SPC Student Life/Number 4/Antonin Dvorak, Czech American Composer

by Anthony Francis Tuma

Antonin Dvorak, Czech American Composer.
From a Street Player To the Czech Parliament and International Fame as a Composer.

By A. F. Tuma.

Dr. Antonin Dvorak The author of this article played in the St. Procopius College Orchestra while it toured the middle Western States and won the distinction of being the first orchestra to play “Largo” from Dvorak’s New World Symphony at Spillville, Iowa, the birthplace of the immortal symphony. While in Spillville, the author collected some fresh material about Antonin Dvorak.—Editor’s note.

Antonin Dvorak, who is generally ranked by music critics as the greatest Czechoslovak composer after Smetana, was born Sept. 8, 1841, at Muhlhausen, Bohemia, the eldest son of a family of eight children. It is highly interesting indeed to follow up the life of this singular man, a musical genius by nature, who despite numerous obstacles won international fame as a composer.

Being the son of a village inn keeper, his means were naturally limited and his environment not very conducive to high artistic aspirations. Nevertheless, as we shall see shortly, persistence goes a long way, and a dogged persistence Dvorak possessed to the highest degree.

No sooner had he finished his elementary schooling at home, he was sent to live with his uncle at Zolnitz that he might continue his education there in accordance with his means. Here Dvorak began the study of music, taking piano and theory at the organ school. He went to Kamnitz two years later to study the German language and at the same time to continue his lessons in music.

Life has its odd turns now and then. Dvorak’s came when the young fellow, fresh from the Kamnitz school, returned home hoping to induce his father to let him make music his profession. That he might give proof of his musical ability he composed a polka to be played by the village band on the occassion of a family festival; however, he who in later years was to become an outstanding orchestral composer had not yet learned that the trumpet was a transposing instrument, and since the notes were written where they were to be sounded rather than where they were to be played, the result was an agglomeration of discords far beyond the youthful composer’s power of explanation. Like Shakespeare, Dvorak was now to become a butcher, for his father was more loath than ever to concede to his son’s lofty wishes. Undaunted by his first failure in music composition, Dvorak persisted until he was finally allowed to enter the Pitzsch Organ School at Prague.

The modest allowance, which his father was able to send, lasted for only a few months, and Dvorak soon found himself dependent entirely upon his own resources to support himself, and to keep himself in the School. To do this he would play in the street bands during the day time, and in the cafes at night, thus managing to collect about nine dollars a month in American money, which hardly provided him with the necessities of life, not to speak of his schooling. Poverty served him in a very small measure at best, and the only possible advantage that he may have derived therefrom was the fact that by playing with the street bands, he became familiar with all the “tricks of the trade”, the countless details of tone production and the varying characteristics of the instruments. Seldom was he able to hear good orchestral music, and if he did manage to hear renditions of the masterpieces, it was usually from a shadowed hiding place in the concert hall.

Even the organ school gave Dvorak no pleasant memories, for whenever he mentioned the subject to anyone, it nearly always savored of bitterness.

“At the organ school”, he said one day, “everything smelt mouldy—even the organ. Whoever wished to learn anything had to know the German language—it made no difference how excellent one was in one’s music—unless one had a grasp of the German language, one could not rise to the top in that school. I knew but little German; hence, whatever I did know I could not put into words. My fellow students used to look at me between their fingers and laugh at me behind my back. Their laughter did not cease, for even in later life they persisted in laughing at my essaying composition. When they got to know that I composed, they would say among themselves: “Look at that Dvorak! What do you think?—he is dabbling in composition!’ Alas! every one of those who used to laugh at me has had more luck in the world than I. One, for instance, is now a ‘high counselor.’ But what of that? Today when we meet he says to me, ‘My compliments, Doctor,’ and I say, ‘My compliments, Mr. Counselor,’ and we are even once more.

In 1860 Dvorak was graduated from the Organ School. Smetana, who was then the beacon light of the Czech school of composers, took an interest in him, helped him get a position in the National Theatre orchestra and lent him scores of the symphonies, chamber and other works. Circumstances from now on continued to improve; Karel Bendl, then conductor of the choral society, befriended him and helped him in his studies. Thus, for the next ten

On the second floor of this building Antonin Dvorak composed his
“Humoresque” and “New World Symphony”. years, Dvorak continued to study and compose, until, in 1873 he was appointed organist of St. Adalbert’s church. The salary he received from this position enabledn him to give up his post in the National Theatre orchestra and to organize a private class in music. He now began to receive the first fruits of his long and bitter apprenticeship.

The first work which won for him any acknowledgement as a composer was the cantata “The Heirs of the White Mountains”, a patriotic hymn. Dvorak’s first attempt at opera (The King and the Collier) came next, but it was not well received. He immediately withdrew the work, rewrote it in toto and in its new form with nothing left of the original but the name, the opera met with instant success. In 1874 the opera was produced in Vienna, where already rumors about his talents were spreading. In consequence of the marked success that it attained in that city, Dvorak won for himself a government pension of two hundred and fifty dollars. He also gained shortly the close friendship of Brahms, who recognized the talent of Dvorak, and it was thru Brahms that Dvorak met the publisher Simrock. The latter became Dvorak’s publisher from then on, and at once commissioned the newly discovered musical luminary to write a series of Slavic dances, which met with instant favor. The composer now entered upon his career as a world famed musician. His works were introduced into the various countries of Europe, and thenceforward Dvorak rapidly mounted the ladder of success. In 1876 his “Stabat Mater” was sung for the first time in London with a tremendous success by the London Musical Society. He conducted the work in person at Albert Hall in 1884 and in the following year at the Worcester Festival. In 1886 he was commissioned to write the “Spectral Bride” for the Birmingham Festival. The Austrian Court decorated him three years later; in 1890 he was honored with the degree of Doctor of Music at Cambridge.

By this time the United States also began to clamor for him and he was finally pursuaded to come to this country as Director of the National Conservatory of Music in New York, where he was enthusiastically welcomed at a grand concert given in his honor. Immediately Dvorak entered upon his duties with the utmost zeal, and the influence he exerted upon many of his pupils in this country is felt even to the present day. Our most talented young men siezed the opportunity to study with the master and include such composers as Rubin Goldmark, Harvey Worthington Loomis, William Arms Fisher, and Harry T. Burleigh, the last named being now the foremost composer of his race.

Although Dvorak, during his three year stay in this country, was feted in every way and made the recipient of a fabulous salary, he was never quite happy here, for, being then over forty years of age and having lived during most of that time in the land of his birth, he could not possibly be happy anywhere but in his native Bohemia. He used to go to the harbor and with tears in his eyes watch the ships depart for the old world. It was this intense longing for home that caused Dvorak to spend two of his summer vacations at Spillville, Iowa, where there is a large Czech settlement. There in the midst of his own countrymen, amid the glories of nature and away from the din of the city he was free to devote himself entirely to composition. It was in this quiet village with its romantic surroundings that Dvorak composed the world famous and ever popular Humoresque. The beautiful spot on the lazy Turkey River where he is said to have written it is held in deep veneration by the inhabitants, and the house in which he lived at the time still stands, a jealously guarded shrine to this immortal composer. While at Spillville, Dvorak also put into practise some of his theories regarding the possibility of creating an American school of music as distinct from any of the European schools. It is now generally believed that he wrote the New World Symphony at Spillville, Iowa. To show how he endeared himself to the American public by this work it may be said that during its first performance in New York few eyes remained dry. In this symphony Dvorak used to great advantage the negro music of the South. Neverthless, though there are many negro peculiarities in the work, he did not adhere slavishly to the negro melodies, but merely made use of the themes instead of making a literal transcription of tunes. He also composed a number of chamber

Memorial at Spillville, Ia. dedicated to Antonin Dvorak. works based upon negro themes of which a quartet and a quintet rank among the finest of his works.

Dvorak also wished to compose an American opera, the libretto to be written on the subject of [[ Author:Henry Wadsworth Longfellow|Longfellow]]’s Hiawatha, of which work he was very fond. One day, after his return to Bohemia, he wrote to the president of the National Conservatory: “But I am longing for the libretto of Hiawatha. Where is it? If I cannot have it very soon—much is lost.” The permission to use it was secured from the publishers, but Dvorak, unfortunately, did not live to carry out his cherished project.

That Dvorak was one of the most emotional composers of all time as well as the most original was, no doubt, a result of his deep religious feeling.

The astounding number of his compositions arouses our admiration. He wrote hymns for chorus and orchestra, a mass, a requiem, cantatas, oratorios, five overtures, five symphonies, nine operas, piano pieces, songs, concertos for violin, violincello and piano, trios, quartets and quintets for strings and many other combinations for chamber music. In the ease with which he poured out this flood of compositions he rivals Shubert. In orchestration he is a supreme master ranking with Berlioz and Wagner. There is an irresistible appeal in his spontaneous melody and his glittering color schemes, the elasticity of his rhythms; and the fascinating manner in which he treats tonal developements renders his music peculiarly fresh. In fact Brahms once said: “I wish I could write with the same warmth.”

A very rare distinction was bestowed upon him when, in 1901, he was made a life member of the Austrian House of Lords—being the first musician so honored. However, he did not hold this position very long, for he died in 1904 in Prague.

In fine, “he was a great man who rose from being a street player upon the violin to the Czech Parliament, of which he was a member at the time of his death, and better still, he became one of that group of immortal composers whose music is the divine inheritance of the world.”