Program Notes

Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)

Symphony No. 98 in B-flat Major (1792)

Scored for 1 flute, 2 oboes, two bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani and strings 

Even though Franz Joseph Haydn was working as Kappelmeister in the relatively remote surroundings of the Esterhazy Palace for much of his life, he still managed to gain more than a little fame, especially in the 1770’s when the full measure of his abilities became apparent. And as the years went by, his skill increased by leaps and bounds, and the freshness, the newness of his work never diminished.

Little wonder, then, that when Haydn’s boss, Prince Nikolaus died in 1790, the great composer was flooded with offers. Not only was the he now highly in demand, but he was free to choose where he would go and what he would do. One December day while Haydn was still considering what his next step would be, a man whom Haydn had never seen before was admitted and promptly announced, “I am Salomon from London and have come to fetch you.”

Salomon, it turned out, was a violinist and concert promoter who had been living in London for the past nine years and as soon as he heard the news that Haydn was a free man, he lost no time in calling on him. Salomon had, in fact, tried to coax Haydn to England some time before this, but Haydn did not accept and the two had never met. As it turned out, the terms were pretty lucrative, and the composer decided to take it.

London was very much to Haydn’s liking, and he was treated like a celebrity everywhere he went. As the composer later wrote, “My arrival caused a great sensation throughout the whole city, and I went the round of all the newspapers for 3 successive days. Everyone wants to know me. I had to dine out six times up to now, and if I wanted, I could dine out every day; but first I must consider my health, and second my work. At present I am working on symphonies.”

In fact, of the twelve new works his contract called for, six turned out to be symphonies, all received with wild acclaim. In the Haydn catalogue, these are symphonies 93-98. The last of these, No. 98 in B flat major, was first performed on March 2, 1792 at the Hanover-Square Concert Rooms in London. Haydn was the conductor.

The first movement’s slow introduction, one of many that open the “ London” symphonies, is remarkably terse and its dramatic impact is immediate. The ascending notes of the B flat minor scale sound ominously, and the opening phrase is repeated, this time leading us into new harmonic territory. When the theme returns a third time, it is now in D flat major, but more harmonic maneuvering and a series of punctuated chords lands us back to the home key. But just as we are beginning to ponder the meaning behind this deeply expressive utterance, this opening phrase is suddenly transformed into the main theme of the Allegro. The minor key is now major, the deliberate pace has now become sprightly, but the melody itself remains otherwise unchanged. The melody is so simple, and yet lends itself perfectly to melodic, harmonic and rhythmic manipulation, and Haydn takes full advantage. The exposition is handled with the great master’s consummate skill and its many contrasts and energetic optimism give it an irresistible confidence and strength. The development intensifies the music and introduces an agitated contrapuntal texture. In the recapitulation Haydn rearranges the music in a delightfully imaginative way and the final cadence does not disappoint.

In gratitude to the Englishmen who had so heartily welcomed him as one of their own, the second movement opens with two phrases that are remarkably similar to “God Save the King,” yet still form the basis of the opening music. The listener will also notice an uncharacteristic Mozartean sound in this movement. Haydn learned of the death of his dear friend only a short time before beginning this symphony, and Haydn here pays homage to the one he considered the greatest composer of his age. But Mozart’s spirit never decisively pervades the proceedings; Haydn was too strong a personality for that to happen. But it is nonetheless still strongly felt in passages that bring to mind the younger composer’s own Requiem, and his ever-popular Jupiter Symphony. The music is stately, yet it is poignant and deeply moving. There is much more here of Haydn’s heart than Mozart’s shadow.

The Minuet is vigorous and hearty. Though the conventions of the form are followed, the music goes beyond custom with its bold tuttis and compelling manner. The trio is delightfully engaging.

The finale contains a brisk energy and zest for life that are rare even for Haydn. The music is playful and the suggestion of anything more serious is hardly entertained except for a brief excursion into the minor key in the development section. But Haydn also had a couple of surprises. The exposition ends with a sudden silence, which is finally broken when the Concertmaster takes up a solo, backed by a light, bouncy accompaniment in the strings. As Salomon was not only a promoter, but also the Concertmaster of the orchestra that introduced this symphony, the gesture was an in-joke, but also a way to say thank you for introducing Haydn to the English public. Haydn, though, leaves his best ideas for the end of the movement. Just at the point where one would expect the music to intensify and lead gracefully into the big finish, everything suddenly slows down. It is not until a sudden barrage of sixteenth notes burst in leading to a frenzy of high spirits that we see Haydn was only slowing down so he could quickly heat things up. One final gesture appears in the movement’s coda. As a matter of course, Haydn would have performed the continuo keyboard part that was still a matter of tradition at the time. In many cases this would have been played on a harpsichord. In the case of this performance, the instrument played was an English piano, upon which Haydn, in the last measures of the piece, surprised his audience by providing a little solo. The gesture practically caused a riot of joyful adulation. The movement was immediately encored.