Symphony No.7 in D minor, Op.70

Dvorák was determined that his Symphony in D minor should be, as he put it, “something respectable,” something Brahms would approve of and something “such as to move the world,” particularly London. The London Philharmonic Society had made Dvorák an honorary member and asked him for a new symphony in 1884. Nine months later he had completed the work, and he conducted the first performance in St James’s Hall on 22 April 1885.

This was not a particularly happy time for Dvorák but, in pursuit of the classical ideals which he cherished for the symphony, he was careful to maintain an emotional balance. This is not to say that he had any inhibitions about spontaneous self-expression. The work is graced by some of Dvorák’s most individual inspirations, such as the lovely horn solo which casts a ray of light on the sombre D minor of the first subject of the first movement. It also anticipates the lyrical second subject melody, introduced in B flat major by flutes and clarinets. The development is much concerned with this conflict of emotions and tonalities. But, by recapitulating the major-key material first and reserving the main theme until later, Dvorák secures a not too happy ending to the movement.

The Poco adagio, which begins and ends serenely in F major, reverses the emotional impression. Tranquillity prevails in spite of such tragic moments as the violins and cellos provide - suddenly exposed in unsupported octaves - immediately after the entry of the second theme in the woodwind. On this occasion the gloom is dispelled by a new idea on the horns. When the same lonely melody, with the sadly drooping seventh, returns near the end, it provokes an outburst which is not so easily stilled.

In the circumstances it is not surprising that the Scherzo, which is one of the best examples of its kind, is also one of the most serious, equal in its way to the equivalent movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in the same key. Its main theme is reminiscent of the D minor theme of the first movement, and the syncopated figure which accompanies it is insisted on to the point of near-violence. It takes a middle section of the most inspired pastoral beauty to restore the balance.

So the last movement has some complex emotional problems to solve. The prevailing atmosphere derives from the sinister and nervously energetic material of the first subject. That the lovely A major second subject on the cellos is no more than a temporary solution is demonstrated by the continuing threats of the development section. Even when the cellos theme is granted its rightful D major in the recapitulation, the minor key is quickly reasserted. It relaxes is hold only in the last bars of one of the most dramatic codas ever written.

Gerald Larner©

Dvorák was determined that his Symphony in D minor should be, as he put it, “something respectable,” something Brahms would approve of and something “such as to move the world,” particularly London. The London Philharmonic Society had made Dvorák an honorary member and asked him for a new symphony in 1884. Nine months later he had completed the work, and he conducted the first performance in St James’s Hall on 22 April 1885.

This was not a particularly happy time for Dvorák but, in pursuit of the classical ideals which he cherished for the symphony, he was careful to maintain an emotional balance. This is not to say that he had any inhibitions about spontaneous self-expression. The work is graced by some of Dvorák’s most individual inspirations, such as the lovely horn solo which casts a ray of E major light on the sombre D minor of the first subject of the first movement. It also anticipates the lyrical second subject melody, introduced in B flat major by flutes and clarinets. The development is much concerned with this conflict of emotions and tonalities. But, by recapitulating the major-key material first and reserving the main theme until later, Dvorák secures a not too happy ending to the movement.

The Poco adagio, which begins and ends serenely in F major, reverses the emotional impression. Tranquillity prevails in spite of such tragic moments as the violins and cellos provide - suddenly exposed in unsupported octaves - immediately after the entry of the second theme in the woodwind. On this occasion the gloom is dispelled by a new idea on the horns. When the same lonely melody, with the sadly drooping seventh, returns near the end, it provokes an outburst which is not so easily stilled.

In the circumstances it is not surprising that the Scherzo, which is one of the best examples of its kind, is also one of the most serious, equal in its way to the equivalent movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in the same key. Its main theme is reminiscent of the D major theme of the first movement, and the syncopated figure which accompanies it is insisted on to the point of near-violence. It takes a middle section of the most inspired pastoral beauty to restore the balance.

So the last movement has some complex emotional problems to solve. The prevailing atmosphere derives from the sinister and nervously energetic material of the first subject. That the lovely A major cello theme is no more than a temporary solution is demonstrated by the continuing threats of the development section. Even when the cellos’ second subject is granted its rightful D major in the recapitulation, the minor key is quickly reasserted. It relaxes is hold only in the last bars of one of the most dramatic codas ever written.

Gerald Larner©