Franz Joseph Haydn - My Composer for a Desert Island
Created | Updated Sep 10, 2003
Some people take pleasure in listing their desert island discs. I would like to propose something in the way of a little change. In this variation of the old rules all the music has to come from the pen of one composer, or band if you prefer.
This modification probably handicaps the chances of quite a few composers. Take Max Bruch for example. He composed only one well known piece, a violin concerto. Magnificent though it is, the prospect of being marooned alone with it for an indefinite period is not a compelling one.
Near the other end of the scale comes Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809), with over a hundred symphonies to choose from, plus eighty string quartets, two hundred trios of various kinds, any number of minor pieces, a wealth of operas and Masses, and even a couple of oratorios. Enough first-rate material there for several castaways to take their pick.
Haydn's name does not appear on everyone's list of the top ten composers, although it really ought to. The virtual founder of what is usually called the Viennese Classical style and at the same time one of its great masters, he cuts a truly exceptional figure in musical history.
There is an aphorism that whereas Mozart's music is perfection itself, Haydn's consists of inspired imperfection. Fans of the older composer might justifiably find the comparison patronising. Certainly there are irreverent moments in his music and my first choice, the 'Surprise' Symphony in G, No 94 of the series, contains a famous
instance of this. However, jokes apart, here there are four fine vigorous movements, finishing with a rollicking, yet sophisticated, sonata rondo in Haydn's favourite barnstorming vein.
Haydn's music contains moments of exquisite lyricism too; the String Quartet in B Flat, Opus 76 No 4, is unforgettable. This quartet's luminous opening measures, with the first violin ascending in shining curves above a hushed sustained chord in the other three instruments, have earned it the sobriquet of the 'Sunrise'. The effect is as beautiful as anything in all of music - I would play it at first dawn on my island.
One of the joys of Haydn's music is the way his style grows and develops throughout his long life, culminating in the Indian Summer of the 1790s when he bestrode the musical scene like a colossus, Mozart having already died and Beethoven still a student - briefly one of Haydn's own. Both the above pieces are works of this late period.
There are plenty of good things in the early years too; true aficionados of Haydn take great pleasure in ferreting out lesser known treasures from the 1760s and 1770s. The St Nicholas Mass, composed while in the service of Prince Nicholas Esterhazy for his name day, has a memorable, floating Kyrie, and a gentle Benedictus which has the simplicity of genius.
Also from this period are the 'Sturm und Drang' (Storm and Stress) works, the first hints in music of the German Romantic movement in literature. The best known of these is the 'Farewell' Symphony, no 45 in F Sharp minor. Although the title derives from the famous musical hint by which the maestro secured for his orchestra a well-deserved holiday, there is much more to this fierce work in which Haydn seems to be exploring the limits of orchestral harshness. The spare, almost spiky texture is an effect that Haydn exploited repeatedly throughout his career.
The Piano Trio in E Major (1796), contains a slow movement
which carries the same idea to the point of sounding eccentric, with the piano part doubled by both violin and cello at a distance of several octaves. The unusually menacing sonority helps generate an unusually high tension in this original piece.
At times the richness of the sound thus achieved can provoke wonder, as in the third movement of the late String Quartet in F, Opus 77 no 2 (1799). This movement is an idealised slow march initiated by the first violin and cello in duet. Listen for the magical effect when after twenty measures the other two instruments quietly slip in and their voices coalesce. The other movements are equally fine; this was Haydn's last completed string quartet.
The string quartet was Haydn's invention and in some ways it provides the key to his development. The Six Quartets, Opus 33, composed in 1781, are significant in the history of music as the first works composed in the mature classical style. Haydn seems to have realised that they were different from what had preceded them, as he wrote on publication that they were composed 'in an entirely new and special style'. The best known of these quartets is Number 3 in C, 'The Bird'. Birdsong abounds in this piece, not least in the trio of the scherzo. The finale is a Slavonic dance with a touch of
buffoonery in the coda, in which the melody is flipped upside-down and inside-out.
Many essays have been written about the influence of folk music in Haydn. Elements of Magyar and Slavonic melodies are abundant, especially in his last period. His 'London' Symphony in D, No 104, has a finale said to have been based on London street cries, but probably owes more to memories of his childhood near the borders of Hungary. This was his last symphony, composed in 1795.
There was still plenty of work to come; in 1796 appeared the Trumpet Concerto in E Flat. There are several harder pieces
for this instrument in the repertory, but none of them can rival the sweetness of the pastoral slow movement (in A Flat), or the uproarious high spirits of the rondo refrain which Haydn deliciously re-orchestrates each time it returns.
The last years of his life were dedicated mainly to choral music. Between 1796 and 1802 he composed six great Masses and two oratorios - The Creation and The Seasons. To complete my sojourn in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I would select two of them. Composed in 1796, the Mass in Time of War has a tense Benedictus which with its menacing use of the brass section, seems to evoke the dark clouds gathering over Europe.
The Creation, first performed in 1798, is one of the greatest
works of the century which it brings to a close. Based on an adaptation of Milton's Paradise Lost, among its glories is the famous depiction of Chaos before anything was. The score here evokes a vivid sense of the vast emptiness of the formless void. My favourite scene is the duet of Adam and Eve with the Angelic chorus, hailing the splendours of the garden of Eden in which they have just awoken. The task set by the
libretto is ideally suited to Haydn's art, of which it has been said it sometimes gives the impression that the author was without original sin. An exaggeration, but this is surely music worthy of paradise.
