Ravinia 2026 Issue 2

ANTONÍNDVOŘÁK (1841–1904) Symphony No. 9 in E minor, op. 95 (“From the New World”) Scored for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, triangle, cymbals, and strings Mikhail Glinka, the father of Russian musical nationalism, once stated that a “nation creates music—the composer only arranges it.” Many others agreed that the true soul of any nation (in the cultural, not political, sense) radiates through the music of its people. A nationalis- tic movement arose during the late 18th centu- ry and gained momentum in the 19th century, spreading from the British Isles, France, and Germany to Poland, Hungary, Spain, Bohemia, and elsewhere. Across the globe, individuals and communities strove to express their unique cul- tural identities—those qualities that set them apart from the mainstream and other societ- ies—through the power of music. The United States arrived rather late to the na- tionalist musical scene. Though its population represented countless different cultures, politi- cal stability relied upon an overall sense of unity and cohesion around the treasured Melting Pot ideal. Its classical music tradition still depended overwhelmingly on European influence. Prom- ising American musicians typically studied with European immigrant teachers before complet- ing their studies at European conservatories. Performers mastered the standard European repertoire on their instrument or voice. Com- posers wrote music in European forms with Eu- ropean harmonic and melodic idioms. A few distinctively “American” personalities emerged in 19th-century classical music. One German immigrant, Anthony Philip Heinrich (1781–1861), became known as the “Beethoven of America” (also “Beethoven of Kentucky”) by portraying the nature, minority cultures, life- style, and patriotic music of his new homeland in such works as The Dawning of Music in Ken- tucky, or The Pleasures of Harmony in the Soli- tudes of Nature ; Pushmataha, a Venerable Chief of a Western Tribe of Indians ; and The Ornitho- logical Combat of Kings, or The Condor of the Andes and the Eagle of the Cordilleras . Piano virtuoso and composer Louis Moreau Gottschalk (1829–1869) blended the lively rhythms and folk melodies of his native New Orleans—later adding Caribbean, Latin Amer- ican, and South American influences—with European classical forms. This ethnic element combined with his legendary keyboard prow- ess earned Gottschalk the nickname “The Cre- ole Liszt.” Even African American pianist and composer Scott Joplin (1868–1917), a musician immortalized for his popular influence, wrote a ragtime opera entitled Treemonisha . The efforts of these talented musicians in creat- ing an inherently American classical tradition were considered in their day little more than curiosities. None of their innovations inspired a “school” of composition, and no musicians immediately followed them down the national- ist path. Several unresolved issues stood in the way of an American nationalist movement in classical music. Which of the countless “folk” (that is, ethnic) cultures might represent the es- sential American identity? How would compos- ers merge national styles with classical forms? Where would musicians receive training in this nationalist tradition? Which musicians have enough experience in nationalist composition to guide the emergence of an “American” style? Enter Mrs. Jeanette F. Thurber, the philanthrop- ic wife of wealthy New York businessman Fran- cis B. Thurber, who placed personal resources behind the establishment of the American School of Opera and its parent organization, the National Conservatory of Music (1885). Mrs. Thurber understood the obstacles confronting American classical music and, through force of imagination and influence, willed the conserva- tory into existence. Her school pursued a pro- gressive agenda involving the high-level training of talented American musicians, regardless of race, class, gender, or financial means. The facul- ty included some of the most eminent musicians living in New York. Recognizing the need for a high-profile musi- cian to lead the conservatory and lend validity and direction to the development of an Amer- ican approach to music, Mrs. Thurber invited the most famous nationalist composer living in Europe—Antonín Dvořák—to become director. She transmitted her initial offer by telegram in June 1891. After much negotiation and numer- ous changes in the contract, Dvořák signed the agreement in April 1892. The esteemed Czech composer arrived in the United States with his wife and two of six chil- dren on September 26, 1892. Several wealthy and Mrs. Jeanette F. Thurber influential New Yorkers hosted a series of social and musical events to celebrate their arrival. Dvořák’s two-year appointment began the fol- lowing month; his duties included conducting the National Conservatory of Music orchestra and chorus and teaching composition and instrumentation. Almost immediately, Dvořák began surveying American musical traditions. One of his African American students, Henry Thacker Burleigh, sang dozens of spirituals for the new conserva- tory director. A local music critic named James Huneker supplied Dvořák with journal articles about African American music. Mrs. Thurber presented him with a copy of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s Song of Hiawatha and suggested that the tale would make an ideal “American” opera topic. Dvořák had studied the poem years earlier in Bohemia, and it sparking a romanti- cized fascination with American Indians. While in New York, he witnessed a band of Oglala Sioux Indians performing in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. Closer contact with Native Americans occurred during the summer of 1893. Dvořák and his family spent much of a vacation in the small community of Spillville, IA. In the expansive Iowa countryside, a group of immigrants estab- lished an authentic Czech village, retaining all the customs and the language of their home- land. By chance, a traveling Kickapoo Indian medicine show came through Spillville. Dvořák befriended the musicians in the show and asked them to perform for him. In preparation for his Hiawatha opera (which he never completed), Dvořák traveled to Nebraska and Minnesota, taking a side trip to Minnehaha Falls, the place immortalized by Longfellow. When Dvořák returned to New York in Septem- ber, a collage of musical memories filled his mind. The public at large already had come to expect a new orchestral work, since the New York Herald had reported the previous May that he would write a symphony based on African American Antonín Dvořák RAVINIA.ORG • RAVINIAMAGAZINE 89