Boston Cecilia: Haydn and Creation, Program Notes

Some Thoughts on Haydn and Creation

aydn was born in 1732 (maybe on March 31, possibly an April Fool's baby) in Rohrau, Austria. He died at 77 in 1809. His life spanned three musical epochs, from Bach and Handel through Beethoven to Schubert-from the high Baroque with its ancient underpinnings, through the classical era, of which he and Mozart were the very archetypes, into early Romanticism with its openings into all things new. For the better part of two centuries, until the mid twentieth century, Haydn's vast creative output was represented only by the London symphonies, the late quartets, Creation and Seasons, and a few other works. Since then there has been an explosion of interest, long overdue, that has finally revealed the astounding range of his creative genius and irrevocably lodged Haydn in the upper echelons of this millennium's unquestioned masters.

His father was a wheelwright and wagon builder and a pretty good amateur musician. There was a lot of music-making in the home. At eight, Haydn was sent to school in Hainburg, under Johann Mathias Franck and was later taken in as a singer at St. Stephan's Cathedral in Vienna. He was treated pretty shabbily in both places, finally being tossed out on the streets of Vienna after his voice changed. His younger brother Michael, a better singer, also went into the choir at St. Stephan's and was better regarded and rewarded. Empress Maria Theresa remarked that the boy Franz Joseph "sings like a crow."

After expulsion from cathedral choir, Haydn was left to make his own way in the world.

A day in the young musician's workaday life (according to H.C. Robbins Landon):

"Every morning at half past six he played the violin at a monastery High Mass, hurried from there to play at Mass in the private chapel of a nobleman, Count Haugwitz, and made his way from that to the cathedral, where he sang in the choir as a tenor. The rest of the day passed in teaching, composition and practice until the evening, when he often played again as one of the orchestra at a nobleman's private concert or, if nothing else was available, in one of the parties of musicians who made a little money playing in the streets. He arranged a good deal of music for the odd combinations of instruments which made up such serenade parties."

Haydn worked for a time as accompanist/ secretary/valet for the much admired composer of vocal music Niccolo Porpora. Through Porpora he came into contact with members of the nobility. One such, Count Ferdinand Maximillian von Morzin of Bohemia, invited Haydn to become kapellmeister at his country seat. Through this association Haydn was introduced to Prince Paul Anton Esterhazy, a nobleman of enormous wealth who was also an intelligent and cultured man and a respectable player of the violin and cello, and whose family was to provide Haydn with employment for the rest of his life. Prince Paul Anton named Haydn assistant kapellmeister, in charge of all save the court's church music, which would remain in the hands of the elderly tenured incumbent, but with the understanding that Haydn would eventually accede to that position as well.

Haydn's marriage to Maria Keller was not a happy one. She proved to be indifferent to his work and bad-tempered to boot. They produced no offspring.

Haydn's appearance (according to Griesinger, one of his first biographers): "His forehead was broad and well-modelled, his eyes bright and fiery, his other features full and strongly marked, and his whole appearance and bearing suggested prudence and quiet gravity." Another biographer who knew him, Albert Christoph Dies, wrote that, "like those of many small men, his legs were too short to be in proper proportion to his body." Dies, too, mentions the fiery look of Haydn's eyes, but says that in spite of it his look was "moderate and kind." His face was scarred by smallpox. He had a "hawk-like nose."

He read extensively and in several languages. He developed a fine business sense, especially when dealing with publishers. He retained an interest in all things new even into old age: his London notebooks show an almost childlike excitement at the many new scenes and new knowledge to which he was exposed there — surprising, when you consider that he was 58 before he ever left Austria.

A devout Catholic, Haydn seems to have found happiness through his faith, or at least a comfortable reconciliation with an unsatisfactory marriage and a court situation that at times seemed onerous and thankless. When answering criticism of the general cheerfulness of his Agnus Dei settings, he said that the important words of that prayer are not sins but takest away.

"A harmless roguery was one of Haydn's outstanding characteristics" (Griesinger). "When he discovers the comic side of anything, he is as intelligent and as inventive as he is when he is meditating solemnly on some deeply serious subject."

At Esterhazy, he seems to have suffered in silence at being ranked with liveried servants like the major domo, wine steward, or the two court painters. After Paul Anton died, his successor, Prince Nicolaus, proved to be, if anything, an even more generous and understanding patron of Haydn's work. In 1766 Haydn succeeded to the title of court kapellmeister and was given responsibility for the entire court's musical establishment.

Haydn's middle years were spent in service to the varied requirements of Prince Nicolaus's court, and the great body of works from this period speak eloquently not only of the depth of his musical sophistication but also its breadth. In 1790, when Haydn was 58, Prince Nicolaus died and was succeeded by Prince Anton, who was not interested in music at all. Haydn continued in Esterhazy's employ, moderately well paid and with an adequate annuity from Prince Nicolaus's estate, but with no responsibilities, free to come and go at will. In Vienna Haydn was approached by Johann Peter Salomon, a German-born impresario who enjoyed a prominent career in London as a violinist, conductor, and concert promoter. Salomon invited Haydn to London for an extended series of concerts featuring his music. Mozart said to Haydn, "But you don't know the language." Haydn's answer: "My language is understood all over the world."

Haydn often said that his years in England were the happiest of his life. And for good reason. It was certainly England that made him a wealthy man and set the seal on his international fame, largely initially through the so-called "Salomon" or "London" symphonies from this first visit. The first visit, 1791-92, was marked by unprecedented official honors, vast public celebrations and great musical success. The English public couldn't get enough of the man or his music; the nobility vied with each other in sometimes unseemly competition for his attentions. His return to Vienna, if not exactly a triumphant one, nevertheless marked his emergence from the status of a domestic musician, albeit a well-known and musically respected one, to one of standing and equality that had not heretofore been granted him.

In 1794-5 there was a second London visit with even greater triumphs, more symphonies, late great string quartets, and academic honors. Back in Vienna, Haydn set about creating his last great masterpieces, working more slowly than in his youth and with scrupulous care. Not surprisingly, a sense of valediction and astounding freshness of invention stand side by side in many of these works.

In London Haydn had heard a good deal of Handel's music, including Messiah and Israel in Egypt, the latter of which impressed him greatly, particularly in its orchestral/choral tone painting of earthy things: the plagues of Egypt with their blotches and blains, flies and lice, and locusts without number.

In Creation, Haydn expands on Handel's "zoological cabinet" (Karl Geiringer's term): "Haydn's resourcefulness in the invention of effects of color is here matched only by his economy in their employment." Among these: the sun "in splendour bright," "the silver moon" and "the space immense of th'azure sky"; — and of living creatures — whales and other creatures of the deep, the tawny lion and flexible tiger, nimble stag and sprightly steed, and perhaps in the most vivid musical image of all, "In long dimensions creeps/With sinuous trace the worm."

Creation expands on the oratorio language of Handel in several ways. Most conspicuously, the orchestra adopts a greatly enlarged palette of color and joins with the chorus in lively commentary on the narrative, employing the full resources of the classical symphony. In Handel, the orchestration generally remains constant throughout the course of a given movement. Haydn constantly varies the texture, and a kaleidoscope of color emerges that prefigures nineteenth century practice in its responsiveness to, and expansion of, text. There are no true da capos in Creation, although several arias have a three-part structure. Haydn makes use of secco recitatives in much the same way Handel does, although there are fewer of them in Creation than in most Handel oratorios; and accompagnato recitatives explore a wide range of dramatic devices — but then so do Handel's.

Creation seems to me to look both backward and forward. Handel's influence is demonstrable, but the aging Haydn, characteristically, seems to be pushing at the frontiers of a new century and a new era with a special vigor here. It is a work of transcendent youthfulness but full of the wisdom, maturity, and experience of a far-from-benign old age. Geiringer got it right: "During the last years of his life Haydn's mind dwelt more in the future than in his own time. He was absorbed in thoughts as to what impression his works would make on posterity. The one thing that really mattered was the eternal life of his compositions or, as he himself expressed it with a characteristic understatement, that he 'would not wholly die.'"

- Donald Teeters

The Boston Cecilia performed this piece at New England Conservatory's Jordan Hall in Boston on January 1, 2000.

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