the probate was completed and he was notified and petitioned, it still took nearly two years for the money to be forthcoming. What is wealth for, if not to hang on to as long as possible!

The Wahr troupe of actors are back for another season. We know a little bit more about their repertoire this time, because of a notice in the Pressburger Zeitung from the beginning of 1774, which is a list of the plays they are performing this year during their winter season in Pressburg, almost certainly the same plays from the summer in Eszterháza. A few highlights on the list include;

• Le Distrait by Regnard
• Thamos, King of Egypt by Gebler
• Hamlet by Shakespeare
• Macbeth by …well, you know…
• Le partie de chasse du roi Henri IV by Collé (held over from last year)
• Die Feuersbrunst (The Burning House) by Großman
• Orestes & Electra Hard to know which one it was, or if it was based on the Euripides' or Aeschylus' version, there were so many of them.

I picked out the more interesting ones, but there are at least as many others. Le Distrait may be more recognizable by its Italian name, Il Distratto, next year we will see Haydn making a symphony (#60) out of the incidental music he wrote for it. Gebler's Thamos… was set by Mozart beginning in 1773 and extending through 1780. The overture and 2 of the choruses were completed before the Vienna premiere in 1774, and according to Landon it is possible they were performed in Eszterháza for Maria Theresia. If true, this would be the first music of the young Mozart known to be performed there. We saw the Collé work performed last year for the Prince Rohan, and we will see Die Feuersbrunst performed as a marionette opera in another year or two. There is a strong probability of Symphony #59 being used as incidental music for it, which is the currently popular belief in the Feuersymphonie name origin. Why the Shakespeare? According to an article in the Pressburger Zeitung reviewing the later performance of Il Distratto, Haydn was even then in the process of writing incidental music for Hamlet. Would it had survived, if in fact he completed it. The documentation of it being performed by the Wahr troupe at least reinforces the idea of its accomplishment. Perhaps even now the music lives on, unbeknownst to us, in a symphony.

This isn't the time or place to review the life and times of Maria Theresia: suffice to say she was a very interesting, intelligent woman with a good bit of native

Kaiserin Maria Theresia

intolerance but a great deal of the makings of an Enlightened Ruler. She was a music lover and had been a fine singer and keyboardist in her younger days, as a student of Hasse. If you went ahead and referenced the link I provided for her biography, you will have noted the practical end of her public life in 1765 upon the sudden death of her beloved husband, Francis I. This is the reason why you see Emperor Joseph II being in charge of the realm long before her death in 1780. But although she was retired from public life, she never stopped being the political animal which was the essence of her nature. And one of the major goals which she set out to accomplish, and the main reason why she is coming to Eszterháza in this year of 1773, is to bring the Hungarians ever closer and more tightly entwined with Austria. And who better to bind tighter than Nicholas, Prince among Princes in Hungary?

She arrived September 1 with three of her children. She never went anywhere in August because she declared it a month of mourning for Francis I. They arrived mid-morning and were greeted by a gathering of the leading Hungarian nobility. Late in the afternoon there was a performance at the opera house of Haydn's newest opera, L'Infedeltà Delusa. It was after this opera that the famous quote attributed to Maria Theresia, "if I want to see a good opera, I have to go to Eszterháza" was said. And indeed it is a 'good opera'. It was newly composed on a libretto by Marco Coltellini, it is pure comedy, not any sort of allegory, thus unusual for an opera-on-a-mission such as this one was. As we will see later, Haydn had composed it as a Name Day gift for Prince Paul's widow, and it was performed in July. It is highly likely it was also played in May for the Prince alone, so in the event it was well-rehearsed by the time the Empress arrived to see it! As a side note on Coltellini, he was in disfavor with Maria Theresia and in fact had lost his job in 1772 as Court Librettist due to his satire being a bit on the strong side for her taste. I wonder if there was some underlying reason why Esterházy chose this opera, beyond its quality, for this event. Landon mentions that Haydn was preparing a revival of Acide for the occasion, and in fact we saw in our 1762 look at it, the opera was revived and performed in 1774, but Landon says the work was done in 1773. Even more reason to wonder why.

The night ended with a masked ball in the Chinese Ballroom, of course with music provided by Haydn's Big Band. The mental picture of Haydn dressed in a Chinese costume while leading the band (they all were, in fact) is… compelling! The party lasted till 5:30AM, but the Empress only made it for an hour and a half.

The next day combined a formal luncheon with a parade of guests presenting their compliments to the Empress. It is described as "lengthy", and it was accompanied from beginning to end by the orchestra playing Tafelmusik, almost certainly including some Haydn symphonies. This would have been the occasion for the playing of the Symphony in C with trumpets and timpani. Exactly which symphony in C is still under discussion, although certainly the long-standing belief has been #48, thus giving its name, Maria Theresia. Since that work was now five years old, and there is a brand new symphony in C, #50, this year, this is now believed by many to be the work which should carry the name. Perhaps it was both; it was a long afternoon!

Another new feature this year is yet another opera house! This one is especially interesting because its players are marionettes! There is a still extant, long standing tradition in Europe which is virtually unknown in the US, of serious adult entertainment being performed by puppets. Most towns in Europe in the 18^th century didn't have an opera house, the cost would have been prohibitive. But there were numerous touring companies who went from town to town actually performing operas! Nicholas was apparently quite enamored of this concept, and he caused to be built a beautiful grotto in the gardens which served as a marionette opera house.

After the extended luncheon, a walk through the gardens brought the entourage to this grotto, where the opera company, in league with the marionette operators, performed Haydn's first marionette opera, Philemon und Baucis. We shall discuss the opera itself in greater length later on, but for now, we should know that this opera was at least partly allegorical, and although the music for the toadying up part, which is part 3, is unfortunately lost. The libretto and the newspaper review tell the story though, which is basically of four characters called Clemency, Glory, Justice and Valor dressed in Hungarian native garb to represent the Hungarian people, and moving towards the Habsburg coat-of-arms with all the humility they could work up, being marionettes of course. Finally a figure representing Happiness appeared, clasping the coat-of-arms with one hand and heaping the others with goodies from a cornucopia with the other. It must have been quite a sight, and keeping the strings separate was probably a task for professionals, too!

All of this was followed by the mandatory huge fireworks display, probably greater than ever since it lasted for several hours. There was a ground display of the Hungarian Coat-of-Arms above the letters V-M-T (Vivat Maria Theresia), and local peasants singing and dancing, numbering in the several thousands. All of this lasted all night and was still lurching along the next morning when the Imperials finally took their leave.

Haydn's memories from this event, as he told Griesinger, consisted of having shot the game hens which she dined on at one meal (he loved to hunt, a little known fact), and the story he told about his days as a choir boy when the boys, in an adventurous mood, climbed up and were scampering around on the construction scaffolds which were erected around the palace at the time. They saw the Empress coming, but she saw them first, and commanded they be brought down and warned off, on penalty of a severe thrashing. In his typically Haydnish way, he came back the next day and climbed up again. Sure enough he was caught, and the thrashing was duly administered. He had an audience with Maria at this very event where she congratulated him on the music and presented him with a wonderful snuffbox (this being the reward of choice in those days). He told the story of the scaffold to everyone's amusement, and thanked her for that reward, too!

The organ Haydn played in Kismarton in the 1770's

Just a week before Maria Theresia's visit, the organist at the Eisenstadt Bergkirche unexpectedly died. Surprisingly, Haydn went through a fair amount of maneuvering in order to obtain the job for himself. He auditioned a few players whom he found to be deficient for one reason or another, and ended up taking it on himself. This meant he would have to play whenever the Princely retinue was in Kismarton (the name Eisenstadt was called at the time, and the one I prefer to use), and pay someone to cover for him when he couldn't be there. In the end, a deal was struck with the local schoolmaster, Dietzl, to play in the summer and Haydn would play in the winter. Dietzl would get the money and Haydn would get the goods and victuals that went with the job. And, one would think, he guaranteed he would have to be home for the winter in order to play the organ. But Nicholas was no one's fool either, and he made sure to insert a clause in the contract that Dietzl would have to play in winter, too, anytime Haydn wasn't available. Nice try, though. Another, and much more likely reason for all this is that Haydn very likely wanted to have some time to himself, playing sacred music with like-minded others, far removed from the glitz and glamour that was life with Nicholas. This was the way he started out his career, after all, and there is every reason to believe in his sincerity when he wanted to continue his daily form of worship.

Overall, a good year, three symphonies, a great set of six keyboard sonatas, the first published under Haydn's supervision, an outstanding Italian opera, a German Singspiel; in short, a nicely rounded demonstration of his talents. So, let's onward and see what marvels the year produced!

Thanks for reading!

1772 – The Music part 4 - Thank you, kind Sir!

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Name	Instruments / Notes
22:06	Mass Ordinary	G	Nikolaimesse (Mass for Saint Nicholas)	S-A-T-B, Chorus, 2 Oboes, 2 Horns, Strings & Continuo (Organ)

The gilded Altar in the Bergkirche

Quid pro quo. Something for something. What might this mean in the context of composing a mass? Let's explore a bit. One of the things I have discovered is that when one researches anything to do with Church music in Austria, one is investigating not just music, but the traditions themselves. And there are a fair number of them involved here!

We have seen, while looking at the compositions of the early 1760's, Haydn composed some fine works as gifts for the Name Day of the Prince. Name Days are not as commonly celebrated today, and especially not in America, as they once were. In 18^th Century Austria, one's Name Day was considered more important than one's birthday, a tenet fostered by the Church, based on the belief that birthdays were a strictly pagan tradition. Simply put, one celebrated the day (called a 'Feast Day') on the liturgical calendar which was dedicated to the saint which one was named for. For Prince Nicholas, this day was December 6^th, the Feast of St. Nicholas.

Haydn, in 1763, composed the Italian cantata Destetevi, O miei Fidi (Awake, my faithful ones) (Hob 24a:2) as a Name Day gift for Nicholas. The following year he composed another cantata, Hob. 24a:4, Qual dubbio ormai (With Humility, my friend). These are the ones we certainly know, there are likely to be others. Were any of these works a quid pro quo? Probably not, or if they were, we have no knowledge of the circumstances. And none of them were masses.

As we saw in late November, only two or three weeks previous to the premier performance of the Mass, the entire band was mired in a funk in Eszterháza, looking at being trapped there for the next several weeks away from their families. Haydn worked his musical magic, the Farewell Symphony, and Hey, Presto!, the ordeal was over for another year and by 20 or 21 November, at worst, they hit the road for Eisenstadt.

A very major event every year in the Liturgical Calendar is the resetting of it with the beginning of Advent, which is the fourth Sunday before Christmas, so no later than December 3^rd. Since the Feast Day of Saint Nicholas is on the 6^th, it always falls in the first week of Advent.

It is interesting to note, if just in passing, how little Prince Nicholas cared for being a part of the Church. Given his position in the Holy Roman Empire, and his leadership role in one of the largest fiefdoms in the whole Habsburg domain, it is rather surprising to see that his Kapellmeister wrote virtually no sacred music for home. Nearly all of it was for other places. This missa brevis, however, is an exception, receiving its premiere in the Bergkirche, Haydn's home church in Eisenstadt, and, incidentally, the place where his body lies today. As you can see above, it is rather Baroque-styled but unpretentious nonetheless. It's main feature, rather out of place during the Advent season, is a wonderfully carved Stations of the Cross. This is where Haydn was the organist during the winter season, a duty which we shall soon see he took upon himself for a variety of reasons.

A longstanding tradition of Advent in the Catholic countries of Europe, particularly Austria and Italy, was the Pastoral Mass, so called because the music was rustic in character and intended to be reminiscent of the shepherds in the Nativity story. The characteristics are very well defined, and would have been easily deciphered by even the most rustic peasant, given they heard this music year after year in the Advent season. A few of them are:

• Sonically:
  • Tender, gentle, simple & direct.
  • No high drama.
  • Passages in unison – denoting 'naïve piety'.
  • Restrained use of dynamics.
  • Occasional echo effects.
  • Endings often soft and subdued.
• Harmonically:
  • Drones like bagpipes.
  • Frequent pedal points.
  • Use of a 'pastoral' key, like C, G or D
• Melody:
  • Lyrical, flowing and graceful.
  • Regular phrases, songlike.
  • Fanfares
  • Horn calls imitating herders.
  • Dance-like tunes in some passages.
  • Quotation of existing tunes, folk tunes, local Christmas tunes etc.
• Rhythm:
  • Triple meters like 3/8 and 3/4

The meaning of these comes through without a lot of further explanation: the point is to bring modern listeners into a shared experience with the shepherds in Bethlehem. The methods used were so ingrained they were meaningful in specific ways to all of the faithful. Just like hunting horn calls, which even when played on violins instead of horns, as in the opening of Mozart's string quartet K 458, emulated the hunt, and you knew it as soon as you heard it.

The opening Kyrie of the Nikolaimesse, in a lilting 6/4 meter in G major is a fine example of a Pastoral opening. This same character is shared throughout the mass, particularly in the Sanctus and the Benedictus, both of which are intensely lyrical. Unlike in others of Haydn's masses, he leans heavily here on the soloists rather than the chorus. The overall tenor of the entire mass is one of cheerful optimism. Interestingly, Robbins-Landon goes on at some length about the dichotomy between the wintry, bleak and tragic writing of the Farewell and the sunny cheer of the Mass. This is less obvious to me since I hadn't ever considered the f# minor symphony to be particularly bleak. Perhaps it does to you though?

The score of the mass also abounds in musical shorthand, such as simultaneously setting consecutive lines of text in the Credo, and other such oddities like using the same music for the Dona nobis pacem as he used for the Kyrie. It should be pointed out that procedures such as this were not unusual at the time, and musicians and singers would have had little problem interpreting his intentions. He also notated only part of the viola's music and directed him to double the bass otherwise. Haydn even helped Ellsler to copy out the parts! It is the cumulative presence of all of these things which is unusual, not the occurrence of any one or two of them. What might be the reason for all this?

We have seen that Haydn was in Eszterháza as late as November 20, thus only back in Eisenstadt and ready to work by the 21^st or 22^nd. This doesn't leave a lot of time if he wishes to fulfill what is thought to be his intention; to compose a combination Name Day and Thank You gift for Nicholas, ready to go on the 6^th! Even if he had a start on it before then, the amount of work that goes into a mass is significant. But the result of all this is a very beautiful, simple mass which completely embraces the Austrian idiom of the Pastoral Mass, and yet remains typically Haydn. Happy Name Day, Prince Nicholas, thank you for returning us to civilization! Quid pro quo.

Next time, we will look at the year 1773. Changes are on the horizon yet again.

Thanks for reading!

1772 – The Music part 3 - Chambers: Private and Public

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Opus	No.	Instruments / Notes
11:097	Trio	D	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello – Late 1771
11:098	Trio	D	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:099	Trio	G	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:100	Trio	F	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:101	Trio	C	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:102	Trio	G	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:103	Trio	A	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:104	Trio	D	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:105	Trio	G	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello
11:106	Trio	D	Book 5		Baryton, Viola & Cello
15:02	Trio	F		L 17	Keyboard, Violin & Cello
17:03	Arietta w/Variations	Eb			Solo Keyboard

The Music Party by Philippe Mercier (cir. 1740)

And then there is the quietly ongoing side of 1772. In all the hubbub which surrounds the symphonies and string quartets, which are especially major accomplishments in their respective genres, it is easy to overlook the 'minor' works. We have a predilection for spectacle, after all, which shoulders out the lesser aspects. Part of Haydn's genius lies in his ability to carry the makings for a Farewell symphony, and the fugue with which he wanted to end that new quartet, in his head and at the same time be composing a first rate piece of private chamber music for the after-dinner hour tonight.

And on top of everything else, he was still working the ongoing project of Baryton trios. Earlier I mentioned that since the whole group was composed in a short ten years, it was hard to see stylistic changes in that span of time. And while this is true, there are other changes which can be seen. If you go past the first forty or so, you can see he got comfortable with the limitations and potential of the instrument and he exploited these more fully. In addition, while they aren't stylistic changes as such, you can also see Haydn inevitably becoming a better composer, and the results being transmitted through this music just as they are through his symphonies.

The Prince's own Baryton

Another advantage of having the trios at hand is the possibility of having a 'proving ground' available for new ideas, and working out how to incorporate them usefully. As an example, the fugal finales of the Opus 20 quartets were anticipated and worked out in Trios # 33, 40, 53, 56, 67, 71, 75, 81 (double fugato!) and fully worked out fugues in 97, 101 & 114.Private and personal, these are suitable adjectives one can use to describe the baryton works. They are not typical chamber music in that sense, since there is no provision made for any audience save the players. Perhaps the main feature that joins the set together is the featuring of the Baryton in the lead role. Nicholas was not interested in the concept of a 'conversation among friends and equals' in his music. He played lead. Period. His accompaniment consisted of two of the finest professional musicians of the era in Haydn and, first, Weigl, and then probably Lidl or else Weigl's replacement. No matter; they were hired hands, he was The Prince. Haydn maximized this situation though. His use of viola and cello as accompaniment was brilliant from the point of view of enabling the texture of the music to both bolster the playing of the lead instrument and yet also to fill in the textural gaps which might be left by it. The viola can fill above the baryton part, but also can play below it. So can the cello, an octave lower. So no matter what 'adventures' the baryton embarks upon, the ensemble remains constant.

The mention of #97 above reminds me it is time to cop to a mistake, for those of you keeping score. Last year I mentioned Book 4 being published in time for a Nameday or birthday gift. I didn't think it through and realize #97, which is in Book 5, was also composed in 1771. It was a birthday gift on December 18, 1771, thus its name, the Birthday Trio. My bad! The trios of this year will all appear in Book 5, but it won't be published until 1778, while all of its contents will have been completed by 1775. Within a few short years, the fad will have died out completely, to be replaced by opera, a fad which would outlive its holder!

Then, there is the other sort of chamber music. The one for people to, share, whether on small scale or large. 1772 sees (for unknown reasons) the appearance of the first keyboard trio in many years, Hob 15:2 in F. I like the painting above by Philippe Mercier. Even though it was painted circa 1740, it represents a scene which thrived for over 150 years subsequently. It was deeply interwoven into the social culture of Viennese society; a young lady, ready for marriage, displaying her mastery of the accoutrements of maturity, playing the keyboard with a couple of young men for the entertainment of others. In the salon, this was a daily occurrence, while in the parlor at home, with attentive chaperones at hand, it was a lifestyle. Haydn's early keyboard trios, that is, his sonatas for keyboard with the additional accompaniment of violin and cello, were composed for this atmosphere. The circumstances surrounding 15:2 are unknown, it appears to be the remainder of a divertimento of Hoboken 14, the type which we looked at earlier. This would not be the only trio which started life as a quartet, with the second violin part set aside at some point in the distant past and the remaining three parts now constituting the entire. The date is given as a circa and you can tell it sounds a bit dated, although given its raison d'être it probably doesn't require cutting edge musical ideas anyway, familiar sounding music is more to the point in some situations. The finale of this work is a nice set of four variations and a da capo return of the theme, one of Haydn's favorite forms of all, a constant from the beginning to the end of his oeuvre.

A nice companion piece to this one, and a chance for the more advanced keyboardist to show off her talents is at hand this year, a lovely little Arietta with twelve variations in Eb. The Arietta itself is actually the theme of the second movement of string quartet Opus 9 #2, also in Eb. As I mentioned, Haydn was fascinated throughout his career with variations, and his constant experimentation is what brought the form out from the relative rigidity of the Baroque and made it into a staple of the Classical style. As you will notice in this work, there is no easy way to anticipate just what the next variation will bring your way. It is yet another step on the road which leads to variation masterpieces like Un Piccolo Divertimento in the early 1790's.

So, along with the Opus 20 quartets, this finishes up the chamber music portion of our programme. We would love to invite you back next time when we will be looking at a Mass for Saint Nicholas.

Thanks for reading!

1772 – The Music part 2 - String quartets to match

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Opus	New Grove No.	Instruments / Notes
35	Quartet	f	20 #5	23	2 Violins, Viola & Cello
36	Quartet	A	20 #6	24	2 Violins, Viola & Cello
32	Quartet	C	20 #2	25	2 Violins, Viola & Cello
33	Quartet	g	20 #3	26	2 Violins, Viola & Cello
34	Quartet	D	20 #4	27	2 Violins, Viola & Cello
31	Quartet	Eb	20 #1	28	2 Violins, Viola & Cello

 

An 18th Century String Quartet

So many things to say about Opus 20, the first one being merely a paean to its greatness. It is no exaggeration to say it was one of the most influential sets of works of the Classic Era. Of course, if we could impute dragon-slaying to a musical entity, most of the dragons slain are visible only retrospectively, when we know the history which follows.

What sorts of dragons? Well, the sniping of the German critics, for one. How can you carp over a composer who has managed to flawlessly integrate Baroque fugue into Classical sonata form? Or another, far more important issue; balancing the weight of the interest across the entire work, sliding it away from the first movement? Or managing to give each instrument a voice rather than an opportunity to play 'backup' for the first violin?

I mentioned in these pages a long time ago about the tendency of musicology, in the 19^th and early 20^th centuries, to attempt to date the 'beginning of the Classic Era', mainly by the works of Haydn. In a vain attempt to create an analog between musical development and a pre-Darwinian belief about evolution, it was postulated that Haydn was intentionally trying to create Classicism and was tirelessly striving towards a goal which they could see clearly. The tipping point was a movable thing, but the laurel tended to go to the string quartets of Opus 33. Without a doubt, the 'Classical Era' is a construct which couldn't have been created until the period in question was completed. And its participants were blissfully unaware of what they were creating. If you had been sitting around the salon with Haydn and/or Mozart and asked them 'how does it feel to be creating the Classic Era, then?', the blank looks you would have got in return would have left you gasping. What amuses me is the fact that the beginning or ending of this supposed period, like of any other cultural period, is pretty much indefinable, so what is its true value?

I love the writing of Sir Donald Tovey, he is head and shoulders the most astute judge of music I have ever run across, coupled with being one of the most skillfully communicative writers in a genre largely populated by snooze-inducers. His assessment of Opus 20 strikes me as saying all that needs to be said and little that doesn't:

With Opus 20, the historical development of Haydn's quartets reaches its goal; further progress is not progress in any historical sense, but simply the difference between one masterpiece and the next. Not all later works are equally valuable; inequalities of value are relatively more rather than less noticeable, and no further set of six quartets, not even Opus 76, is, on its own plane, so uniformly weighty and so varied in substance as Opus 20.

What was the audience for string quartets in 1772? Certainly there are professional musicians, but there is, as yet, no such thing as a professional string quartet, although there could be professionals playing a string quartet… there are terminology issues. But according to the influential encyclopedia of fine arts published in the 1780's by Sulzer and Kirnberger, chamber music itself had a specific audience. It wasn't the public, you can throw that out the window. It wasn't the professional performer, particularly. Specifically, it was the musical connoisseur. It was a mark of class distinction and education to be able to appreciate (and financially patronize) music. If you were a lady, you could sing and play the piano; a man played something in the violin family, usually. So you can break it down even further, then, to men who were musical connoisseurs. I use audience here in the sense of 'who it was written for to play' more than 'who was in the seats when it was played'. Who would hear and appreciate was obviously a broader field. In 1770's Vienna, upper class women heard and appreciated string quartets, they didn't play them. I'm sure there is an exception who proves the rule, possibly Regina Strinasacchi would be one. The day will soon be coming when we will be able to discuss the salon more fully, Vienna was far behind the curve in that realm, which was pioneered in Paris and spread to Berlin and London first. But even on the modest scale in which they existed, salons were the preferred performance venue for string quartets and the audience, then, consisted in upper class, well-educated connoisseurs of the fine arts. All of this is important in lending some understanding for the idea of chamber music, particularly string quartets, being a 'conversation among friends'. I am looking forward to discussing this concept more fully in the near future.

Cover page of Hummel of Amsterdam's Opus 20 "Sun Quartets"

Since we began with a quote from Tovey, let's continue mining that vein;

The next set of quartets was known to contemporaries by two titles: die Grossenquartette and die Sonnenquarttete. Great they are and, even after Opus 17, a sunrise over the domain of sonata style as well as of quartets in particular. Every page of the six quartets of Opus 20 is of historic and aesthetic importance; and though the total results still leave Haydn with a long road to travel, there is perhaps no single or sextuple opus in the history of instrumental music which has achieved so much or achieved it so quietly.

Of course, the so-called Sun Quartets have a totally different reason for their name as you can see, but poetic license is granted. It's nice when coincidence provides a double entendre!

Without going into an intricate analysis, of which I am incapable by either learning or inclination, I would like to point out a few highlights which make these works such a pleasure to listen to. As always with Haydn's earlier quartets, there is no known reason why he wrote them. Not for his patron, not for publication, not as a vehicle for a traveling virtuoso; in short, not for any of the reasons for which composers wrote in those times. Which brings me back to the ideas which I propounded during the discussion of Opera 9 & 17; he wrote them for himself and his own personal agenda. As another means of testing himself at the finish of the cours complet, possibly. To spite his German critics? Very likely indeed. An interesting feature is the inclusion in the autographs of numerous notations which, if just for the players, would be superfluous. For example; he marked certain passages in the fugues where the theme appears in inverted form with the inscription al rovescio ('reversed' in Italian). A passage in canon is marked 'in canone'. Of course, a musician would see this without a marking over it. In the third movement of #5, he put Baroque figured bass numbers under the cello part and wrote per figuram retardationis over the first violin part to indicate that notes required by the indicated harmonies are delayed by the figuration in the violin part. Could the actual pointing out of these obvious (yet sophisticated) musical devices have been a backhanded slap to the critics who were hounding him? You decide.

A fine recording of Opus 20

A few other notes of interest are based on the structural methods employed in the set when taken as a whole. It is the only set of six in which there are two minor key works instead of the usual one. A normal pattern in a sonata style work is for the slow movement to be in a different key (often the dominant if the work is in a Major key). Occasionally, maybe once in each opus, Haydn would forego that convention and write all four movements in the same tonic key, with the slow movement in the tonic minor. In Op 20, there are no fewer than four quartets which use this scheme. When Haydn began restructuring his formal framework in Op 9, and continuing through Op 17, he decided on having the minuet in second place. In Op 20, he wrote three minuets in second, but also three in third position. It seems clear that he was experimenting with the overall balance of the work by moving the inner movements closer to or further from the movement with more or less contrast. Finally, there is the obvious, the thing these works are known for; three have a fugal finale, three have a sonata-type finale.

The fact that Haydn was clearly both pleased and satisfied with his work on these quartets is demonstrable by the unusually effusive closing phrases which he penned at the end. You are probably well aware, although I haven't mentioned it yet, that at the end of his autographs, Haydn nearly always wrote Laus Deo, 'Praise God'. But in Op 20, each quartet has its own variation of this, progressively more flowery;

The first one, #5, starts out in the normal way: Laus Deo

The second, #6, becomes: Laus Deo et Beatissimae Virgini Mariae

#2 - Laus Omnip. Deo – Sic fugit amicus amicum (Praise God Almighty - Thus friend flies from friend)

#3 - Laus Deo et B.V.M. cum O.s St.s (Praise God and the Blessed Virgin Mary with all the Saints)

#4 - Gloria in excelsis Deo

#1 - Soli Deo et cuique suum (To God alone and to each his own)

It would be an oversight to not realize that Haydn was a sincerely religious man. By no means does this mean he wrote religiously inspired music, but his motivations for writing, completely his own, may well have stemmed far more from his love of his religion than from his dedication to his Prince. However that may be, the result for us is music which poured forth from his deepest feelings, and this is the real reason why they always ring true. And none truer than these.

Thanks for reading!