As I prepare to lead the student orchestra at Chautauqua through our first read of Haydn’s 95th symphony tomorrow, I’m reflecting on two things. The first of these is what I’d dare describe as the misguided judgment that has led a few corners of music criticism to give the piece a bad rap. These harsh critics are frankly few and far between: the vast majority of the symphony’s reception that one can dig up is positively rapturous about the depth and charm of the work. But there are detractors. The LA Phil’s online program note for the piece claims that “the extravagantly experienced composer seems not prepared in this work’s first movement to emulate the corresponding movement of his own earlier symphony in C minor, No. 52.” Audiences in London at the work’s 1791 premiere, too, were enthused but not universally overcome with wonder.
What these detractors miss—in the latter case, necessarily so—is the remarkable premonition that this first movement represents. The C minor movement anticipates the dramatics and characters of some of Beethoven’s pivotal C minor works to come, including his 5th symphony. The opening five notes are a firebrand, a stamp of something indignant and akin to Beethoven’s fate motive. The ensuing lamenting motive that rounds out the primary thematic idea is not just a contrast to the indignant stamp, but filled with weight, seriousness, heaviness, darkness, and a sense of being lost. It’s as if another person, or a group (to which we belong), is tasked with processing the implications of the opening motive. Us vs. them, good vs. evil. This kind of socialized and moralized hermeneutic was not an established element of the symphonic language in 1791, and wouldn’t be on everyone’s radar until works like Beethoven’s 3rd and 5th—but it’s impossible not to project the very same kinds of narrative responses that Beethoven would later inspire and for which Beethoven is widely credited as introducing to symphonic music. So right from the opening, Haydn’s 95th seems to both revisit his Sturm und Drang language of days gone by and look forward to the intense personal narratives of the early Romantic symphonies. With its unique stylistic position, it’s hard to think of the work as anything other than a thrill.
I’m also reflecting on some of the particular challenges that Haydn’s symphonies present. With over a hundred symphonies, many of them churned out in compressed timelines (including the London sets from which the 95th comes), manuscript copies had to be prepared in record time and with record efficiency for performers’ use. As a result, there are an unusual amount of textual discrepancies that dramatically affect a conductor’s interpretation of the works. Take the tempo character of the first movement of the 95th, for example. Haydn’s autograph score lists “Allegro moderato” with the alla breve or “cut time” symbol, but several of the original copies and manuscript parts (usually made by Haydn’s aide Johann Elßler) simply list “Allegro” with the common time symbol. So, is it “Allegro moderato” in 2, or “Allegro” in 4? Well, according to the editor Robert von Zahn, it’s highly plausible that Haydn himself instructed Elßler or another copyist to make the adjustment for the manuscript copies and parts—or it could have been an oversight or overstep by the copyists. So a conductor must make a decision about what to believe. But even if we’ve decided, say, to go with the latter marking of “Allegro” in 4, what does it mean? Is it faster or slower than “Allegro moderato” in 2? “Allegro” implies something faster than “Allegro moderato,” but given the fact that the associated pulse is now the quarter note rather than the half note, the music might actually be slower.
Ultimately, one of the joys of conducting is that there may not always be right answers, but there are always good answers, and our job is to find them in a personal way. These two ideas that I’m reflecting on—the oft-missed depth and unique character of Haydn’s 95th and the ambiguous tempo of its first movement—ought to be woven together in a conductor’s problem-solving process. I am convinced that the manuscript copies’ marking of “Allegro” in 4 is the one to listen to, and that it indicates a faster tempo to the pulse (but a slower resultant tempo to the overall music). But I don’t think this because I have some secret information or I think that I’ve found the historiographical morsel that nobody else has, nor do I think that finding some hidden evidence like that should ever be the goal of score study. Instead, I think that the movement speaks in the way that it should, the way that can best open listeners’ ears to the marvels of Haydn’s depth and prescience, if we take the slower interpretation. I can’t promise that Haydn thought the same thing when making (or not making!) the tempo adjustment, but I can promise that we will give audiences the proper chance to see this work in its best light, and in doing so, we will be doing Haydn a great service.
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For one of my preferred recordings of Haydn’s 95th, click here
For a score, click here