Bedřich Smetana
Composer

A Brewer's Son With a Violin Nearby

I was born in 1824 in Litomyšl, in Bohemia, where my father worked as a brewer for Count Waldstein. He also played violin in a string quartet, so music was simply part of the furniture in our house. I moved between schools in Jihlava and Německý Brod, went on to Prague, and finished my schooling in Plzeň in 1843. The year after that I began studying theory and composition in Prague with Josef Proksch, and that is when I stopped pretending I would do anything else.

Dedicating Myself to a Famous Pianist

My first real step into the wider musical world came in 1848, when I dedicated my Six Characteristic Pieces to Franz Liszt. To my great relief, he accepted the dedication. That same year I opened a Piano Institute in Prague, and in 1850 I was appointed court pianist in the household of Emperor Ferdinand at Prague Castle. I visited Liszt in Weimar in 1857, and I can tell you it is a rather good feeling to shake the hand of someone whose music you have been dedicating things to.

Five Cold Years in Sweden

Prague was not always kind to me, so from 1856 to 1861 I lived in Gothenburg, in Sweden. There I opened a music school and conducted the Society for Classical Choral Music. Those years were painful as well, because my first wife Kateřina died in 1859, and three of our four daughters died young. I married again in 1860, to Barbora, and in 1862 I came back to Prague, where I finally started building the Czech musical life I had in mind.

A River, a Bride and a Whole Country

In 1866 I became principal conductor of the Provisional Theatre in Prague, and that same year my opera The Bartered Bride was first performed in a two-act version. The three-act version people know today only followed in September 1870, so I had some polishing to do. But the piece I am most often asked about is The Moldau, which belongs to my cycle Má vlast, and which follows a river from its small beginnings to the wide, majestic flow near Prague. You can hear the water in the flutes and violins at the start, rippling along, and then the big melody arrives and you understand why people in my country tear up when they hear it.

The Day the World Went Quiet

Not everyone was pleased with me, because my opera Dalibor in 1868 was condemned by critics who accused me of Wagnerian tendencies. In December 1872 a petition of 86 subscribers even called for my resignation, though I was reappointed in January 1873 with support from Dvořák and other musicians. Then in the autumn of 1874 I lost my hearing, first in my right ear in September and then in my left in October, and I was completely deaf. I left the theatre, but I did not stop composing, and in my String Quartet No. 1, From My Life, I ended with a long, high, sustained E to show you what that ringing sounded like to me.

Writing Music I Could Not Hear

From June 1876 I lived in Jabkenice, and that is where I worked through my final years. I began Má vlast in 1872 and kept going, and the complete cycle was first performed in November 1882 under Adolf Čech. That same year the 100th performance of The Bartered Bride was celebrated, so recognition finally arrived, though rather late for a man who could not hear the applause. I died on 12 May 1884 in the Kateřinky asylum in Prague, aged 60, and the cause of my last decline is still debated today.

A Father for Czech Music

My funeral was held at the Týn Church on 15 May 1884, and I was buried at Vyšehrad Cemetery. These days people often call me the father of Czech music, which is an honour I try to carry modestly. The Bedřich Smetana Museum was founded in 1926, and there is even an asteroid, 2047 Smetana, named after me, which I find rather charming. Some people argue that Dvořák is the more important composer, and I will not fight them, since he helped me when I needed it.

What I Would Like You to Take Away

If you remember one thing, I hope it is that music can be a way of loving the place you come from. When you listen to The Moldau, picture a river that starts as a trickle and grows into something grand. You do not need to know a single note of theory to follow it, because the water does the explaining. Put it on, sit back, and let it carry you along for a few minutes, as it has carried so many people at home.