Symphony No.6 in D major, Op.60

Dvorak had written five symphonies before anyone in the great world of music west of Czechoslovakia actually asked him for one. Some of the earlier symphonies had helped him win an Austrian State Stipendium - awarded by a distinguished jury in Vienna to “young, poor, and talented artists” - but the Sixth was written at the specific request of no less a musician than Hans Richter, who had conducted a very successful performance of the Third Slavonic Rhapsody in Vienna in 1878 and was anxious to encourage the still little-known composer.

The new work was completed in less than a year and Richter was delighted with it. But, because some members of the Vienna Philharmonic didn’t much like the idea of encouraging Czech composers (however young, poor, and even talented they might be), the Vienna performance was twice postponed and the Sixth Symphony was eventually introduced to the world by the Prague Philharmonic under Adolf Cech in March 1881. Although it was a great occasion in Czech musical history, with the audience so enthusiastic that the Furiant was immediately encored, the fact remains that Dvorak was very conscious of the Viennese symphonic tradition - Beethoven’s Ninth and Brahms’s recent Second in particular - when he wrote the work.

The Viennese influence in the Allegro non tanto is not in the melodic material. The main theme, presented in D major in the opening bars by woodwind over cheerful syncopations on horns and violas, is actually based on a Bohemian folk-song. Of the two second-subject themes - one for cellos and horns, the other for solo oboe - the first is more an anticipation of Brahms’s Fourth Symphony than an echo of his Second.

There is, however, a classical Viennese precedent in the way the transitional events between the introduction of the first and second subject assume such importance later in the movement. Neither of the second-subject themes figures in the development section, which is a highly imaginative treatment of the main theme in conjunction with the transitional material. The climax of the construction features the main theme again, now in a grandioso version recalled from the exposition but held out of the recapitulation and kept in reserve for this dramatic moment in the coda.

The woodwind introduction to the Adagio has been compared to the opening of the slow movement of beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. But the resemblance is superficial: Dvorak’s oboe and bassoon are not so much recalling Beethoven as anticipating the melody which is about to be introduced by the violins on their first entry. The basis of the construction is the three further appearances of that theme in the tonic B flat major. The remarkably free episodes between are devoted either to new melodic material or to development of the main theme, which undergoes a crisis in B flat minor at the very centre of the movement.

The Scherzo has nothing to do with Vienna. Derived from the furiant, a folk-dance which generates its energy from the rhythmic friction of twos against threes, the outer sections are purely Bohemian in character. The inspiration of the beautifully scored pastoral interlude in the middle is not far from home either.

The last movement, on the other hand, does owe something to Brahms. The Allegro con spirito tempo, the 2/2 metre, the D major tonality are the same as in the corresponding movement of the Second Symphony, and there is also something of the Brahms characteristic sotto voce manner in Dvorak’s pianissimo first theme. It is worth noting, however, that the main theme of Dvorak’s finale is related, deliberately or not, to that of the first movement. Besides, not even Brahms could have outshone Dvorak’s brilliance in sustaining the physical impetus through the second subject - clarinets dancing on triplet quavers, violins striding forward in minims - and then right through the development and recapitulation into the rhythmic exhilaration of the Presto coda.

Gerald Larner©

Dvorak had written five symphonies before anyone in the great centres of music outside Czechoslovakia actually asked him for one. Some of the earlier symphonies had helped him win an Austrian State Stipendium – awarded by a distinguished jury in Vienna to “young, poor, and talented artists” – but the Sixth was written at the specific request of no less a musician than Hans Richter, who had conducted a very successful performance of the Third Slavonic Rhapsody in Vienna in 1878 and who was anxious to encourage the still little-known composer.

The new work was completed in less than a year and Richter was delighted with it. But, because some members of the Vienna Philharmonic didn’t much like the idea of encouraging Czech composers (however young, poor, and even talented they might be), the Vienna performance was twice postponed and the Sixth Symphony was eventually introduced to the world by the Prague Philharmonic under Adolf Cech in March 1881. Although it was a great occasion in Czech musical history, with the audience so enthusiastic that the Furiant was immediately encored, the fact remains that Dvorak was very conscious of the Viennese symphonic tradition – Beethoven’s Ninth and Brahms’s recent Second in particular – when he wrote the work.

The Viennese influence in theAllegro non tanto is not in the melodic material. The main theme, presented in the opening bars by woodwind over cheerful syncopations on horns and violas, is actually based on a Bohemian folk-song. Of the two second-subject themes – one for cellos and horns, the other for solo oboe – the first is more an anticipation of Brahms’s Fourth Symphony than an echo of his Second. There is, on the other hand, a classical Viennese precedent in the way the transitional events between the introduction of the first and second subjects assume such importance later in the movement. Neither of the second-subject themes figures in the development section, which is a highly imaginative treatment of the main theme in conjunction with the transitional material. The climax of the construction features the main theme again, now in a grandioso version recalled from the exposition but kept in reserve for this dramatic moment in the coda.

The woodwind introduction to the Adagio has been compared to the opening of the slow movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. But the resemblance is superficial: Dvorak’s oboe and bassoon are not so much recalling Beethoven as anticipating the melody which is about to be introduced by the violins on their first entry. The basis of the construction is the three further appearances of that theme in its original major harmonies. The remarkably free episodes between are devoted either to new melodic material or to development of the main theme, which undergoes a crisis in the minor at the very centre of the movement.

The Scherzo has nothing to do with Vienna. Derived from the furiant, a folk-dance which generates its energy from the rhythmic friction of duple time against triple time, the outer sections are purely Bohemian in character. The inspiration of the beautifully scored pastoral interlude in the middle is not far from home either.

The last movement, on the other hand, does owe something to Brahms. The Allegro con spirito tempo, the 2/2 metre, the D major tonality are the same as in the corresponding movement of the Second Symphony, and there is also something of the characteristic Brahms sotto voce manner in Dvorak’s pianissimo first theme. It is worth noting, however, that the main theme of Dvorak’s finale is related, deliberately or not, to that of the first movement. Besides, not even Brahms could have outshone Dvorak’s brilliance in sustaining the physical impetus through the second subject – clarinets dancing on triplet quavers, violins striding forward in minims – and then right through the development and recapitulation into the rhythmic exhilaration of the Presto coda.