Pioneering Haydn On Record
by Christopher Howell

An occasional series dedicated to commercial and live recordings of Haydn symphonies up to and including those of the first two complete cycles by Ernst Märzendorfer and Antal Dorati

Symphony no. 52 in C minor Hob. I/52 (1771 or 1772)

Symphony no. 52 is another minor key symphony that remains firmly in the minor key to the bitter end. The second subject of the first movement is in the relative major, as the rules require, but unlike, for example, Symphony no. 83, it is transformed into the minor key in the recapitulation. Likewise, the minuet and the finale maintain the minor key. The long-breathed second movement is in C major, but with muted strings it has more of sighs than of radiant hope. It struck me as a doleful transformation of the Viennese song “O du lieber Augustin”, but I find that the song in question was published many years later. The minuet is a bleak essay, almost entirely in unharmonized two-part writing. The trio attempts smiling grace, but is interrupted by jabbing sforzatos. Much of the finale is likewise spare. A move towards a more euphoric E flat major, with rushing strings, is forcefully negated when the same music returns in the minor key to conclude the symphony.

The first recording of this symphony seems to have been set down in February 1952 by the Vienna State Opera Orchestra under Anton Heiller (Haydn Society HSLP 1039). Heiller presents the first movement with a purposeful stride and flashing energy in every quaver. There is strong contrast with the second subject – a forcefully dramatic account. First repeat only. His second movement is quite swift, almost with the elegance of a slow minuet – an Andante in 3/8 should arguably have something of a one-in-a-bar feeling. I could prefer Newstone’s gentle songfulness here (see below), though Heiller makes more of the forte outbursts. Again, maximum contrast seems his aim. Neither repeat is played. In the minuet, a certain spikiness to the playing underlines the strangeness of the music. His finale is vigorous without pressing too hard. First repeat only.

Harry Newstone’s Oiseau Lyre recording (1959, OLS 6004)[1], with his Haydn Orchestra, is forceful in the first movement without ranting, maintaining a balance between protest and stoic resignation. I only queried if the second subject was enunciated sufficiently clearly. First repeat only. His second movement is expressed with great tenderness and restraint, with no straying into a later romantic age. No repeats. I have been (or will be) critical of some of Newstone’s minuets, but this seems spot on, capturing exactly its doleful cadence, without recourse to Heiller’s spikiness. His finale is not dissimilar to Heiller’s – there is little to choose between them. First repeat only. Newstone makes no attempt to find pre-echoes of Beethoven – Haydn in C minor can be a temptation – and you will find the performance underpowered only if you insist on such an approach. Much as I enjoyed this, I think Heiller found a little more in the music, though I shall value Newstone for his heartfelt Andante.

Max Goberman’s recording was set down some time between 1960 and 1962 (HS 165), also with the Vienna State Opera Orchestra. His first movement follows the path of Heiller’s with even greater grim-faced striding and contrast between the different material – the second subject is shaped very gracefully. The opening page is shaped with considerable imagination. First repeat only. His second movement is slower even than Newstone’s, yet the mood is closer to Heiller’s slow minuet. This time, I think Heiller invests the dramatic passages with more force – I should say his faster tempo makes this easier. No repeats – with both repeats, the movement would last more than a quarter of an hour at this tempo[2]. Goberman’s Menuetto seems to avoid the minuet cadence in order to express the strangeness of the music. While hardly dodecaphonic, the upper and lower strings between them have played ten of the twelve notes of the chromatic scale by the end of the fifth bar. There is some lovely pastoral playing from the wind in the trio. In the finale, Goberman’s quest for maximum contrast leads him astray. There is a reined-in feeling to the many piano passages, then when the forte breaks out he lets rip with an increase of tempo. Both Newstone and Heiller have demonstrated that this is not necessary. I did enjoy Goberman’s high horns, though.

David Blum set down his account with the Esterhazy Orchestra on 3 November 1962 (Vanguard VSD 2143). It is clear from the outset that he believes in extreme manipulation of the dynamics. The first movement opens with a three-bar motif hammered out in octaves by the strings. Haydn simply marks it forte. Blum drops to a sudden piano at the beginning of the second bar, then makes a steep crescendo over bars two and three. While I appreciate that he has thought deeply about every single phrase, the result is that, in spite of his rhythmic drive at a brisk tempo, the music becomes fragmented. I was simply wondering what he was going to do next. His second movement has a tempo similar to Heiller’s, but again, the conductor’s interventionist dynamics are distracting. In the minuet, he puts such accents on the upbeats that, rather than creating a Viennese lilt, the listener without a score will wonder where the first beat of the bar comes. He slackens the tempo for the trio, an unusual procedure for a specialist in this music. I rather liked it at first, but after a time the exaggerated sforzatos came to sound effete. The best movement here is the finale. The dynamic manipulations affect the forward flow less in the piano passages and I must say the forte parts rage vividly at a very swift tempo. First repeat in the first movement, none in the second, both in the finale.

How much more effective is the first movement when delivered bluntly, with no manipulated dynamics, and a Beethovenian drive, as Märzendorfer does. He is also adept in enunciating the second subject clearly. This is magnificent, just that. His second movement has a tempo similar to Goberman’s, but I feel he brings it off better. He gives it the elegance of a slowed-down minuet, but also the songfulness of Newstone. There is a sense of smiling through tears. There is a real lilt to his minuet, which has you nodding to the rhythm while noting the harmonic oddities all the more. He slackens pace very slightly for the trio, but what a lovely Viennese lilt there is to it. The finale is delivered with concentrated, unaffected drive. Like Goberman, he uses high horns. They are especially effective in this movement. A truly splendid performance. First repeats in the outer movements, none in the second.

Dorati avoids Beethovenian emphasis in the first movement, keeping things within a strictly 18^th century scale. Within its terms, this equable reading works well. More objectionable, though, is his dawdling in second subject territory – the music loses what head of steam it has built up. His second movement moves a little more than Goberman’s or Märzendorfer’s and he concentrates on a tiptoe, balletic lightness. He does, though, integrate very well the forte passages. His minuet is on the slow side, though it has poise. I began by enjoying it, but as the music went on I tired of so many drooping phrases, something that did not happen in the best of the performances heard previously. I reacted similarly to the trio. The finale spins along with tremendous verve at a real Presto. The syncopations are well pointed and the forte passages are sizzling, while retaining a certain lightness of touch. First repeats in the outer movements, none in the second.

Three live/radio performances seemed worth investigating. The first is by Harry Blech and the London Mozart Players, dating from 2 February 1956 and included in the Cameo/Itter collection[3]. He is robust and full-textured in the first movement, rather than deliberately dramatic. It as if he sees this symphony as a precursor of Schubert’s C minor rather than Beethoven’s. There is a graciousness to his phrasing of the second subject that I have not heard in other versions. His second movement is theoretically very slow, but I only realized how slow when I saw the timing. Rather than tiptoe around, Blech is warm and generous in his phrasing, with longer staccatos than the others. There is the feeling of a typical Schubertian ambling walk, and Schubertian songfulness too. His minuet is a swift, one-in-the bar lilt, the harmonic oddities grasped with a twinkling eye. His finale is a dashing affair. Was it his idea or that of an old edition to make a big ritardando before the final pay-off? The impression is that, for Blech, Haydn’s minor key has an underlying humour behind it, and this ending makes it all clear. I do not know if I should rate this, like Blech’s no. 49, a guilty pleasure, but I loved every moment of it. No repeats in the first two movements, first repeat in the finale.

Hans Rosbaud was a contemporary music advocate whose inquiring mind also led him to seek out neglected corners of earlier music. His performance of this symphony is contained in a set issued by the SDR containing all the Haydn symphonies he gave during his conductorship of the South West German Radio Symphony Orchestra. There is only a generic dating of 1952-1962. With fairly deliberate tempi in the outer movements, he relates the music to furrow-browed Beethoven, obtaining much fiery conviction from his players. The second subjects are clearly and neatly shaped without, perhaps, any great warmth. His second movement adopts the slow minuet manner, without attempting either the elegance of several rivals or the warmth of Blech. Like Blech, he treats the minuet one-in-a-bar, but with a Beethovenian severity. While I am glad to have heard this performance, I did not especially warm to it. My problem, maybe. First repeats in the outer movements, none in the second.

Another conductor with an inquiring mind and a large repertoire was Erich Leinsdorf, who opened a Boston Symphony Orchestra concert on 16 February 1963 with this work – its Boston première. In three movements, his approach is very similar to Rosbaud’s, with relatively broad tempi (though the timings show he is actually faster), plenty of energy and a stern Beethovenian frown. However, in second subject territory, he finds more grace in the music, so the effect is less one-sided. Likewise in the second movement, there is more warmth and generosity to the phrasing while maintaining the feeling of a slow minuet. Where he differs from all others discussed here is in the minuet, where he adopts a very legato approach, with long phrases. I liked this as much, in its way, as the interpretations by Märzendorfer and Blech (themselves very different). First repeat in the first movement, none in the second, both in the finale.

My vote out of these would go to Märzendorfer, with Blech as a guilty pleasure. But I am sure I shall return, at the very least, to Heiller and Newstone.

© Christopher Howell 2026

[1] I gave a brief outline of this conductor and orchestra in my article on Symphony 34

[2] As in other articles, I should point out that Goberman almost certainly did make these repeats, though they were removed for the LP issue.

[3] I gave a brief outline of this conductor and orchestra in my article on Symphony 49