PROGRAM NOTES FOR THE
OCTOBER 2008 SCS CONCERT
By Steve Surtshin

 

Dvořák: Concerto in B minor for Violoncello and Orchestra, Op.104

For decades, the noted cellist Hanus Wilhan had asked Dvořák to write a concerto for him to play, but to no avail. By his own admission, Dvořák believed the cello to be an ungrateful instrument for such an undertaking. While he loved the sound of the cello in its middle ranges, Dvořák thought the upper end sounded too nasal and the lower end too muddy.

It is likely that the work would have never come to fruition at all had not Bohemian seeds been planted in American soil. The years from 1892 to 1895, during the composer’s tenure as Director of the National Conservatory of Music in New York City, saw the creation of many of Dvořák’s greatest masterworks, including: the New World Symphony (No. 9); the “American” String Quartet, Op. 96; and this concerto, the most beloved and popular of all written for this instrument. On the faculty of the National Conservatory at that time was the Irish-born, German-trained cellist and composer Victor Herbert, who had just completed and premiered his own Second Cello Concerto the previous spring. Dvořák attended two performances of Herbert’s concerto, and drew such inspiration from what he had heard that he was able to render the Op.104 on to paper just a few months later.

The three movements are marked:

1. Allegro (Sonata form, powerful)
2. Adagio, ma non troppo (Pastorale, troubled and lyrical)
3. Allegro Moderato-Andante-Allegro Vivo (Rondo, bravura)

Dvořák returned to Prague in 1895 and, due to a series of controversies and logistical problems, the Concerto did not receive its premiere until 1896 in London, with Leo Stern (not Wilhan) as the soloist. Dvořák’s friendship with Wilhan did survive and Wilhan went on to give many performances of the work, starting in 1899.

Just as Victor Herbert’s Cello Concerto inspired Dvořák, so this Concerto produced the following reaction from Brahms, who had been a mentor to Dvořák, just as Schumann had been a mentor to him.

    “Why on earth did I not know that one could write a cello concerto like this? Had I only known I would have written one years ago.”

                                        ---- Johannes Brahms

But Brahms never wrote his own concerto. Of course, we wish he had done so. But, then again, Dvořák’s Cello Concerto had set the bar very high, and Brahms knew it.

R. Schumann: Symphony No. 3, “Rhenish,” in E flat major, Op. 97

Although numbered Schumann’s Third Symphony, this is chronologically his last. It is also the brightest and least introspective of the four of them. It was written in 1850 during a rare period of peace and happiness in the composer’s life, not long after he and his wife Clara had moved to Dusseldorf so that he could assume the podium as Conductor of its principal orchestra. Schumann was enthralled with this capital city in the heart of the Rhineland and wanted to present to his new audiences something that reflected the local color of the area. What emerged was something on a grand scale, something truly expansive. The nickname of the work—the “Rhenish”—was added later, probably not by Schumann himself.

The work is unusual in that it consists of five movements:

1. Lebhaft (Lively; E flat major)
2. Scherzo, Sehr Mässig (Jovial; C major)
3.  Nicht Schnell (Not Fast; A flat major)
4. Feierlich (Celebratory; E flat major)
5. Lebhaft (Lively; E flat major)

The First Movement is an ebullient fanfare in sonata form that showcases the brass section in grand fashion. The Second Movement is flowing in character and contains elements of a Ländler, a pastoral German folk dance. The Third Movement is an intermezzo, a bridge to the Fourth Movement, which in turn is subtitled, “In the Style of an Accompaniment to a Solemn Ceremony.”  Apparently, Schumann drew inspiration to write the Fourth Movement from the grandeur of a ceremony elevating the Archbishop of Cologne to the rank of Cardinal. More recent scholarship suggests, however, that it may have been the massive architecture of the Cathedral in Cologne itself, then the tallest structure in the world, that actually made the most profound impression on him. The movement is a fantasia based on two subjects that is elaborated with richly developed counterpoint. The finale is a bright and jaunty recapitulation of many thematic elements from the previous movements.