Dvořák Symphony 8, Op. 88
There is a definitive uniqueness to Antonín Dvořák’s eighth symphony, the so-called “English” Symphony. Perhaps the sense of separateness can be attributed to the peaceful setting in which it was written: Vysoká, the composer’s summer haven, where he could compose his mind as well as his music. The symphony did not undergo gruelling months or years of revision and struggles to set it properly; it was written in only 3 months, from September to November of 1889, which further underlines the fact that this symphony is so unconventional. It seems likely under the circumstances that it is due to the ease and fluidity with which it was written that the symphony seems to write its own rules of form, thematic development, tonic progression, and instrumentation. Commentators and critics alike have been unable to ignore it, but they do not all agree on its quality: “The symphony has been raised and damned, and comments range from eulogistic praise…to downright condemnation” (Schönzeler 129) but one thing is unanimous: It creates its own off-the-beaten-path journey, and follows it without looking back. While the opinion is often expressed that this is “experimental”, i.e. breaking from old forms to attempt to create new ones, I believe it is rather a salute back to composers of the Classical era, before rules were set down about the forms such music should follow, when the great composers wrote what sounded natural as well as original. It is with this content-rather-than-container mindset that Dvořák set about writing what has been called “certainly the most intimate and original within the whole canon of Dvořák’s nine” (Schönzeler 129) and also “a meal consisting of clear soup, a small slice of smoked salmon, a light egg soufflé and a water-ice.” (Hughes 137)
In spite of the symphony’s freedom as it unwinds, there are several features which subtly bind together the four movements and their various themes so that the entire work flows logically from beginning to end. The greatest freedom given to the symphony is the form; on this, there is no question. Of the four movements, not one is conventional; they all have deviations from the standards dutifully recited by theory students. Substitutions and additions of entire sections are included, and among the themes themselves, liberty is taken, particularly where the number of measures is concerned; since the melodies tend to be written along the lines of folk-tunes, they often have an irregular number of measures. The form itself is the largest part of what sets the symphony apart as unique, and furthermore draws it together into a cohesive whole. For example, every movement except the third starts out in a key that is not tonic at all, lending a wandering feeling to the beginning of each of these movements. Furthermore, the thematic device of the call-and-respond motif, specifically between winds and strings, is prevalent in each movement not merely as a passing technique, but as a thematic shaper in and of itself. One harmonic texture device that is notable is the use of repetitious scales to build tension, particularly in the second movement. The Neopolitan chord is used with significance in several cases toward the beginning of the movements. Finally, Dvorak’s use of the flute, “a favoured instrument in Dvořák’s hands” (Clapham 96), whether as bird-song or a passing descant, is remarkable for the melodic license granted in solos that are fantastic and otherworldly. All these characteristics are seeded smoothly throughout the symphony and develop within it as a whole, growing from it organically rather than being forcibly engineered for the sake of consistency.
Movement 1 is perhaps the most eclectic of the four movements even though it maintains the basic sonata form. It begins with a solemn funeral theme in g minor, which spreads out over three halting, unfinished sections (mm. 1-6, 6-11, 11-17 respectively), with a particularly noble effect at m. 10, where a Neopolitan chord sets a precedent for the other movements. As it concludes, the hushed, ppp dynamic level and the continual weaving of voices in and out of the final chord in the true tonic of G major send out an aura of anticipation; though the theme begins like an actual theme, it feels more like an introduction; thus, it will henceforth be referred to as “Intro Theme 1”. The next theme (Intro Theme 2) is a repetitive, fleeting set of dotted rhythms in the flute, lasting a mere 5 measures (mm. 18-22) and also with an unfinished feeling, as the strings echo (mm. 22-26) and fade as a piccolo maintains the dominant (D) above, and the tuba maintains it below, creating a strangely hollow atmosphere. From this background fabric, a lively transition (mm. 28-38) quickly brings the volume back up to ff, and beginning at m. 34, bassoons, horns, and low strings echo a much heavier version of the previous flute theme, as if to emphasize the deep contrasts of range and timbre already in place. At m. 37, the first of the sudden, fast scales appears in the strings, in D major, and a final dominant chord summons in Intro Theme 3 in tonic (mm. 38-57)...arguably. Although the entrance is definite, the initial melody only lasts for the first four bars; instead, it morphs into a transition made from fragments of Intro Theme 2 (again in flutes), and with a succeeding melody in the violins in mm. 46-56, in a minor. This section continues the spinning atmosphere of suspension: is the symphony actually starting yet? So far, there have been three significant themes which will recur and develop throughout the movement (and in the case of Intro Theme 2, throughout the entire symphony), but nothing has been stated that is conclusive or even finished. It is now almost 2:00 into the symphony, and one is inclined to wonder if new rules should be stated for the definition of an exposition.
At m. 57, Theme 1 finally comes as a fully developed melody derived from the Intro Theme 2 fragment, again in tonic. This time it appears tutti, and again not ending particularly conclusively, as it immediately fades at m. 60 and strings off with a light 3-note motive that passes from violins, to clarinets, to bassoons, and finally to horns, where it takes more shape (mm. 61-65); thus, the idea fizzles out, leaving multiple questions unanswered. A second part to the theme in A major takes place in the strings from mm. 67-76, although due to its somewhat unfocused nature, it also seems to serve as a transition. Theme 2 begins at m. 76, in flutes and clarinets, and is the first complete theme that actually has a fluid linear progression and development; there are no interruptions, and it flows evenly. However, it does not even enter in the tonic; instead, it comes in b minor. Melodically, the theme is even simpler than any of the preceding motives; it is a tidy little sentence structure (mm. 76-80), repeated (mm. 80-84). Theme 2b begins in the same vein, except that it begins with the “sentence” (mm. 84-88), then disintegrates into shorter fragments in mm. 89-95. The effect is oddly symmetrical. A short transition leads directly into the Closing Theme (mm. 97-110), which begins to exploit two of the aforementioned tension-building devices. The theme itself is in B major, now in the winds, repeated (mm. 97-100 and 101-104 respectively) and extended by a significant scale passed back and forth as the first call-and-respond between strings and winds ff, with spots of sfz, a harbinger of the tension to come (mm. 104-110). A codetta begins in m. 111, echoing a trace of Intro Theme 3, with the flute fluttering soft bird-calls in the high treble, and the exposition spins itself out to m. 126, presenting the dominant chord for a re-entrance to G major (or minor).
What transpires next is what can be called the development, though at first it sounds like a perfect repetition from the very beginning. Intro Theme 1 is repeated verbatim (mm. 127-144), and at m. 145, Intro Theme 2 enters as if it is the original; however, it quickly begins to modulate to the Neopolitan chord at m. 152; subsequently, a series of call-and-respond, again between strings and winds, run through several diminished chords before arriving at C sharp major (m. 165) for Intro Theme 2 in the lower winds. At m. 174, the flute receives a fanciful descant, light and stacatto, over Intro Theme 3 (A major) in violas and clarinets, repeated at m. 182 in oboes, which begins to get passed off as an echo-fragment between other instruments; meanwhile, at m. 194, the scales enter again, creating a definitive sense of heaviness and tension, up to m. 202-206, where Intro Theme 3 finally reaches a conclusion of its own in massive tutti chords that resolve into b minor. A transition into the next development section begins at m. 207, with fragments of Intro Theme 2 up in higher voices, and Intro Theme 3 in lower, reaching a frenzied state before starting the recapitulation at m. 218. Intro Theme 1 is reintroduced, and furthermore in its original key of g minor. This time however, it is stated in the brass ff, accompanied by the upper strings in a set of slowly descending chromatic scales, until m. 233 where they reverse and ascend into G major. Intro Theme 2 begins in the dominant at m. 239, back in the flute with very light accompaniment, and is allowed to develop into a full theme which is different from Theme 1, completed by a descending melody in flutes and strings. This takes the place of what would have been the following Intro Theme 3 and Theme 1; instead, it leads directly into the restatement of Theme 2 in g minor, at. m. 253. This and the Closing Theme in G major (mm. 274-287) are similar to the statements in the exposition in terms of construction. The coda begins at m. 288, and though it begins similar to the codetta in the exposition, it quickly digresses, notably into a set of tutti sustained chords at mm. 296-300, with chord progressions smoothly moving from one to the next as follows: BM, A sharp dim, DM, FM, AM, FM, B flat M, DM and back to tonic. The high strings then begin a set of short dotted rhythms (mm. 300-304), taken over by winds (mm. 305-310) while the strings switch to three sixteenth notes beginning on each beat; the sections switch roles at m. 312,, and all instruments join in for eighth note chords to the end (m. 317). When all is said and done, the movement does not feel incomplete or fragmented; it spins out melodically, progresses reasonably, and ends appropriately. The many thematic ideas present their voices in a seemingly haphazard way in the exposition, yet each receives a definitive conclusion as it is developed later on.
Movement 2, concerning which Robertson has said: “I take to be one of the considerable achievements of symphonic literature” (Robertson 169) also begins in an unrelated key (c minor), and furthermore it doesn’t even start there (the first chord is A flat major, the Neopolitan of G major); to reiterate the point, the Neopolitan of c minor is reached at m. 6, before G major leads to tonic at mm. 8-9. This movement does not begin with an extended introduction as does its predecessor; rather, it begins immediately in Theme 1 (mm. 1-11), which lingers unfinished. However, a curious Transition takes place at m. 12. It is actually a miniature rounded binary form contained entirely in itself, with the first theme in flutes based on Intro Theme 2 of mvt. 1, and with the second (mm. 18-22) as a parallel period with a call-and-respond between strings and winds; afterwards, the first returns (mm. 23-31). Unlike the long phrases of melodic stretto portrayed in the first movement, this call-and-response consists of two short parts of a conversation. At m. 32, Theme 1 (proper) returns, this time starting in tonic, and finishes the idea from previous; thus, it may be inferred that Theme 1 forms another inclusive rounded binary form by sandwiching the transition. This section cadences in the dominant at m. 44, there is a short transition, and Theme 2 begins in C Major at m. 47. This theme contains the most notable set of descending scales for harmonic effect in the symphony. While the flute, supported by an oboe, carries a lyrical, floating melody in the treble, more extended than the solo in the previous movement, a very light texture is set with the aforestated scales taking place in the strings, p. At m. 57, a solo violin completes the parallel period of the theme (mm. 57-64), and the scales switch to the 1st oboe and clarinet. The texture continues to be light but begins to gain momentum with tremolo in violas. However, a third part to the theme begins at m. 65, and this time almost all instruments play f. The scales have switched to the low strings and bassoon, for a sudden heavy effect, and the rest of the instruments take the melody in harmony until m. 69, where four different parts of harmonic texture, still including the scales, suddenly explode into a fff climax at m. 72. A transition begins at m. 73, with trumpet and trombone, and the upper strings continue the scales at double tempo. Concerning this part, a certain opinion has been put forth: “Presently it instigates a big build-up of arpeggios and scale-passages, almost unrelievedly in C major, which tend to outstay their welcome and distract one’s interest” (Hughes 137). However, I find this buildup to be the most stimulating part of the movement, perhaps of the entire symphony, since the scales have been carefully crafted both fore and aft to draw attention to this very place. Subsequently, a stately closing theme continues at m. 77, in all instruments except the bassoons and lower strings which continue the faster set of scales ff. All scales immediately cease with a sudden interruption, pp (mm. 81-87), where a contrasting short, romantic statement in only strings ends the theme. This ushers in the second statement of the Transition; this time, instead of the ABA form used before, only the A theme is played, completing itself with an extension in the clarinets in parallel thirds (mm. 87-100)...and is never heard again.
At the beginning of what might be considered the recapitulation, the lower strings begin with a curious quotation straight from the beginning of Brahms Symphony 1, mvt. 4, (mm. 101-105); subsequently, Theme 1 begins a series of developing fragments with a melodic call-and-respond between oboe, horn, and 1st violins, versus low strings. It sounds deceptively more like a development than a recapitulation, as mm. 122-132 go on to further fragment the theme in triplets in winds, with a short chordal response from the strings on the beat. However, Theme 2 reenters at m. 123, which resumes the descending scales in flutes and clarinets, while the violins take the melody; only the first part of the theme is stated before a transition to the coda (mm. 143-148), which includes the final example of the short call-and-response between strings and winds. At the start of the coda (m. 149), the melody in the violins is merely a descending C major scale, while the low strings counter with ascending C major scales; the two switch at m. 151. Theme 1 reappears in C major at m. 155 (essentially creating another rounded binary form); it plays out through a series of call-and-respond between winds and brass versus the entire string section (mm. 160-162), before an unusual cadence of ii half-dim leads back to tonic, and to the end of the movement at m. 170.
Movement 3 is, at least at first glance, comparatively conventional. The themes repeat themselves predictably, there is a lack of material that is not explicitly part of the form (at least until the 2/4 coda at the end), and the modulations contain no surprises. However, what primarily saves this movement from being dull is the lovely, folk-like melodies, whose repetitive motives are countered by the irregularity of the arrangement of beats in each section, turning what could be a dull movement into a lively, interesting one. Furthermore, this movement changes the motivic elements into a different character from the first two movements. Although the scale motif itself does not appear in the movement, nearly all the themes are based on the scale motif, as either chromatic or broken scales; the call-and-response is not two voices comprising one melody or stretto, but rather entire themes passing back and forth between the wind and string sections; while the flute continues to receive fluid melodies, it is always supported by another instrument and does not showcase its highest register; and finally the Neopolitan does not even make an appearance until m. 59. The movement begins with a Minuet immediately set in g minor, with a graceful melody in the first violins (a broken scale, overlapping itself and descending in sections) and a fast, repetitive harmonic texture in triplets in winds (mm. 1-22). The contrasting Theme 2, a descending chromatic scale in the dominant, places the melody in the winds while the middle strings take over in repetitive 16th notes for harmony, and includes a call-and-response with winds versus strings (mm. 23-39). A set of broken scales in strings from mm. 39-42 transition back to Theme 1 with the melody in winds and a contrary motion figure in 1st violins and violas, until at m. 53, the violins take the theme back. Theme 2 is restated, again in winds, at m. 64, and from mm. 80-86 a transition of a broken g minor scale passed between various solo instruments (peaking with the only set of high, unaccompanied notes from the flute in mm. 82-83) leads to the Trio at m. 87.
The Trio is similarly predictable, with Theme 1 in G major (mm. 88-104, 119-136), in winds, loosely based on Movement 1 Intro Theme 2. However, Theme 2 is actually an ascending scale in the strings, once again in the dominant (mm. 105-118, 137-150). This breaks from the mould of the descending scales in everything that has come before in the symphony, and gestures ahead to the 4th movement. Both themes are repeated with differences occurring mainly in instrumentation, and a final statement of Theme 1 (mm. 151-168), where it transitions back into the Minuet. The striking characteristic of the Trio is a certain asymmetrical rhythm; when first stated in staccato in the strings, against the graceful melody in the winds, it does not immediately attract attention; however, when the exactly same rhythm is transferred to the brass in Theme 2, it instantly sets a halting yet insistent sensation against the violin melody. As to be expected, the Minuet is repeated verbatim from the beginning, and then it transitions directly into a 2/4 coda, in G major, with an ABA form. “A” is stated first in a light texture, with melody in 1st violins and a 1st species counterpoint in clarinets and bassoons constituting part of the harmony (mm. 181-189), then repeated tutti (mm. 190-198); afterwards, “B” continues the clarinets and bassoons harmonic theme, now as melody (mm. 199-206). The A section repeats as before; the tutti section, with an off-beat cadence at m. 229, leads directly into the fourth movement.
Movement 4 is often considered the most “experimental” of the symphony, with a theme and variations plus rondo-esque form that really has no name in musical theory. “Nor has the fact that the last movement is in a sort of free variation form instead of the classical mould of a symphonic Finale any bearing on the matter: this last movement just blossoms out” (Schönzeler 129). It does not begin anywhere near G major; in fact, the opening theme by the trumpet (mm. 10-17) outlines the dominant chord for the key of F major (flat 7th of G). Theme A (for all variations) makes its first entrance in G major in the celli (mm. 26-33); it continues the development of Mvt. 1 Intro Theme 2, adding to the melody of the Mvt. 3 Trio Theme 2, and it is immediately repeated. The chord progressions are as follows (in G major): I, vi, I, IV, V7/vi, vi, V7/V, V. Theme B comes in at 34-42 and is likewise repeated; harmony is V, vii dim/V, iv, VI I V aug, V7/vi, vi, and back to tonic. The first variation (mm. 43-58) does not change much from the original except the instrumentation (melody in low strings and bassoons), and the B theme, in opposition to the previous movements’ use of descending scales, adds an impressive ascending scale that runs smoothly from violas, to 2nd violins, to 1st violins. Variation 2 is suddenly tutti and ff, and only uses the A theme; this variation will reappear at intervals throughout the movement like a rondo theme; furthermore, it seems to represent the movement’s orchestral “togetherness” as a whole--there is no call-and-response between strings and winds at all. At m. 63 the melody suddenly diverges and expands, supported with another ascending scale figure in oboes and clarinets; the variation is repeated with a closed ending (mm. 59- 66, repeat from mm. 67-74). The melody in Variation 3 seems to bear no relation to the original except in harmonic progression; it appears to be a fluid flute fantasy, the highlight solo for this instrument in the symphony, which continues in this vein from 3A (mm. 75-83) to 3B (mm. 84-92). Following this, Variation 2 is repeated verbatim (mm. 93-106), creating a miniature ABA form similar to the one in Mvt. 2, with an extended ending (mm. 107-112) and a transition to c minor (mm. 112-122) in strings with a unique set of fz as if to enunciate the point that the movement is now shifting to a different mood.
Variation 4, suddenly quiet, (mm. 123-145) further deviates from the original theme, shifting to c minor, with a comic melodic instrumentation in oboes and clarinets for 4A, while 4B places a melody reminiscent of Movement 1 Intro Theme 2 in both flutes. Then 4B repeats a variation of itself ff, with the melody in the celli and D.B., and a chromatically ascending harmony in other instruments (mm. 146-157). Variation 4 is repeated from the top in mm. 158-181, with a similar texture and the same melody, but considerably heavier with an enunciated bass and the melody in all winds simultaneously in 4A. This heaviness only builds at the 4B section, as an echo effect takes place in winds and brass, while the strings build in contrasting motion to each other, with fz used on every beat. A short transition (mm. 181-188) leads to Variation 5, in B flat minor, (mm. 189-218), which is even more free form with several distinct, overlapping themes; it features the “tension building” scales in the flutes at m. 191 and in 2nd violins at m. 195, and is primarily characterized by octave leaps. In fact, the point of the variation seems to be not centered on the melodic content at all; instead, it serves as a long lead-in to Variation 6 (mm. 219-232). This variation begins in the dominant key, fff, with the trumpet call from the very beginning; at m. 230, all instruments except trombones join in for solid diatonic chords on the beat. The trumpet theme returns in the trombone in m. 233, where the transition back to the main theme (mm. 233-252) tempers the long-built climax back to its mellow beginning.
Finally, after all the divergence from the actual melody, the original theme itself returns (mm. 253-270), albeit slightly more subdued than the first time it is heard. Variation 7 (mm. 271-294) is similar in feeling to Variation 1, but the timbre has changed significantly: the strings are the only voices present, and rather than increasing the tension, it begins to withdraw. Variation 8 (mm. 295-322) continues to decrescendo and lessen the activity to a molto ritardando. The final Variation 9 begins in the same vein, with only the first three notes of the original theme in flute and oboe, gradually diminishing to half notes, until at last there is a true ppp at m. 337. Suddenly, Variation 2 returns in a very fast tempo (mm. 339-352), utilizing chromatic ascending scales and full orchestra in accord rhythmically, as the variation ends with a long, very fast coda. Almost the entire orchestra ascends chromatically in mm. 356-362; next, the only descending scale in the movement at m. 363. The orchestra outlines a progression of : I, flat III, iv, v (mm. 364-367), there is a slight ritardando from mm. 342-345 with a strong melody in trumpet and the other instruments supporting this progression: I, V, v dim, Neopolitan (presented at the end rather than at the beginning), Neo aug, v, V and back to tonic, where it finishes (mm. 346-359), with the final two chords tutti m. 358, followed by a measure of silence (m. 359).
Although the symphony is by no means predictable, the elements that are used to tie it together into a whole are consistent, reasonable, and carefully planned. “In form, this symphony is perhaps the least orthodox of all, but it would be a mistake to attribute to a relaxation of formal discipline a composer’s reluctance to force ideas of a different character into the mould of classic tradition, the truth being that the ideas generated forms suited to them” (Fischl pg. 84) This is a symphony written not merely as an experiment in form, but rather as a return to what makes music beautiful, freely, thoughtfully, but also somewhat effortlessly. “It treats the symphonic form much more loosely, but then this is exactly the treatment to which Dvořák had to subject his melodic material in order to achieve what he wanted to express. He himself has said that he wanted to write a work ‘different from the other symphonies, with individual force worked out in a new way’, ” (Schönzeler 129). Given the untamed nature of this symphony, it is no wonder that “musicians and music-loving laymen alike have long been at loggerheads about it” (Hughes 136) -- in any case, it is not a work that can be ignored, and if it pales in comparison to the melodic beauty of the justly famous Symphony 9, or to the youthful determination of Symphony 7, at least this much can be said: It is doubtlessly Dvořák’s most intriguing symphony.
Bibliography
Schönzeler Hans-Hubert. (1984) Dvořák. New York, NY: Marion Boyars Publishers. pp. 128-130.
Hughes, Gervase. (1967) Dvořák: His Life and Music. New York, Dodd, Mead and Company. pp. 136-138.
Robertson, Alec. (1949) Dvořák. New York, Pellegrini and Cudaby Inc. pp. 56, 168.
Clapham, John. (1979) Dvořák. Newton Abbot London, David and Charles. pg. 72.
Fischl, Viktor ed. (1970) Antonin Dvorak: His Achievment. Westport, Connecticut, Greenwood Press, Publishers. pp. 81-89.
Otakar Šourek. (1954) Antonín Dvořák: Letters and Reminiscences. Prague, Artia. pp. 130-133.
Dvořák, Antonín. (1892) Symphony in G Major, Op. 88. London, Novello.
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Furthermore, my classmates and I were able to attend a Q&A with John Bayman, who scored an excellent 80-minute soundtrack for the 1926 silent film "Eye of the Totem", which is a story about Native Americans in Tacoma in the 1920's. Sadly I was unable to attend the viewings, but we had an informative discussion about scoring films and the industry attached to it.
-Active Measures
