Haydn Symphony No. 104 in D Major, “London”

Symphony No. 104 in D Major, “London”

Franz Josef Haydn (1732-1809)

Like most musicians of his day, Josef Haydn found employment as a “court composer” in a number of aristocratic households until he reached his sixties. For nearly thirty years his patron was the celebrated Prince Nicolaus Esterhazy, whose elegant palace in the middle of the Hungarian farm country was to be the composer’s home, and scene of his artistic development. In a sense it was also his place of aristic isolation, from which he could escape only for brief visits to Vienna where the prince’s entourage spent an annual period of residence in the imperial capital. Unlike Mozart, who from early childhood was to visit most of the centers of Europe, Haydn never had the freedom to travel, being constantly under pressure to preside over a court orchestra and opera company, as well as to compose everything from dance music to chamber music, orchestral works, stage works and religious music. After nearly thirty years’ service at the palace of Esterhaza, the death of Prince Nicolaus finally made it possible for Haydn to accept offers to travel. An ambitious musician, Johann Peter Salomon (German by birth, now resident in London), learned of the death of Haydn’s patron, and determined to swoop down upon the composer and bring him to London for a series of public concerts. Salomon met Haydn in Vienna, greeting him with the famous words, “I am Salomon of London, and have come to fetch you. Tomorrow we will arrange an accord.” The two men hit it off immediately, and in December, 1790 Haydn set out for London, saying goodbye to Mozart, who feared for the older man’s stamina, warning him against such a dangerous undertaking. (Ironically, Mozart himself would die within a year, the two friends never again seeing each other.) Haydn spent two long periods in England, where he met the cream of society, from royalty to the artistic celebrities of the day. He was awarded an honorary degree at Oxford (responding with his “Oxford” Symphony, No. 92), and the unhappily married composer even had a late-life romance with a German widow living in London, as well. Above all, a dozen symphonies were composed expressly for London, which were to be the summing up of a lifetime of creative endeavour. The last of these was No. 104, nicknamed “London” ever since its premiere on a glittering concert on May 4^th, 1795. Bearing an inscription on the manuscript in English, “the 12^th which I have composed in England, ” this was to be Haydn’s last symphony. The composer himself stated that he could do no better.

The symphony, like many others by Haydn, opens with a slow introduction, a grand, serene gateway to the lively music which follows. The main body of the first movement leads off with a gentle, murmuring melody heard softly in the strings, followed by brilliant ruffles and flourishes with trumpets and drums, the strings in characteristic bustling display. The secondary theme, at first identical with the first, becomes more agitated, adding a closing theme with a graceful, lilting character. The development focuses upon a detail all but overlooked at its initial appearance: a pattern featuring four repeated notes taken from the very first bars of the first subject. Entirely absorbed with this tiny detail, the music seems to “germinate” into a richly textured, tightly argued musical discussion, reaching a climactic point before a pause which ushers in the recapitulation. Among the unexpected twists in rounding out the movement is a sudden passage for winds alone, followed by a grand and emphatic coda to form a solid conclusion.

The slow movement is a spacious three-part structure in G Major, with a meditative opening section wholly given over to the strings, save for a memorable moment when a lone bassoon adds its plaintive tones an octave below the violins. A tiny transitional passage (in the minor) for winds alone leads to a startling chance of mood, shifting to D Minor, with the full orchestra playing fortissimo, as turbulent as the opening had been tranquil. There is a tiny recollection of the opening melody, swept aside by a renewed stormy section. Quieting down, the opening section returns, this time with added colour from the woodwinds, and a further dramatic, rhythmic outburst by full orchestra. An extended passage with triplet figuration reaches an eerie standstill in the remote region of D-flat major. Once again a short woodwind phrase leads the music back to the home key, with an extended energetic coda, relaxing into an atmosphere of quiet benediction.

The minuet movement is perhaps the composer’s finest, with a peasant heartiness (a reminder of his long years living in the Hungarian heartland), with pounding accents and swinging rhythmic twists. The trio steps directly into a quietly refreshing (and unexpected) B-flat major, with a smoothly unwinding melodic line in the violins (assisted by solo oboe and bassoon from time to time) over a soft pizzicato background. As is so often Haydn’s practice in this symphony, the winds take the lead in bringing us back to a robust reprise of the minuet.

The concluding Spiritoso is Haydn’s most thoroughly “worked-out” finale, yet at the same time as engaging and entertaining as any other he had written. Over a a bagpipe-like “drone, ” an opening tune of disarming, low-key character is heard, which has sometimes been likened to an English folktune,

“Hot-crossed buns.” It quickly swells in energy and volume, moving into a second subject which, as in the first movement, is the same as the first, here heard in the winds. But an important “counter melody” is heard in the violins, and the music becomes shot through with detail and touches of instrumental colour, with swirling figures in the strings which to some ears are reminiscent of moments in the finale of another D Major Symphony---the Second Symphony of Brahms. A quiet, unexpected touch is the entry of a subsidiary part of this “second subject, ” in the form of a hushed passage for winds (plus a bassoonXXX), which moves into a short, brusque closing theme to round out the exposition of the movement. The development is one of Haydn’s biggest, and most intricately constructed, with a meshing together of the main melodic and rhythmic motives in a brilliant display of orchestra ingenuity. The hushed “subsidiary” theme reappears, this time extended, and in a delightfully unpredictable manner glides into the recapitulation. The main elements return as before, but lead directly into a full-scale coda, virtually a second “development” (as would later be the practice with Beethoven), bringing the symphony to an exultant conclusion.

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