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On 23 January 1843, Bedřich Smetana (1824–1884), then a grammar school student in Pilsen, wrote in his diary: “With God’s help and grace, I shall one day be Liszt in technique, Mozart in composition.” He aspired to become a concert pianist, admiring Franz Liszt’s technical mastery at the time. Later developments in Smetana’s professional and personal life led him to revere Liszt not only as a pianist but also as a composer of programmatic music. They met in person in 1850, and when Franz Liszt conducted his Missa solennis in Prague in September 1856, he presented Smetana with the piano score of his symphonic poem Tasso. In October that year, Smetana embarked on a concert tour to Gothenburg, Sweden, accepting – for both artistic and financial reasons – an offer to become the conductor of the local music society. During his five years in Sweden (1856–1861), he composed three symphonic poems: Richard III based on Shakespeare, Wallenstein’s Camp after Schiller, and Hakon Jarl after the play by the Danish dramatist Adam Oehlenschläger. Smetana’s decision to adopt the genre of the symphonic poem stemmed not only from his admiration for this direction in music, represented for him by Franz Liszt, but also from his innate dramatic nature. The extra-musical content inspired him, but did not constrain him; even in his Swedish symphonic poems, he carved out his own path. He did not aim to musically “retell” dramatic stories, yet we understand the inner struggle of the hunchbacked king, perceive the atmosphere of Wallenstein’s military camp, and sense the rise and fall of the power-hungry Hakon.
In 1861, Smetana returned to Bohemia, where much had changed. The previous year, Emperor Franz Joseph’s October Diploma had somewhat eased the political conditions in the multi-ethnic empire. New independent Czech-language institutions began to emerge, and Smetana saw an opportunity. He decided to devote his talents to the nation, as was expected of him, and in doing so also opened up possibilities for his own creative development. In 1866, his first two operas (The Brandenburgers in Bohemia and The Bartered Bride) premiered, and he became the principal conductor of the Provisional Theatre. Two years later, his opera Dalibor followed.
In November 1872, it was reported in the press that Smetana was working on symphonic poems titled Vyšehrad and Vltava. The following year, there was talk of a five-part cycle including Říp, Vyšehrad, Vltava, Lipany, and Bílá hora (White Mountain), dedicated to “the most important moments of our glory and our misfortunes.” It is clear that, from the outset, Smetana had a full cycle in mind.
The six-year period during which the cycle took shape was extremely exhausting for Smetana. His occasional activities as a concert pianist, and above all, the demands placed on him by conducting and running the opera at the Provisional Theatre, left him with minimal time for composing. Dissatisfaction with the state of the theatre and Czech opera in general grew, both within and outside the theatre. Meanwhile, the site of the future National Theatre lay stagnant since the foundation stone had been laid in 1868, while political intrigue flourished. All this wore down Smetana, whose physical and mental constitution was not particularly robust.
Nonetheless, he did not abandon his plan for a symphonic cycle. In September 1874, he began composing Vyšehrad. In October, he lost his hearing. Yet, by mid-November 1874, he had completed Vyšehrad and, three weeks later, Vltava. Early in 1875, he finished Šárka. The first two parts were soon performed. Vyšehrad premiered on 14 March 1875, conducted by Ludvík Slanský at Žofín Island as part of the fourth concert in the series of concerts given by the Philharmonic Orchestra, an ensemble, in which both Smetana and Slanský alternated as conductors before Smetana’s deafness. Vltava was performed a month later, on 4 April, this time conducted by Adolf Čech. After composing the fourth symphonic poem, Z českých luhů a hájů (From Bohemia’s Woods and Fields), which premiered on 10 December 1876, the cycle seemed complete. Šárka was performed on 17 March 1877 during the Slavic Concerts under Adolf Čech’s baton. In his review, Smetana’s friend Ludevít Procházka, after praising the “plastic fidelity” in depicting the legend, added: “What marvels could Master Smetana create from the heroic figures of the Bohemian Hussite era – who could be more suited to such a task?” This idea became reality in the final two parts of the cycle, which ultimately grew to six. Significantly, Bílá hora (White Mountain), the site of the defeat of the Bohemian estates in 1620, was not included in the cycle, and the defeat of the Hussites at Lipany was replaced by the proud Hussite town of Tábor. Říp, a mountain associated with the legendary arrival of the “Forefather Czech”, was replaced by Blaník. Tábor and Blaník bear completion dates within four months between December 1878 and March 1879. On 14 October 1879, Smetana wrote a letter to the Council of the Royal Capital City of Prague, dedicating the cycle then titled Vlast (Fatherland) to the city. The final two symphonic poems were then performed together on 4 January 1880 at Žofín Island, on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of Smetana’s first public performance as a pianist. That same year, the full scores of the cycle were published by F. A. Urbánek in Prague. The first complete performance of the cycle took place on 5 November 1882 at Žofín Island, performed by an expanded orchestra of the Czech Theatre under the direction of Adolf Čech.
Smetana’s cycle is the result of a unique approach to “musical storytelling.” Some programmatic composers provided detailed guides to their works, either written by themselves or interpreters; others offered only key points, leaving the rest to the listener’s imagination. Smetana leaned towards the latter approach, yet he did write commentary on Má vlast, and for Vltava, notes are even included in the score. The listener can follow the river from its source, through the countryside it flows past, witnessing a hunt, a village wedding, dancing with forest nymphs, and experiencing the peril of river rapids. The climax is the river’s passage through Prague, evoking the glory of the historical royal residence at Vyšehrad. The legend of the Maidens’ War and the treacherous Šárka is treated as an image of the location near Prague to which the legend is tied. The fourth part, Z českých luhů a hájů (From Bohemia’s Woods and Fields), is a natural scene. In Tábor, persistence and unwavering determination are expressed. The unique aspect is the connection of the Hussite theme with the legend of Blaník. Smetana combined the legend of the sleeping army with the Hussites, creating an intellectual unity from both works. At the very end, the Vyšehrad motif returns, uniting the entire cycle.
For his poetic images, Smetana used established musical forms. Vyšehrad is essentially structured as a sonata, Vltava is interpreted as a transformed rondo form or a synthesis of a multi-movement cycle into one movement, as is Šárka. Z českých luhů a hájů has a three-part form with elements of a fugue. Tábor can also be seen as a transformed sonata form, connected by variations of the Hussite quote, and the structural principle is mirrored in Blaník.
Although the individual parts can be performed separately, and often are, Smetana’s concept was a thoughtful, organic whole. The parts are arranged in the chronological order of their creation, but there is deeper meaning in their sequence: the pair Vyšehrad and Vltava represent the contrast between a historical theme and a natural one. This connection is reinforced at the end of Vltava by the return of the Vyšehrad motif – the harp chords that open Vyšehrad, used by Smetana in his opera Libuše (1872), also appear at the end of Vltava with the full orchestra, and again at the conclusion of the entire cycle. Šárka alone has an epic narrative, while the true centre of the cycle, a declaration of love for the Czech country, is in Z českých luhů a hájů.
Over the years, the cycle gained an unambiguous symbolic meaning, reinforced by its subsequent performances. The impact of the performance by Václav Talich with the Czech Philharmonic and the Czech Radio Orchestra on 5 June 1939 during the Prague Musical May Festival at the National Theatre – three months after the Nazi occupation of Czechoslovakia – is preserved in an audio recording. Thanks to Talich, Má vlast was able to be performed in full during the occupation, after the ban on the last two parts was lifted. After the war, the cycle became the traditional opening concert of the Prague Spring International Music Festival. Its performance during the Concert of Mutual Understanding, with the combined forces of the Czech Philharmonic, Brno State Philharmonic, and Slovak Philharmonic, conducted by Rafael Kubelík on Old Town Square in 1990, remains a powerful symbol.
Vlasta Reittererová
INTERPRETATION NOTE
Romantic composers and performers despised the metronome. Carl Maria von Weber once remarked that metronomic markings were useful only for preventing major mistakes. Before him, Johann Nepomuk Hummel had stated that metronomic indications were relevant only for the first few bars, and we know from critical analyses of the day that Richard Wagner could easily slow down a section by over a third without it being marked in the score. It was often recommended to repeat “allegro” sections or even to play “da capo” at a quicker pace. Cadential harmonies (at the end of phrases) were customarily slowed down, or even held, “for as long as possible.” From the early 19th century onward, crescendo became an almost automatic signal to increase the tempo, while diminuendo meant an instruction to slow down. In contrast, certain smaller “grandiose and majestic” fortes were intended to slow things down, as is fitting for Smetana’s symphonic poem Vyšehrad, with the same feature also appearing in his other poems. From as early as the late 18th century, we can find numerous recommendations on how to handle flexible tempos. Wagner advised the orchestra of Prague Conservatory to listen to how pianists approached symphonic music. Even today, recordings testify to this constant presence of agogics, rubato, and flexible tempo. Contemporary critics tell us that the ideal for a symphony orchestra was to play like small chamber ensembles, where such “modifications” abounded. These shifts, however, were never to be arbitrary; they always had to support the compositional “musical situation,” as Wagner put it. His interpretive “extremism” influenced not only Antonín Dvořák, but also Bedřich Smetana. Various agogic “weightings” of unusually accented notes, deliberately “unrhythmic” rubato passages with cadential slowdowns, contrasting with a “lighter” tempo for dance figures or even the arrhythmic combination of rubato and flexible tempo (as in the opening of his 5th symphonic poem “Ye Who Are Warriors…”), together with the Romantic ornamentation of expressive glissando connections or deliberately uneven “slurring” in characteristic Romantic melodies, led us to believe that it was essential to restore the original musicality of Romantic works, which had been significantly diminished in the 20th century due to the mistaken conviction that what was not written in the score was automatically forbidden. This was certainly not the case in Smetana’s day—as illustrated by the remarkable story of the originally improvised harp prelude, which Smetana only later enthusiastically committed to notation.