It never hurts to have friends in high places, and in the case of Antonín Dvořák that friend was Johannes Brahms. It was on the older German composer’s advice that, in early 1878, Dvořák sent his Moravian Duets for soprano and piano to Brahms’s influential, and financially canny, Berlin publisher Fritz Simrock. Knowing a good thing when he saw it, Simrock promptly asked Dvořák to write two books of dances for piano duet in the style of Brahms’s Hungarian Dances.
Within two months, eight pieces for four hands were on the publisher’s desk, followed soon after by orchestrated versions of both. In this latter form, the Slavonic Dances would become a staple diet of orchestras all over the world while – latching onto the boom in popularity of upright pianos in people’s homes – sales of the sheet music for the piano original filled Simrock’s coffers nicely and made Dvořák a household name.
Brahms and Dvořák: a fertile friendship
This was by no means the first time that Brahms had helped to propel the Czech composer’s career. Three years earlier, he had been a new member of the jury that decided which young creative talents would be the beneficiaries of the annual Austrian State Stipendium, a grant from the Austrian Ministry of Education, to help encourage their artistic endeavours.
Earning a meagre living at the time as an organist at the church of St Adalbert in Prague, and now the recently married parent of a young son, Dvořák was greatly boosted by the 400 gulden that resulted from his successful application, and a flurry of works soon followed. These included his tragic opera Vanda, the Piano Trio in B flat major, String Quintet in G major, Serenade for Strings and, perhaps most significantly, his Symphony No. 5, composed in just a couple of months over the summer of 1875.
Dvořák's 'Pastoral Symphony'?
Dvořák’s Fifth has been dubbed his ‘Pastoral Symphony’, and his early biographer Otakar Šourek memorably described its first movement as ‘the voice of the rustling woods, the song of the birds, the fragrance of the fields, the strong breath of nature rejoicing and the sense of mortal wellbeing’. However, the symphony is not a paean to nature as is Beethoven’s Sixth.
There is nothing hymn-like in Dvořák’s score, no song of thanksgiving after the storm. Nor is it the equivalent of an epiphany on the road to Damascus. Dvořák’s attempt to escape from the powerful influence of the Neo-Germanic school was already apparent in, for example, the Serenade for Strings and much of the Third and Fourth Symphonies, where his deep-rooted nationalist colours are firmly nailed to the mast.
An Allegro ma non troppo opens the Fifth with a chirpy clarinet theme, promising a dawn chorus which never arrives. Instead, a stomping bucolic theme muscles its way in, brushing aside – pace Šourek – any hint of birdsong. Dvořák apologises for this rude intrusion by supplying a contrasting third theme, heard first on violins, which is so inviting that he is loath to part with it. The frequent brassy outbursts are ebullient, the mood generally upbeat until Dvořák calls time, bringing proceedings to a calm resolution.
'Dvořák the consummate tunesmith'
Often within a Dvořák slow movement we find a work’s dark side – a sudden downpour is possible even on a sunny day – and the Andante of the Fifth Symphony is similar to the Adagio of the Eighth in this respect. The main theme is melancholic on first appearance, but lightens on repetition. The movement’s middle section takes the form of a ‘Dumka’, a Czech folk dance and a Dvořák speciality, when elegiac and lively tempos alternate.
Once calm is restored, the Andante comes to rest, followed by a 16-bar bridge passage, virtually a repeat of the Andante’s closing pages, before it segues into the Scherzo, a rustic dance radiating sunshine. It’s an augury of the Ninth Symphony’s third movement, complete with triangle embellishment. Dvořák the consummate tunesmith comes to the fore in the Trio section, which luxuriates in a stream of melody. After what seems a reluctant return to the Scherzo proper, it’s polished off with two dismissive wallops.
The Finale is an extended Slavonic dance. Like Haydn before him, Dvořák plays with our expectations, appearing not to know when or even how to stop. In the Coda, the symphony’s opening motif confidently rings out, bringing Dvořák’s Fifth to a jubilant close.
The work enjoyed its first performance in March 1879 at Prague’s Zofín concert hall, was revised by the composer in 1887, and published by Simrock the following year. At that point, and against Dvořák’s wishes, Simrock gave the Fifth an Opus number of 76 (it should be Op. 24). Ever the savvy marketing man, the publisher knew the value of making something appear brand new, even if it really wasn’t…
Love Dvořák's Symphony No. 5? Here are five more great works to discover
Dvořák Symphony No. 6
The largely sunny temperament of Dvořák’s Fifth Symphony is carried on into his Sixth, composed in the early autumn of 1880. By this stage, however, Dvořák’s name was rapidly spreading across Europe thanks to the popularity of his first set of Slavonic Dances (Op. 46) and that work’s rhythmic drive can aso be enjoyed in the furiant of the Sixth’s third-movement Scherzo. (Bamberg Symphony Orchestra/Jakub Hrůša Tudor TUD1741)
Brahms: Symphony No. 2
A summer spent at the Austrian holiday resort of Pörtschach in 1877 resulted in Brahms’s Second Symphony. In contrast to the First’s years-long, tortured genesis, the Second was whittled off in no time at all, and a sense of serenity flows through it, right from the horn calls that introduce the opening Allegro non troppo. Though Brahms himself described it – probably mischievously – as ‘mournful’, its regular nickname of ‘The Pastoral’ seems entirely appropriate. (London Philharmonic Orch/Vladimir Jurowski LPO LPO0043)
Smetana: 'From Bohemia's Woods and Fields' (from Má vlast)
Dating from the same year as Dvořák’s Fifth is ‘From Bohemia’s Woods and Fields’, the fourth of Smetana’s famous Má vlast set of six symphonic poems. Complete with a natty little fugue in the middle, the work celebrates the beauty of the Czech landscape before inviting us to a joyful village celebration. (Czech Philharmonic/Semyon Bychkov Pentatone PTC5187203)
Novák: Serenade in F major
One can hear Dvořák’s influence, meanwhile, on the earlier music of his pupil Vitĕzslav Novák, a composer who enjoyed nothing more than to get out into the great outdoors of his Czech homeland. A briefly ominous opening to the third movement aside, Novák’s Serenade in F major for small orchestra (1895) radiates a feeling of sun-blessed contentment throughout, occasionally breaking into a light-footed dance. (Ukranian Chamber Orchestra/
Andrew Mogrelia Marco Polo 8223649)
Janáček: Lachian Dances
And while you’re up on your feet… have a whirl to Leos Janáček’s Lachian Dances of 1888. One of Janáček’s earliest compositions – he was a comparatively late starter – the set is made up of six dances, one of which, ‘Dymák’, depicts the work of a blacksmith, complete with hammer blows, while the last, ‘Pilky’, is about a peasant sawing wood in readiness for winter. (Brno Philharmonic Orchestra/Jakub Hrůša Supraphon SU39232)
Dvořák Symphony No. 5: best recording
A number of conductors have recorded all nine of Dvořák’s symphonies, and several fine Fifths lurk within those complete cycles: the likes of Otmar Suitner, Rafael Kubelík, István Kertész, Witold Rowicki, Libor Pešek and Jiří Bělohlávek are all highly recommendable. And should you be up for a little detective work, Zdeněk Mácal’s recordings from his time at the helm of the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra (1986-95) are difficult to track down but they, too, have a strong following among die-hard collectors.
Frustratingly, Charles Mackerras, one of the greatest champions of Czech music of the late-20th century, never got round to recording Dvořák’s Fifth.
Nor, surprisingly, did the great Karel Ančerl, chief conductor of the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra from 1950-68 (beware of what might appear to be a recording of the Fifth with the Vienna Symphony from 1962 – this is actually the Ninth, using the old numbering system). However, we do at least have the 1952 recording by Ancerl’s immediate Czech Philharmonic predecessor, Karel Šejna – and not only has it stood the test of time, but for many it remains peerless.
Šejna had the orchestra and its tradition running through his veins – he had played in it as principal double bassist, joining it in 1921 when only 25 years old – and while his international profile was never as high as that of Václav Talich, Kubelík and Ančerl, he left over 70 recordings, at present mostly unavailable. Those he made in the studio for the Supraphon label are now gold dust, none more so than his complete set of the Slavonic Dances and this exceptional Dvořák Fifth.
'A happy reminder of a bygone age when the sound of this wonderful orchestra was immediately recognisable'
There is a heartfelt honesty which permeates every bar of the Czech Philharmonic’s performance under Šejna. Tempos feel perfectly natural, phrasing is exquisite, and those characteristic Czech woodwinds are a happy reminder of a bygone age when the sound of this wonderful orchestra was immediately recognisable. Šejna’s opening Allegro ma non troppo breathes in the spring air like no other and his Scherzo frolics with admirable lightness. Nor is he found wanting when the score calls for gloomier shades or a touch of orchestral oomph.
The music of Dvořák has always been the beating heart of the Czech Philharmonic, and this fabulous recording is ample proof. The mono sound won’t impress audiophiles, admittedly, but it possesses enough clarity and warmth to satisfy lovers of great music-making.
Three more great Dvořák Fifths...
Witold Rowicki (conductor)
Conductors Witold Rowicki and István Kertész recorded complete sets of the Dvořák symphonies with the London Symphony Orchestra that are roughly contemporaneous and both admirable. However, in the Fifth Symphony, Kertész’s pioneering 1965 stereo recording just yields to Rowicki’s 1967 account, which finds more poetry in the Andante, an extra lilt in the Scherzo and wins hands down in the Finale, a whirlwind of virtuosic orchestral playing. Recorded in pretty good sound quality, it is the highlight of the Pole’s Dvořák cycle. (Decca 478 2296)
Otmar Suitner (conductor)
The Swiss conductor Otmar Suitner and the Staatskapelle Berlin began their splendid Dvořák cycle with the Fifth Symphony in 1979. Suitner’s love of the score is obvious – perfectly sculpted, warmly phrased, gloriously played and with first and second violins divided either side of the conductor (to give that all-important antiphonal effect), his outstanding performance is a revelation. If Karel Šejna’s mono sound is an insurmountable drawback for some listeners, this beautifully recorded account could quite happily take top spot. (Brilliant Classics 96043)
Neeme Järvi (conductor)
Neeme Järvi, the amazingly versatile Estonian conductor whose recordings cover a huge range of repertoire, rarely disappoints. Here, he digs deep into his Slavic inner self in a wholly idiomatic realisation of Dvořák’s Fifth Symphony. With superb playing from his Royal Scottish National Orchestra forces, Järvi provides plenty of physical excitement while also finding time to relish the symphony’s lyricism and local colour. The sound quality of this 1987 recording is rich, deep and wide in typical Chandos Records fashion. (Chandos CHAN 8552)
... and one to avoid
Stephen Gunzenhauser (conductor)
When the fledgling Naxos label took off in the 1980s, it bravely decided to tackle the Dvořák symphonies – a laudable but risky move, given the strength of the competition already in the catalogue. With the Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra under Stephen Gunzenhauser, the results are perfectly acceptable when it comes to the Fifth – you won’t find much wrong. But, when other recordings offer such character, colour, individuality and sheer visceral thrill, this needs to be more than just acceptable. Look elsewhere for a Fifth that really takes wing.