Chen Xueyuan - Joseph Haydn: 16 Early Keyboard Sonatas (Hob. XVI: 1-16) (2024)

In comparison with the life of some of his contemporaries, he also lived a very regular and unspectacular life. He was not primarily known for his operatic output, and this safeguarded him from the hectic, at times crazy, and certainly gossipy (but also fascinating) world of opera. Most of his career took place in the relatively safe and secluded context of a very special court, that of the Esterházy princes. It was by no means a provincial or minor court; but it was a very refined environment, where culture and art were more prized than outward display and extreme mundanity.
And this may be the cause, perhaps, why some of Haydn’s masterpieces are not as frequently performed as they would deserve. Different from Mozart’s Operas or Piano Concertos, they had not been conceived as “showpieces”. Mozart’s operas had to be spectacular; they had to be found engaging by as many listeners as possible, otherwise they would have fallen after a couple of soirées. And if Mozart’s concertos had not been written so as to display his skill as both a composer and a great piano virtuoso, their very raison d’être would have disappeared. Many of Haydn’s works, instead, were conceived with the purpose of pleasing a restricted number of connoisseurs rather than the masses of the Viennese concertgoers. It is fitting, therefore, even though slight saddening, that these and similar works are not everybody’s cup of tea, and that their appreciation is confined to a relatively small audience.
On other occasions, what limits the dissemination of Haydn’s works is their intended readership. In fact, besides the theatre/concert hall where Mozart’s masterpieces were performed, and besides the private hall where Esterházy’s court assisted to the performance of Haydn’s symphonies, there were many more outlets for music-making and listening in the eighteenth century. Music was still a markedly social activity, in sharp contrast with today’s music consumption, which is pronouncedly individualistic. Many people from the bourgeoisie to the aristocracy could play, more or less accomplishedly, a music instrument. Their audience could be constituted, in many cases, just by their own family members, or by some close friends who visited and could enjoy some music. Many of them could afford private music lessons, but, not aiming at reaching a professional virtuoso’s level, they wanted a repertoire requiring limited technical skills and not too much practice, but which could grant them pleasant and enjoyable musical experiences.
This is the likely genesis of most, if not all, Sonatas recorded in this Da Vinci Classics CD. Even if they are today known by the same title (Keyboard or Piano Sonata) as those by, say, Mozart or Beethoven, firstly not all of them had this title originally (many were called “Partita” or “Divertimento”); secondly, their aim and scope cannot be compared with those by Haydn’s younger colleagues. Pieces written for pedagogical purposes or for the musical pleasure of amateurs have obviously different traits with respect to those whose aim was to open new paths in music history, frequently challenging even the most accomplished performers of their time.
Haydn’s early keyboard Sonatas are therefore small gems, where the composer manages to achieve the highest artistic result with the maximum economy of means. Easy, but not trivial; uncomplicated, but not simplistic; innovative, albeit not revolutionary; creative, within tradition.
But what tradition are we considering presently? It was the tradition of solo keyboard music of the generation which preceded Haydn, and, in particular, of some great musicians: to the North, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, one of Johann Sebastian’s children and the one who is best remembered for his keyboard output and for a seminal treatise on keyboard playing which cannot be ignored by anyone playing eighteenth-century keyboard music. To the south, by Georg Christoph Wagenseil, who was active in Vienna, and whom Haydn befriended. These composers both contributed substantially to the development of the keyboard Sonata, from the genre of the Baroque suite toward the Sonata form as will be practised in the Classical era. (It should be remembered that Haydn, considered as the “father” of both the classical Symphony and Quartet, would be in his mature years the true initiator and accomplisher of the Classical Sonata form).
The “northern” path to the Classical Sonata, as was practised by C. Ph. E. Bach, excised the dance component from the Baroque Suite; while the “southern” way was deeply influenced by the tradition of the Serenades, which included the presence of Minuets.
In fact, the name “Partita” by which some of these Sonatas were known is a reminder of their connection with the Baroque Suite, which was often labelled as such in turn; the name “Divertimento”, which is also applied to Haydn’s works, relates them more closely to the field of the Serenades and Cassations.
We have no reliable information as to what instrument might have been in Haydn’s mind when composing these works; it is likely that the clavichord would have been a good option, since its limited range of volume does not constitute a problem within an intimate setting, and, instead, its extraordinary timbral sensitivity highlights the nuances and shades of these delightful masterpieces. However, even though Haydn might have preferred this or that instrument for a particular Sonata, probably he was not against performing them with whatever keyboard instrument was at hand – and we may guess that he would not have objected to their performance on the modern piano too.
Sonata Hob. XVI/1 is of debated authenticity; it probably dates from about mid-century. Its simple, three-movement structure does not prevent it from displaying moments of fresh invention and delightful writing. Sonata Hob. XVI/2, in B-flat, is no. 1’s junior by some years (it might have been written in 1762). In a comparatively unusual fashion, the compulsory minuet is found as the last movement, after a brisk opening movement and a thoughtful slow movement. The third sonata is targeted for amateur players, and is roughly coeval with no. 2. Its authenticity cannot be doubted because it is supported by autograph sketches by the composer, who, furthermore, reworked its first movement for a chamber ensemble (trio) with baryton, a now almost forgotten string instrument which was all the fashion at Esterháza.
The same certitude as to Haydn’s authorship applies to the fourth Sonata. It is in just two movements, and it therefore begs the question whether originally there was a quick-tempo finale now lost, or it had always been intended in the form we now know. It is a pearl among the collection of Haydn’s early sonatas, thanks to the varied atmosphere it presents and to the unpredictability of its main theme’s articulation. By way of contrast, Sonata Hob. XVI/5 in A major is not unquestionably Haydn’s. It dates from about 1755, and it was published in London in 1790 with an added violin part under Pleyel’s authorship. True, Haydn in 1803 acknowledged his paternity of the work, but – surprisingly – not even this endorsement seems to satisfy the most expert Haydn scholars.
No such doubts have been raised as concerns no. 6, in G major, whose style confirms Haydn’s authorship, probably dating from the late 1750s. In 1767, three of its movements appeared as a trio for keyboard, violin, and bass. While Beethoven would keep writing four-movement keyboard Sonatas for many years, Haydn abandoned this particular form right after this piece. Of particular appeal are the two fermatas in its touching G-minor Adagio, where cadenzas should be improvised, thus requiring some creative accomplishment on the performer’s part. It is in fact one of the “Kenner-Sonatas”, so not intended for beginners. Sonata Hob. XVI/7 is one of the shortest Divertimentos by Haydn, written in 1766, and is full of imagination and fantasy. Sonata Hob. XVI/8 was published around 1790 by Cooper, but had been composed before 1766, and it is a perfect example of the gallant style. Sonata Hob. XVI/9 is also believed to have been written before 1766 (1758?), and its outer movement appear also in a Piano Trio (Hob. XV/39), while its Minuet is found in yet another Trio (Hob. XV/39). Sonata Hob. XVI/10 in C major is notable for the rich ornamentation of its first movement and refined treatment of the musical material. Sonata Hob. XVI/11, of 1767, opens with a brisk and fanciful Presto, joyfully exploring the keyboard with its pattern of semiquavers. Sonata Hob. XVI/12 is of debated authenticity but may be authentic, albeit written very early (about 1750-5). It is notable also for the unusual ordering of its movements. No such curiosity is found in Sonata Hob. XVI/13, which probably dates from the early 1760s, and which displays a gorgeous finale in the Sonata form and in a quick Presto: it is one of the most mature and forward-looking of these early sonatas. Similarly, also Sonata Hob. XVI/14 is dated to the beginning of the same decade, and has a closing Presto as its last movement. Its authenticity is beyond doubt as Haydn noted it personally among his own. Doubts are cast, instead, on Sonata Hob. XVI/15, which, in fact, can better be labelled as a transcription after Divertimento Hob. II/11.
The last Sonata recorded here is in one of Haydn’s favourite keys, E-flat major, and opens with a delightful and thoughtful Andante which puts into light the fanciful and capricious style of this Divertimento.
Together, these sixteen small gems constitute a beautiful exploration of Haydn’s creative fantasy and of his ability to create the most fascinating pieces out of a language which was rapidly evolving and frequently had to take into account the limitations of its intended recipients.the minor mode and chromaticism in the melodic lines.The quiet, mysterious ending of that minor-mode passage emphasizes, by way of contrast, the brilliance of the movement that follows, “Fecit potentiam”.
Always aware of the need for contrast, for musical chiaroscuro, Sarti found plenty of opportunity for novelty in “Suscepit Israel.” The choruses give way to solo soprano and alto. As in “Quia respexit” the galant style predominates, but here triple meter gives the music in sound of a tender, slow minuet. From the words “Sicut locutus” to the end of the Magnificat, Sarti’s setting unfolds in a series of connected movements, culminating with a great fugue (“Sicut erat in principio”). The two chorus first sing fugal expositions in alternation, but eventually produce a contrapuntal climax by singing in eight parts simultaneously.
Vocal soloists play an important role in this Gloria, whose aria-like movements for soli and the long orchestral introductions at the beginning of almost every number remind us of Sarti’s lifelong interest in the theater. The opening chorus in G major, with extensive writing for soloists, is a sonata-form movement laid out on a large scale. It will return, with different words, at the end of the Gloria. With “Laudamus te” begins the succession of solo numbers. A solo violin contributes a concertante part to the alto solo “Gratias agimus tibi,” in which Sarti gave both the vocal and instrumental soloists opportunity to perform cadences. The soprano returns as soloist in “Dominus Deus,” a very brilliantly orchestrated piece. Although Sarti did not divide this Gloria into two parts, the fugal chorus “Domine Fili” in effect marks the end of the first of two parts. Sarti must have had a fine tenor available when he wrote this Gloria. The tenor solo “Domine Deus, Agnus Dei” begins with a note sustained for four measures, demanding from the performer a good messa di voce. Sarti later gave his tenor opportunity to display his coloratura singing. In “Qui tollis peccata mundi,” the first movement in the minor mode, the alto soloist sings in alternation with
the chorus. This very short movement serves as a kind of introduction to the much longer soprano aria that follows, which–alone among the solo numbers in the Gloria– features the slow-fast structure very frequently encountered in late eighteenth-century opera arias. The soprano and alto soloists predominate near the beginning of the Gloria; the tenor and bass predominate near the end. Sarti made “Qui sedes” the tenor’s second solo; it is followed by the first and only bass solo, “Quoniam tu solus sanctus.”. A short slow passage in G minor serves as an introduction to the final movement, “Cum Sancto Spiritu,” which, as mentioned earlier, reuses the music of the first chorus. It thus brings to a satisfying conclusion a work in which Sarti explored a wide variety of vocal effects, tonalities, and instrumental sonorities in music that skillfully exploits conventions shared by theatrical and sacred music.
Chiara Bertoglio