by David B. Levy
The CSO Pre-concert Lecture Series and Program Notes are made possible thanks to the Carl and Lee Chaverin Fund.
Legends, Op. 59, B. 122
Antonín Dvořák
The Czech master Antonin Dvořák was born in Nelahozeves, near Kralupy, on September 8, 1841; and died in Prague, May 1, 1904. B. 122 refers to Jarmil Burghauser’s thematic catalogue of the composer’s works, analogous to thematic catalogues such as the ones created by Kőchel for the works of Mozart. “Legends” began its life, similar to the Slavonic Dances, as a set of works for piano duo. Composed in early 1881. The composer orchestrated this set of ten miniatures later that year The first performance of nos. 1, 3, and 4 took place at the Prague Conservatory on 1882, while nos. 2, 5, and 6 were premiered at a concert of the Vienna Philharmonic on November 26, 1882.
Dvořák had few peers of his generation for creating musical compositions of comparable tunefulness and sheer delight. Loyal to his Czech origins throughout his life, he had the uncanny ability to create music that at once reflected his heritage while at the same time enchanting audiences across all national boundaries. It is important to bear in mind that the Czechlands in Dvořák’s day were still part of the old Habsburg Empire. Mindful of this nationality and inspired by Bedrich Smetana’s pathbreaking excursions into music that celebrated Czech culture, Dvořák, now in his thirties, began producing a large number of vocal and instrumental compositions of a decidedly Czech character by setting opera librettos and composing songs in his native tongue, as well as celebrating national dance idioms such as the polka and furiant.
Living virtually hand to mouth, Dvořák began submitting compositions to a panel of judges in Vienna in order to win stipends. He also supported himself by teaching and playing organ in churches. He was quite successful in getting financial support from Vienna. When Johannes Brahms became one of the Viennese judges in 1877, he immediately took an intense liking to Dvořák’s music, recommending to his publisher, Simrock, to start accepting Dvořák as worthy of attention. Thus began Dvořák’s international fame—a phenomenon that eventually brought him to the United States.
Despite some resistance to this Bohemian composer by some narrow-minded Austrian musicians, Dvořák’s stature continued to rise both abroad and in his homeland. His works for piano duo became particularly well-loved. The two sets of Slavonic Dances, Opp. 46 and 72 (1878 and 1886), and the Legends (Legendy, 1880-81). All these compositions subsequently were transcribed for orchestra by the composer. Legends is less familiar to audiences than the Slavonic Dances and his symphonies (especially nos. 6-9), although these ten miniature masterpieces are worthy of our attention. Tonight’s performance by the CSO will present nos. 1, 2, 3, 8, 5, 10, and 4 for our listening enjoyment.
Symphony No. 7 in A Major, op. 92
Ludwig van Beethoven
Ludwig van Beethoven was born in Bonn on December 15 or 16, 1770 (the date of his baptism was December 17), and died in Vienna on March 26, 1827. One of the pivotal figures in the history of Western music, his nine symphonies, 5 piano concertos, Violin Concerto, and several overtures remain at the heart of the symphonic repertory. The Symphony no. 7 is one of his most exciting and brilliant works. It received its first performance on December 8, 1813 at a concert to benefit the victims of the Battle of Hanau in the war against Napoleon. It is scored for 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings.
Beethoven’s grand Seventh Symphony bears a dedication to Count Moritz von Fries, one the master’s most loyal Viennese patrons. But its date of composition (1812) and the circumstances of its first performance link the work, albeit indirectly, to that most powerful of political figures, Napoleon Bonaparte.
The premiere performance of the Seventh Symphony took place on December 8, 1813 as part of a concert at the University of Vienna for the benefit of casualties from the Battle of Hanau, where Austrian and Bavarian troops attempted to halt Napoleon’s retreat from his defeat at Leipzig. The concert, which had been arranged by Mälzel, the inventor of the metronome, was a gala affair. Among the members of the festive orchestra were some of Vienna’s most prominent musicians, including Antonio Salieri, Johann Nepomuk Hummel, Ignaz Moscheles, Louis Spohr, Giacomo Meyerbeer, and the celebrated bassist Domenico Dragonetti. Most of the large audience, which included a shy young musician by the name of Franz Schubert, eagerly anticipated hearing the first public performance, not so much of the Seventh Symphony, but of the fully orchestrated version of a work originally composed for a mechanical instrument called the panharmonicon—a patriotic pièce d’occasion by Beethoven entitled “Wellington’s Victory.”
The Seventh Symphony did not go unnoticed or unappreciated, however, although the critical acclaim for it seems to have devolved mainly upon the second movement, the Allegretto, which was encored at the premiere. The rest of the work only later found wide acceptance. A story is told describing how the deaf Beethoven behaved while “directing” of the coda of the first movement, a passage that features one of his most dramatic and exciting crescendos. The composer encouraged the orchestra to play as softly as possible at the start of this passage by crouching beneath his music stand. As the music grew in volume, he raised himself higher and higher until the climax, at which point he leapt wildly in the air. It was this very passage that led his contemporary, Carl Maria von Weber, to write that Beethoven was “ripe for the madhouse.”
Hector Berlioz called the first movement of the Seventh Symphony a peasant dance (“ronde des paysans”), but the most celebrated characterization of this work comes from the pen of Richard Wagner, who in his essay “The Artwork of the Future” dubbed it “the apotheosis of the dance.” Both Berlioz and Wagner clearly were responding to the work’s inexhaustible rhythmic energy and drive. The first movement opens with an immense and harmonically adventuresome introduction that prepares the way for a Vivace dominated by a persistent dotted-note figure that permeates virtually every measure. Listeners are always thrilled by the stunning high horn parts. The Allegretto’s immediate popularity is understandable, as it is an extremely appealing and hypnotic piece. One of its most arresting features also is a rhythmic figure—this time based on a dactyl (long-short-short) reminiscent of the Renaissance dance known as the Pavane. The scherzo, a Presto in F Major is surprising in that it is the only movement of the work that is not cast in either A Major or Minor. As is the case in the Fourth Symphony, this scherzo is in five parts, in which the contrasting trio section comes around two times. Another noteworthy feature of this movement is the reduced dynamic level at which Beethoven presents the second hearing of the scherzo. The finale may have been inspired by the Irish folk melody, “Nora Creina,” a setting of which Beethoven produced for George Thompson of Edinburgh around the same time he was composing this symphony. Some of Beethoven’s most explosive moments may be found here, at one point calling for the rarely used dynamic marking of triple forte.
