Great Works: Haydn’s Creation
Did Michelangelo depict the brain on the Sistine Chapel ceiling?
Why are we here?
This is the central question at the heart of our existence. Look closely at the great achievements in any field of human endeavour, whether in literature, architecture, science, or exploration from the age of sail to the stars. It’s probably the root cause of many of our ‘crises’, be they mid-life, quarter-life, or just life. We know our time is short. We find all manner of ways (often tragically unhelpful) to distract ourselves from the question.
We don’t have long at all to embark on the things we want to achieve, and often the world can seem like it’s so filled with darkness that the whole project might be deemed inadequate.
As a parent, I’ve heard words to the extent of ‘I wouldn’t want to bring a child into today’s world’ more times than can be considered polite. Birth rates, as one tiny thread on the tapestry, reflect this anecdote on a societal level. We’ve lost our confidence in ourselves.
Enter Haydn.
Joseph Haydn (1732 - 1809)
The Enlightenment genius who mentored both Mozart and Beethoven.
The Creation (1798) was written when the fate of the world was about to be decided in a state of total war. The epoch we call the Napoleonic Wars saw millions of people killed, injured, and displaced. Peoples motivated by grand, but often, as we typically discover too late, fatally flawed ideas about what it is to be human. The eternal lesson, to paraphrase Friedrich Schiller - ‘Be of your century, but not it’s creature.’
It is easiest of all in troubled times to dismiss our human endeavour as something akin to a cancer on the planet. We see this manifest in all sorts of ideas today.
Not for Haydn.
He began writing the work at age 64. Hardly a youngster by the standards of the day. Bright. Tremendously energetic. Fiercely cheerful. Written, as the composer himself stated, to provide respite to the weary for a few hours in turbulent times. The Creation is his expression of confidence that despite the trials of the day, our endeavours are not only worthwhile, but good.
Beginning with an orchestral ‘Representation of Chaos’, the first six days of Creation according to Genesis are described vividly through playful orchestration. Part Three is devoted to the youthful innocence of Adam and Eve, with strong echoes of Milton’s Paradise Lost.
It’s a testament to his mastery of musical form, capturing the vastness of the universe, and the intimacy of human experience.
We as a species are constantly trying to make sense of the world around us, in endlessly creative ways. It doesn't matter where you are on the spectrum of this question: whether you are Richard Dawkins or Bishop Robert Barron (hello to both of you reading this). The truly beautiful things transcend the virtues of their own day because they speak to the central cause of our purpose.
We are always in troubled times. Civilisation is a cycle of rebirths; its Great Works are contributions to our collective faculty. We are constantly rediscovering them.
At its core, The Creation is a celebration of the natural world and human existence. From the grandeur of the heavens to the beauty of Earth, Haydn’s music invites you to reflect on the wonders of our world. It’s a timely reminder of our connection to the universe and the good that surrounds us.
Our lives are short little things; we owe it to ourselves to find the things we love. One of the ways we do that is by looking at the things other people have loved. That is what culture is; it’s the residue of things other people thought were worth preserving.
Creation’s breathtaking vocal solos, romantic (often cheeky) duets, and choruses showcase some of the most beautiful and powerful music Haydn ever wrote.
Haydn’s hometown of Vienna being bombarded by Napoleon’s forces in 1809. Napoleon stationed an honour guard outside Haydn’s house, and the ailing composer was deeply moved when a French hussar officer sang an aria from The Creation (he probably had singing lessons). Haydn passed away peacefully on May 31 and was buried two days later.
If artworks and architecture allow us to see the sights our ancestors saw, and literature how they thought, then music is like time travel.
Imagine travelling swiftly by carriage through Paris just after 8 pm on Christmas Eve, 1800, to see this new oratorio by Haydn. You pass a barrel atop a cart, with a suspiciously long piece of rope that appears to be sparking. Seconds later, an explosion so large it damages no less than forty-six houses happens, killing five people and injuring twenty-six more.
Napoleon Bonaparte, First Consul of France, was saved only by the speed of his driver, Cesar, and the excessive length of the fuse. The course of world history changed.
When Josephine arrived later at the opera house, Napoleon was seated, calm, and composed.
‘Josephine, those rascals tried to blow me up’ he said, peering through his opera glasses at the audience. They cheered him when news of the terror plot, (later known as The Machine Infernale) reached the theatre during the interval.
I wouldn’t want to miss a performance of The Creation either.
You can catch me conducting this great work with Richmond Choral Society on Saturday 5th April 2025. Tickets are available HERE.
Up for a challenge? Consider joining the choir!