ANTONÍN DVOŘÁK

A Butcher's Son With a Musical Itch

I was born on 8 September 1841 in Nelahozeves, a village in Bohemia, where my father František ran a butcher's shop and an inn. He also played the zither professionally, so music was already around the dinner tables long before I thought of making it my job. In autumn 1857 I moved to Prague to study at the organ school, and I graduated in July 1859. It was a sensible training for a boy who might otherwise have ended up cutting sausages.

Brahms Opens a Door

For years I worked quietly and hoped somebody would notice me. In 1875 I won a state scholarship, and Johannes Brahms recommended me to the publisher Fritz Simrock. Three years later, in 1878, my Slavonic Dances came out, and they carried my name well beyond Bohemia. They are lively, tuneful pieces that make you want to tap your foot, which is probably why people remembered them.

Life in the Orchestra Pit

Prague was my home base, and from about 1862 I played viola in its theatre orchestras for roughly nine years. The viola sits in the middle of the sound, so I learned how music is built from the inside, one inner part at a time. On 17 November 1873 I married Anna Čermáková, and together we had nine children. Several of them died in infancy, and that sorrow stayed with us even in the happy years.

A Letter From the New World

In the school year 1892/93 I went to New York to head the National Conservatory of Music, and I stayed for two and a half years. There I wrote my Symphony No. 9 "From the New World", which the New York Philharmonic under Anton Seidl first performed at Carnegie Hall on 16 December 1893. People hear echoes of Native American and African-American music in it, but I always said the themes were my own and not borrowed. The slow movement has a long, homesick melody, and in 1922 my student William Arms Fisher added words to it and made it the song "Goin' Home".

Trains and Other Obsessions

My great passion outside music was trains, and I kept it all my life. I suppose a train is a bit like an orchestra: many parts, each doing its job, all moving toward one destination. My own symphony had a confusing travel record too, since it was first published as No. 5, later known as No. 8, and finally renumbered No. 9. I never had much say in it, so I just let the numbers run on without me.

Back Home to Teach and Sing

In 1891 I accepted a professorship at the Prague Conservatory, and in November 1901 I became its director. That same year, on 31 March 1901, my opera Rusalka was first performed in Prague. It was a good time to be at home, surrounded by students and by music in my own language. I died on 1 May 1904, aged 62.

What Stayed Behind

A village butcher's son had somehow ended up with his music played in concert halls far from Bohemia. The Slavonic Dances had opened that road, and the New World Symphony kept it open. The tune of its slow movement now lives a second life as "Goin' Home", sung by people who may never have heard the symphony. I like that very much, because it means a melody can wander off and make friends without me.

What I Hope You Take With You

I would like you to listen the way you would listen to an old friend telling you about home. You don't need to know any rules or names, because the tunes are there to be enjoyed. If the New World Symphony makes you feel a little homesick, even for a place you have never been, then I have done my job. And if it makes you want to ride a train somewhere, I won't mind that either.