Haydn Seek

1783 - The Music part 2 - Welcome to Eszterháza, Princess

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Number	Instrument(s)	Notes
16:40	Sonata	G	54	Fortepiano	Dedicated to Princess Marie Hermenegild Esterházy Published by Bossler (1784)
16:41	Sonata	Bb	55	Fortepiano
16:42	Sonata	D	56	Fortepiano

 

Title page of Hummel's 1785 edition

With all the major events which came under Haydn's purview, from running the opera to providing music for all occasions, to directing the playhouse and marionette theater (still in business, thank you) to trying to create a private income nest egg for himself by composing and selling music all over Europe, one of the 'little' things we tend to forget about, if we even knew it, was to give music lessons to members of the Princely household.

Retracing the lineage of the House of Esterházy may seem a bit off course, but in short order, we recall in 1763 the year opened with the wedding of the Prince's son, Anton, celebrated in part with one of Haydn's first operas, Acide. This same Anton would become Reigning Prince himself only in 1790 upon the death of his father, Nicholas I. The payoff after this long wait didn't last for long, though, since Anton himself died in 1794. We're getting closer to the story here, folks, just hang with me for a minute! Anton fathered a son in 1765 and named him Nicholas, after his own father. Nicholas became Prince Nicholas II in 1794, thus becoming the fourth and final Princely employer in Haydn's career. I hope this didn't spoil the mystery ending for you, I just need to jump around in time once in a while.

Often called the 'Bossler Sonatas'
after the original publisher

So, now we come to the nut of the tale. In our present year, the now seventeen-going-on-eighteen years old Princeling, Nicholas, married the fifteen year old Maria Josepha Hermenegild, Princess von und zu Liechtenstein. And to tie this all together, Haydn became her music teacher, and to throw in another spoiler, they became best friends for life. Whenever, in future, you will see the name Maria Hermenegild, this is the lady we are speaking of. Because, as you know, there were one heck of a lot of Maria's in that world so it's easy to get confused. These three sonatas were given to her by Haydn as a wedding present. They were published in 1784 by the firm Bossler, and from there to the world. It was just one year later that Hummel published them in the edition shown here, still with the dedication to Marie.

Sonata #1 in G – Hob 16:40

I	Allegro innocente	6/8
II	Presto	4/4

Sonata #2 in Bb- Hob 16:41

I	Allegro	4/4
II	Allegro di molto	2/4

Sonata #3 in D – Hob 16:42

I	Andante con espressione	3/4
II	Vivace assai	2/4

<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

Princess Marie Esterházy in 1795
Painting by Maria Kauffmann

Discussing and analyzing Classic Era music these days, most especially that of Haydn, it is virtually impossible to avoid the topic of rhetoric. In the 21^st century, as in the 19^th and 20^th, rhetoric has a vaguely negative connotation, deriving, at least in some part, from the 19^th century's distaste for following longstanding rules for anything, discourse included. But in the 18^th century, all civilized discussion proceeded from a method defined by the Ancient Greeks and perfected by the Romans. Everything, from pleadings in law courts to debates in legislative assemblies to college lectures, was presented in this rhetorical fashion. Music was also included in this ideal, because music was believed to be exactly like an argument or debate, where a premise was proposed and then its merits argued. Haydn was considered by all of his peers, his critics and his audience to be the master above all of this particular skill. A Cicero of Sonatas, if you will. It is a major strike against modern listeners, and one which we owe the Romantics, that we cannot listen to 18^th century music the way audiences did then, because, mostly, we still don't completely understand how they heard music. Safe to say, they were listening for different things than we are.

One of the artist/musicologists who has been a key proponent of rhetoric in Haydn's music is Tom Beghin. In addition to books and essays written, Beghin has also completed an outstanding series of the complete keyboard sonatas of Haydn, performed on replicas of original keyboards, and, in the Blu-Ray DVD version, complete with interactive sound adjustments so the listener can replicate different listening environments. Here is an example of Beghin's approach to Haydn's music, taken from the liner notes for these three sonatas:

…What we're "reading," I suggest, is a musical letter, addressed to a lady-in-waiting, a reigning-princess-in-becoming. Curious about Marie's personality (beyond well-known anecdotes about her public life at a later age, including her fond patronage of Haydn), I traveled to the Esterházy archives in Budapest and found piles of largely unstudied documents: poems, musings, quasi-philosophical notes, abundant letters in her own hand as well as letters addressed to her. As I read more—especially those letters directed to her close friend Maria Ludovica Beatrix, Austrian empress and third wife of Emperor Franz— I was struck by similarities between Joseph's sonata and Marie's letters. Often Marie's letters start with a celebration of friendship—keen sentimental observations, having to do with the heart and emotion. Then, suddenly, without transition or logic, there's a shift to an informative concluding part: a quick, upbeat, and gossipy report of some party or theater performance. This exact shift— from a long empfindsam first part, twice involving variations, to a fast, short, and witty finale—we find in each of the sonatas. The model, clearly, is not that of a learned three-part oration, but the more private, conversational letter, a genre that women—as men readily acknowledged—excelled in. Judging by his own well-composed letters to female friends such as Marianne von Genzinger, Haydn had also mastered the genre…

Beghin's premise here, that Haydn crafted these works as a reflection of Marie's personality, exposes just how personal a piece of music can be when the composer and the dedicatee and the performer are so well known to each other. This is not to say that no one else could play them, much to their pleasure, but the spark of personal intimacy can only be recreated when the performer attempts to be in a receptive frame of mind towards the original meaning. Of course, thousands don't subscribe to all this, but whether you do or don't, it is hard to dismiss as simply uninteresting.

One last thought before I leave you with these Bossler Sonatas. I have been researching these works for quite some time, in particular the first of them, Hob 16:40. The opening movement is a set of variations, based on a folk-like melody. I have worn out my library, then I wore out Google afterwards, and other than 'folk-like melody' I can't find anything which takes a step further and tries to identify it. It is clear to me that this song/theme is the same one used in the American folk song Sweet Betsy from Pike, which wasn't written until around 1860, it being a song about the California Gold Rush of 1849. But the tune it is based on traces back to an English-from-Dutch folksong called Willikins and his Dinah, dates of which are given as 'circa 1820'. Clearly there is a disconnect in the transmitted history, since it seems unlikely that Haydn was actually the composer of Sweet Betsy from Pike! Far more likely that he knew an earlier variant of the song and used it as a theme for his variations. If anyone reading this has some information about this, you would be doing me a great favor by emailing me to discuss.

Next time we will close out the year with the only opera seria which Haydn composed for the Prince.

Thanks for reading!

1783 – The Music part 1 - Play it as written, please

Hob. #	Genre	Key	Number	Instrument(s)	Notes
7b:2	Concerto	D	2	Solo Cello, 2 Oboes, 2 Horns in D & Strings	Composed for Antonin Kraft

The title page of Haydn's autograph Concerto in D for Cello

One of the things which I have learned so far while writing these essays is how generous Haydn was with his music. We see in this year Kraus talking about Haydn being all about the money, and at the same time, we see him, yet again, writing a concerto for a comrade, very likely one which didn't net him a kreutzer.

A common criticism of Haydn has long been that he struggled with concertos. There are some simple, historical facts here which are either conveniently ignored or else tossed in as appeasement for the thinkers to mull. Ones such as 'well, he said, himself, he was no virtuoso, so it follows he wouldn't have been able to compose for one…' is an example. This conveniently overlooks a couple of facts; Haydn's personal humility would have never allowed him to brag about his playing ability, which was apparently prodigious on several instruments, even if not in the 'traveling virtuoso' class. The second is the clear fact of the virtuoso quality of his writing in other forms. His symphonies contain parts which simply didn't travel well because they are too hard! His string quartets likewise. His keyboard sonatas, often said to sound easy, are attested to by modern masters as being, like Mozart's, easy to play but very difficult to play correctly.

Another theory, one which I subscribed to for a long time, involves the probability that not a whole lot of virtuosos made their way to and through Eszterháza and thus there was simply no reason to write concertos. There is absolutely no indication of Nicholas ever asking for or wanting to hear a concerto, after all. However, we do hear of meetings in Vienna with the occasional master, and this may have initiated works such as Hob 18:11, the keyboard concerto in D. My current thinking on this subject is much simpler, perhaps underrated for that reason; when Haydn started writing 'classical concertos', the genre hadn't been invented yet. It was clear to anyone paying attention back in the 1750's, and Haydn was certainly one of these, that the Baroque concerto was simply not cutting it anymore in this advanced galant era. But this doesn't mean there was a ready replacement right at hand. And so it fell to this generation, including Haydn, Ditters, Boccherini and others, to work out a new concerto form. And while it didn't happen overnight, by the time Mozart sent keyboard concertos into the stratosphere of popularity, he wasn't working from a blank slate, he was perfecting a form which had been built by the generation before.

But the largest single purpose for these compositions which we know about is as vehicles for friends or band members to play, possibly not at Eszterháza at all. The violin concertos for Tomasini, the first cello concerto for Weigl, the horn concerto for Leutgeb, all of those fall into this category, as do the lost Violone Concerto, and probably the Concerto for 2 Horns. Weigl was one of the finest cellists of his time and left the Esterházy employ for Vienna where he became a well-known man-about-town. He was replaced, eventually, by Xavier Marteau, another first rate cellist who gained lasting fame by knocking out the eye of the Princely oboist with his ring. But from 1778 until the disbanding of the orchestra in 1790, the first chair cello was manned by a Bohemian of extraordinary talent named Antonin Kraft. And in 1783, Kraft, by now a composition student and good friend of Haydn, became the recipient of this Concerto in D.

Throughout the 19^th century and the first half of the 20^th, this was one of those works 'attributed to Haydn'. It was even speculated to have been written by Kraft himself. In fact, its story is much like that of the C major Cello Concerto composed for Weigl, in that no manuscript was known until the original was found in Prague 1962! The original score (parts, actually) of this work, title page pictured above, was found in 1954 and it proved indisputably to be by Haydn.

di me, giuseppe Haydn - '783
by me, Joseph Haydn - 1783

Here is a thumbnail look at this work, which will be followed (spoiler alert!) by a brief look at how it was nearly ruined by the Romantics' efforts at 'modernizing' it, along with a brief advert for authentic performance.

The concerto is in three movements:

I	Allegro moderato	D major	4/4
II	Adagio	A major	2/4
III	Rondo: Allegro	D major	6/8

It is emblematic of Haydn's style, always but especially in the 1780's, that even the most technically demanding parts are written in a way which doesn't accentuate the difficulty. This is not one of Haydn's most difficult works, but the solo part is very challenging in the first and last movements because of the double stops and octaves. It is technically demanding without being overtly virtuosic, the epitome of Classic Style. It needs to be played by a cellist who can handle the subtle virtuosity without being concerned over showing off.

Instead of concentrating on building and releasing tension, which is the essence of tonal sonata form, Haydn instead makes the first movement seem almost leisurely, and holds the orchestra in check so they don't overrun the soloist. The second movement is cantabile, the cellist needs to make his instrument sing! Not always the easiest thing to do well, and so another opportunity for subtle showing off. The finale is a Rondo, the opening 'A' theme stated by the cello and built from there. The initial theme is a sort of pastoral, folksy tune, and the rondo capitalizes on this simplicity by making the return of the cello part more and more challenging each time. The ending is a very quiet closure of a final statement of the theme. No fireworks or cadenzas.

It is interesting to read Landon's take on the subject of this (and other) concertos by Haydn (C & W II – p 570). He doesn't like it, no question about it. In fact, he goes as far as to say there has never been a good cello concerto (excepting Haydn's in C) by anyone, anywhere, anytime. It must be the cello is not suited to be a solo concerto instrument. Whew! The pity is that he failed to use this opportunity to tell us about this work and 'sell it' in favor of a diatribe against the entire genre based solely on his personal taste.

In 1837, a publication in Germany, quoting Kraft's son, Nicholas, also a famous cellist, said that this work was actually written by Kraft. Since the only available print score by André had been published in 1804, and contained some uncharacteristic, un-Haydnish markings, this idea was seized on to make the work less certain in provenance. What is actually shown is a fine example of collaboration between composer and performer to make the work play in a way which is totally customized to the player's strengths and abilities. Two examples which the 19^th century might have understood would be the collaboration of Ferdinand David with Mendelssohn and equally, that of Joseph Joachim with Brahms, on their violin concertos. They didn't 'compose' anything, they provided technical advice on how to make the work more idiomatic for the player. In a superb essay on this concerto and its existence in the late 19^th century, Dr. George Kennaway (Haydn's (?) Cello Concertos, 1860-1930: Editions, Performances, Reception) shows us comparative prints of the score as restated by the various editors and cellists of the day. When people today discuss period performance and the subject of 'Romanticizing' the score comes up, those of us who aren't musicians are sometimes knocked out of the discussion because we can hear a difference but are unable to describe what actually has happened here. Kennaway's use of a two-measure sample from several different 'versions' shows dramatically how alterations, concatenated from one to the next, change the entire rhythmic structure and add virtuosity for its own sake, exactly what Haydn and Kraft were avoiding! And the addition of more and more instruments to match an orchestra of 1900, for example, completely strips a work like this of its charm and its entire reason for being: to be a subtly virtuosic vehicle for a special player. The music itself simply can't stand up to that treatment.

We are now in an age of a return to nature, so to speak, and this work is being played from the original text. It is fair to say it is miles better this way, and it isn't an affectation to prefer this to what was available in the first three quarters of the 20^th century. Give it a try, using one of the recordings pictured here, and you might find yourself disagreeing with Landon and saying, instead; the cello is a marvelous solo concerto instrument when played as written!

Next time we will look at what was going on with the keyboard this year.

Thanks for reading!

1783 – The Year of Kraus & the Princess

Joseph Martin Kraus - (1756 - 1792)

With this year, we finally arrive at the time in Haydn's biography when we find more documentation about his relationship with Artaria & Co. than we do with the Prince. Since they are hard to escape these days, I have read a variety of essays on the 19^th century's rather chilly reception of Haydn. You probably have too, at least about this part: Haydn was belittled because he was a lackey of the Establishment, so to speak, and he wrote only by command of the Prince. One of the major fallacies in this argument is something I am pointing out here for the first time, as far as I've ever read, something which has been virtually ignored by most, if not all, of these chroniclers of 19^th century foolishness: nearly every bit of Haydn's music that was known to these 19^th century critics was music which he wrote for publication, thus it was public, thus it had nothing to do with the Prince. All the symphonies from #76 forward, for example. All of the then-known keyboard trios, the Seven Last Words, all of the string quartets, all of the keyboard sonatas after this year; in short, they would have been very hard-pressed to even name a work Haydn wrote for the Prince. The only exception I can think of is The Six Late Masses; well, someone always has to commission masses. This should make one think.

In addition to this year's new music, Haydn had an ongoing project with Artaria to publish older music, usually in an updated format which was more saleable to the general public, Artaria's bread and butter. Thus we see a piano reduction of the Laudon Symphony:

[To ARTARIA & Co., VIENNA. German]

                                    Estoras, 8th April 1783.

Nobly born, Most highly respected Sir !

I send you herewith the Symphony, Sir, which was so full of mistakes that the fellow who wrote it ought to have his paw [Bratze] chopped off. The last or 4th movement is not practicable for the pianoforte and I don't think it necessary to include it in print: the word "Laudon" will contribute more to the sale than any ten finales. My continued unhappy condition, that is, the present necessity to operate on a polypus on my nose, made it impossible for me to work up until now. You must therefore have patience about the Lieder for another week, or at most a fortnight, until my enfeebled head, with God's help, regains its former vigor….

Your wholly obedient servant,
Joseph Haydn

If you have read any other correspondence from a composer to his publisher, these letters are an amusing precursor, most especially to those of Beethoven. Someone has to be Quality Control. Among many other items on the table are additional piano reductions, and six of the Baryton Octets which were rescored for Flute, 2 Horns and Strings as Op 31. Last year, six overtures from operas: L'isola disabitata, L'incontro improvviso, Lo speziale, La vera costanza, L'infedelta delusa & Il ritorno di Tobia were also turned over to Artaria, some with finales composed to replace the segue into Act I.

Of course, there is never a time when Haydn isn't busy being an opera maestro. It is his bread and butter. There are records for 105 opera performances this year, Many are names we have seen before; the Prince liked his buffa, although it seems as though Haydn was looking for something a bit more on the serious side. So we see the following new operas in the list for the year:

Pietro Guglielmi	Il ratto della sposa	3 performances
Vincenzo Righini	La vedova scaltra	14 performances
Domenico Cimarosa	L'Italiana in Londra	5 performances
	Il falegname	3 performances
Giuseppe Sarti	Giulio Sabino	20 performances
	Fra i due litiganti il terzo gode ("While Two Dispute, the Third Enjoys")	10 performances

In addition, there were repeated operas from earlier seasons, including, of course, Haydn's most recent, Orlando paladino, and La fedeltà premiata. We don't have any surviving insertion arias from this year, but as always, the scores of the operas are heavily edited, obviously heavily 'customized'.

A fine disk with both symphonies

From a personal, i.e. non-business, point of view, probably the most interesting event of 1783 was a visit to Vienna and Eszterháza by the young German/Swedish composer Joseph Martin Kraus. Kraus was sent on an extended Grand Tour of the musical centers of Europe by his patron, King Gustav III, in order to allow him to survey the state of music in such places as Vienna, Naples and Paris. At some point in April, while in Vienna, he saw a rather poor performance of Haydn's Stabat Mater. But in October he showed up at Eszterháza and spent some time there. He presented a symphony of his own composition to the Prince, which received its world premiere under Haydn's baton. Now called VB 143 in D major, it is brilliant, as all of Kraus's works are. Kraus also presented the Prince with a copy of his c minor symphony (VB 142) to which he added the parts for a second pair of horns especially for the Eszterháza Orchestra. If you know Kraus' music, his original c # minor symphony (VB 140) is perhaps his most compelling symphonic work. For this occasion, he transposed it down to c minor and left out the minuet, for artistic reasons known only to him, and brought it with him on his tour. A couple of comments from both sides of this meeting have lived on. Haydn later said that Kraus was 'the first genius I ever met', indicating his relationship with Mozart was still in its early stages, perhaps. Kraus wrote in his travel diary how enjoyable his stay in Eszterháza had been, and what a 'right good soul' Haydn was, except for his compelling interest in money. I don't know how much can be made of this; the difference in their backgrounds goes a long way towards giving a varying point of view on the value of making money!

No other great, momentous events pop up this year, it was life as usual, or what passed for usual in the early '80's. Perhaps it is the undocumented aspects of Haydn's life which had the most influence on him; he is reading more texts on Enlightenment themes, discussing Freemasonry with his salon cronies, thinking about how to apply these to his music. One wonders to what extent these social thoughts, which were sweeping Europe at the time, might be applied to music, specifically to Haydn. The old canard that Haydn had little or no involvement in anything but writing music is patently false, but to what extent did his personal, moral code influence what he put on paper? This is something to look at, something which could cause a person to reevaluate just what morality represented to the 18^th century. I will be looking at this, I would challenge you to do the same. You might find it compellingly interesting.

Next time, a look at the music: a famous cello concerto, more Lieder, keyboard sonatas for the young Princess and a Dramma eroico which has all the earmarks of opera seria...

Thanks for reading!

1782 – The Music part 4 - Thrice Told Tales

Hob. #	Genre	Name	Instruments	Libretto
28:11	Dramma eroicomico Heroic comedy	Orlando Paladino	3 Sopranos, 4 Tenors, 2 Basses & Chorus 1 Flute, 2 Oboes, 2 Bassoons, 2 Horns or Trumpets, Timpani, Strings, Continuo	Nunzio Porta after C.F. Badini from a story by Ludvico Ariosto

Orlando furioso - "Angelica saved from the Orc by Ruggiero" - by Gustav Doré

It is a great pity to see the literary gems of the past essentially holding second or worse place to the great amount of schlock which masquerades as literature today. The chain reaction from this, which begins with such arcane happenings as epics by Ariosto being virtually forgotten, thus Haydn's Orlando paladino or Vivaldi's Orlando furioso being declared ridiculous because people don't get it, then the final step: being robbed of our great cultural heritage. Ironically, the certainly less-sophisticated-than-us opera-goers of the 16^th to 18^th centuries got it perfectly well, and found it hilarious. Why else would Vivaldi have composed three versions of the story, or Haydn's version be his by-far-most-popular opera in his lifetime?

In the early 16^th century, at the time of Ariosto, chivalry still existed. Knights in armor, the whole thing. With a history dating back to Charlemagne and a huge body of art and literature grown up around them. And while Ariosto's commission was to write some history for his patron D'Este family, the end result, an epic poem in forty-two cantos entitled Orlando furioso might seem like just another kin to Tales of King Arthur, in fact it is a 1700+ page sendup of the whole knight-in-shining-armor scene which makes Monty Python and the Holy Grail pale in comparison. And the literate public at the time, ranging from Queen Elizabeth I, who ordered a translation made forthwith, to Edmund Spenser, who used it as a formal model for The Faerie Queene, and then forward to the many dozens of paintings, operas and plays based on the plethora of story lines available, couldn't get enough of it. Ultimately, it would have been virtually impossible for an educated opera-goer of 1782 to not know the story and all of its associated ironies, sarcasms, allegories and fantasies. Which puts them miles ahead of us, I'm afraid.

We saw, in 1780, that on their trip south, the Russian heir apparent, Prince Paul, and his wife, Maria Fyodorovna, stopped in Vienna and there became acquainted with Prince Nicholas and Haydn. Now, in late 1782 and on their way back home, the Royals were scheduled to stop in Eszterháza and visit the by-now-nearly-completed palace, already a tourist Mecca. On the schedule for the opera house in late 1782 was proposed to be Pietro Guglielmi's setting of a libretto by Carlo Francesco Badini, none other than Orlando paladino! This opera had been set in 1771, and was, by now, an old standard. Carlo Francesco Badini will one day play another role in Haydn's saga, when we meet him again in London in 1791, where he will write the libretto for Haydn's last opera, L'anima del Filosofo.

Haydn wasn't scheduled to write an opera this year, but clearly it wouldn't do to present such old fare to the future Czar and Czarina, and so instead of a touchup, and an insertion aria or two, Haydn wrote a whole new opera! And quite an opera it is, too. Among other luxuries, it has nine soloist roles! Not bad for a little country castle. Not to mention a chorus of shepherds, shepherdesses, specters, savages and Saracens! In the event, the Royal couple had to give Eszterháza a miss, but the new opera was performed anyway, on schedule, on Nicholas' Name Day. And music history received the benefits of their thwarted plans.

Let's take a look at this famous and convoluted plot then. After reviewing the several synopses which I have or could find, I would be hard-pressed to surpass this one, which appears in Wikipedia, possibly (confusingly) credited to the Viking Opera Guide. It certainly serves the purpose here:

Role	Voice type
Alcina, a sorceress	soprano
Angelica, Queen of Cathay	soprano
Caronte (Charon), ferryman to the underworld	bass
Eurilla, a shepherdess	soprano
Licone, a shepherd	tenor
Medoro, in love with Angelica	tenor
Orlando, Paladin of France	tenor
Pasquale, Orlando's squire	tenor
Rodomonte, King of Barbary	bass

Act I

Scene 1 - A mountainous landscape

The shepherdess Eurilla and her father Licone are alarmed by the appearance of a threatening knight, searching for Angelica and Medoro. Eurilla tells him they have taken refuge in the nearby castle. The knight reveals himself as Rodomonte, King of Barbary, infatuated with Angelica and intent on protecting her from Orlando's jealousy.

Scene 2 - Angelica's tower

Angelica laments that she has to live in hiding to avoid Orlando's mad frenzy. She summons the sorceress Alcina, who offers her protection. Medoro now enters with the unwelcome news that Orlando and his squire Pasquale have been sighted nearby but he is unsure whether to stay or escape.

Scene 3 - A wood

Pasquale is discovered by Rodomonte, who proceeds to challenge him, but is distracted by Eurilla, who says that Orlando is nearby looking for him. Alone with Eurilla, Pasquale explains that his life of adventure is blighted by a constant lack of food (and love).

Scene 4 - A garden with a fountain

Medoro swears his fidelity to Angelica but despite her protests suggests that for her own safety he should leave her for a time. When they have gone, Orlando appears, cursing the obsession that drives him on, convinced that Medoro is the only obstacle to the fulfilment of his love. He sees that Medoro has carved Angelica's name on every tree in the garden and smashes down the trees and fountain.

Scene 5 - A grove

The braggart Rodomonte is still in pursuit of Orlando and narrowly misses him when he arrives to interrogate Eurilla on the whereabouts of Medoro.

Scene 6 - A delightful garden

Angelica's fearful premonitions are interrupted by Pasquale and Eurilla, who warn her of Orlando's approach. Rodomonte joins them, still eager to fight Orlando, and then the peace-loving Medoro, in fear of Orlando's prowess enters. Alcina appears and reassures the lovers, while warning Rodomonte that he cannot defeat Orlando. Orlando bursts in raving, but Alcina magically immobilizes him and imprisons him in an iron cage.

 

Act II

Scene 1 - A grove

Orlando has been freed from the cage, but not from his madness. Rodomonte is once more about to attack him, but when Eurilla brings news that Medoro and Angelica have fled, Orlando dashes off in pursuit.

Scene 2 - A wide plain by the sea

Medoro seeks refuge by the sea, and at Eurilla's suggestion, conceals himself in a grotto, asking her to tell Angelica of his unhappy fate. Eurilla and Pasquale discover their love for one another as she invites him to follow her to a castle. Angelica laments her suffering. Alcina plans to resolve the lovers' difficulties. As Angelica is about the throw herself into the sea in despair, Alcina's magic transports her to Medoro's presence and they re-affirm their love. They are on the point of seeking a new refuge when Orlando appears, but Alcina intervenes again to allow the lovers to escape. Orlando is distracted by the sudden appearance of two sea-monsters.

Scene 3 - A room in the castle

Pasquale and Eurilla exchange more endearments. Rodomonte enters with Alcina, who invites all to her magic grotto.

Scene 4 - Alcina's enchanted cave

Orlando and Pasquale arrive in search of Alcina, and the paladin furiously insults the sorceress for protecting Medoro. She responds by turning him to stone. Angelica, Medoro, Eurilla and Rodomonte enter, marveling at this sight. Alcina restores Orlando to his human state, but his frenzy is unabated. As Alcina retires to the back of the cave Orlando pursues her and the rock closes in behind him.

 

Act III

Scene 1 - The Underworld, by the river Lethe, the Elysian Fields beyond

Charon, the infernal ferryman, watches over the sleeping Orlando. Alcina commands him to wash away Orlando's madness with water from the river of forgetfulness, and Orlando wakens confused.

Scene 2 - A room in the castle

While discussing their marriage, Eurilla and Pasquale are interrupted by Orlando, seeking his squire's aid.

Scene 2 - A forest

Angelica is pursued by wild savages. Medoro rushes to her assistance but is wounded. Rodomonte and Orlando engage in a duel.

Scene 3 - A courtyard

Angelica is delirious, believing that Medoro is dead. Alcina assures her that this is not so, but that he is healed of his wounds. Rodomonte and Orlando enter together, now comrades. The waters of Lethe have blanked from Orlando's mind both his love for Angelica and his hatred of Medoro. Angelica and Medoro can now love one another without fear, Pasquale and Eurilla are united, and Orlando may go in search of fresh deeds of valor.

This all looks pretty straightforward, until one analyzes the actions of the characters and wonders at their motivations. Which brings us back to where I started out. Badini/Porta/Haydn knew, as certainly as an artist can know such things, that all of the audience members knew essential facts a priori. Here are a few of those things:

• Poor Angelica, beset by fear of Orlando, is actually the cause of his madness. Before this part of the story (which comes partly from Canto 23), we have seen this Princess of China toy with and break the hearts of many men. And when she toyed with Orlando, who truly loved her, the result was him losing his reason. We aren't told this, we are supposed to already know it!

• Angelica is a close friend of the sorceress Alcina. Previously, Alcina attempted to do Angelica a favor by 'curing' her of her inability to fall in love. Unfortunately, Angelica was with Medoro at the time, an ineffectual man at best, and has now fallen madly in love with him. This is why Orlando is chasing her down.

• Rodomonte is a parody of the Knight-Errant. He sees, he challenges, he defeats, he moves on. Mainly he is looking for Franks and Christians. Orlando is both. Blood and gore and guts follow wherever he leads!

• Virtually everything in the original Ariosto story is a parody. He is totally subjective, totally iconoclastic. He uses no framework of time, space or accuracy. Although we don't see it in this part of the story, there is a flying horse, a trip to the moon (where everything that has been lost on Earth is stored), men of heroically exaggerated action and women who enslave them with sex and magic.
  

A recommended prose translation by Waldman

Just knowing these very few facts going in, and many more which you would be presumed to know in advance, changes the story from an ultimately strange, disjointed and somewhat incomprehensible knight's tale into what it actually is, an outrageous parody of chivalry in general and the Song of Roland (= Orlando) in particular. As always, Haydn's music is fantastic and appropriate, seria where it needs to be, buffa where it can be. There are catalog arias, dry recitatives, accompanied recitatives, fabulous coloratura arias, even some harrowing falsetto for a tenor. It must have taxed the resources of the Eszterháza opera house to the limit!

I know I spend an inordinate amount of time bewailing the lack of appreciation for Haydn's operas. But people heedlessly criticize them because;

a> they don't understand the context, thus they must be junk, and
b> they aren't Mozart, thus they must be junk.

In fact, as so often in the field of art, the fault lies in the critics far more than in the art. If you have time to read even a brief summary of Ariosto, and some critiques of his work, you will be amazed at just how fine this opera suddenly becomes!

Next time, we will see what 1783 has on offer.

Thanks for reading!