Copyright by Kaitlin Lee Ericson 2010
The Report Committee for Kaitlin Lee Ericson Certifies that this is the approved version of the following report:
Forging a National Identity: Ideological Undercurrents in Smetana’s Vltava
APPROVED BY SUPERVISING COMMITTEE:
Supervisor: James Buhler
Byron Almén
Forging a National Identity: Ideological Undercurrents in Smetana’s Vltava
by
Kaitlin Lee Ericson, B.M.
Report Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of The University of Texas at Austin in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements
for the Degree of
Master of Music
The University of Texas at Austin May 2010
Abstract
Forging a National Identity: Ideological Undercurrents in Smetana’s Vltava
Kaitlin Lee Ericson, MMusic The University of Texas at Austin, 2010
Supervisor: James Buhler
Smetana’s Vltava is widely described as a musical depiction of sights and scenes on a journey down the Vltava River that glorifies the river as a defining national landmark. While this understanding of the piece complies with its program and produces a formal and thematic analysis that reveals a general adherence to the conventions of the nineteenth-century symphonic poem, the interpretation only considers the work in isolation and does not account for its most exceptional features. My paper will analyze Vltava in its larger context as a part of the symphonic cycle of Má Vlast to uncover a deeper programmatic significance to the movement’s formal and thematic design, one inextricably bound up with Smetana’s Czech nationalism. The analysis will consider all of the movements of the cycle and their relationships to one another, with particular emphasis on the crucial relationship between Vltava and Z českých luhů a hájů. iv
Table of Contents
Vyšehrad's Vision ...... 1
Šárka's Rage ...... 14
Hus' Song ...... 34
Bibliography ...... 42
Vita ...... 44
v
Vyšehrad’s Vision
The symphonic poem Vltava, the second of six in the collection Má Vlast (My
Country), has long been one of Bedřich Smetana’s most well-known and most celebrated works.1 Composed in 1874, Vltava is widely described as a musical depiction of the course of the Vltava River (known in German as the Moldau) that runs through the Czech city of Prague.2 In his biography of Smetana, Brian Large portrays the work as
“a delicate watercolor inspired by the Czech countryside, its rivers, valleys, and above all by its people.”3 Smetana’s brief notes for the piece include the following:
The composition depicts the course of the river, from its beginning where two
brooks, one cold, the other warm, join a stream, running through forests and
meadows and a lovely countryside where merry feasts are celebrated; water-sprites
dance in the moonlight; on nearby rocks can be seen the outline of ruined castles,
proudly soaring into the sky. Vltava swirls through the St. John Rapids and flows in a
broad stream towards Prague. It passes Vyšehrad and disappears majestically into
the distance, where it joins the Elbe.4
Smetana’s notes have commonly inspired an interpretation of Vltava as a kind of travelogue in its musical portrayal of the river’s course and the various scenes we
1 John Clapham, Smetana (New York: Octagaon Books, 1972), p. 80. 2 Marta Ottlová et. al., “Smetana, Bedřich *Friedrich+,” Grove Music Online ed. L. Macy (Accessed 23 March 2010), http://www.grovemusic.com. 3 Brian Large, Smetana (New York: Da Capo Press, 1985), p. 269. 4 Ibid., p. 273. 1 encounter along the way.5 Indeed, as we listen to the composition, clear in its formal divisions and effective in its thematic treatment, we may readily identify each of the events outlined in the above program. Figure 1 shows Vltava’s basic formal divisions along with the corresponding programmatic events. Enriching this basic interpretation is the work’s overtly nationalist origins, in light of which Vltava also distinctly evokes nationalistic pride in the river as a defining Czech landmark and unifying symbol of
Czech life and culture.6 As this understanding of the work accords with the account
Smetana provides as well as with explicitly nationalist appeals, most analysts have been content to work within this interpretive framework.7
Figure 1: Smetana, Vltava, formal diagram with programmatic events
Water Vltava Introduction Vltava Forest/Hunt Wedding sprites Vltava Rapids broad Vyšehrad "River" + "River" ≈ T1 T2 ≈ T3 T4 ≈ T1 T1 T1' *
36 80 118 181 239 271 333 359
e C → E G Ab c V/e e ( x) E
Interpreting Vltava as a travelogue highlights the composition’s essential adherence to the generic conventions of the nineteenth-century symphonic poem. The invention of the symphonic poem in the mid-nineteenth century is generally credited to
Liszt. Defined in the current online edition of Grove Dictionary as “an orchestral form in
5 Alexander C. MacKenzie, “The Bohemian School of Music,” Sammelbände der Internationalen Musikgesellschaft 7 (1906): 158. 6 Michael Beckerman, “In Search of Czechness in Music,” 19th-Century Music 10.1 (1986): 73. 7 Large, Smetana, 273-276. 2 which a poem or programme provides a narrative or illustrative basis,”8 the symphonic poem has also been described as “an orchestral composition inspired by a literary, historical, or pictorial subject – or indeed by anything which exists also outside music (a natural scene, for instance) – and deriving its structure rather from the events or incidents or objects which it seeks to portray than from the inherited forms of the art of music itself.”9 In other words, the form of the symphonic poem arises from the given programmatic sequence and thus will often deviate from the conventional formal structures, especially sonata form, that nevertheless remain at the core of its organization. Liszt’s conception influenced many subsequent composers, including
Smetana, to whom he was a mentor and friend.10 Liszt’s influence is evident in Vltava and the cycle of Má Vlast, where Smetana turned the genre into a means of nationalist expression.11
The structural features of Vltava, which unfold as an expression of the work’s programmatic content, ultimately invoke principles of both sonata and rondo form as well. The piece opens in the tonic key of E minor with a short introduction depicting the river’s two source streams, “one cold, the other warm,” that will eventually merge into one. As shown in Example 1, the musical material of the opening consists of the initial
8 Hugh Macdonald, “Symphonic Poem,” Grove Music Online ed. L. Macy (Accessed 31 March 2010),
Example 1: Smetana, Vltava, flute parts, mm. 5-9.
The somewhat long introduction leads directly into the main theme (mm. 36 ff.), also in E minor, which consists of a soaring, expansive melody (Example 2) played over the river motive and which programmatically announces the arrival in the Vltava mainstream. The historical origins of this theme are disputed, as the tune in various forms had previously appeared in a number of compositions and seems to have been widely circulated throughout Europe beginning as early as the seventeenth century.12
Biographers note that the theme resembles several indigenous folk tunes, most closely the Czech nursery rhyme “Kočka, lese dírou, pes oknem.”13 Large also suggests that
Smetana may have heard the melody when he lived for several years in Sweden, as the
12 “The canzonetta Fuggi, fuggi, fuggi da questo cielo . . . became known as the Aria di Mantova through sonata treatments by Biagio Marini and Marco Uccellini. Its melody was used for a popular noël in 18th- century France, and it eventually emerged as the principal theme of Smetana’s Vltava" (John Walter Hill, "Cenci, Giuseppe," Grove Music Online ed. L. Macy [Accessed 11 April 2010], http://www.grovemusic.com). 13 Clapham, Smetana, p. 80. 4 melody appears in a popular Swedish folk song that he likely encountered.14 Whatever its actual origins, it seems clear, given how the theme is deployed in the tone poem, that Smetana used it because of its Czech associations.
Example 2: Smetana, Vltava, opening of the main theme, mm. 36-43.
The main theme is followed by three different episodes, labeled by name in
Figure 1 and shown in Example 3. Each clearly contrasting in style and in key, these episodes are musical depictions of different sights and scenes someone might see on a journey down the river, including woodsmen hunting in the forest (mm. 80 ff.), a wedding ceremony taking place along the riverbank (mm. 118 ff.), and water sprites dancing in the moonlight (mm. 181 ff.). Up to this point in the piece, the unfolding episodic organization most closely resembles the formal principle of the rondo. While rondo form traditionally requires a return of the main theme between each episode,
Smetana’s use of the river motive to transition between the episodes serves to link the contrasting episodes together with music associated with the river. Thus, the river motive arguably functions as a substitute for the main theme’s reference point.
Programmatically, the ubiquitous presence of the river motive serves to unify
14 Large, Smetana, p. 275. 5
Example 3a: Smetana, Vltava, Woodsmen, mm. 80-85.
Example 3b: Smetana, Vltava, Wedding, mm. 118-126.
Example 3c: Smetana, Vltava, Water sprites, mm. 188-191.
6 the otherwise disparate episodes just as the famous river serves to unify the nation’s land, culture, history, mythology, and people in the cultural imagination. Though the emphasis in the composition falls on the scenes depicted, the persistent river motive serves as a constant reminder that the river is a shared geographical landmark with important historical, social, and cultural associations representative of national unity.
The water sprites episode leads to a return of the main theme in m. 239, as the program dictates a shift of emphasis from the scenes along the riverbank back to the journey down the river towards Prague and a view of ruined castles along the rocks.
Although the number of episodes between the first statement of the theme and its return is unusual for rondo form, we can nevertheless interpret its arrival as a medial rondo statement of the theme. Example 4 illustrates that the end of the water sprites episode also resembles a sonata-like retransition (mm. 229 ff.), complete with the traditional standing on the dominant that leads smoothly to the return of the main theme. The resemblance to a sonata recapitulation here suggests a possible mix of formal processes.
This medial statement of the main theme turns directly into a highly developmental episode that depicts the river’s course through the turbulent St. John’s
Rapids. As Example 5 shows, this stormy section develops main theme material and the accompanying river motive. This section ultimately leads to a final statement of the main theme (mm. 333 ff.) which, as Example 6 demonstrates, involves a distinct topical 7
Example 4: Smetana, Vltava, Retransition (G), mm. 228-230.
and modal shift to a heroic fanfare in E major. The program for this section describes the long-awaited arrival in Prague, as well as a view of the Vyšehrad Castle, whose presence is signaled by a statement of the main theme from Vyšehrad (mm. 359 ff.), the first movement of Má Vlast. The pivotal transformation of the Vltava theme into a heroic, victorious fanfare to close the work suggests not only a fulfilling end to the river journey, but ultimately serves the ideological program of glorifying the river as a source of national pride and unity.
The marked transformation of the main theme’s final statement seems a
8
Example 5: Smetana, Vltava, St. John’s Rapids, mm. 281-285.
Example 6: Smetana, Vltava, Vltava in broad stream, mm. 333-340.
9 considerable departure from rondo form, as the final statement of the main theme usually returns in stable and recognizable form. Here, however, the thematic process seems more characteristic of a sonata-form coda; as James Hepokoski and Warren
Darcy note, codas, particularly in programmatic works, commonly feature a significant alteration or apotheosis of the main theme.15 In this final section, then, a sonata-form process seems to intrude on and subvert the basic episodic organization that has up to this point been guiding our analysis.
Acknowledging the sonata-like character of the coda, we can go back over the piece and recognize that attributes of sonata form had been latent all along. I have already mentioned the strong character of the retransition that preceded the return of the main theme; a general sonata-form framework is also evident in the movement’s tonal plan. Figure 2 compares rondo and sonata form interpretations of Vltava’s organization. The wedding episode (C) becomes the subordinate theme (to use William
Caplin’s terminology16), as it contrasts markedly in style and appears in the relative major, the traditional key of the subordinate theme in minor mode sonata form movements. The hunting episode (B), harmonically unstable and lacking distinctive thematic material, fittingly serves as the transition. While the peaceful serenity of the water sprites episode (D) does not deliver the stormy material characteristic of
15 James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy, Elements of Sonata Theory: Forms, Types, and Deformations in the Late-Eighteenth-Century Sonata (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), pp. 286-7. 16 William E. Caplin, Classical Form: A Theory of Formal Functions for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998). 10 development, it is also harmonically unstable, sequencing chromatically through several different keys, from A-flat major to C minor to E-flat major/minor, and finally to B major, the dominant of E minor, as it accordingly retransitions into the sonata form recapitulation. The recapitulation is more problematic, most notably due to the absence of the subordinate theme and the appearance of a stormy developmental section that, while perhaps compensating for the uncharacteristically serene mood of the water sprites episode, effectively paves the way for the coda.
Figure 2: Smetana, Vltava, rondo and sonata form interpretations
Expo. Dev. Recap.
Sonata: Intro. P Theme Transition S Theme Dev. Recap. Dev. 2 Coda
Rondo: Intro. A B C D A E A' * 36 80 118 181 239 271 333 359
Vltava, it seems, incorporates organizational principles and processes drawn from both rondo and sonata forms, with the relationship managed in part by the program. The program effectively mediates rondo and sonata and together they provide a perfectly satisfactory reading of the work as a musical travelogue. Conceived this way,
Vltava expresses distinct pride in the river as an important geographical landmark that symbolizes national unity. However, understanding Vltava as a travelogue also implies a deliberate plan to the (implicitly) guided tour, which raises questions regarding the organizational choices contained in the program. For instance, what is the logic or
11 significance behind the selection and ordering of scenes and events in the piece? Also, if the episodic principle of the rondo seems dominant to the point of the coda, what are we to make, in terms of the program, of the remarkable nature of the thematic transformation in the coda?
This transformation is remarkable in several ways. First of all, the theme itself is thoroughly de-emphasized and almost beside the point. Rather than playing an expansive and majestic statement of the main theme, the coda doubles its tempo, changes its mode, and presents it as a heroic fanfare, preserving only its basic melodic line. The theme sounds particularly harried here, as it struggles to achieve closure, with several attempted cadences, which it only achieves with the entrance of the Vyšehrad theme in m. 359. Ultimately, the theme, the expected focal point of the coda, is trivialized as it is transformed in function and becomes the preparation for the Vyšehrad theme, the actual goal of the coda and thus also of the movement. However, the
Vyšehrad theme itself appears only as a fragment before leading into the extended conventional cadence material that concludes the work. Vltava’s closing measures, shown in Example 7, contain one last reference to the main theme, which also occurs as a fragment before the abrupt final cadence.
From a formal perspective, the coda and apotheosis of the Vyšehrad fragment provide rhetorical emphasis and conventional formal rounding for the work. The
12
Example 7: Smetana, Vltava, mm. 419-427.
program explains the significance of the coda as the end of the river journey with the entrance into Prague and the view of Vyšehrad. The victorious arrival and majestic sights account for the topical change in the main theme and its displacement by the
Vyšehrad theme. However, this particular programmatic interpretation has little to say about the trivialization of the theme, and by extension why the representation displaces the river with Vyšehrad and the significance of the presentation of the Vyšehrad theme as a fragment. In fact, the shift of representational focus away from the river may possibly challenge the overt programmatic emphasis (carried in the title) on glorifying the river, particularly in the final section of the work where this sentiment is most notably expressed and solidified. The rhetorical flourishes of the coda almost undermine the ideological project of the travelogue.
13
Šárka’s Rage
These questions surrounding Vltava’s coda section may be clarified through an analysis of the work that takes into account the entirety of Má Vlast, the collection of symphonic poems to which it belongs. Because Vltava is the most popular of the six poems, it is very often extracted and performed as a stand-alone composition. The composition is therefore also widely interpreted outside of its larger context.17 Although the travelogue explanation of Vltava is largely convincing when applied to the work in isolation, this is less true when it is considered as a part of the larger work. Upon examining Vltava in the context of Má Vlast and considering the historical context and central idea of Má Vlast itself, we may uncover a deeper programmatic significance to both the individual poem and the entire work.
František Bartoš, an important editor of Smetana’s works,18 points to a specifically nationalistic ideological content to Má Vlast.
Stressed national tendencies, resulting naturally from such circumstances [of
national struggle], [its] conflicts and ardent optimism, indicating a great future for
the nation, are the reasons why [the work is] fully understood and appreciated only
by Smetana’s countrymen. *It has+ become a national sacrosanct to which the
17 Clapham, Smetana, pp. 76-84: source recognizes Má Vlast as a unified work, but analyzes each movement on an individual basis. 18 John Clapham, “Smetana: A Century After,” The Musical Times 125:1694 (1984): 204. 14
whole nation turns in times of crises. For this reason too a foreigner can
comprehend only with difficulty the specific ideological atmosphere of [this] most
monumental of Smetana’s works.19
Bartoš implies that those who approach this music as foreigners and cultural tourists – precisely the vantage point of the musical travelogue – will miss the “specific ideological atmosphere” of the work. For Bartoš, the work speaks fundamentally to Czech culture and identity and, as such, a knowledge and understanding of Czech history, specifically of the period of Czech nationalism to which Má Vlast belongs, will help us better comprehend the rich significance of the work.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Czechs were a suppressed minority that struggled to maintain their increasingly intangible Czech identity within the multi-ethnic, multi-linguistic Austrian Empire. The Czech people had been under
Austrian rule for nearly two hundred years.20 During this long period of foreign domination, the Czechs suffered the gradual Germanization of their lands, which included the obliteration of the Czech language from state institutions, heavy censorship, and a ban on Czech literature.21 During the nineteenth century, nationalist sentiment grew in Czech lands (Bohemia, Moravia, and the portion of Silesia under
19 Clapham, Smetana, p. 76 (emphasis added). 20 Robert Bideleux and Ian Jeffries, A History of Eastern Europe: Crisis and Change, Second Edition (New York: Routledge, 2007): 167. 21 Zenon E. Kohut, “National Revival,” from Czechoslovakia: A Country Study, edited by Ihor Gawdiak (Washington D.C.: Library of Congress, 1987). 15
Austrian rule) as the decline in the fortunes of the Austrian Empire led its rulers to offer somewhat more autonomy to the provinces, especially with respect to expressions of indigenous ethnic and cultural identity, although Czechs would remain under Austrian rule until after the First World War.22
Through the nineteenth century, Czech nationalism predominantly followed a path of cultural (rather than political) liberation,23 and it sparked a widespread movement to revive Czech language, culture, and national identity.24 Although the movement consistently pushed to secure equal rights for Czechs and greater representation within the empire and would eventually fight for full political freedom and independence following the turn of the twentieth century,25 Czech nationalists initially turned to literature, history, language, music, and art as the primary outlets for nationalist growth and expression, and this effectively laid the foundation for the future struggle for political autonomy.26 With the exception of an uprising in Prague in 1848, most expressions of Czech nationalism were intellectual and educational, emphasizing
Czech cultural unity and the concept of nation through the shared history, language, and
22 Bamber Gascoigne, “History of Bohemia.” HistoryWorld. From 2001, ongoing. http://www.historyworld.net/wrldhis/PlainTextHistories.asp?groupid=2055&HistoryID=ac40. 23 Helfert, “Bedřich Smetana,” p. 151. 24 Kohut, “National Revival.” 25 Gascoigne, “History of Bohemia.” 26 John F. N. Bradley, Czech Nationalism in the Nineteenth Century (New York: Columbia Press, 1984), p. 29. 16 ethnic and cultural background that the Czech people were seeking to both recover and redefine.27
Musically, the Czech cultural revival found expression as an increased interest in developing a distinct national style.28 The son of a brewer, Smetana, like nearly all
Czechs among the upper classes in Prague, was raised with the German language and given a German education, but he became an ardent nationalist following the 1848 uprising in Prague, where he helped to man the barricades while also composing patriotic songs and marches for the National Guard.29 Immediately following the revolt, as the atmosphere in Prague “became more stifling than before as the foremost leaders of the uprising were either exiled or flung in prison,” Smetana fled to his parents’ home outside of the city for several weeks, and for the next decade of renewed absolutism and tightened censorship he spent much of his time traveling and working abroad, especially in Sweden. 30
When the provisional National Theater, the first theater specially dedicated to the performance of Czech works, opened in Prague in 1862, Smetana returned and settled permanently in Prague with the idea of composing operas and other works.31
While many Czech critics and composers advocated developing a national style based on
27 Kohut, “National Revival.” 28 William A. Everett, “Opera and National Identity in Nineteenth Century Croation and Czech Lands,” International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music 35.1 (2004):64. 29 Clapham, “Smetana: A Century After,” p. 205. 30 Large, Smetana, p. 43. 31 Ibid., p. 126. 17 quoting folk music, Smetana staunchly opposed this notion of Czech musical identity, and therefore he generally eschewed direct quotation of folksong in his works.32 Rather, he drew on contemporary trends, emulating such composers as Liszt and Wagner, and conceived a new national style and tradition of Czech music that fully embraced modern musical developments.33 Common elements of this national style include a downbeat accent, dance-like syncopations, chromatic third relations, parallel thirds and sixths, oscillation between parallel major and minor modes, and use of modes with lowered sevenths and raised fourths.34
While composing for the National Theatre in Prague, Smetana worked under imperial censorship that restricted expressions of extreme nationalist sentiment, particularly anything that might incite subversive political activity.35 Though the censors tolerated and even encouraged displays of Czech pride in their history, land, language, and culture, they worked to silence voices critical of Austrian rule and to suppress any political activity that endorsed or encouraged any kind of rebellion or uprising against the Empire. As important public events, plays and other performances were subject to careful censorship which in turn affected Smetana’s composition while in Prague as well as the performance and reception of his works, especially those written for the stage.
32 Ottlová, “Smetana.” 33 Michael Beckerman, “In Search of Czechness in Music,” 19th-Century Music 10.1 (1986): 34 Beckerman, “In Search of Czechness in Music,” p. 64. 35 Marcel Cornis-Pope and John Neubauer, History of the Literary Cultures of East-Central Europe: Junctures and Disjunctures in the 19th and 20th Centuries, Volume III: The Making and Remaking of Literary Institutions (Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2007), p. 47. 18
While conveying a deep love of his country, the content of his program notes and of the libretti for his operas necessarily adhered to the guidelines of the censors in avoiding overtly political topics. However, several of his works center on historical events significant to the Czech people, and it is possible to interpret them as political allegories of current situations. Among these works is his 1866 opera The Brandenburgers in
Bohemia, a historical allegory that was simple enough to map onto the current political situation between the Hapsburgs and the Czechs.36 This particular work, set in 1279, likely passed the censors because it depicted a time of German (as opposed to Austrian) domination of Czech lands, and Austrians would have identified with its anti-German sentiment in light of the tensions around the Austro-Prussian War. Even so, the censors were aware that Czech writers often used historical guises to depict current political situations, but works based on distant history were generally given somewhat more leeway, as they could be considered as expressions of Czech pride.37
Composed between 1874 and 1879, Má Vlast falls late in Smetana’s compositional output38 and so at a time when expression of Czech national pride was no longer discouraged by the state and national culture had stabilized.39 It is a cycle of six symphonic poems, four of which are based on Czech history and legends; the other two are general depictions of the Czech lands and people. The set has been
36 Everett, “Opera and National Identity,” p. 65. 37 John F.N. Bradley, Czech Nationalism in the Nineteenth Century (New York: Columbia Press, 1984), p. 92. 38 Large, Smetana, pp. 266-67. 39 Bradley, Czech Nationalism, p. 19. 19 straightforwardly described by Ottlová as a “celebration of the [Czech] homeland,”40 and each movement, Large explains, “deals with a different programme, be it history, descriptions of past glories, the prophecy of a better future, or evocations of scenery, landscapes or the people who dwell there.”41 As with Vltava, Smetana provided detailed program notes for all of the poems except the fourth, Z českých luhů a hájů (From
Bohemia’s Woods and Fields).42 Vyšehrad, the first in the cycle, opens with a prophecy of the future glory of the Czech nation; it tells the legend of the nation’s founding, of the building of Vyšehrad Castle atop the high rock overlooking Prague and the Vltava River, and of the downfall of the castle and its subsequent state as ruins. The second movement is Vltava. It is followed by Šárka, which recounts the story of an ancient
Czech female warrior who rebels against and, with the aid of her band of maidens, slaughters an occupying army. Similar to Vltava, Z českých luhů a hájů, the fourth piece in the cycle, is a symphonic picture of the Czech landscape, this time of its fields, forests, and lowlands. Tábor, named for the medieval town and fortress in Bohemia that was home to the Hussite warriors, is based upon the Hussite chorale “Ye who are God’s warriors” and expresses the “glory and fame of the Hussite wars and the invincible spirit of the Hussites.”43 Finally, Blaník, which follows Tábor immediately without pause and also makes much use of the Hussite chorale, depicts the Hussites’ retreat to Blaník
40 Ottlová, “Smetana.” 41 Large, Smetana, p. 287. 42 Clapham, Smetana, p. 77-8. 43 Ibid., p. 78. 20 mountain, where they wait to be summoned to the aid of their country, and ultimately the victorious resurgence of the Czech nation to conclude the cycle. Blaník also brings
Má Vlast full circle in its quotation of the Vyšehrad theme, associated with the legendary prophecy of future Czech glory.
Though the individual poems may be (and are) performed outside the set, many critics contend that Má Vlast “makes its greatest impact when heard as a whole.”44 The thematic and programmatic connection between the first and final movements of Má
Vlast provides the work with an overarching unity, although musical relationships among the seemingly disparate individual movements are not always clear. The six symphonic poems and their subjects appear to be related to one another primarily in the way they represent shared elements of Czech history, geography, and culture. From the perspective of someone not invested in Czech national identity, the cycle of Má
Vlast appears to showcase various Czech cultural “treasures” and to reveal Smetana’s love for and pride in his homeland. However, if we trace the formal processes of the work carefully, following the selection of specific scenes and elements from start to finish and paying close attention to the purposeful juxtaposition, we find that the work charts a particular formation of Czech national identity.
This identity is plotted first of all in the basic arrangement of the six movements.
Vyšehrad and Šárka, for instance, both deal with historical legends, while Vltava and Z
44 Clapham, Smetana, p. 76. 21
českých luhů a hájů both evoke geography of nature and landscapes. Finally, the last two movements, Tábor and Blaník, both focus on the Hussites and are formally connected to one another attacca. As illustrated in Figure 3, this arrangement suggests reading the movements in pairs: 1. Vyšehrad and Vltava; 2. Šárka and Z českých luhů a hájů; and 3. Tábor and Blaník. The first of each pair centers on an important Czech legend, the second on a significant geographical feature of the Czech lands—in the case of the final movement, Blaník, the mountain also features prominently in the legend, allowing this final movement to synthesize these two strands.
Figure 3: Smetana, Má Vlast, movements in pairs
Pair 1 - Thesis Pair 2 - Antithesis Pair 3 - Synthesis Vyšehrad Vltava Šárka Z českých luhů Tábor Blaník a hájů Legend Geography Legend Geography Legend Legend and Geography
If Blaník serves as the ultimate synthesis of the cycle through its fusion of legend and geography, its integration with Tábor counteracts the disintegrative forces at work in the first four movements, especially the second pair, which seems situated as an explicit antithesis to the narrative and geographical thesis posited by the opening two movements. This thesis-antithesis relationship between the first two sets of paired movements and the disintegrative forces of the second pair are additionally and critically manifest through the progressive breakdown of musical structure. Whereas
22
Vyšehrad and Vltava constitute formally and thematically coherent movements, Šárka and Z českých luhů a hájů are their respective antitheses, formally and thematically fragmented. It then follows that Tábor, the most formally and thematically disordered movement, is the resulting state of the gradual disintegration of the antithesis pair that ultimately achieves formal, thematic, and programmatic synthesis in Blaník, with which it merges. A comparative analysis of Vyšehrad and Vltava and their respective counterparts will illuminate these processes.
Vyšehrad and Šárka are outwardly linked by shared subject matter that encompasses Czech history and legend and the recounting of a tale or historical event.
Important to observe, however, is the way their narrative structures differ. Most notably, Vyšehrad represents its narrator as a character whereas Šárka’s narrator is only implied. In addition, these two movements oppose one another in terms of formal organization. Vyšehrad’s formal processes align closely with the basic conventions of sonata form, featuring a clear introduction and exposition (mm. 1-76), a thorough development section (mm. 76-259), and a recapitulation (mm. 259-314), as well as a general adherence to the expected key areas. Šárka’s formal organization, by contrast, is organized programmatically as a series of five episodes following the events of the story. Apart from the final episode, which shares similar thematic material with the opening episode and returns to the tonic key to round out the movement, the form is much less coherent than that of Vyšehrad. Although explained easily enough by the
23 narrative program, the progression of the sharply contrasting episodes lacks fluidity and the form as a whole is noticeably disjunct; key areas shift frequently and are largely unconventional. Finally, while Vyšehrad and Šárka both depict ancient Czech legends, the tale of Vyšehrad expresses the heroic, resilient, and still optimistic Czech spirit that remains amidst the loss and defeat that defines the nation’s history, whereas Šárka is a dark and violent story of revenge. Thus, these two symphonic poems, outwardly linked through shared historical themes, significantly oppose one another in narrative structure, form, and programmatic mood.
Similar parallels and oppositions are at work in Vltava and Z českých luhů a hájů, movements two and four of the symphonic cycle, respectively. Figure 4 highlights some of these parallels and oppositions. Both of these tone poems depict geographic features of the Czech lands, and both plot a specific course through the landscapes. Vltava traces a journey down the river, whereas Z českých luhů a hájů charts a path from the countryside, through the forest, and to the lowlands. Each also contains scenes that portray characteristic aspects of Czech life and culture, among which include woodsmen, a wedding polka, and water sprites in Vltava. Though Smetana’s official program notes for Z českých luhů a hájů do not provide details for the scenes, interpretations of the movement include the portrayal of a young country girl,45 a polka,
45 Large, Smetana, p. 280: Smetana provided this detail in a more specific program to a friend. 24
Figure 4: Smetana, Vltava and Z českých luhů a hájů, comparative chart
Vltava Z českých luhů a hájů
Landscape River Countryside, forest, lowlands
Scenes Woodsmen, polka, water sprites Country girl, polka, wood sprites
Narrative Viewpoint Tourist (external); male Country girl (personal); female
Form Conventions of rondo and sonata Loosely-organized ABA, lacking clear formal divisions Thematic Treatment Integrated Disjunct
Orchestration Mostly light and well-balanced Mostly thick and heavy
and wood sprites46, episodes whose subjects directly correlate with those of Vltava.
Perhaps more conspicuous than these parallels, however, is the marked opposition between these two movements. The first and most obvious is the opposition of water and land. Secondly, as with movements one and three, movements two and four differ with respect to narrative viewpoints. Whereas Vltava offers a travelogue, the tourist’s vantage point of an excursion down the river, taking in the sights and looking at various scenes of Czech life, Z českých luhů a hájů identifies the vantage point of a young country girl, thus implying a personal journey of a native Czech.47 Furthermore, the implication of a female character in the fourth movement highlights an additional opposition between the paired movements. While Vyšehrad features a male narrator
46 Clapham, Smetana, p. 81: Author’s interpretation of the fugue in the forest section, and perhaps further validation for the comparison of these two movements. 47 Large, Smetana, p. 280. 25 and Vltava’s observer seems tacitly male, Sárka and Z českých luhů a hájů both depict female protagonists.
Approaching a formal analysis of the second and fourth movements reveals further striking distinctions. Vltava’s formal and thematic organization, as previously detailed, draws on the basic conventions of both sonata and rondo form, however much it might play those off against one another. The formal structure of Z českých luhů a hájů, by contrast, appears haphazard and disjointed, and the traditional formal principles of sonata and rondo are not strongly present. Although it is possible to divide the movement into three overarching sections, these sections do not have clear boundaries, being defined more by an overabundance of material and the juxtaposition of seemingly unrelated gestures than a clearly-defined and delineated formal progression. Moreover, the work’s many themes transition abruptly from one to the next and back and forth in an unpredictable manner, evoking a general feeling of confusion, and often appear in fragmented form as they cut into one another. One instance of this is shown in Example 8 with the interaction between a fragment of the polka and a variant on the horn theme that provides the basis for the transition between the forest section and the polka section (mm. 234 ff.). The polka’s brisk main motive anticipates the coming section with several sharp interjections into the slow, legato horn melody in the strings, a process that resembles the filmic technique of parallel editing. On the whole, Z českých luhů a hájů’s disjunct formal and thematic
26
Example 8: Smetana, Z českých luhů a hájů, mm. 255-261.
organization provides a stark contrast to the smooth formal progression and thematic integration of Vltava.
A final point of opposition emerges in the orchestration of the two poems.
Whereas Vltava’s is generally light and delicate, that of Z českých luhů a hájů is frequently dark and ponderous, occasionally even clumsy. A comparison of the openings of the two movements makes this contrast strikingly apparent: whereas Vltava’s introduction is quiet, calm, and delicate, that of Z českých luhů a hájů is bold and forceful, immediately setting a dark, ominous, and even forbidding tone. Likewise,
Example 9 compares the polkas of the two movements, which offer a remarkable contrast: the brightly-scored and buoyant wedding polka of Vltava’s stream-side wedding celebration is answered by a heavily-scored, almost sinister polka in Z českých
27
Example 9a: Smetana, Vltava, polka, mm. 136-143.
28
Example 9b: Smetana, Z českých luhů a hájů, polka, mm. 271-274.
29 luhů a hájů. The veiled scoring of primarily upper winds and strings, light articulation, and continuous motion of Vltava’s G major polka creates the impression of being heard from a distance; its G minor shadow in Z českých luhů a hájů is forcefully present with its thick scoring (including heavy brass), strong accents, abrupt entrances, and sharp phrase divisions. Additionally, Vltava’s polka remains firmly in G major while the polka from Z
českých luhů a hájů, though principally in G minor, is chromatically inflected with frequent shifts of key.
The significant parallels and oppositions between Ma Vlast’s paired movements reveal a deeper programmatic meaning and significance beyond the work’s given program. As with Vltava, interpretations that rest at the level of Smetana’s program notes do not provide adequate insight into these more subtle aspects of the poems’ individual and collective organization, as is especially evident with Z českých luhů a hájů.
Smetana’s description of the movement includes the following:
This is a general impression of feelings on seeing the Czech countryside. Here on all
sides fervent singing, both cheerful and melancholy, resounds from forest and field.
The woodlands – in a horn solo – and the merry fertile Elbe lowlands, and other
parts besides, all give praise. Everyone may interpret this work as he pleases; the
poet has a clear field before him, but must of course consider the work in detail.48
48 Ibid., p. 77 (emphasis added). 30
Encouraging the listener to “interpret this work as he pleases” but insisting that to become a poet the listener “must of course consider the work in detail,”49 Smetana intimates that his rather vague description alone will not suffice to understand movement. Additionally, his use of the words “merry” and “cheerful” to describe certain parts of the work does not account for its overall dark and dreary mood, particularly when compared with its counterpart Vltava, or provide insight into its highly incoherent structural and thematic organization that a closer analysis reveals.
When we understand the nature and arrangement of these movements in the cycle as charting a particular formation of Czech identity, however, a deeper programmatic meaning emerges, especially when interpreted in terms of the thesis- antithesis-synthesis model outlined above. The opening pair of movements, Vyšehrad and Vltava, provides glimpses of the public face of Czech culture - a composed public image and persona of Czech identity as might be presented to outsiders: foreigners, tourists, representatives of the Empire. These movements represent distanced, external, and masculine narrative viewpoints and give programmatic emphasis to the nation’s most well-known and important historical, geographical, and cultural sites – namely, the nation’s founding castle in Prague and the famous river that unites the land and the people. The clear formal and thematic organization of these movements also communicates stability and assuredness. Sárka and Z českých luhů a hájů form an
49 Ibid. 31 antithesis to this public presentation, unearthing private, even hidden aspects of Czech identity that the first two movements aim to conceal. Both Sárka and Z českých luhů a hájů indicate, through a feminine lens, a personal journey and provide an inward glimpse into the struggle of Czech identity, including the darker, more violent emotions that must be continually stifled and kept from the public. In Sárka, this programmatic expression comes in the form of a vengeful fantasy, a far less friendly legend than the inspiring tale of Vyšehrad; in Z českých luhů a hájů, the solitary journey through
Bohemia’s secluded countryside and forests allows for an uninhibited expression of
Czechness that is likely not perceived by the observer looking in on Czech cultural life in the city from the Vltava River. Finally, the markedly fragmented formal and thematic structures of these movements, which convey musically something of the confusion and frustration that plague the Czech people, stand in stark contrast to the opening pair.
Conflicting with the need to uphold an upright public image, this inner struggle is brought to a climax in Tábor, which recalls the heroic strength and character of the
Hussite warriors in the fight to restore the nation’s unity and identity. However, in this movement, stubborn inflexibility, symbolized musically by chorale fragments that fail to join together in a complete coherent statement, proves a barrier to this restoration.
Blaník then reworks Tábor and proves a synthesis of the entire work; here, episodes build and grow from one another, leading to a victorious conclusion that represents a
32 long-awaited uniting of the people as they recognize themselves in Smetana’s forward- looking vision of a new Czech identity.
33
Hus’ Song
With this ideological project of forging a new Czech identity in mind, Má Vlast becomes far more than a charming assortment of characteristic pictures of Czech history, geography, and culture. Indeed, the work now charts a distinct path for attaining this Czech identity. From this point of view, the initial questions pertaining to the logic behind Vltava’s progression of scenes and the remarkable treatment of the main theme that leads to the fragmented statement of the Vyšehrad theme, gain newfound clarity and insight. Considering Vltava in the context of Má Vlast, particularly the antithetical relationship Z českých luhů a hájů has with it, greatly changes the significance of these events. In particular, Z českých luhů a hájů exposes the broken and fragmented identity formation that Vltava works so hard to conceal. Certainly, my earlier analysis shows that Vltava presents an overall formal and thematic structure that adheres closely to convention and achieves a strong impression of unity. However, taken in relation to Z českých luhů a hájů, the apparent formal control of Vltava seems to be achieved only by suppressing rather than working through all vestiges of inward struggle. If this is the case, Vltava should bear signs of this suppression, and indeed a closer look at the movement’s organization reveals formal and thematic fragmentation at a foundational level.
34
Subtle fragmentation is in fact already evident at the start in the divided stream.
As the two streams merging into the single stream that flows toward Prague represents the progress of Czech identity to its new formation, the division at the river’s source speaks to the contemporaneous divided state of the Czech nation as separated at its very roots and emerging from a foundational state of disunity. Musically represented through the running sixteenth-note motive that passes between various instruments to create the illusion of a continuous flow, Czechs come together in a constant striving effort to achieve a national, like-minded unity on the path to discovering a new Czech identity. The curiously long introduction only serves to emphasize this fragmentation and the significance of the laborious process of unification for the Czech people.
The fragmentation continues into the movement’s exposition, as the river motive turns into the accompaniment for the main theme. The orchestration of the river motive remains split between different parts, a representation of the nation’s deep- rooted separation that can only be overcome, as it were, through virtuosic performance of national identity. The main theme carries associations with Czech folksong and therefore an established Czech tradition, and it effectively stands for the long-held public conception of Czech identity and the image rooted in the nation’s history and culture that they continue to uphold. The theme thus rides on the river motive, musically symbolizing the paradoxical effort, the performative contradiction, of sustaining the very image that conceals its fragmented foundation from public view.
35
Indeed, understood in terms of the travelogue, the river motive functions as a unifying formal device and programmatic reminder of the steadily flowing river. But its divided structure also reveals the inner workings of fragmentation that burdens the path to achieving a Czech identity.
The river motive continues into the hunting episode, where it represents the water as against the depiction of hunting on land. This opposition foreshadows the antithetical relationship between Vltava and Z českých luhů a hájů that is itself predicated upon the contrast of water and land. The river motive disappears with the wedding episode, which is therefore fittingly the first expression of unity in the movement, and the juxtaposition of the two episodes suggests division overcome through a union. With the river motive and the division it signifies absent, the episode depicts a jovial wedding celebration, although one not fully present: it sounds as though in the distance. Although the wedding celebration highlights a characteristic dance of the Czech people, it is also a symbolic rite celebrating unity and agreement that expresses hope for the overcoming of separation and the progress of Czech identity.
The water sprites episode follows the wedding episode. According to the travelogue, the scene of water sprites dancing in the moonlight calls forth associations of Slavic mythology and fairytales. Elemental spirits, water sprites figure prominently as protagonists in Czech fairytales. The juxtaposition of the wedding episode and the appearance of the magical water sprites may be taken to symbolize the birth of a new 36 life or spirit that arises from the bond of unity. On this deeper programmatic level, the long-awaited attainment of Czech unity promised by the wedding episode leads to the creation of a distinct spirit of Czechness that hints at an emerging new Czech identity.
As should now be evident, these scenes along the riverbank are more than a series of quaint images of Czech life and culture presented in an arbitrary order. Rather,
Smetana has arranged them in a very particular order that charts a specific cultural geography of Czech identity. A comparison of analogous episodes in Z českých luhů a hájů reveals this deep programmatic significance. While Vltava’s episodes are clearly and evenly divided in form and theme with smooth transitions from one to the next and distinctive thematic material that makes up each individual section, the episodes of Z
českých luhů a hájů, as I mentioned earlier, are presented simultaneously, continually overlapping and cutting into one another with thematic material that frequently shifts in an unpredictable manner to create the distinct effect of parallel editing. Z českých luhů a hájů’s intercutting episodes are thus the opposite of Vltava’s stable episodes, whose tableau presentation is fitting for the upright public image of Czech life and culture, while their purposeful arrangement marks out at the same time a path to Czech identity that is hidden in plain sight.
Vltava’s episodic sequence culminates in the first return of the Vltava theme, which holds greater consequence when interpreted through the lens of Czech identity.
Formally, the reappearance of the main theme near the end of the work is a 37 conventional element in both rondo and sonata form, as return provides formal rounding. This return in Vltava serves both an important formal and programmatic event, as the re-emergence of the main theme in its original form fulfills the expectation of formal rounding and redirects programmatic emphasis back to the river in keeping with the program. But it also serves as a reminder of the definitive conception of Czech identity, and particularly of the separation at its roots with the return of the fragmented river motive. The return also further binds the main theme to the preceding progression of scenes describing Czech culture by encapsulating them, thereby integrating them into a burgeoning Czech public identity. In light of this growing sense of identity, the re- emergence of the main theme programmatically serves as a final recollection of the starting point of Czech identity and its submerged fragmented basis, which will considerably reinforce the effect of the theme’s final transformation to come.
As it turns out, the developmental episode depicting the trip through the stormy
St. John’s Rapids prepares a profoundly transformational moment. From a formal standpoint, this section builds developmentally up to the climax of the movement. From a programmatic standpoint, the rapids symbolize a final barrier to be navigated; they represent struggle and trials on the path to the formation of a new Czech identity.
Distinct from the conflicts that reflect the work’s suppression of fragmentation, this more overt and violent representation of conflict is likely a reference to the outside influences of political and cultural oppression that the Czechs had long withstood as
38 second-class citizens of a multi-ethnic empire. The apparent overcoming of this obstacle is what leads to the work’s most pivotal moment and its central message pertaining to the vision of a newfound Czech identity.
The full programmatic significance of Vltava’s final section and thus of the entire movement emerges as we consider the transformation and trivialization of the main theme and its subsequent displacement when the Vyšehrad theme arrives. Indeed, the coda’s thematic progression affirms an idealized vision of the new Czech identity. In its original form, drawn from and associated with Czech folksong, the main theme represents a conventional Czech identity as defined by tradition and conceived for public presentation and consumption. When the projected climactic return of the main theme is redirected toward a different goal, Smetana tells us through his music that the established image of Czech identity does not represent the future of the Czech nation.
Indeed, demoting the Vltava theme to a preparatory function ultimately indicates a rejection of the traditional conception of Czech identity, paving the way for a new future.
The climax does not bring a new identity, however, but the entrance of the
Vyšehrad theme, understood from the previous movement as representing hope for future glory. According to the travelogue, this theme corresponds to the river flowing by
Vyšehrad, and its materialization as a fragmented, partial statement appropriately conveys the impression of a grand monument in ruins. However, from the 39 programmatic standpoint of Czech identity formation, the fragmented form of the
Vyšehrad theme also alludes to an identity structured around and out of ruins. Through this musical representation, Smetana commits to a particular conception of Czech identity, one that will arise from the effective unification of the Czech people and culture. While Smetana realizes that the Czech people, still striving to overcome internal hindrances of division and disunity, have yet to attain this vision, the statement of the
Vyšehrad theme in ruins also testifies to the fact that this identity is not yet achieved, that it has not yet gained full or complete expression, that its final form is not yet known as it is a hope and vision that exists in and belongs to the future. The work’s concluding measures further solidify this notion. The fragmented presentation of the main theme’s rhythmic motive, outlining the tonic triad, gradually slows, rises upward, and comes to rest on an open tonic sonority, with the third as the highest sounding member (m. 425, see Example 7). Expressing a distinct sense of incompletion, this moment acknowledges the new Czech identity as vague, uncertain, not yet. The hasty, tacked-on conventional cadence that concludes the movement is thus a motion that, while bringing about formal closure, also glosses over its ending state of incompletion by providing a neat and orderly wrap-up that is programmatically consistent with the confident public presentation of Czech identity. The abrupt cadence serves as a firm and final barrier impeding the emergence of a new Czech identity while internal fragmentation and
40 separation remain, and also recognizes the emergence of a new Czech identity as hindered by conventional attachments.
Uncovering these roots of separation and fragmentation beneath the stability and continuity of Vltava’s largely conventional form and thematic treatment, we now understand the programmatic aim of the coda as a vision of the Czech people overcoming both external obstacles and internal separation as they work toward celebrating national unity and expressing a distinct cultural identity. Placing Vltava in the larger context of Má Vlast, we see the struggle to work through and overcome the deep-seated issues of fragmentation at the core of the Czech identity taking place across the entire cycle of tone poems, with the focus and function of the final movement describing the process of rebuilding but also constructing a new Czech identity. Indeed, the Vyšehrad theme returns again at the conclusion of Blaník and gains greater and fuller expression than at the conclusion of Vltava, but even here it still fails to attain a definitive statement. The remaining unfulfilled potential of the Vyšehrad theme at the end of the cycle suggests that the newfound Czech identity, though envisioned, has yet to appear.
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43
Vita
Kaitlin Lee Ericson was born in Edina, Minnesota. After completing her work at
Orono High School in Long Lake, Minnesota, she attended Saint Olaf College in
Northfield, Minnesota. She received a Bachelor of Music degree in saxophone performance from Saint Olaf College in May, 2008. In August, 2008, she entered the
Graduate School at the University of Texas at Austin.
Permanent address: 305 144th Ave, Houlton, Wisconsin 54082
This report was typed by the author.
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