Antonín Dvořák owed his initial recognition to Johannes Brahms, who singled him out in a composition contest, the prize of which enabled the talented young composer to spend time in Vienna studying composition further. Dvořák’s music bears some elements of resemblance to that of Brahms, for he wrote stunningly well in the similar genres of string quartets, sonatas, and symphonies. Unlike Brahms, though, he was a successful opera composer, and his Rusalka is known the world over. In fact, few of his contemporaries composed successfully in as many different genres as did Dvořák. Americans today, if they think of Czech music at all, it is that of Dvořák. They know little of the incredible musical wealth of Bohemia–from Smetana and Fibich to Ostrčil, Janáček, Hába, and Martinů. Dvořák is merely “first among equals” in the history of Czech music, and many more of the compositions of “the conservatory of Europe” need to reach our own concert stages.
Carnival was written in 1891 and is a concert overture, that is, it is not part of any opera, but stands alone. Actually, it is the second of a trilogy of three concert overtures–the others being In Nature’s Realm and Othello–that collectively are called Nature, Life, and Love. The first performance of all three overtures took place the night before he left for his famous American trip, in April 1892. The set is broadly a reflection about existence and the human condition. Carnival, specifically, is not just a lighthearted depiction of a carnival, in the sense that many Americans may conceive it—rather like a circus. Rather, it refers to the festive pre-Lenten season of the Catholic Church that ends on Shrove Tuesday, or Mardi Gras. Celebration, yes, but it’s also an opportunity to ponder the opportunities for sacrifice in the coming Lent. So, Dvořák composition is a commentary upon the pace of life, itself–interrupted by an ominous “death” theme from his own recently composed requiem mass. Its tuneful melodies, masterful orchestration, and thrilling ending are perfectly characteristic of the composer’s musical style, and redolent of like riches found in his nine symphonies and numerous other orchestral works.
To the usual sonata form, common in overtures as well as in symphonies, Dvořák adds a little interlude or intermezzo. It’s necessary for the basic duality of perspective on the human condition that is the fundamental proposition of the overture. In other words, the gaiety of the opening, stomping Bohemian dance (and the ending of the work, as well) needed to be balanced with an introspection of the darker side of human existence.
Carnival opens with an energetic Bohemian dance worthy of the composer’s famed Slavonic Dances. The festivities are considerably enhanced by a flamboyant use of the tambourine. The usual move to the dominant for the second theme surprises one, as it’s in the minor mode. It’s a wonderful example of one of the composer’s melancholy Czech melodies that weaves in an out of both the minor and major. But, he soon moves to the expected E major to end the exposition and prepare for the above-mentioned added interlude.
Here, a bit of magic occurs, as the English horn intones a doleful three-note accompaniment over muted strings to a theme–heard in the flute–from his recent Requiem. Immediately thereafter, the solo clarinet plays the famous “Nature theme” from the first overture in the triptych, “From Nature’s Realm.” The little theme—(somewhat suggestive of a cuckoo) is heard on all three overtures, and is a significant unifying device found in all three works. This short excursion to a darker land doesn’t last long, and a tantalizing transition takes us to the vigorous development, where the composer works over familiar ideas. And the energy does build, right into the return of the joyful, opening dance.
Dvořák doesn’t bother with recapping the other material from the beginning; this is too much fun and exactly all that is needed to take us to the wild conclusion. It careens along, gaining momentum, and just when you think that this is the end—Dvořák kicks it into overdrive for an ending almost unmatched in its exuberance. A sizzling chord from the trombones seals it all.
–Wm. E. Runyan
© 2025 William E. Runyan