Composed 1889; Duration: 36 minutes
First BPO Performance: January 19-20, 1961 (Josef Krips, conductor)
Last BPO Performance: September 21, 2019 (JoAnn Falletta, conductor)
Dvořák languished in obscurity in Prague under the oppressive thumb of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, which was not generally accommodating to Czech artists who expressed their patriotic sentiments. However, he broke through his circumstances, garnering the attention of the powerful Johannes Brahms, who was refreshed by Dvořák’s Bohemian-flavored scores accomplished with a rare technical acuity. Brahms set Dvořák up with the German publisher Fritz Simrock, who unlocked a wide market for such beloved works as the Slavonic Dances.
Simrock was handsomely rewarded for publishing Dvořák, but with blatant anti-Czech views, he boxed in the Bohemian composer, discouraging his desire to compose large orchestral works in favor of his smaller, accessible pieces. Regardless, Dvořák’s reputation abounded in the non-German-speaking world, particularly in Britain, where audiences delighted in his exotic melodies. With the political turmoil at home on his mind, Dvořák composed his seventh symphony to resounding success at its 1885 premiere in London. Simrock, on the other hand, insisted on publishing the work under the composer’s Germanized first name, Anton.
In 1889, Dvořák’s international fame was celebrated by his election to the Bohemian Academy of Science, Literature and Arts. To commemorate the occasion, he composed his eighth symphony. In contrast to the serious, romantically brooding seventh, the pastoral eighth radiates with warm Czech melodies. For some, the symphonic genre held a sacred history that was to be unaffected by dissenting, nationalistic intentions, leading to a breaking point with Simrock. Dvořák easily found an English publisher for his new symphony.
A pious chorale melody transforms into a bird-call melody, illustrating the divine communion with nature he experienced tending his vegetable garden and exploring the fields and woods at his state-sponsored retreat in the Prague exurb of Vysoká. The heart-pounding joy of the opening movement naturally evolves into a tremendous storm in the development, only for the clouds to part for a brilliant sunburst that glows to the end.
The Adagio again basks in the warmth of the sun as a cuckoo melody transitions to a spritely tempo. The movement is only briefly interrupted by dark clouds, returning to a sense of carefree simplicity. The modest waltz tempo of the third movement flows sweetly, if with a sense of melancholy, until the surprising coda provides a rambunctious contrast.
A lone trumpet ushers in the finale. The cellos then present an elegiac country dance melody that is the basis of wide-ranging variations that twist through surprising harmonies, as fragments collide with anxiety. The action breaks for a nocturnal romance, but a return to a heart-pounding dance marks the joyously brassy rush to the climactic conclusion. In contrast to the heavy strife of Dvořák’s seventh symphony, the eighth explores a version of patriotism that looks more like a postcard, reveling in the bucolic beauty and unbridled pride of his homeland.