In this concert, Schiff conducts the OAE in two symphonies, Nos. 39 and 102 plus the rare Sinfonia Concertante, and plays the best-known of the composer’s keyboard concertos, No. 11. ‘Of the two symphonies, No. 39 is a typical ‘Sturm und Drang’ composition in the dramatic key of G minor,’ he says, referencing the intense, deep-feeling 18th-century style nicknamed ‘storm and stress’ of which Haydn was a leading exponent. ‘Its beginning reminds me of Mozart’s G minor String Quintet. I wonder if Mozart knew it.’

In his late fifties, considering himself retired, Haydn was invited to London by Johann Peter Salomon. After his long employment as a court Kapellmeister in livery, he was astonished to find himself treated instead as a celebrity. One result was his last collection of symphonies, including No. 102. ‘Of the “London” set, No.102 is one of my favourites and is seldom performed,’ Schiff says. ‘Its second movement was originally in F sharp major as the slow movement of a piano trio in F sharp minor, which I have played a lot. Here it is transposed a semitone down into F major.’

London in 1792 was also the scene of the world premiere of the Sinfonia Concertante, with its unusual solo group of oboe, bassoon, violin and cello. The press heaped it with praise, the London Morning Herald declaring: ‘A new concertante from Haydn combined with all the excellencies of music; it was profound, airy, affecting and original, and the performance was in unison with the merit of the composition. Salomon [who was the violin soloist] particularly exerted himself on this occasion, in doing justice to the music of his friend Haydn.’

The violin was Haydn’s own chief instrument; when he played string quartets with Mozart, he would have led the group, with the younger composer on the viola. Still, he wrote just as prolifically for the keyboard. ‘Haydn wasn’t a virtuoso pianist – he was more a string player,’ Schiff says, ‘but I would have loved to have heard him play. I am sure it was very beautiful and highly interesting.’

For tonight’s concerto, Schiff plays a copy of an Anton Walther fortepiano, made by Christoph Kern. Why this instrument? ‘Because it matches the strings of the orchestra,’ he says. ‘Walther was one of the pre-eminent piano makers of the time in Vienna, so it is an ideal choice. An original Walther would be even better, but touring around with it is virtually impossible.’ 

Few of Haydn’s keyboard concerti are standard concert fare, but this work is the exception. ‘It is by far the best and the only one that’s regularly performed,’ Schiff says. ‘It’s a sunny composition with some melancholy elements. The Hungarian finale is quite irresistible.’ 

Schiff’s own Hungarian origins may arguably lend him an extra affinity with this element of the music – but there is more to it than that. ‘I always adored Haydn, but not many people played it at the Liszt Academy in Budapest,’ he remembers. ‘There was much more Liszt!’ His aversion to that composer is well known: ‘I was the only one who tried to avoid the latter.’

The music Haydn considered ‘Hungarian’, however, came chiefly from the local ‘Gypsy’ musicians he would have heard during his time as Kapellmeister to the Esterházy princes. ‘Haydn spent many years on the Esterházy estate in Eisenstadt and on the Hungarian side in Fertőd. He must have heard a lot of “Gypsy” music in weddings and other celebrations, or simply at the local inns,’ Schiff says. ‘This music is not particularly “Hungarian” – in the sense of the folk songs that Bartók and Kodály later collected – but Haydn associated it with Hungary, so he wrote these movements “alla Ongherese” or “Ungherese”, like the finale of this concerto, or that of the G major Piano Trio.’ 

Of the various influences that helped to shape Schiff’s approach to Haydn, one crucial figure is also Hungarian: the great violinist and conductor Sándor Végh, with whom Schiff also recorded a cycle of the Mozart piano concertos. ‘He was a marvellous musician and he understood Haydn like few others had,’ he relates. ‘Mainly it was because of his string quartet background, but also because of his own nature that was so similar to Haydn’s.  

How would Schiff describe the chief challenges of performing Haydn? ‘His instrumental music is not particularly “difficult”, as far as technical difficulties are concerned – although there are exceptions, like the first violin parts of certain string quartets. He was a practical man, in the best sense of the word. He wanted his music to be playable and enjoyable. “The whole world understands my music,” he said. Well, wishful thinking… The difficulties are elsewhere. You have to be naturally musical, imaginative and courageous.’  

There is no such thing, he reflects, as a Haydn performing tradition, unlike the worlds of Mozart and Beethoven. ‘Many of the works are virtually unknown, even today. This is certainly a challenge for the performer, but it is also a liberation. You can just open a score and start from scratch, without the burden of tradition. Yes, there are recordings of the symphonies, the piano sonatas, the string quartets – even some good ones – but not that many.  

‘You have to know this style and how to read the scores. In the symphonies there are often passages of endless semiquavers without any articulation marks. Here the performer has to provide varied articulation and phrasing. It comes naturally if you know the language, but for those who don’t, it can be very difficult.’ 

Haydn’s music overflows with human and humane qualities: Schiff points to ‘simplicity, wisdom, a wonderful sense of proportion, drama and tenderness, as well as his extreme economy: his works are exactly as long as necessary. And what compositional mastery! He has polyphony and counterpoint in his fingertips, and his fugues in the Masses are masterful.’  

Perhaps most challenging of all is the quality for which Haydn is most famous: humour. ‘He is an unsurpassed master in this field – his pupil Beethoven comes close. It’s a very sophisticated kind of humour, based on expectations and surprises. Not like the one in the “Surprise” Symphony, which is rather like a rude joke. 

‘Even the best joke needs to be told well, otherwise nobody laughs and that is embarrassing! Generally it’s much easier to make people cry than to bring them to laughter. 

Humour is a deeply serious matter. Even in The Creation there are very funny moments and this is really not a comic work.’ 

To celebrate this music together with Schiff and the musicians of the OAE might just make us fall in love with Haydn all over again. ‘Haydn’s spirit, his joie de vivre, his deep humanity make him one of the greatest composers of history,’ Schiff says, ‘every bit as good as Mozart and Beethoven. If I could have wished for a composition teacher, it should have been Haydn.  

‘The young Beethoven disagreed,’ he adds wryly, ‘but he later admitted his error.’