Papa Haydn

There is a famous story about Haydn’s “Farewell” Symphony.  He and his orchestra were spending the summer, as usual, at the castle of Prince Esterházy, their employer, while their families remained in the town of Eisenstadt, the seat of the Prince’s domain.

During the summer of 1772 the Prince extended his stay, to the dismay of many of the players.  They turned to “Papa Haydn” for help.  And so Haydn conceived a typically ingenious and amusing idea.  During one of the Prince’s private entertainments, as the finale of Haydn’s new symphony unfolded, one by one the  musicians stood up, blew out the candles that illuminated their music, packed up their instruments, and quietly walked off stage, until only two violins, and an unruffled Haydn, were left.

The Prince took the hint, and the next day ordered his entourage back to Eisenstadt.

I’ve conducted and sung several of Franz Joseph Haydn’s works, and they invariably sparkle with good cheer, a sense of play, and irrepressible joy in music making.  In fact, his sacred music was sometimes criticized for its joviality.  His reply: “Since God has given me a cheerful heart, He will forgive me for serving him cheerfully.”

That sense of optimism can be heard everywhere in the piece MCE is working on right now, his Te Deum in C major.  Empress Marie Therese had been after him for years to compose a church piece for her, but Esterházy was reluctant to allow his celebrated composer to write for anyone other than himself.

However, Empresses have a way of prevailing!  The result is this sunny setting of the liturgical Te Deum laudamus text, first performed in September 1800 and conducted by Haydn himself.

This is no ethereal, overly pious rendition of “We praise Thee, O God,” but a full-throated shout of merriment.  There are only a few places in the entire 193-bar work where Haydn tempers the emotional level: the music becomes sweeter for about four bars as Christ’s humanity is touched upon; a ten-bar, slow moving C-minor section beseeches God’s aid; and a humble confession of sin and plea for mercy occupies eight bars.  But even here it feels as if chuckles are bubbling just below the surface.   And they just can’t be suppressed, for Haydn ramps it up again over a quick three bars, bursting into an effervescent, syncopated double fugue that asks God to “never let me be confounded” (non confundar in aeternum).  There seems little doubt that Haydn certainly expects God to answer that prayer!

He is having way too much fun with this music.  And, truth be told, so are we!

Haydn certainly had his problems and faults.  He hastily married while on the rebound from a love affair, he and his wife ultimately separated, and in his early years as Kapellmeister at the Esterházy court he could be assertive and blunt (what conductor isn’t from time to time!).  But he was also kind, modest, devout, possessed a roguish sense of humor, and was sincerely helpful to his fellow musicians.  He wasn’t called Papa Haydn for nothing!

Dr. Linda Gingrich

Artistic director and conductor

Master Chorus Eastside