Vltava, symphonic poem from Má Vlast (My Fatherland) BEDŘICH SMETANA (1824-1884) Throughout the nineteenth century, feelings of nationalism swept across much of Europe. These sentiments were particularly strong in Bohemia (which was then part of the AustroHungarian Empire), Smetana’s birthplace. Smetana’s music was so distinctively different from that of composers from either Vienna or the German Regions that he essentially defined the Czech nationalistic school of composition, and is one of its two leading exponents, along with Antonín Dvořák. Smetana’s earliest successes were in opera, not symphonic composition, although only one of his operas (The Bartered Bride) is regularly performed today. In 1874, Smetana faced the problem of his growing deafness and resigned his position as Music Director of the Prague opera. He immediately renewed work on a project he had begun two years earlier, the composition of a series of symphonic poems, entitled Má Vlast (My Fatherland). Some of its works were to be based on Bohemian legend and history, others on the natural beauty of the land itself. Before he completed the first of the set, however, he had become completely deaf. Vltava is the second and best-known of the six symphonic poems that constitute the cycle (composed between 1874-1879), ca. 15 mins. depicting the river Vltava (Moldau). Smetana began the work on Vltava on 20 November 1874 and completed the score in only three weeks. The first performance was given in Prague on 4 April 1875. In a letter to his publisher, Smetana described Moldau's program: “Two springs pour forth their streams in the shade of the Bohemian forest, the one warm and gushing, the other cold and tranquil. Their waves, joyfully flowing over rocky beds, unite and sparkle in the rays of the morning sun. The forest brook, rushing on, becomes the River Vltava. Coursing through Bohemia’s valleys, it grows into a mighty stream, It flows through dense woods from which come joyous hunting sounds, and the notes of the hunters horn drawing ever near and nearer. It flows through emerald meadows and lowlands, where a wedding feast is being celebrated with songs and dancing. By night, in its glittering waves, wood and water nymphs hold their revels. And these waters reflect many a fortress and castle - witnesses of a bygone age of knightly splendor, and the martial glory of days that are no more. At the Rapids of St. John the stream speeds on, winding its way through cataracts and hewing a path for its foaming waters through the rocky chasm into the broad riverbed,
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