Going with the Flow of Smetana's The Moldau
The Backstory

Vltava, JB 1:112/2

Smetana presenting the backstory of his The Moldau
I'm Bedřich Smetana, and this is the backstory of my Moldau. Here you'll learn how I wrote the river's whole journey, from its two springs towards the Elbe, in only nineteen days in late 1874. On this site my fellow composers and I also teach you to recognize our pieces when they play, so why not  give the Trainer a try ?
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A Composer Who Lost the Sound Track

In July 1874 I began hearing strange noises, which is a cruel thing to happen to a musician. By early October my right ear had given up, and on 20 October my left ear followed it into silence. I was also deeply depressed in those months, and I won't pretend otherwise. Yet that was the very time I chose to write music about the place I loved most.

One River Among Six

The Moldau is the second of six symphonic poems that I called Má vlast, which means "My Fatherland". A symphonic poem is an orchestral piece that paints a picture or tells a story without a single word, an idea I admired in the music of Franz Liszt. I had finished the first poem, Vyšehrad, on 18 November 1874. Two days later I turned to the river, and I did not know yet that it would become the most famous of the six.

Nineteen Days and a Little Hurry

I began The Moldau on 20 November and finished it after nineteen days. That is less time than many people spend choosing a new sofa. Sources disagree by two days about the exact end, some saying 8 December and others 10 December, so I'll let you pick. Whichever date is right, the whole river came out of me in one steady rush.

A Neighbour Waves From the Bank

When the river glides past Vyšehrad, the music bumps into an old acquaintance. It is the four-note figure from the poem I had just finished, and it returns here as a quiet greeting. I liked the idea that the six pieces belonged to one family, even though I wrote each as its own work. After that greeting the river carries on towards the Elbe, growing wider and calmer until it simply flows out of earshot.

A Tune With Very Old Roots

The main theme is adapted from an old tune called "La Mantovana". It is attributed to an Italian tenor named Giuseppe Cenci, who was also known as Giuseppino del Biado and died in 1616. The earliest print we know of appears in his madrigal collection of 1600, so this melody is older than most family recipes. I took it north and gave it a river to flow along.

The Cousin in Israel

Here is a surprise that people enjoy at dinner parties. A Romanian variant of that same old tune was adapted by Samuel Cohen for "Hatikvah", which became the national anthem of Israel. So my theme and that anthem are cousins, and neither one comes from the other. They both descend from "La Mantovana", which has clearly been busy for a few centuries.

Whispers About Where the Tune Came From

People love to argue about where my melody really began. The story goes that I once said it was inspired by a Swedish folk song. Some listeners also claim it is the Czech children's song "Kočka leze dírou" turned into a minor key, but that is only speculation. Nobody can prove any of it, and I'm happy to leave a little mystery floating on the water.

The Night at Žofín

The first performance took place on 4 April 1875 at the Žofín Palace in Prague, with Adolf Čech conducting. The Moldau was heard on its own that evening, because the full set of six poems was still years away. The audience was delighted, and the debut was an instant triumph. I could not hear a note of it myself, so I had to take that happy news on trust.

Out Into the Wide World

The piece soon left home, and its first performance outside Austria-Hungary was in Chemnitz in 1878. Hans Sitt conducted it there, and he paired it with Vyšehrad. In 1879 I signed a contract with the publisher F. A. Urbánek, so musicians everywhere could finally buy the music. The complete Má vlast cycle followed on 5 November 1882, again at the Žofín Palace with Adolf Čech conducting.

Still Flowing Today

The Moldau remains the best-known piece of Má vlast, and orchestras often play it all by itself. Every year since 1952 Má vlast has opened the Prague Spring International Music Festival on 12 May, the anniversary of my death. My tune has wandered into other music too, such as Stan Getz's "Dear Old Stockholm", and the piece also turns up in Terrence Malick's film The Tree of Life. Not bad for a river I could only hear in my head.
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I wrote The Moldau in a silent room, and I still think about how much of the river I carried only in my mind. Looking back, the music reached much further than I could have imagined in those quiet weeks of 1874. It was first heard on 4 April 1875 in Prague, and the audience received it as an instant triumph. Since then the tune has travelled well beyond the concert hall, and it has turned up in films and even in a few songs. I find it a comfort that a melody can keep flowing long after the person who wrote it has gone. Did you enjoy learning about the backstory of The Moldau? There is still much more to explore, from the older tune that lies beneath my main theme to the way the whole Má vlast cycle came together. If you're curious, please click on the links on this page and keep following the river a little further.