Haydn Seek

1777 – The Year of the First Moon Landing!

So, you are saying it's NOT green cheese?

235 years ago, an event of such resounding importance occurred in Haydn's world, it still affects us today. By now you've done the quick math and may be asking; what does 1779 have to do with 1777? It hasn't even happened yet? Well, long story short: we don't know much of what happened musically at Eszterháza in 1776-79 because the fire which destroyed the opera house/ performance center also destroyed untold amounts of musical works. Some of it, as we will see now, is mentioned elsewhere, so we at least know it once existed. Most of it is, sadly, gone without a trace!

As we will see in the next installment of this series, the only surviving music from this year consists of two symphonic movements which Haydn called overtures, an 'insertion' aria for a Paisiello opera, and the wonderful Italian opera buffa Il Mondo della Luna (The World on the Moon). Since we've been tracing Haydn's output for over twenty-five years now, I think an assumption of more, missing, works can be safely made. Even though much of his creative time was spent adapting other composers' operas for performance in the Eszterháza opera house it is scarcely conceivable that he didn't compose any more original music in the entire year!

So, what we know comes mainly from rather more public sources.

The most important source available to us is an annual magazine printed in Gotha, Theater-Kalendar auf das Jahr 1778, which reported on events of 1777. From here we learn all sorts of things about Eszterháza goings-on, not least the details of the opera lineup for the year, which is represented here:

Italian operas:

Florian Gassmann – L'amore artigiano – Dramma giocoso in three acts - Haydn made large cuts in it along with changes and substitutions of the material. This turned out to be a popular opera, and it was redone in 1786 and 1790. Thus it is difficult to tell which changes were made for 1777.

Haydn – Il Mondo della Luna – Dramma giocoso in three acts – Haydn's last Goldoni opera.

Giovanni Paisiello – La Frascatana - Dramma giocoso in three acts – Haydn composed a large-scale insertion aria, D'una sposa meschinella (Hob 24b:2) for Donna Stella, a soprano.

Giovanni Paisiello – Il marchese villano – Further information lost.

Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf – Arcifanfano Re De' Matti – Dramma giocoso: Satirico

Along with these were some repeats from the 1776 season, including two other operas by Ditters. Ditters had already composed a half-dozen operas and suddenly found himself without employment, so, hearing that the Prince was beginning a new season, offered them for sale. Apparently they were quite popular, since they were repeated often.

Marionette show in Vienna – Wiener Diarium
In honor of Prince Elector of Trier, Clemens Wenzel, Maria Theresia threw a party including the marionette show which she borrowed from, not Esterházy, but Haydn himself! They appear to have performed Der Hexenschabbas (Hob 29a:2), to which all the music is lost, only the libretto remains. In researching this, I ran across this peculiar synchronicity, which is almost creepy!

NEWS ITEM 2009-12-01 09:25:34 Libretto discovered A copy of the text of the marionette opera Der Hexenschabbas (The Witches' Sabbath), set to music by Haydn in 1773 and performed also in Schönbrunn for Empress Maria Theresia, has been found at the Anna Amalia Library in Weimar (Germany) during catalogue works. The volume bears the title Der Hexenschabbas: Ein Marionettenfest in einem Aufzug and contains 10 pages and two woodcuts, but no indication of the authors or where and when it had been published. A first copy had already been discovered at the Wienbibliothek (Vienna City Library) in 2005.

Libretto discovered 2009-12-01 09:25:34 H.C. Robbins Landon died 2009-12-01 09:24:58

Completely independently, the announcement of the discovery of this libretto comes 36 seconds after Landon's official time of death! Maybe there was a spell on him…

In addition to Der Hexenschabbas, Carlos Ordoñez' Alceste was given as the highlight of the program. Haydn didn't attend the festivities, he was back in Eszterháza preparing for rehearsals of his own new opera for the year, Il Mondo della Luna.

On August 3, the Prince's second son, Nicholas Jr., married Maria Anna Weissenwolf at the Eszterháza court chapel. At their wedding celebration, Haydn's new opera, Il Mondo della Luna was given, along with a spectacular, by all accounts, new marionette production, Genovefens Vierter Theil (Part Four). Once again, all is lost, except for reports of a marionette opera in three acts with fantastic special effects. A production is said to cost 6000 florins, significantly more than a year's pay for our humble Kapellmeister! Once again, the amount we don't know about this work far outweighs what we do know. One of the things we don't know, which I deem rather important, is whether Haydn wrote any of it. At best it is a pasticcio, a combination of works from several composers. It is certainly possible Haydn contributed more to it than its final organization.

The final major event of the year, and I say major if your interest relates to in the full panoply of entertainment assembled in Eszterháza, is the departure, for unknown reasons, of the Carl Wahr dramatic troupe from Eszterháza in July. They decamped for Pressburg, did a few shows there, then on to Pest where they spent the next season. After this, they went to Prague and never played in Hungary again. One wonders at the events which might have led up to such a complete and untimely break in relations. One positive arising from this is that in their final season, they added to their repertoire Charles Simon Favart's stage work Soliman der zweite (or Les Trois Sultanes) in which Soliman's wife, Roxelana, was a character. The incidental music is lost, but we shall soon see a symphony arise from its ashes. Oh, probably shouldn't use that analogy! In any case, from adversity rises opportunity. For Haydn the opportunity was to wear yet another hat: ballet director! The Prince, never one to let the grass grow underfoot, hired a ballet company which had been playing in Vienna to finish out the season in Eszterháza, and Haydn, of course, provided the musical accompaniment for the dance. It is unknown whether the ballets they presented came with their own scores; if Haydn wrote any, they are long gone now!

So, these are the highlights of the year 1777. If history is any guide, we know these are the tip of the iceberg of all that went on. In any case, we have a really nice opera to listen to, and some smaller pieces besides, so we count our blessings!

Thanks for reading!

1776 – The Music - Hanswurst? Seriously?

Hob I:	Key	NC	HRL	Name	Instruments
61	D	69	69		Flute, 2 Oboes, 2 Bassoons, 2 Horns, Timpani & Strings
54 v2	G	61a	60	Version 2	2 Flutes, 2 Oboes, 2 Bassoons, 2 Horns, 2 Trumpets, Timpani & Strings

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hob. #	Genre	Libretto	Name	Instruments / Notes
29b:A	German Singspiel for marionettes	Unk.	Die Feuersbrunst The Burning House	2 Flutes, 2 Oboes, 2 Clarinets, 2 Bassoons, 2 Horns, 2 Trumpets, Timpani & Strings

Hanswurst, disguised as a soldier, wooing Colombina

Hard times for new music! We have two symphonies to look at, though, one of which is a needed upgrade to a work from two years ago. Haydn had a few new tools to work with and, as we will see, he made the most of them!

Hob 54 ver. 2 – in G

I. Adagio maestoso – Presto         (G major, 3/4 – ¢ (2/2))

II. Adagio assai                           (C major, 3/4)

III. Menuetto: Allegretto – Trio     (G major, 3/4)

IV. Finale: Presto                        (G major, C major)

When we first heard this symphony in 1774, it was in a plainer version. For unknown reasons, Haydn dressed it up into a final version which, if not a silk purse from a sow's ear, is nonetheless quite smartly turned out. The newly added introduction, Adagio maestoso, has become almost the calling card of the work, even though it wasn't part of the original. It is majestic and stately, with the appropriate amount of pomp and circumstance. Most of what I have read seems to favor the intro, and why not? It gives me a fine reason to say I like the version without, also, with it's wonderful horn solo leading off right out of the gate with everyone following along close behind. But hey, that's just me.

Otherwise, the differences are not great, although Haydn certainly didn't waste his time upgrading to what would be the largest orchestra he wrote for before London, and then not give them anything to do! But the basic structure is the same, with wonderful excursions for the newly added trumpets, second bassoon, flutes and timpani. For you who like to compare versions, it is especially nice to have the Academy of Ancient Music's set of recordings, since you can hear them by the same band. I would be interested to know which was the fan favorite after all! Most of what I wrote earlier about it still holds true here, so I won't repeat it, but you can follow the link above and get some more details.

Hob 61 – in D

I. Vivace                                 (D Major – 4/4)

II. Adagio                                (A Major – 3/4)

III. Menuet: Allegretto – Trio     (D Major – 3/4)

IV. Finale: Prestissimo              (D Major – 6/8)

Apparently, this is the only original surviving score from this period due to the fire in November, 1779 which totally destroyed the original opera house and all the music and instruments situated there. A tragedy of untold proportions for Haydn scholars and music lovers in general.

As we just saw, for the new opera season, the Prince has finally engaged some new musicians. A full time flute is a great addition, and a timpani to support the horns (and occasional trumpets). The first movement is called by Brown the most skillfully orchestrated movement Haydn wrote in the period between Sturm und Drang and Paris. He uses the flute to great advantage here, with its fluid sound leading the winds. This is truly a movement which rewards close listening, such moments as a delayed key change with a pulsing harmony in the strings while the two oboes and bassoon hold their ground and wait….for the flute to arrive and show the true key are especially notable. It uniquely gives the feeling of closure and being solidly in the new key. Sort of Haydn/anti-Haydn.

The second movement Adagio is very like an Italian aria for wind band. Again, it shows Haydn's mastery of orchestral possibilities, this time in the winds. It is a pseudo-sonata, with a central section which is not really a development but rather a presentation of new material. It seems like a sonata however, and that is part of its charm. It is easy to imagine this movement to be the accompaniment for a recitative in an opera. In the minuet, we hear the timpani playing soft accompaniment for the horns and bassoons. When the minuet comes to the end, the final chord is played without one of its key members, then a pause, then three hard chords by the whole orchestra. Surprising, and final! And speaking of final, the Finale: Prestissimo, is a Gigue, and if you are fluent in such things, you will detect how he wrote the Rondo with a redefined role for the parts, so the B and C sections don't do what you would expect. But then, it's Haydn; he never does what I expect!

Our only other (surviving) work of this year is an oddity even by Haydn's standards! Not only a marionette opera, not only a German singspiel, not only a Viennese Hanswurst production, but all three rolled into one! There is a little known fact which I shall introduce here; Haydn had his own marionette theater even before the Prince did. In fact, the Prince borrowed it in 1775 to put on a play for his wife, and Maria Theresia borrowed it, as we shall see later, to stage an opera in Vienna! I mention this here for good reason; Robbins-Landon suggests that the low Viennese colloquial dialect, and Hanswurstian jokes might not have been suitable for the Prince's more formal theater, so Hadyn wrote this for himself. I have no reason to disagree with him, in fact, he is probably totally correct, yet I haven't the slightest problem imagining Nicholas, sans noble visitors, having a grand time laughing at Hanswurst!

If you have been following this blog for a while, you will recall Haydn's first paid job (outside of Church): writing a Hanswurst singspiel for Felix Joseph Kurz-Bernardon, Der krumme Teufel (The Limping Devil). And also the shadowy implications, believed but unproven, that he continued to write Hanswurst and "Bernardon" (Kurz's personal expression of Hanswurst) works for Kurz throughout the 1750's. So it is no stretch at all to imagine Haydn could write German singspiel in Viennese dialect, and with all the various Hanswurstian devices. All of the characters in this, and most, Hanswurst plays are stock figures from Venetian commedia dell'arte (very interesting link), not even the names are changed to protect the innocent! On the story front, this is the 'good' Hanswurst. Although he dons numerous disguises (it is a hallmark of his character after all), his main character here is a chimney sweep. Here is a brief plot synopsis:

Steckel is lamenting the loss of his house, he has been cheated out of it by the wealthy Odoardo. He describes a valuable heirloom which his father had hidden in the cellar, a jewel bedecked cross, and enlists Hanswurst, who is infatuated with Odoardo's daughter, Colombina, to help him look for it. Odoardo shows up and scares Steckel off, and Odoardo's associate, Leander, sees Colombina and immediately wants her for his own. Of course, this will never do for Hanswurst, but Leander is wealthy and powerful, so things must be done carefully!

While Odoardo, Leander and Colombina go to the ball, Hanswurst is delegated to retrieve the fireworks from the cellar and prepare them for the return-from-the-ball after-party. He goes in with Steckel who is looking for his heirloom, and Steckel is frightened by a ghost, which turns out to be a cat. But the next noises they hear are more sinister; the house is on fire!

What follows is a series of deceptions on the part of Hanswurst to get Colombina back and to discredit Leander. At one point he has switched clothes with Leander, and when he finally wins Colombina back, he reveals that he now has the heirloom which Steckel lost, it was in Leander's coat pocket. Steckel can buy a new house, and they will all live happily &c…

 

Wonderful performance!

Straightforward story? Well maybe not, but close enough. Great chunks of this, or any Singspiel, are spoken dialog. Not just spoken German, but spoken archaic Viennese dialect. It is not hard to imagine this could inhibit your enjoyment to some extent, which is a pity, because the music is very good, certain examples stand out, like Colombina's love aria in Act II, Wie wallet mein Herze (My heart softly whispered #18), which Robbins-Landon calls Haydn's most touching love aria ever, and which is easily the most beautiful piece in the opera. Another highly moving piece is sung falsetto by Hanswurst disguised as a beggar woman. Each act closes with a chorus, about as close to an ensemble piece as Haydn could get within the constraints of the genre.

If you read the dialog along with the spoken parts, and then simply enjoy the associated music, I think you will find this to be a very entertaining and interesting evening. It isn't for everyone, no doubt, but I freely admit, once I got past not understanding the spoken text, I was delighted; too bad there were no puppets in the music room! One item of note here: there are 2 clarinets in the score! The Prince hired them for two years, and this is the only time Haydn wrote anything for them. Apparently he wasn't as fascinated with the sound as his friend Mozart was. It would be in England when next he would use any.

Next time, we will move on in fairly rapid order, to 1777. You will find it to be the first year with no (surviving) symphonies, which hasn't happened in a while. However, we are not going to be disappointed with what we have, they are some delightful works!

Thanks for reading!

1776 – The Year Change Was in the Air

A hand fan with a map of the grounds, given out to opera house guests

Some events of varying importance in 1776:

• Edward Gibbon publishes the first volume of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
• Scottish economist Adam Smith publishes The Wealth of Nations in London.
• Adam Weishaupt founded the Illuminati in Ingolstadt, Bavaria.
• American Declaration of Independence.
• Mozart's Serenade No. 7, Haffner, is first performed in Salzburg, Austria.
• First running of the St. Leger Stakes horse race in England.
• Hurricane hits Guadeloupe, killing more than 6000 people.
• Crown Prince Paul of Russia marries Sophie Marie Dorothea of Württemberg.
• Prince Nicholas Esterházy of Hungary puts his Baryton in the closet and begins a full-time opera season.

So, an interesting year on many fronts. I'm just guessing here, but the one of primary importance to Haydn probably didn't involve events in Concord, Massachusetts nor the oldest horse race in England. That Baryton thing though…

Probably due to the success of, and publicity generated by, his oratorio Il Ritorno di Tobia, Haydn was invited to submit an autobiographical sketch to the publisher of a book called Das gelehrte Oesterreich (Scholarly Austria), a sort of Who's Who of 1776. For reasons unknown, this was done in a circuitous manner, so ultimately the request came through a Mademoiselle Leonore, who eventually married Lechner, the Estates Director for the Prince. It is the only actual autobiographical document in existence, thus its importance to Haydn scholarship cannot be overestimated.

Like the letter which Haydn wrote to the monks in Zwettl describing how he would like them to play his Applausus cantata, the autobiographical sketch does not seem to appear online, although it is contained in any number of books. I have given up after a week of Googling and will type it all in for you, since I think it is important enough to be read by any interested Haydnistos, even if they are only web-surfing!

Mademoiselle,

    You will not take it amiss if I hand you a hotchpotch of all sorts of things as an answer to your request: to describe such things properly takes time, and that I don't have; for this reason I do not dare to write to Mons. Zoller personally, and therefore ask for forgiveness.

    I send you only a rough draft, for neither pride, nor fame, but solely the great kindness and marked satisfaction that so learned a national institution has shown towards my previous compositions, have induced me to comply with their demand.

I was born on the last day of March, 1733 (recte 1732), in the market town of Rohrau, Lower Austria, near Prugg on the Leythä River. My father was a wheelwright by profession and served Count Harrach, and [he was] a great lover of music by nature. He [my father], without being able to read music, played the harp, and when I was a boy of five I was able to correctly sing all of his short and simple songs; this induced my father to leave me in the care of a relative, the schoolmaster at Hainburg on the Danube, in order that I might learn the rudiments of music and other juvenile requirements. Almighty God gave me such musical talent that in my sixth year I was able to sing along with the choir during Mass and to play some on the violin and harpsichord.

When I was seven years old the late Imperial Kapellmeister von Reutter passed through Hainburg, and quite accidentally he happened to hear my weak but pleasant voice and accepted me at once for the Kapellhaus [of St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna] where, apart from my studies, I learned, from very good masters, the art of singing and had instruction on the harpsichord and violin. Until I reached the age of eighteen I sang soprano there with great success, not only at St. Stephen's but at court. When my voice finally changed I barely managed to stay alive by giving music lessons to children for eight whole years. In this way many talented people are ruined: they have to earn a miserable living and have no time to study. I experienced this too, and would have never learned what little I did, had I not, in my zeal for composition, composed well into the night: I wrote diligently but not quite correctly, until at last I had the good fortune to learn the true fundamentals of composition from the celebrated Herr Porpora: finally, by the recommendation of the late Herr von Fürnberg, I was engaged as Directeur at Herr Count von Morzin's, and from there as Kapellmeister of His Highness the Prince [Esterházy], in whose service I wish to live and die.

Inter alia the following compositions of mine have received the most approbation:

The operas

Le Pescatrice, L'incontro improvviso and
L'Infedeltà Delusa, [which was] performed in the presence of Her Imperial and Royal Majesty.

The oratorio Il ritorno di Tobia, performed in Vienna

The Stabat Mater, about which I received a testimonial from our great composer Hasse, containing quite undeserved eulogiums. I shall treasure this testimonial all my life, as if it were gold; not for its contents, but for the sake of so admirable a man.

In the chamber music style, I have been fortunate enough to please almost all nations except the Berliners; this is shown by the public newspapers and letters addressed to me. I only wonder that the Berlin gentlemen, who are otherwise so reasonable, preserve no medium in their criticism of my music, for in one weekly paper they praise me to the skies, whilst in another they dash me sixty fathoms deep into the earth, and this without explaining why; I know very well why: because they are incapable of performing some of my works, and are too conceited to take the trouble to understand them properly, and for other reasons which, with God's help, I will answer in good time. Herr Kapellmeister von Dittersdorf, in Silesia, wrote to me recently and asked me to defend myself against their hard words, but I answered that one swallow doesn't make the Summer: and that perhaps one of these days some unprejudiced person might stop their tongues, as happened once before when they accused me of monotony. Despite this, they try very hard to get all my works, as Herr Baron von Swieten, the Imperial and Royal ambassador to Berlin, told me only last winter when he was in Vienna: but enough of this.

    Dear Mademoiselle Leonore: You will be good enough to give this present letter, and my compliments, to Mons. Zoller for his consideration: my highest ambition is only that all the world will regard me as the honest man I am.

    I offer my praises to Almighty God, for I owe them to Him alone: my sole wish is to offend neither my neighbor, nor my gracious Prince, nor above all our merciful God.

Meanwhile I remain, Mademoiselle, with high esteem,

                    Your most sincere friend and servant

 Josephus Haydn [m.p.]ria (Manu propria: By my own hand)

As you can imagine, this document has been analyzed to death! You probably just did so yourself. Since the biographical details are well known now, the main points which come from it today are inferences about his education ("the letter has perfect Latin rhetoric...") and thought processes, and more than a little about his relationship to his critics. It should be noted here that Haydn stood for a group of composers, Austrians all, who offended the sensibilities of the Germans by introducing change into music. The Germans were conservatives, and as such, they didn't want change. Their main issues included not following 'rules of composition' and in having movements in a work which differed in affekt, that is, in mood. A serious, raging movement must not be followed by one which makes you laugh. In fact, no movement should make you laugh. That's crazy, it's music, not comedy! Haydn was merely the leader and the best at it, there were a host of followers condemned in his name.

For the next few years, we will be looking at things a bit differently. As we will see, there aren't a lot of compositions to deal with, the main thing Haydn did was to be the Opera Impresario which the Prince wanted him to be. There are some fine works in here too, just not as many as we are accustomed to. So every year, if we are being true to our mission, we must have a look at opera and dramatic presentations, whether Haydn wrote them or not. In fact, no matter the original composer, you can be sure each opera presented had a complete touchup by the Boss, if only to resolve the 'who can sing this?' questions. So, we follow the path where it leads us!

Next time, we will take a look at our symphony for the year, and then go down the path a little further.

Thanks for reading!

1775 - The Music part 6 - The Unexpected Encounter

Hob. #	Genre	Libretto	Name	Instruments / Notes
28:06	Dramma giocoso	Carl Friberth Based on a play by L.H. Dancourt	L'incontro improvviso	2 Oboes, 2 Cors anglais, 2 Bassoons, 2 Trumpets, 2 Horns, Timpani, Turkish Percussion, Strings & Continuo (Cembalo)

"Performance of L'incontro improvviso at Eszterháza"
Haydn at the keyboard - Anon. (German School)

One of the major features which made Haydn such a unique composer was his ability to incorporate the exotic into his work and make it seem as though it belonged there all along. Europe in the latter half of the 18^th century was absolutely craving the exotic and reveling in 'otherness'. Thus we find an entire cultural industry grown up around the idea of a highly cultured, always beautiful young lady being lost in the barbaric realms and needing rescue. This 'abduction' scenario flourished in books, plays, and, memorably, in opera. Of course, people being who we are, nothing is ever so simple as it appears at first blush. Most especially not when Haydn is involved!

The briefest of sketches will explain the the basic setup of an abduction story, with the added plus of giving us the basis for some solid generalizations which will allow us to see where Haydn didn't follow suit. Christian Europe and Moslem Turkey had essentially been at war since the Crusades. Of course, Turkey in the post-Crusade days was larger than now, and from ~1300 was a major world power, fully consolidated by 1455, known as the Ottoman Empire. The Turks were fierce warriors and several times they invaded Eastern Europe, threatening Vienna as recently as 1695-1700. The hard nub of this bit of history is this: when an Austrian needed to conjure up a brute to make himself look good, there was no better choice than a Turk, the quintessential bogeymen. Any Moslem would do if there were no Turks laying around loose.

When Archduke Ferdinand (Habsburg), governor of Milan, and his consort Maria Beatrice d'Este came on a state visit in August, 1775, Nicholas followed his normal procedure and put on an entertainment worth writing home about. I have very briefly described the highlights already. We see how Nicholas pays such great attention to detail in his entertainments, so how could it be otherwise with his operas, especially when the librettist and the composer are his employees? There are so many points to ponder in all of this: Enlightenment philosophy, 'abduction' drama, the continuing master/vassal relationship between Austria and Hungary; and that's just on the surface.

The standard abduction drama, as displayed so wonderfully by Mozart in Die Entführung aus dem Serail, involves a strong element of playing off the inbred feeling of superiority which any European felt versus a Turk or other Moslem, an animus which stemmed from the Crusades and the dehumanizing propaganda which accompanies long-term war. It is only in the ending of Die Entführung… where the actions of the Pasha Selim prove him to be the superior in terms of enlightenment. Selim represents a standard trope for making 'otherness' into 'oneness', an Enlightenment ideal.

The libretto by the multi-talented Carl Friberth (he sang lead tenor too) is based on the play La rencontre imprévue by L.H. Dancourt which dates from late 1750's Paris.

The only recording I know of this opera, fortunately excellent!

La rencontre… was set by Gluck to great effect, although Friberth's adapted libretto doesn't take much more than the core of the story. The story itself is rather typical of the time, at least in its beginnings. Ali, Prince of Balsora (now called Basra in modern Iraq), was forced to flee his city and went to Persia where he met and fell in love with Rezia, Princess of Persia. The feeling was mutual but she had been promised to another, so they eloped. (Note: this is an important point because the right of a woman to choose her own mate was a very hot political topic in 1775. It wasn't emphasized accidentally, I might say.) As was not uncommon at the time, their ship was captured by pirates, and although Ali escaped, Rezia was sold as a slave to the Sultan of Cairo who installed her in his Serail.

Ali dedicates himself to finding Rezia, and finally ends up in Cairo. Rezia spies him from her window and sends her two very beautiful slaves to find him. She has told them to attempt to seduce him, to test his faithfulness. He passes the tests. Meanwhile, his servant, Osmin, has hooked up with a Qalandar, a sort of Moslem begging monk, named Calandro. This one is not quite what he appears to be though: he has, in fact become very wealthy with his begging over the years, and furthermore, he and his lieutenants spend their time outside the public eye drinking and smoking and generally having a great time, most certainly against the tenets of their religion. (Note: here is another hot button political issue being dealt with, which is Joseph II's campaign against monks which would culminate in just a few years with Joseph shutting down many monasteries and disbanding the monks). Calandro promises to help Ali and Rezia escape from the Sultan and they make plans. Meanwhile, Calandro betrays them to the Sultan for a reward, and they are caught in the act. Here, the enlightened ruler trope arises, and he pardons them, although he also is in love with Rezia, and subsequently punishes Calandro for betraying them. And they all live happily ever after.

There are some differences between this and the standard abduction scenario. Most obviously, there is no element of 'cultured 'us' ' versus 'barbaric 'them' '. All of the characters are Moslem, yet they are all 'civilized', and the only bad guy is there to represent a class which is falling into disfavor locally, as much as to say "this is a universal problem". By this equalizing of cultures, the 'enlightened ruler' trope can as easily be applied to the Habsburgs as to the 'Sultan of Cairo'. I find it fascinating to see how a work of art is woven into the warp and weft of the history of its time. This one fits in better than most, although it is certainly more impressive when you know what the history is!

Quasthoff sings a really nice "Noi pariamo santarelli"

If you judge the success of an opera only by its appeal to later generations, or by the number of performances it enjoyed, then this one was a colossal failure. As far as is known, this was the only Italian-language performance in its own time, and it hasn't stood up well to modern revivals either. It was translated into German and may have been performed in Pressburg in 1776, but only allusions to that performance exist. However, all this is not because the music isn't excellent, rather, it is because it was a purpose-built piece of work, and it served that purpose superbly well. The overture (minus trumpets and timpani) was sold to Artaria in 1782 along with five others and has enjoyed frequent performances ever since. Calandro's aria Noi pariamo santarelli is part of the repertoire of many baritones, and Rezia's Or, vicina a te, which Haydn also published separately with Artaria, was exceedingly popular and was thought for many years to be a standalone cantata because no one had ever heard the work it was attached to! The final highlight is the absolutely wonderful Terzetto for Rezia and her two slaves, Balkis and Dardane, Mi sembra un sogno (It seems like a dream). Here, the oboists have picked up their cor anglais and accompany the three ladies in one of the most hauntingly lovely pieces Haydn wrote. This would be the final time Haydn used the cor anglais in an opera until 1791, so enjoy while you can!

Just a note about the painting (that is just an inset above, the entire is shown below) above: Robbins-Landon is nearly vehement in his assertion this is not really a depiction of a performance of L'incontro improvviso at Eszterháza. His reasons being well-researched and perfectly logical: i.e. – the orchestral players at Eszterháza didn't wear red until 1776, there don't seem to be enough instruments, there isn't a song which uses nine singers… etc. etc.. While all of this is true, my own thoughts, for what they are worth, start out very simply: this isn't a photograph, it's a painting, a piece of art which can and will have details added or removed or altered according to the artist's sense of what pleases his eye. If, since it's entry into the public world circa 1780, it has been said to be a depiction of a one-off opera at Eszterháza, then I am ready to accept it as such.

This finishes the year 1775. Beginning in 1776, things are going to be different for our man Haydn. His next fifteen years will be the busiest of his life, and remarkably interesting besides. Hope you enjoy this opera,

Thanks for reading!

The full painting of scene above