Symphony No. 6 in D major, Op. 63
Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904)
Allegro non tanto; Adagio; Scherzo: Furiant - presto; Allegro con spirito
In 1879 Hans Richter conducted the first performance of Antonín Dvořák’s Third Slavonic Rhapsody with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. It seems that Dvořák was among an invited audience at the dress rehearsal because he wrote a letter describing the rapturous reception that his music had received. The truth was somewhat different. The rehearsal may have been successful but, according to reliable reports, the work was received with muted acclaim at the concert. There was a reason for this.
The Habsburg empire was prospering, partly on account of a military alliance recently sealed between Berlin and Vienna. Enthusiasm for the notion of ‘Empire’ was widespread. Musically, three currents flowed: one promoted the German classical tradition of W.A. Mozart and Ludwig van Beethoven, personified in the works of Johannes Brahms; a second promoted the equally German ‘new’ music of Franz Liszt and Richard Wagner; the third comprised riches available to every composer, namely the folk music that reflected and endorsed national identity and aspirations. The problem was clear at the time. National music (or folk music) encouraged political Nationalism which, in turn, encouraged Separatism and Independence, inimical to the concept of ‘Empire’. Richter challenged a growing Viennese hostility towards Nationalism by commissioning a new work from Dvořák, notwithstanding the equivocal reaction to his Third Slavonic Rhapsody. The Sixth Symphony was the result, completed in 1880. Having been so bold at the outset, Richter now found excuses for not performing it, and the orchestral members also balked at promoting Czech Separatism, as they saw it. The première eventually took place in Prague the following year, performed by the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra. The Vienna Philharmonic played it for the first time 61 years later, in 1942.
If Dvořák had not written popular symphonies later on, this one would surely attract more favour than it enjoys currently. Sir Donald Tovey pointed out that Dvořák’s patina of naiveté that gives the Sixth Symphony so much of its charm is a characteristic that sometimes appears forced in his later works, the ‘New World Symphony’ in particular. In his Sixth Symphony, Dvořák struck a balance between the three musical currents, mentioned above. The influence of Brahms, his Second Symphony in particular, is discernible, and some of the more intricate moments in Dvořák’s symphony are clearly influenced by Wagner and Liszt. Dvořák had met Wagner in Prague and was much impressed by his way of composing. Perhaps above and beyond these influences is that of Czech folk music with its characteristic rhythms and melodic twists. The scherzo is described as a ‘Furiant’ which is a Czech dance. That unmistakable nod in the direction of ‘Nationalism’ was enough to cause consternation among the Viennese in 1880, but it was also enough to attract a large body of admirers a few years later, some of the most enthusiastic being English concert-goers who held Dvořák’s music in the highest regard.
The ‘naiveté’ of which Tovey wrote is far removed from simple-mindedness. It disguises astute musical judgement and assured formal awareness, binding the work together. The first movement provides symphonic proportions and argument couched within a jolly, almost lumbering pulse. It’s a strange mix, but the sense of forward movement sweeps us along with ease and goodwill. The song-like second movement is described as ‘improvisatory’ by Tovey. He used that word as a compliment, noting that the episodes appear as ‘ruminating digressions’ on the main theme, supplementing a clear sense of direction and expressive impact. The Scherzo, or ‘Furiant’, is terrific fun, offering catchy cross-rhythms and an almost rustic rawness. The two statements of the ‘Furiant’ are separated by a more reflective section that serves to underscore, through contrast, the tremendous energy of the main theme. It also offers an exciting night out for the piccolo, which is not used anywhere else in the symphony. The brisk pace and amiability of the finale captivate the audience and exhaust the players. The work ends magnificently for sure, but free from bombast. It conveys high spirits, reminiscent of spirited finales by Joseph Haydn, with a touch of Brahms here and there to provide gravitas.
Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904)
Allegro non tanto; Adagio; Scherzo: Furiant - presto; Allegro con spirito
In 1879 Hans Richter conducted the first performance of Antonín Dvořák’s Third Slavonic Rhapsody with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. It seems that Dvořák was among an invited audience at the dress rehearsal because he wrote a letter describing the rapturous reception that his music had received. The truth was somewhat different. The rehearsal may have been successful but, according to reliable reports, the work was received with muted acclaim at the concert. There was a reason for this.
The Habsburg empire was prospering, partly on account of a military alliance recently sealed between Berlin and Vienna. Enthusiasm for the notion of ‘Empire’ was widespread. Musically, three currents flowed: one promoted the German classical tradition of W.A. Mozart and Ludwig van Beethoven, personified in the works of Johannes Brahms; a second promoted the equally German ‘new’ music of Franz Liszt and Richard Wagner; the third comprised riches available to every composer, namely the folk music that reflected and endorsed national identity and aspirations. The problem was clear at the time. National music (or folk music) encouraged political Nationalism which, in turn, encouraged Separatism and Independence, inimical to the concept of ‘Empire’. Richter challenged a growing Viennese hostility towards Nationalism by commissioning a new work from Dvořák, notwithstanding the equivocal reaction to his Third Slavonic Rhapsody. The Sixth Symphony was the result, completed in 1880. Having been so bold at the outset, Richter now found excuses for not performing it, and the orchestral members also balked at promoting Czech Separatism, as they saw it. The première eventually took place in Prague the following year, performed by the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra. The Vienna Philharmonic played it for the first time 61 years later, in 1942.
If Dvořák had not written popular symphonies later on, this one would surely attract more favour than it enjoys currently. Sir Donald Tovey pointed out that Dvořák’s patina of naiveté that gives the Sixth Symphony so much of its charm is a characteristic that sometimes appears forced in his later works, the ‘New World Symphony’ in particular. In his Sixth Symphony, Dvořák struck a balance between the three musical currents, mentioned above. The influence of Brahms, his Second Symphony in particular, is discernible, and some of the more intricate moments in Dvořák’s symphony are clearly influenced by Wagner and Liszt. Dvořák had met Wagner in Prague and was much impressed by his way of composing. Perhaps above and beyond these influences is that of Czech folk music with its characteristic rhythms and melodic twists. The scherzo is described as a ‘Furiant’ which is a Czech dance. That unmistakable nod in the direction of ‘Nationalism’ was enough to cause consternation among the Viennese in 1880, but it was also enough to attract a large body of admirers a few years later, some of the most enthusiastic being English concert-goers who held Dvořák’s music in the highest regard.
The ‘naiveté’ of which Tovey wrote is far removed from simple-mindedness. It disguises astute musical judgement and assured formal awareness, binding the work together. The first movement provides symphonic proportions and argument couched within a jolly, almost lumbering pulse. It’s a strange mix, but the sense of forward movement sweeps us along with ease and goodwill. The song-like second movement is described as ‘improvisatory’ by Tovey. He used that word as a compliment, noting that the episodes appear as ‘ruminating digressions’ on the main theme, supplementing a clear sense of direction and expressive impact. The Scherzo, or ‘Furiant’, is terrific fun, offering catchy cross-rhythms and an almost rustic rawness. The two statements of the ‘Furiant’ are separated by a more reflective section that serves to underscore, through contrast, the tremendous energy of the main theme. It also offers an exciting night out for the piccolo, which is not used anywhere else in the symphony. The brisk pace and amiability of the finale captivate the audience and exhaust the players. The work ends magnificently for sure, but free from bombast. It conveys high spirits, reminiscent of spirited finales by Joseph Haydn, with a touch of Brahms here and there to provide gravitas.