Symphony No. 101 in D (Clock)

It’s hard to have a grasp over all 104 symphonies by Haydn. Most commentaries select a few highlights from the early and middle numbers, but the final dozen—the so-called “London” Symphonies—offer a more unified set of exemplary quality. Their popular name points to their greatest shared attribute. Haydn wrote the twelve symphonies for two trips to London made between 1791 and 1795. English orchestras and audiences clearly stimulated his creativity, for they doted on Haydn’s ability to blend sublime grandeur with refreshing directness and good humor.
Symphony No. 101 in D Major, nicknamed “The Clock,” premiered in March 1794 to an extremely positive response. Several movements were encored more than once. The opening Allegro hinges on the succession between a dramatic Adagio introduction (in D minor and F major) followed by a boisterous, dance-inspired main theme (in a 6/8 meter and D major). During the central development section, Haydn builds up from a string trio texture toward a powerful burst from the full orchestra for the surprising arrival at C major, a distant key in relation to the work’s home key.
The second movement, marked Andante, is where the work’s nickname comes into play—specifically, from the “tick-tock” motive heard in bassoon, second violins, and celli. One might not expect this carefree mood to endure with Haydn, who loved to establish certain expectations and then strikingly undercut or reverse them. Sure enough, he makes a bold turn to forte G minor as the clock motive starts to wind down. Later, after a delightful reduced scoring for just winds and first violin, he inserts an even more unexpected departure: a move from G minor to E-flat major, which Haydn can only mitigate by inserting a full measure of silence. Closing material grows more animated by the moment, though the end result of all this building up is nothing more than a simple, punctuated cadence.
In the heavily formulaic Minuet, it is harder to find something quite so distinctive. Even the Trio section embedded in the middle, signaled by the rustic pedal tones in low strings, falls under the thematic pull of the Minuet itself. And yet, this too was one of the movements that audiences demanded to hear again and again. As mentioned earlier, it may have started life as a work for mechanical organ or been subsequently arranged for that musical device based on its strong reception in London. By contrast, the Vivace finale is arguably one of Haydn’s finest in the 48 movements written for the English capital. London audiences raved about his ability to achieve genuine musical surprise, such as the way in which the soft string quartet theme is rounded off by forte blasts from the full orchestra. The violin writing throughout the finale shimmers and is subtly varied, pausing to develop itself in Baroque counterpoint before sprinting to its conclusion.
The whole work exudes power and majesty balanced by the occasional intimacy of chamber music. Of course, Haydn could not have known it, but the “tick-tock” effect in the second movement would one day echo with the creation of another London landmark, Big Ben, in 1858.

(c) Jason Stell