Haydn, part 2

As the four-movement symphony model crystallized in the 1770s, the individual movements took on the familiar characteristics we associate with the late 18th century: the first movement an overture, the second an aria, the third a menuet, and the fourth a contredanse (after Leonard Ratner). Of these, the last was the least stable: only in the early to mid-1770s were the contredanses really danceable or recognizable to an audience as programmatic "portrayals" of the dance (I have written about this here: link; others who have written significantly about the two dance movements include Tilden Russell, Sarah Reichart, Wye Allanbrook, and Melanie Lowe). Apart from anomalies (such as fugal movements), by the 1780s finales as dance-finales are perhaps best characterized as overtures utilizing dance topics.

The menuet remained much closer to its dance model. Cast in virtually all instances as a dance with one trio, it was a miniature representation of the actual dance. As many writers have noted, however, the dance itself changed and the music changed with it. In the early part of the century, the menuet of the French court was a couple dance that was meant as a public display of skill and grace. After the death of Louis XIV, it gradually devolved into a perfunctory opening formality for the ball, where it was followed as soon as possible by the lively, very social intercourse of the contredanse, whose musics were almost always gavottes (duple) or jigs (triple).

In Germanophone areas, the formal menuet persisted, but it was joined by a hybrid type that was modeled on the region's "turning" dances (walzen = turning). Haydn was one of the first to exploit this opportunity, and it is no surprise, then, that the violinistic figures of the ländler should find their way into the symphony's third movement, including rising melodic gestures and cadences.

Yesterday we saw one instance of this in the menuet of Symphony no. 83 (1785). Today and in the following several days, we will explore the menuets of later symphonies. In Symphony no. 86 (composed in 1786), Haydn makes the rising gesture the main event, as the line connecting all three of the first strain's four-measure phrases shows (see below). Note that the steady progress from ^1 to ^5 (D5 to A5) is pushed "one step too far" to B5 before settling on A5 in the cadence. That bit of excessive energy has consequences in the reprise.

 As in the opening, the first two phrases of the reprise march upward from D5 to A5, then go through A#5 to B5 in the third phrase. This time, however, B5 drops to C#5-D5 for the cadence. The end result is a "circle" of sorts, from D5 back to itself, but by means of an octave's worth of a scale. This device of undercutting the rise from ^6 to ^7 is discussed in my JMT article and seems to be particularly characteristic of the later 18th century. To speculate: the conventions associated with the dominant Italian style (which we know better nowadays through research on the partimenti, evidence of methods of instruction) were so strong that Haydn felt an obligation to observe them in some situations, rather than take full advantage of the rising cadence gesture. In any case, the leap downward from a subdominant to the leading tone is very expressive in and of itself.

The coda that follows involves some play on the figures we have just heard. The humorous subversion of D5 through C5 (at the fermata) leads the line (fortissimo!) back down to ^5, but then the original cadence is repeated to end, now with a final flourish that gives us ^7 and ^8 in their "correct" register, as C#6 and D6.

Information on French dance practices after the death of Louis XIV came from Richard Semmens, The Bals Publics at The Paris Opera (1716-1763) (Pendragon Press, 2004).