Caught Off Guard by Haydn's Symphony No 94 in G major, Hob. I:94 "Surprise"
The Backstory

Symphony No. 94 in G major, Hob. I:94

Haydn presenting the backstory of his Symphony No 94 in G major, Hob. I:94 "Surprise"
I'm Joseph Haydn, and this is the backstory of my Symphony No 94 in G major, Hob. I:94 "Surprise". You'll learn how a prince's death in 1790 sent me, at 58, across the sea to England, and why that journey is the reason this symphony exists. On this site my fellow composers and I teach you to recognize our music as soon as it plays, so please  give the Trainer a go .
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A Prince Passes Away, and I Get a Free Calendar

Prince Nikolaus Esterházy died in 1790, and with him went the life I had known for so long. His son Anton dismissed most of the court musicians, but he kept me on a reduced salary. Best of all, he let me travel, which was a gift I hadn't known I was waiting for. Suddenly a composer who had spent his career serving one household had the whole map open in front of him.

A Man Named Salomon Knocks on the Door

The impresario Johann Peter Salomon was the one who brought me to London. We left Vienna on 15 December 1790, and we crossed the Channel on New Year's Day 1791. I was 58 years old, and it was my first time crossing the sea. Starting the year on a boat is one way to make sure a resolution sticks.

Twelve Symphonies and One Small Mystery

My Symphony No 94 belongs to a group of twelve, the London symphonies, which are numbered 93 to 104 and are sometimes called the Salomon symphonies. I wrote it in 1791, the year of my first visit, but where I actually put the notes on paper is something the sources disagree about, with some saying London and others saying Vienna. Nobody can say for certain, so I'll leave you with the question mark. What is clear is that Nos. 93 and 94 were finished before the concerts of 1791, yet only Nos. 95 and 96 were played that year, so the "Surprise" had to wait its turn.

A Former Pupil Gets Under My Skin

The story goes that I had a very human reason for wanting this symphony to stand out. I reportedly said I wanted to surprise the public with something new and make a brilliant debut, so that my former pupil Pleyel would not outdo me. It's a modest sort of vanity, and I think a teacher may be forgiven for it. That is how the remark has come down to us, anyway, and it fits the music rather well.

Opening Night at the Hanover Square Rooms

The first performance took place on 23 March 1792 at the Hanover Square Rooms in London, as part of Salomon's concert. I led the orchestra from the fortepiano, which means I sat at the keyboard and guided the players from there instead of standing in front of them. The audience received the symphony warmly, and it became the sensation of the season. After a long wait since I'd arrived, that was a very pleasant way to be introduced to London.

Four Courses, Served in Order

A symphony is divided into movements, which are a bit like the courses of a dinner: each has its own character, and there's a short pause before the next one arrives. The first movement begins with a slow, singing Adagio cantabile and then moves into a lively Vivace assai. The second is the Andante, a simple theme followed by variations, and the third is the Menuetto, marked Allegro molto, a very fast dance with a rustic, oompah accompaniment. The fourth is the Finale, which brings the whole symphony to a energetic close.

Nobody Was Asleep, I Promise

You may have heard that I wrote the loud chord to wake up listeners who had dozed off. I denied it, and I called it a good story but not exactly true. I didn't invent the nickname "Surprise" either, and the sources don't tell us who did. In Germany the symphony is known as "mit dem Paukenschlag", which means "with the kettledrum stroke".

The Sneaky Second Surprise

Most people stop talking about the symphony after the Andante, but I saved something for the end as well. The Finale is in sonata rondo form, which simply means that a main tune keeps coming back, and its opening bars return right in the middle of the development section. Then in the stirring coda I put the timpani in front, and a timpani roll pushes the music into E flat. It's a sudden step sideways, like finding that the staircase has one more stair than you expected.

What the Critics Made of It

The reviewers responded strongly, and they had plenty to say. The Oracle compared the surprise to a shepherdess being startled by a gunshot. The Morning Herald was kinder to the craft behind it, and praised the simple subject for being "extended to vast complication". I was pleased with both, because I had hoped to be enjoyed by people who wanted a good tune and by people who wanted to see what I could do with it.

The Tune That Wouldn't Stay Home

I was fond of that Andante theme, so in 1801 I used it again in an aria in The Seasons, where a plowman whistles it as he works. Other composers couldn't leave it alone either, and in 1909 Charles Ives wrote a parody of the Andante. Later, Donald Swann made a version with extra surprises for the Hoffnung Music Festival, which proves that one surprise was never going to be enough for everyone. I'm happy that a quiet little tune from London is still being whistled, borrowed and teased more than two centuries later.
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Looking back, it still amazes me how much happened between the death of a prince in 1790 and a concert hall full of London listeners in 1792. Did you enjoy hearing the story behind my Symphony No 94 in G major, Hob. I:94 "Surprise"? I hope it gave you a little of the curiosity I felt when I stepped off that boat at the age of 58, ready for a new life in a new city. The symphony became the sensation of the season, and I'm still touched that a simple tune and one loud chord could be remembered for so long. I even liked the tune well enough to bring it back in The Seasons in 1801, where a plowman whistles it as he works. There is still more to discover in this symphony, and I've only touched on a few of its corners. The slow introduction, the quick and rustic minuet, and the finale with its own surprise in the timpani all have stories of their own. If you'd like to hear them for yourself, please click on the links below to explore the symphony further. Listen closely, and I think you'll find that the quiet moments are as much fun as the loud one.