The symphony which owes its “Clock" nickname to a figure that measures the staccato rhythm of its slow movement belongs to a series of 12 masterpieces known as “the London Symphonies.” Their significance is fundamental. They are compositions written for public concerts that gathered hundreds of listeners in spacious halls. This is why Haydn is not shy of loud effects of winds and timpani; these, in turn, require to be balanced by a rich instrumentation in strings. These symphonies sound completely different from those written for the court orchestra of the Esterházy. Even more importantly, they no longer contain simple forms. Each of their movements, not excluding the minuet, is shaped by means of sophisticated techniques, especially by thematic work and elaborate counterpoint. These techniques also belong to the sphere of harmony and rhythm, texture and colour. All this produces a more robust structure, one that can carry an increasing payload of expression. It has its weight in this symphony, too.
• A short introduction (Adagio) in D minor is food for thought. Its motives creeping up or down, its low registers and changing colours make us look with a different eye at the vivacious and vigorous Presto. This strong contrast of tempo awakens suspicions that the artist might have been in a hurry to dispel the dismal mood. Yet this movement, too, is dominated by octave runs in both directions, except that they now rush instead of creeping, and the consistent thematic work sows them all over the work, setting it all in constant motion.
• Movement Two (Andante) is a cycle of variations, unnumbered as always in Haydn, flowing one from the other. The “Clock” theme emanates peace at first, but its developments fan out in a very broad spectrum of moods. Tempestuous tutti precede and follow variations in flute, oboe, bassoon and violin, the measured ticking blends with demisemiquaver passages and series of punctuated rhythms, the theme sounds at times like a carillon, at times like a drinking song, colours change in a kaleidoscope. There is no trace of convention here; there is nothing here at all of the expected.
• Minuet (Allegretto) is no longer a dance, courtly or peasant. It is a sovereign genre that leads straight to the scherzo. Obviously, dancing elements are still there – a step motif ending in a stomp, a twirling motif – but both are developed in a symphonic way. The movement abounds in Haydn’s typical accent shifts resulting from whimsical changes of direction in the melody. It is especially audible in Trio, where the twirling melody in flute rises over a simple rhythm of bourdon in strings, only to collapse suddenly under the weight of an unexpected fortissimo of the entire orchestra, which, in the end, takes over the flute theme in celebratory tones. These are the above-mentioned effects calculated for performance by great ensembles in audience-filled halls. They will be inherited by Beethoven.
The finale (vivace) is based on a single theme introduced piano by strings and immediately developed in several long episodes filled with intensive motion. Thematic work does not stop; it transcends by far the limits of the development, itself characteristic in its D minor key, and makes use of fugue technique (the beginning of the recapitulation). At the same time, the finale does not leave the impression of sophistication – it is a true emanation of fantasy and creative force, convincing in its admirable mastery.
Maciej Negrey
