Franz Joseph Haydn

A Brief Biography
Franz Joseph Haydn

Haydn was the son of a wheelwright and town official Mathias Haydn and his wife Anna Maria (née Koller), a former cook at the castles of the Counts of Harrach. He was born in Rohrau in Lower Austria on March 31, 1732. His demonstration of musical abilities at an early age caused him to be taken to Haimburg in order to develop this skill, which his parents and advisers suspected would be helpful in entering into the clergy. After three years at Haimburg he became a choirboy at St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna from the time he was about eight until his voice broke at age 18. He seems to have been a mischievous and resourceful boy, with a beautiful soprano voice. But, once his voice changed he was cast out into the world, with no immediate prospects other than the adamant resolve not to become a priest as his parents desired. He took lodgings in a poor attic room in Vienna where he studied composition on his own and played as a free-lance musician in orchestras and small ensembles at night. He later acknowledged the debt he owed to the music of C. P. E. Bach, which he discovered at that time. His room was in the same house as N. A. Porpora, a successful opera composer and singing teacher, who eventually hired him as a kind of valet and accompanist for lessons.

During his twenties, Haydn experiencedfinancial difficulties but he managed to make his first strides in composition -- especially sacred choral music, but also his first quartets and symphonies In about 1759 he landed a position as composer and musician for Count Morzin. After about a year, the count could no longer afford his musical establishment but helped Haydn find a new job with the fabulously wealthy Prince Paul Anton Esterházy in Eisenstadt, some 30 miles from Vienna. From 1760 until 1766 Haydn was assistant Kapellmeister, and in 1766 became Kapellmeister on the death of his predecessor. During this time numerous changes occurred within the royal family: in 1762 Prince Paul Anton had died and was succeeded by his younger brother, Nicolaus, who was determined to build a new royal residence at Esterháza on the model of some of the most elaborate palaces in Europe.

This residence was ready in 1767, and from then on much of Haydn's time was spent away from metropolitan centers, in the service of Nicolaus Esterházy. His duties were to provide music for all sorts of events: evening entertainment music, music for the puppet theater, operas for the new theater at Esterháza that opened in 1768, and music for the Prince himself to play (a favored instrument being the baryton: a kind of viol plucked with sympathetic strings). Beyond composing, however, his role including hiring and rehearsing musicians, providing for repair of instruments, and overseeing anything else that would affect the musical life of the palace. Because he was at once in charge of this musical establishment and yet relatively isolated from the leading musical centers of his day, Haydn was (in his own words) "forced to become original" if he was to give vent to his genius. Because the Prince was an eminent political leader of his day, many dignitaries found their way to Esterháza during Haydn's career there; through word of mouth Haydn became renowned throughout Europe. As his stature grew, he was able to negotiate a more advantageous contract with the Prince, so that by the 1780's he had royal permission to publish his music and to fulfill commissions for other patrons; these works further augmented his fame.

When Prince Nicolaus died in 1790, his successor retained Haydn's service but did not require him to reside at Esterháza. Immediately Haydn moved to Vienna, where he spent much time in the company of Mozart, until he was lured to London by the impresario J. P. Salomon. On two visits to London (1791-92 and 1794-95) Haydn wrote his twelve final symphonies, a number of quartets and piano sonatas, and heard Handel's oratorios for the first time; their example nudged him in the direction of writing his own great oratorios, "The Creation" and "The Seasons." Further products of his later years include a series of glorious masses for the name day of Princess Esterházy (the only significant duties in his ongoing service with the Esterházy family). Haydn became feeble shortly after completing the last mass of that group in 1802 but lived until 1809 as the celebrated "father" of the symphony and of the string quartet and the greatest living composer.

Haydn, Fame, and Posterity
One of the customary patterns of fame finds an artist unappreciated or misunderstood during his or her own time but who becomes famous after death. Under such circumstances it is very difficult for us -- who love their works so deeply -- to see back into an age that had such genius in its midst but neglected to admire it, to understand its significance, or to cherish the artist who produced such works. We also recognize other patterns of fame: a person can be appreciated and recognized as important in his or her own time but make no significant impression on posterity. The lesson to be learned is that the art of a given artist can strike a nerve either with public or posterity; but it is unlikely that the same nerve will be struck in both, or that the same intensity will be achieved in both cases. There is no such thing as "absolute" quality of art that will be perceived as greatness by all people in all places at all times.

This point is particularly clear in Haydn's case because he is one of the few composers we have granted "Composer of the Month" status whose reputation today is not as high as it was in his lifetime. Consider the composers with whom he's traditionally linked -- Mozart and Beethoven to see this clearly. It is Mozart who has come to be known as the composer with the greatest control of Classical poise, balance, and equilibrium, the one who most eloquently blends light and darkness, happiness and sadness. Beethoven is "the man who freed music," the composer who enriched and intensified the formal conventions of Classical music with an infusion of personal expression that paved the way for Romanticism. Where does Haydn fit in this triumverate? Well, we clear our throats and shuffle our feet a little before answering. Two centuries of interpreting these composers or of allowing posterity's judgments of these composers to be our starting point for interpreting them -- makes us wonder whether Haydn is, in fact, worthy of such illustrious company.

The fact remains, however, that during his day, Haydn was unquestionably viewed as the greatest composer of all. Without even having set a foot in the city, his symphonies became the primary instrumental musical fare of Paris during the 1780's. When he visited England in the 1790's he was feted as an incomparable celebrity. By the time of his death, his name and much of his music was known throughout all corners of Europe; claims of the fame, even for Beethoven at the time of his death, would have to be more modest. Today, however, and for the centuries past, we have not defined Haydn's age with his music at the center.

Three explanations have been offered as to why this should be, and there are undoubtedly other contributing factors.

  • First, Haydn's biography is not a compelling one for those who see the great artist's role as challenging existing conditions. Haydn was a dutiful employee of a prince. Contemporaries like Mozart and Beethoven sought out alternative ways of practicing their art -- seeking commissions, free-lancing, and in Beethoven's case writing music before having a performance in prospect -- has made Haydn seem an integral part of a world that was soon to vanish. That is, a composer who wrote to order for someone other than himself. We have not adequately theorized the possibilities for originality and greatness in artists who live so satisfied a life in such circumstances.
  • Second, the character of Haydn's music seems a little unfocused and, most importantly, unrelievedly good-humored for generations who wish to have music of the past either neatly characterized or else immediately relevant. Haydn's style, in other words, cannot be so easily quantified as Beethoven's and Mozart's. Consequently their music rather than his has become the yardstick against which his is measured and unjustly found wanting. One goal of this month's focus on Haydn is to help us, at the dawn of the 21st century, understand why Haydn was understood in his day as the greatest composer of his time. We can only do that by intentionally revamping our listening skills and expectations.
  • Third, although Haydn's mastery of musical composition was universally acknowledged in the 18th century, the frank naivetè of this music and its uninhibited aim to entertain the common listener has become distrusted by succeeding generations. It is a sign of how serious the defense of "classical music" has become that its proponents have not championed the music of Haydn, for whom distinctions of "art" and "entertainment" music did not exist. It is our loss that classical music has ignored this central feature of Haydn's legacy.

    Haydn and Monothematicism
    Monothematicism is not the sort of term lay listeners are encouraged to bandy about in their discussion of music; it's too long and presupposes a prior technical knowledge of musical form that most untrained musicians do not have. And yet some awareness of this phenomenon is crucial for understanding Haydn's style, hence the following explanation, presented as free of technical jargon as possible!

    One of the basic features of music of the late 18th century is the way in which it is structured. In Baroque music it was customary to establish a single "affect" or emotion in each movement or discrete number of a larger musical work, and to find structures that would permit that "affect" to be explored adequately. New currents in the 18th century found it more "natural" to include more than one "affect" or emotion within a similar span of time. In order to keep these different ideas balanced, and to provide unity, a hierarchical system of tonality helped to articulate these different ideas. The home key of the piece would be established before modulating to a different key, in which the opening section would end. A new section would eventually find its way back to the home key; at the return of this key the music would also state the material with which the work had begun, and that key would remain in effect until the piece ended. This structure became known as "sonata form" in opening movements of large-scale instrumental compositions. The "sonata form principle" infected the musical structures of the late 18th century even when the music is not "in" sonata form: establishing, departing from, returning to, and confirming the main key of the piece became the basic kind of drama conveyed by the music of this period.

    At the beginning of the 19th century, when this form came to be codified in textbooks, a fundamental misunderstanding crept into perceptions of sonata form. According to this new view, sonata form was based on the principle of opposing themes. That is, the opening section of sonata form was seen as consisting of two themes or theme groups (the second of which was the material in the new key). Thus, after the opening theme reappeared near the end of the movement, it became understood as necessary for the second theme of the opening section to reappear, although this time in the home key.

    As luck would have it, this later description of sonata form works extremely well for describing the common practice of Mozart and Beethoven, but not of Haydn! For Haydn, the tonal background of sonata form is its essence, and as a result his treatment of sonata form is more flexible. Monothematicism becomes an important term in understanding Haydn because he often does not provide a "new" theme when the new key appears; instead, the music heard at this point is often another version of the opening theme. Thus "one theme" often dominates movements by Haydn when his contemporaries and successors usually used two. Monothematicism also affects the way his sonata form movements end. Mozart and Beethoven bring back both the first and second themes in the home key, thereby balancing the opening section which presents the first and second themes in two different keys. Haydn has no need to bring back the "second theme" at the end of the movement -- because it's very much like the first theme and because the return to the home key has fulfilled the sense of resolution that governs sonata form. This allows the conclusion of his works in sonata form to be inventive, varied, humorous, and unpredictable in ways that the more traditional understanding does not permit. It's our loss that Haydn's music has come to be seen as less disciplined because it uses an earlier but no less valid blueprint for sonata form.

    Haydn and Humor in Music
    Except for a few works (many of them from the 1770s) that are associated with the "Sturm und Drang" (Storm and Stress) era and deal rather single-mindedly with darker emotions, the great majority of Haydn's works, are music that occupies realms of sunny good-naturedness. Beyond that there are numerous touches in Haydn's music that are overtly humorous. Given that the concepts of play, surprise, and fantasy are endemic to Haydn's style, it may be unfair to highlight just a few extreme examples of his musical humor. But the concept of what it is that can make music humorous has not been adequately explored, and thinking about what creates humor in a few examples may help us to better understanding Haydn's music in general.

    The first example that springs to mind is the famous explosion near the beginning of the second movement of the aptly named "Surprise" Symphony (no. 94). Here Haydn offers a cheerful but sedate tune, then repeats it more quietly but substitutes a loud bang at the spot which had previously been the point of utmost repose. Thus the joke is the foiling of expectations -- which can only occur if the composer creates a context in which expectations can be built. Two famous examples involve the ending of a work: the first is in the finale of the "Joke" Quartet, op. 33 no. 2, where Haydn's rondo begins with a theme that occurs at various times throughout the movement. In its last appearance, however, he places long (but metrical) pauses between each of the four phrases of the first part of the tune. After this is complete, he places an even longer metrical pause before yet another playing of the first phrase. After this one is left at sea, not knowing when or whether to expect an ending, although that is in fact all Haydn wrote. In a way this is the reverse of the tremolo that begins Beethoven's 9th and several Bruckner symphonies or the pedal tone that begins Wagner's Ring cycle -- there the idea is to make the moment at which the work begins unclear, so as to give the impression that the music is primordial and has been going on since time immemorial, while Haydn hints that the piece may not end by causing it to trail off. But the way in which he does so has an element of slapstick rather than seriousness about it, even though it raises serious and interesting aesthetic issues. The second example comes in Haydn's Symphony no. 90, the finale of which comes to a blazing conclusion, only to have the oboe thumb its nose at the premature ending after a few moments' pause.

    If sometimes it takes a connoisseur to appreciate Haydn's humor to the full, his aim to entertain all listeners means that his scores include passage after passage that bring a smile to the face. Unexpected pauses, modulations, dynamic contrasts, textural changes or effects, witty asides, and high-spirited romps -- all these and countless other features are parts of Haydn's arsenal that inspire feelings of good humor and amusement.