Dvorak : Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, Op. 95, “From the New World”

Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, Op. 95, “From the New World” (1893) Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904)

Fairly soon after the establishment of the republic, important European musical figures began to find their way to the United States. Some were inspired by the prospects of a land where the streets were supposedly paved with gold, some intending to make new careers in America, some very celebrated persons invited as honoured guests. By the mid-19^th century there was an increasing stream of European performers, including such stars as the legendary Swedish singer, Jennie Lind, whose tour was sponsored by P. T. Barnum, of all people. Later great Russian piano virtuoso, Anton Rubinstein came over to dazzle American audiences. In 1891 Tchaikovsky showed up to conduct on the concert inaugurating Andrew Carnegie’s splendid concert hall. Early in the 20^th century saw visits from Richard Strauss, and, of course, the arrival of Gustav Mahler to become the conductor of the New York Philharmonic. But such exciting figures failed to leave the lasting influence upon American musical life which followed the time spent in America by Antonin Dvorak. Mrs. Jeannette Thurber, a wealthy figure in New York society and champion of American artists, was determined to use her social position (and her husband’s money) to establish a first-rate institution in New York City for the training of musicians. Things had come a long way in the 19^th century, with the New York Philharmonic founded in 1842, the Metropolitan Opera in 1883, while Harvard led the way in academic music study with the first music professorship in 1875. In New England impressive symphonic works were being composed by composers such as John Knowles Paine, George W. Chadwick, and soon even a remarkable woman composer, Amy Beach. But a truly professional institution for the training of musicians, comparable to the conservatories in Paris and Leipzig was sorely lacking. Mrs. Thurber got busy, and the National Conservatory of Music became a reality. Realising that she needed a V. I. P. to attract respectful attention to her enterprise, she considered a number of noted musicians (every one of them a European), and decided to offer the directorship of her conservatory to Antonin Dvorak, then at the height of his powers and celebrity. While Dvorak was already teaching in Prague, and busy with commissions, money was short, he had six children to feed---and Mrs. Thurber proposed a three-year contract, with a salary of $15,000, which was comparable to that of the president of the United States! It did not take long for Dvorak to agree to the terms, which included some modest teaching and administrative tasks, with long summer vacations, and a splendid opportunity to participate in the cultural life of America’s premiere city. (It also allowed time for some sight-seeing, with Niagara Falls high on the list.)

One would have imagined that a Big Name like Dvorak would be content to fulfill his duties without undue exertion, collect his salary, and sail home quite pleased with himself. But Dvorak was a unique personality in every way. Son of a butcher, he never forgot his humble origins, and clearly felt an affinity for a very confident, expanding America, then at the height of the flood of immigrants pouring through Ellis Island---many of them from backgrounds similar to his own. As well, Dvorak felt deeply about the matter of nationhood, for his own country (then referred to as “Bohemia”) was merely a province of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and would not gain independence until 1918. In many of his most popular compositions Dvorak expressed strong nationalist sentiments, drawing upon the folk music and traditional culture of his people to create a vivid, individual musical style. Not surprisingly, Dvorak had a keen understanding of the desire of his young students to find their own distinctive American musical identities. And, surprisingly, among the students were a number of African-Americans, recruited and funded by Mrs. Thurber, who held passionate beliefs about racial equality and opportunity. In an America just emerging from the Reconstruction period following the Civil War, this was a remarkable situation. While it might be expected that these young Black students would gain a sound training in the European Classical traditions, what was especially noteworthy was Dvorak’s desire to learn everything about their own culture and traditions---something extremely uncommon among most Americans in the late 19^th century. Dvorak spotlighted the talents of these students, writing articles and giving interviews in which he stressed the rich potential for American music in drawing upon the artistic riches to be found among ethnic minorities, most of all Black and Native Americans. These ideas were given particular emphasis in a famous article published in Harpers Monthly Magazine (February, 1895), which was virtually a blueprint for America’s musical future, one in which African-Americans might make very significant contributions. Although Dvorak died too soon to hear Ragtime, the music of Scott Joplin, or the early stages of Jazz, he left his mark on American music through his students, who went on to become prominent teachers and composers in their own right. His Black students would soon be the first professors of music at the historically Black colleges, while others would become teachers of such musicians as Aaron Copland and George Gershwin.

As a composer Dvorak left his mark in a series of works which were destined to be his finest and most popular, especially the F Major String Quartet (“American”) composed in Iowa during a summer vacation spent in a community founded by Czech immigrants---and above all his Ninth Symphony.

The symphony’s subtitle has always been misunderstood. Dvorak himself stressed that it was not an “American” symphony, rather one composed IN America, looking across the Atlantic toward home. He also stated that he believed that only through spending time in America could he have written such a work. While there remains some controversy regarding the ethnic influences which can be heard in the symphony, it is generally conceded that African-American and Native Americal musical elements are to be heard, especially in the middle two movements.

The symphony opens with a stern and darkly-textured slow introduction, leading to a restless and dramatic ALLEGRO MOLTO, with an assertive first subject, with heavy rhythmic stresses balanced by dance-like dotted rhythms, which will be given much attention in the course of the movement. A transitional melody (in G Minor), of a lilting Czech character leads to a winsome second subject of a rather Schubertian lyrical cast. Only when this is swells into a full orchestral statement do we realise that it leads off with the same “heavy rhythm” heard in the primary subject. The development focuses upon this secondary theme, pressing onward to a grand climax, and a recapitulation which veers into unexpected tonalities before returning to the home key in a “climax of tragic fury” (as Donald Francis Tovey puts it), before bringing the movement to a close.

The slow movement (marked LARGO) is ushered in by a solemn succession of richly-coloured chords, drawing the music into the rather uncommon tonality of D-flat major. There follows the entry of the English Horn (an instrument rarely encountered in the symphonic tradition), intoning the extraordinary principal melody which, as Tovey says, “has become a glory of Western art.” Although believed by many to have been borrowed from a Negro spiritual, and even fitted with words by a Dvorak pupil and sung under the title “Goin’ Home,” Dvorak’s sketches reveal that this wonderful melody was indeed his own. Nevertheless, the inflections of the melody, and its pentatonic (“five-tone”) makeup, so characteristic of spirituals, can lead to reasonable speculation that this music was indeed strongly influenced by the African-American music which Dvorak absorbed directly from his students. The opening statement, with hushed muted strings contrasted with the brooding loneliness of the English horn, is followed by an episode of restless agitation, and in turn by a brief, ghostly SCHERZANDO passage which unexpectedly swells into a menacing outburst for full orchestra. The quiet which follows creates an even more poignant setting for the English Horn melody, the movement fading away on a PIANISSIMO chord in four string basses.

If the slow movement suggests an African-American element, the bright colours and pounding rhythms of the SCHERZO inevitably bring to mind some echoes of the music of Native Americans. The main theme, first heard in the oboe, is built around a rhythmic figure which permeates the movement, with swirling string figures adding excitement, and the piling up of the insistent rhythm paradoxically bringing to mind the unbridled energy of two quite distinct folk cultures: the American Indian dancing– and the FURIANT, a Czech dance notable for its driving rhythms, which can be heard in the SCHERZO movements of several Dvorak’s earlier symphonies. Moving from E Minor to the sunny warmth of E Major, a contrasting theme provides a moment of relaxation before returning to the relentless activity of the opening section. The Trio section shifts to an amiable, folk-like C Major tune, reminiscent of the music of Smetana, and of Dvorak’s own popular “Slavonic” Dances. The SCHERZO then is reprised, with a coda which becomes ever quieter, only to end with a bang.

The finale, marked ALLEGRO CON FUOCO, returns to the home key of E Minor, and for all the elements of excitement and orchestra brilliance, remains true to the spirit of the symphony’s opening movement in its commanding energy and forcefulness. The first theme is declaimed by the horns, taken up by the full orchestra, surging onward in a whirl of triplets, arriving at a second subject of reflective and lyrical character, first heard in the clarinet. But soon this gentle mood pushes on into a subsidiary melody, out of which emerges a pattern of three-descending notes (often described as akin to “Three Blind Mice” !)

That pattern proceeds to permeate the development section, which drives forward to suddenly bring back the primary theme of the FIRST movement, blared out in a thundering climax. The basic elements return as before, although taking on different coloration and emphasis. Suddenly, as Tovey describes it, the coda bursts forth in a mood of “tragic catastrophe, almost grotesque in its violence,” with the solemn chords which had introduced the slow movement now striding forward in a furious climax. This subsides, and the symphony seems about to end in a whisper, when the movement’s main theme is once again declaimed by the horns, bringing the work to a dramatic and uncompromising conclusion.

GPYO concert