“It would be wonderful if the major ideas that occur to me were like the ones that occur to Dvořák simply in passing.” Johannes Brahms’ verdict on the music of Antonín Dvořák was often extremely positive. The German composer sat on the 1874 jury of the Austrian State Stipendium with the renowned – and often waspish – critic Eduard Hanslick to award financial support to talented young composers. Dvořák was successful, winning the stipend three times. In 1877, Brahms was so impressed that he recommended his music to Fritz Simrock, his publisher, which turned out to be financially lucrative, including the commissioning of the two sets of Slavonic Dances.
Dvořák was one of the young Bohemian composers following in the footsteps of Bedřich Smetana in establishing a national identity in Czech music. Born in 1841 in Nelahozeves, a village near the River Vltava, north of Prague, Dvořák studied violin as a child, although his father wanted him to go into the family business as a butcher. František Dvořák eventually agreed to Antonín becoming a musician, on the condition that he train for a career as an organist. At the age of 12, he moved to live with an aunt and uncle in Zlonice, where he studied piano, organ and harmony, composing his first works, including polkas.
While Dvořák’s compositions were heard around Prague, the Viennese stipendium and the support of Brahms helped widen his renown. Joseph Joachim was a great fan of his chamber music and Dvořák dedicated his Violin Concerto to him (although Joachim ended up never performing it). His music was popular in England – commissions included the Seventh Symphony and the cantata The Spectre’s Bride – but it was his move to America that sealed his celebrity.
In 1891, he accepted the role of Director of the National Conservatory of Music in New York, which brought him to international attention. Moreover, it allowed Dvořák the chance to soak up the music scene in America, including the study of folk music and African-American spirituals, which influenced compositions such as his Ninth Symphony, subtitled “From the New World”, and his “American” String Quartet.
Despite his fame, Dvořák remained a humble, religious man and a great lover of nature. He was also a committed trainspotter, once declaring, “I’d give all my symphonies if I could have invented the locomotive!”
1Symphony no. 8 in G major, Op.88
All nine Dvořák’s symphonies are rooted in Bohemian soil, with Czech dance rhythms and nature to the fore. Of the last three symphonies, the Eighth is my favourite, being particularly upbeat and bucolic. The third movement is a wistful waltz, paving the way for a rousing finale. The famous Czech conductor Rafael Kubelík, rehearsing that finale, said of the opening trumpet fanfare: “Gentlemen, in Bohemia the trumpets never call to battle – they always call to the dance!”
2Rusalka
Dvořák knew opera well, having played in the pit for a decade in the 1860s. He composed ten operas, but it’s only Rusalka that is widely performed today. It’s a moving “lyric fairy tale” about a water nymph who wishes to become human so she can win the love of a Prince she has seen by her lake. The witch Ježibaba grants Rusalka’s wish – on the condition that once she is human, she will be unable to speak to her prince. If she fails to win his love, she will be cursed forever; if the Prince rejects her, he will be eternally damned. It doesn’t end well.
The plot soaks up the Romantic supernaturalism of Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué’s novella Undine and Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid. Rusalka’s Song to the Moon is the opera’s hit number, but the whole work is gorgeously written from first note to last.
3Cello Concerto in B minor, Op.104
Dvořák had his doubts about the cello. “The cello is a beautiful instrument, but its place is in the orchestra and in chamber music. As a solo instrument it isn’t much good.” Thankfully, he revised his opinion. Possibly the greatest cello concerto (sorry, Elgar!), Dvořák’s was composed during his American years. Symphonic in scope, it covers a range of emotions, especially the melancholy slow movement where Dvořák quotes a favourite song of his sister-in-law, Josefina Kaunitzová, who had died soon after his return to Bohemia. The finale is full of high spirits, possibly anticipating Dvořák’s imminent return home. Brahms wrote to congratulate him on the score. “How could I not have known that one can write a cello concerto like this? If I had known, I would have written one long ago!”
4Symphony no. 9 in E minor, “From the New World”, Op.95
“The Americans expect great things of me,” wrote Dvořák. “Above all, I am to show them the way into the Promised Land, into the realms of a new independent art – in short, to create a national music.” He began composing his Ninth Symphony within a few months of his arrival in New York, after he’d been given a copy of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem The Song of Hiawatha. Yet too often the word “from” is missed from the work’s subtitle. Yes, it was written in America and the theme of the famous Largo does sound as if it was inspired by an African-American spiritual, but it’s as much a homesick letter to Bohemia, music with a heavy Czech accent.