Violin & Cello Concertos

Abstract

Composed between 1761 and 1765 for Joseph Weigl, a gifted cellist in Haydn's Esterházy orchestra, this concerto was presumed lost until 1961, when it turned up the National Museum in Prague among documents originally from Radenin Castle. High virtuosity is demanded of the cellist, as in the Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth symphonies (in which Haydn provided solos especially for Weigl). What Haydn did not provide are authenticated cadenzas for the first and second movements; cellists generally employ either anonymous eighteenth century cadenzas, or those prepared since 1961.

The first movement, marked Moderato, begins with a confident, courtly theme with dotted rhythms; in contrast, the second subject is softer and more sinuous, establishing a more lyrical mood. The mildly syncopated orchestral exposition ends with Lombardic rhythms at the conclusion of the orchestral introduction. When the cello enters and takes command of the themes, it launches the first theme with a resonant C major chord, eventually presenting each melody in an increasingly ornate manner. The development engages the cellist in intense passagework derived from the primary theme, while reappearances of the second subject allow the soloist to sing more expansively. Haydn works through the theme groups in sequence twice before reaching the cadenza and a brief coda derived from the movement's opening measures.

The Adagio dispenses with the orchestra's oboes and horns, leaving the soloist to emerge from the sound of the string orchestra with a long, powerfully expressive note. The noble, somewhat melancholic, first theme requires an especially strong tone from the cello, while its answering subject calls for double stops. The movement's shadowy middle section derives from a theme almost as austere as one from a Baroque church sonata, yet encourages the cellist to play with a warm, expressive tone. The third section is an abbreviated repetition of the first one.

Last comes an Allegro molto finale which pretty much follows the ritornello form found in many Vivaldi concertos. The orchestra establishes a fleet theme that recurs, as in a rondo, throughout the rest of the movement. As in the slow movement, almost every time the cello enters, it emerges from the orchestra with a single, long note; this time, however, the long note metamorphoses into a rapidly ascending C major scale. However, while expected to execute intricate high-register passagework which includes rapid scales, the cellist also has an opportunity to interpret melodic phrases of exceptional lyricism. Dating from 1783, this concerto not only brilliantly exploits the resources of the cello, using double-stops, octaves, and high-register passagework, but also rewards the listener with music of extraordinary beauty and elegance. Perhaps composed for Anton Kraft, the principal cellist at the Esterházy court during the 1780s, the concerto was even regarded as Kraft's work. However, the discovery, in 1951, of Haydn's autograph finally settled the issue of authorship.

A more relaxed work than Haydn's effervescent C major Cello Concerto, which was composed in the early 1760s, this concerto starts with a long, rich orchestral exposition, in which the principal themes of the first movement (Allegro moderato) are presented. The first theme introduces a mood of delightful repose which is slightly modified, but not interrupted, by the pleasing chromaticism of the second theme. When the soloist reiterates the first theme, adding beautiful, and technically demanding, ornamentation, the listener is able to enjoy the balanced, mellifluous interplay between the soloist and the orchestral accompaniment. Haydn's ritornellos are lengthy, particularly the second one, but critics who bemoan the length of this movement seem to ignore the sheer esthetic pleasure that Haydn's music, in concise or elaborate form, provides. While the development section imposes a variety of technical demands on the cellist, whose left hand literally races up and down the fingerboard, this part of the movement contains many passages of enchanting lyricism.

In the Adagio, which the soloist opens opens with an expansive, almost dreamy, theme, the feeling of tranquillity is maintained. Yet, as in the first movement, what the composer conveys to the listener is not languor, but a realization that intuitions of wisdom and beauty can, and sometimes must, be savored slowly, even if that offends the impatient listener. Reminiscent of a gentle, unassuming operatic aria, the main theme is presented three times, enabling the soloist to express the main musical idea in different manners. These reiterations of the theme maintain the flow, so to speak, of the musical discourse. Once the orchestra softly restates the opening tune, the cello indulges in a quiet cadenza and leads the orchestra into a brief coda.

The final Allegro is a rondo revolving around a bright pastoral tune of an almost childlike simplicity. The cello moves through the musical landscape with jaunty rhythms and intricate passagework. On its second entrance, the pastoral theme appears in a minor mode, which gives the soloist an opportunity to perform ascending arpeggio-like figurations leading to another cadenza. The main theme regains its sunny nature for a last appearance, which surrounds virtuosic passagework for the cello. However, there is more to this movement than a fanciful blend of pastoral motifs and flashy virtuosity: the technically involved elaborations of the theme reveal musical ideas and feelings of remarkable depth and intensity.