Choruses and quasars

Choruses and quasars

Joseph Haydn and William Herschel

Originally published 4 December 1989

Ear­ly morn­ing. Cof­fee sim­mer­ing. Down­stairs the fur­nace squeaks and rum­bles to life, like the tun­ing-up of a dis­tant orches­tra. I set­tle in an easy chair to read three news sto­ries about the begin­ning of the world. On the stereo, Joseph Hayd­n’s Cre­ation ora­to­rio.

Silence. Then, a chord, C‑minor, som­bre, out of nowhere. Fol­lowed by frag­ments of music. Clar­inet. Oboe. A trum­pet note. A stroke of tim­pani. Chaos. The hushed cho­rus sings, “And the Spir­it of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light.” Then, the voic­es whis­per­ing, “And there was light.”

A sun­burst! A bril­liant for­tis­si­mo C‑major chord. Radi­ant. Dis­pelling darkness.

News story No. 1

A robot satel­lite is boost­ed into orbit on a Delta rock­et from Van­den­berg Air Force Base in Cal­i­for­nia. The Cos­mic Back­ground Explor­er (COBE) con­tains the most sen­si­tive detec­tors ever flown on a space mis­sion. The $250 mil­lion robot will scan the sky in search of rem­nant radi­a­tion of the Big Bang, the blaze of light which accom­pa­nied the birth of the uni­verse 15 bil­lion years ago. The light is now much cooled and red­dened by the out­ward rush of the uni­verse. To mea­sure it accu­rate­ly and dis­tin­guish it from radi­a­tion from oth­er sources requires an array of state-of-the-art instru­ments, some of them cooled with liq­uid heli­um to with­in 2 degrees Cel­sius of absolute zero.

The Vien­nese diplo­mat Baron Got­tfried van Swi­eten trans­lat­ed into Ger­man the Eng­lish text that Haydn had cho­sen for his libret­to. Van Swi­eten wrote (per­haps pre­sump­tu­ous­ly) in the mar­gin, “The cho­rus must sing ‘Let there be light’ once and only once.” The com­pos­er took his trans­la­tor’s advice, and the result is one of the most mov­ing moments in West­ern music: a whis­pered evo­ca­tion fol­lowed by a radi­ant blaze of sound.

Now a bright and lilt­ing melody takes up the sto­ry. Musi­cal themes coa­lesce from chaos. Dis­or­der falls away. The mood of the music changes from grim to gay, and the cho­rus sings a dance­like tune, “A new-cre­at­ed world springs up at God’s command.”

News story No. 2

Astronomers announce the dis­cov­ery of the old­est, most far­away object yet found in space, a quasar 14 bil­lion light years away. We see this object as it exist­ed only a bil­lion years after the begin­ning of the universe.

Quasars are intense light sources that are observed only far from Earth and there­fore at remote epochs of time. They are brighter than stars, brighter even than entire galax­ies. Their light is believed to come from mat­ter stream­ing into black holes at the cen­ters of galax­ies being born. The new object, the most dis­tant quasar yet observed, sug­gests that galax­ies formed more quick­ly fol­low­ing the Big Bang than astronomers had pre­vi­ous­ly believed.

The cho­rus repeats the phrase “A new-cre­at­ed world springs up” again and again. Then the bass intones, “And God made the fir­ma­ment.” Music leaps and dances into form, thrilling pas­sages of sound. “By sud­den fire the sky is inflam’d,” the bass sings. Thun­der rolls from the orches­tra. Six­teenth notes fill the air like starlight.

On a vis­it to Eng­land in 1792, Haydn sought out the famous astronomer William Her­schel, dis­cov­er­er of the plan­et Uranus. The com­pos­er admired Her­schel’s giant tele­scope, the biggest in the world at that time. He may have lis­tened to the astronomer’s ideas about how grav­i­ty con­densed the cos­mos out of chaos.

News story No. 3

Mar­garet Geller and John Huchra, two astronomers at the Har­vard-Smith­son­ian Cen­ter for Astro­physics in Cam­bridge, com­plete the most detailed map yet made of the dis­tri­b­u­tion of galax­ies in space. They dis­cov­er a “Great Wall” of galax­ies extend­ing across 500 mil­lion light years of space, the largest struc­ture ever observed in the universe.

Stars and galax­ies are believed to have been con­densed by grav­i­ty out of the primeval mat­ter formed by the Big Bang. Vari­a­tions in the orig­i­nal dis­tri­b­u­tion of mat­ter pre­sum­ably gave rise to the celes­tial objects we observe today. But present the­o­ries are hard pressed to explain vari­a­tions that could account for “clumpi­ness” on the scale of the Great Wall. Per­haps there is more to the sto­ry than grav­i­ty. “My view is it’s some­thing real­ly miss­ing, some­thing we don’t under­stand which is deep,” says astronomer Geller.

The orches­tra ascends a crescen­do of lumi­nous sound. “In splen­dor bright is ris­ing now the sun,” the tenor sings. “The space immense of th’ azure sky, a count­less host of radi­ant orbs adorns.”

The view of deep space through William Her­schel’s tele­scope may have inspired Hayd­n’s musi­cal depic­tion of the work of the Fourth Day, the cre­ation of the sun, moon and stars. Her­schel was him­self an accom­plished musi­cian and a sub­scriber to the first print­ing of Hayd­n’s ora­to­rio. Haydn was suf­fi­cient­ly inter­est­ed in astron­o­my to go out of his way to hear the astronomer’s ideas about grav­i­ty and the cre­ation of stars and neb­u­las. Both men, with their sep­a­rate instru­ments and com­ple­men­tary ways, gave last­ing expres­sion to “space immense.”

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