PERFORMERS
Leoš Janáček (1854–1928)
Leoš Janáček had a deep affinity for Russian culture which influenced his creative process. He counted Dostoyevsky, Gogol, Lermontov, Tolstoy, and Vasily Zhukovsky among his favorite writers. Naturally, his love of Russian culture permeated his music, as from 1876 he began incorporating Russian themes in his compositions. Most famously, his First String Quartet is subtitled “The Kreutzer Sonata” after the Tolstoy novella. Likewise, Pohádka for cello and piano is a programmatic work based on Zhukovsky’s Skazka o tsare Berendyeye (The Tale of Tsar Berendyey). Pohádka’s score states in the preface:
“Once upon a time there lived Tsar Berendyey, who had a beard down to his knees. He had been married for three years and lived with his wife in perfect harmony; but God still hadn’t given them any children, which grieved the tsar terribly. One day the tsar felt the need to inspect his kingdom. He bade farewell to his consort and for eight months he set on his travels.”
Pohádka offers a musical montage of scenes from the Russian fable, rather than a strict narration. The work reflects a sense of childlike wonder, as is characteristic of much of Janáček’s chamber music.
Pohádka (Fairy Tale), JW VII/5 (1910, rev. 1912 & 1923)
Agnes Tyrrell (1846–1883)
Born in Brno to an English father and Czech mother, Agnes Tyrrell lived and worked in near-total obscurity, composing in private while caring for her ailing family. A gifted pianist and fluent linguist, she left behind a modest but striking body of work—including orchestral pieces, chamber music, and art songs—almost none of which was published in her lifetime. Writing during an era when women were almost entirely excluded from the musical canon, Tyrrell’s work is only now beginning to receive serious scholarly and performance attention. Her songs, composed to texts in several languages, reveal a sensitive musical voice shaped by Romantic ideals and a gift for lyrical expression, offering a rare glimpse into the artistry of a woman composer whose time, until recently, had not yet come.
Abendfeier (Evening Devotion), Op. 46
Es lebt ein wundersames Leben
In eines Maienabends Duft,
Die ew'ge Gnade fühl' ich schweben
Beglückend durch die weiche Luft:
Sie breitet aus die milden Hände,
Daß reicher Segen niederträuft,
Daß Licht und Liebe sonder Ende
Sich auf das Haupt der Menschen häuft.
Des Himmels Schatz wird ausgespendet:
Das Herz faßt all' die Fülle nicht,
Es wird das Seligste verschwendet:
Duft, Liebe, Wärme, Friede, Licht!
— Felix Ludwig Julius Dahn (1834-1912)
Translation (EN):
A wondrous life breathes
in the scent of a May evening.
Eternal grace drifts gently,
enfolding the air with bliss.
It opens tender hands
and showers blessings in a golden rain,
till endless light and love
crown the head of humankind.
Heaven spills forth its treasure;
the heart cannot hold such fullness.
Even joy itself overflows:
fragrance, love, warmth, peace, and light.
Překlad (CZ):
Život podivuhodný plane
v májovém večera vánku,
věčné milosti cítím chvění,
jak šťastně pluje vzduchem v klidu.
Rozprostírá své mírné dlaně,
by hojnost požehnání spadla,
by světlo, láska bez přestání
na lidské hlavy proudem padla.
Poklady nebes rozdány jsou:
srdce tu plnost neobsáhne,
to nejsvětější plyne proudem —
vůně, láska, teplo, mír a záře!
Translation (EN):
I feel it—deep within, I am sick with longing,
yet one joy makes me blissfully whole.
By day, my thoughts are drawn to you;
By night, I seek you in my dreams.
Wherever I go, on every road,
your image lingers in my soul.
Greeting you—my morning benediction;
Wishing for you—my prayer by night.
Nur Du (Only You), Inv.1133
Ich fühl's, daß ich tief innen kranke
und Wonne doch mich selig macht.
Dich sucht am Tage mein Gedanke,
Dich sucht mein Traum in dunkler Nacht.
Wo ich auch weile, auf allen Wegen,
Dein Bild vor meiner Seele steht,
Ein Gruß an Dich—mein Morgensegen;
Ein Wunsch für Dich—mein Nachtgebet.
— Friedrich Emil Rittershaus (1834-1897)
Překlad (CZ):
Cítím, že hluboko uvnitř jsem nemocný,
a přesto mě blaženost naplňuje štěstím.
Ve dne na tebe myslím,
v noci tě hledám ve snu.
Ať jsem kdekoli, na všech cestách
stojí tvůj obraz přede mnou.
Pozdrav pro tebe je mým ranním požehnáním,
přání pro tebe, mou noční modlitbou.
Vítězslava Kaprálová (1915–1940)
The vibrant spirit Vítězslava Kaprálová lived only to the age of twenty-five, but nonetheless earned her place in the entirely male-dominated fields of composition and conducting. Influenced by her Brno predecessor Janáček, she became the student of such Paris luminaries as Nadia Boulanger, Vítězslav Novák, and her eventual lover Bohuslav Martinů. While Kaprálová considered songs her “biggest love,” her mentors discouraged her from focusing on them, because the genre was considered a more feminine pastime that could challenge her credibility as a serious composer in her own right; at the time, large symphonic works were widely used as the measure of a Czech composer’s merit. Nonetheless, she composed several songs which explore the full color palette of piano writing as well as an expressive and idiomatic approach to text setting.
Jitro (Morning), from Dvě písně, Op. 4 (1932)
Jitro zpívá kol a ve mně,
zlatý pták, jenž přelét’ hory,
smavé dítě dne a zory,
růžový sen bílé země.
Jitro, sběratel snů bosý,
světla rozsévač a rosy,
vlídný pozdrav boha světu.
Jitro se skřivany, kosy
rozprostírá křídla k letu,
duše, bílá sestra květů.
Jitro září kol a ve mně.,
září, září kol!
— R. Bojko (1877–1952)
Morning sings all around and within me,
a golden bird that has flown over the mountains,
the laughing child of day and dawn,
a rosy dream of the white earth.
Morning, the barefoot gatherer of dreams,
sower of light and dew,
gentle greeting from God to the world.
Morning, with the larks and blackbirds,
spreads its wings to fly:
the soul, the white sister of the flowers.
Morning shines all around and within me,
Shines, shines all around!
Bohuslav Martinů (1890–1959)
Composed during the final months of his life in Switzerland, Martinů’s Variations on a Slovak Folk Song stand as one of his last completed solo works. It exemplifies the synthesis of neoclassical clarity and folkloric lyricism that defined much of his late style. The theme—a plaintive Slovak melody on a woman’s search for her lover—originates from the same tradition that fueled his lifelong interest in Slavic vernacular music. Rather than deconstructing the theme through virtuosic display, Martinů builds a set of understated yet emotionally resonant variations that subtly evolve in texture and harmonic color.
While composed in exile, the piece maintains a spiritual closeness to the composer’s roots, reflecting Martinů’s deep nostalgia and his desire to preserve cultural identity through music. The work's restrained language, transparent textures, and modal inflections echo the introspective serenity of his late chamber music, even as they honor the voice of the people whose music shaped his artistic foundation.
Variace na slovenskou lidovou píseň (Variations on a Slovak Folk Song), H. 378 (1959)
Julie Reisserová (1888–1938)
An outstanding composer whose works were frequently performed by notable musicians during her lifetime, Julie Reisserová studied with such luminaries as Josef Bohuslav Foerster, Albert Roussel, and Nadia Boulanger. Her time in Paris crystallized a style that combined French impressionism with the late Romantic tradition. The wife of a diplomat, Reisserová was a cosmopolitan personage adept at languages, who helped to raise the international profile of contemporary Czech music through her compositions and writings. In Pod sněhem, as in her earlier song cycle Březen (March), she infuses her harmonic and melodic language with threads of exoticism, setting traditional Chinese poetry which she most likely translated herself.
Pod sněhem (Beneath the Snow), 1938
I. Vzpomínka
Tuto noc padal sníh
a pokryl stráně Liangh.
Mráz mnou pozachvěl,
leč ty o tom neměl jsi zdání—
Teď smutně zřím ty stříbřité háje,
kde jsem toužebně ždála Tebe kdys!
Tuto noc padal sníh
a pokryl stráně Liangh.
II. Bílá volavka
Tak sněžnou vločku bílou,
já volavku jsem zřel,
jež tiše se snáší na vodní tůň!
Nehne křídlem
tam nehybně v písku dálné výspy,
a její zrak kol zírá v ten sníh.
Nehne křídlem.
III. Příznivá bouřka
Já krutě lál jsem dešti
jenž šlehal stále v můj krov,
a rušil bouřně můj sen!
Já krutě lál jsem větru
jenž serval květ, kol s keřů a stromků
a zničil sad!
Já krutě lál, krutě proklínal vítr zlý!
naň jsem krutě lál, naň krutě lál!
Tu překročilas práh
a vzdal jsem vroucí dík,
že vítr pak náhle uhasil svíci,
a vzdal jsem vroucí dík i přízni deště,
že tě přinutil pak svléci Tvůj promoklý šat,
teď vzdávám větru dík,
tak dobrý byl, tak sladký byl.
I. A Memory
Snow fell through the night
and blanketed Liangh’s hills.
Frost stirred within me—
but you felt nothing.
Now I gaze in sorrow at the silver woods
where once, I yearned for you.
Snow fell through the night
and blanketed Liangh’s hills.
II. The White Heron
Like a white snowflake,
I saw a heron drifting down,
softly settling on a quiet pool.
She stirs no wing,
still in the sands of a distant shore,
her gaze adrift in the falling snow.
She stirs no wing.
III. The Benevolent Storm
I raged at the rain
beating down on my roof,
disturbing my sleep with thunder.
I cursed the wind
that tore blossoms from branch and bough
and wrecked the orchard!
Fiercely I cursed, bitterly damned that wicked wind—
again and again I cursed it!
Then you crossed my threshold,
and I offered ardent thanks
that the wind had snuffed the candle’s flame;
and I thanked the benevolent rain
that had made you shed your dripping gown.
Now I thank the wind—
so kind it was, so sweet it was!
Antonín Dvořák (1841–1904)
Originally composed for piano four hands under the title Klid (Silence) as part of From the Bohemian Forest, Op. 68, Dvořák later transcribed Silent Woods for cello and piano in 1891 at the request of the cellist Hanuš Wihan. That version—imbued with the instrument’s expressive depth and vocal quality—has since become a cornerstone of the Czech cello repertoire.
Though brief, the work reflects Dvořák’s profound connection to nature and to the Bohemian landscape, a theme that recurs throughout his oeuvre. Its gently arching phrases, modal inflections, and subdued harmonic language evoke a sense of pastoral stillness and introspective melancholy. Written just before Dvořák departed for the United States, Silent Woods may also be read as a quiet farewell to his homeland—an emotional miniature shaped by memory and belonging.
Klid (Silent Woods), Op. 68 No. 5 (1891)
Vítězslav Novák (1870–1949)
Vítězslav Novák was an early champion of Czech modernism despite his so-called conservative training under Dvořák, particularly in the realm of large-scale instrumental works. However, Novák did not remain on the forefront of artistic innovation and would become a symbol of conservative style by the end of his career, owing in part to his use of folk elements. But by the same token, Moravian folk style also imbued his music with exotic harmony and distinctive rhythmic patterns; John Tyrrell writes, “What took [Novák] out of a conventional late-Romantic idiom derived from Brahms, Grieg and Tchaikovsky was his encounter with Moravia.”
Novák penned this song cycle during an extended (and musically productive) trip to the sea. In a departure from his earlier work Melancholie, Op. 25, Novák here sought to convey “melancholy in major,” a description that captures the spectrum of emotions depicted in the work just as aptly as the opus itself explores the many facets of love through the words of three poets. The final song from the cycle, which you will hear tonight, binds up the ideas of the fleeting joy of love, and the suffering that comes with heartbreak. The final four lines summarize the universality of this experience: that despite the pain brought by love, a person nonetheless throws himself at its mercy.
IV. Ó, lásky moře bezdné (O, the fathomless sea of love), from Melancholické písně o lásce (Melancholy Songs About Love), Op. 38 (1906)
O, lásky moře bezdné, lze k tvému dospět dnu?
Lze myšlence neb snu pít z tvojí číše hvězdné?
O, lásky dlouhé pole, lze uvít v kytici
vše kvítí zářící, jež plá a svítí v kole?
O, perly ze dna moře, o květy z lásky niv,
ať pozděj nebo dřív z vás v duši padá hoře.
Ať oklame nás láska, ať vše nám povolí,
vždy konec zabolí a čelu zbude vráska.
Nechť člověk žal jen tuší, vždy srdce svoje rád
v ten květný vrhá sad a v moře to svou duši.
— Jaroslav Vrchlický (1853–1912)
O, fathomless sea of love, can your depth ever be reached?
Is it possible, in a thought or a dream, to drink from your starry goblet?
O, deep field of love, could one weave into a bouquet
All your shining flowers that sparkle and gleam in their dance?
O, pearls from the ocean’s floor, O, flowers from love’s meadow,
Sooner or later, you send grief falling into the soul.
Let love deceive us, or let her grant us all we wish;
The end will always hurt, leaving a wrinkle on the brow.
Though one may expect only sorrow, he will ever cast his heart gladly
Into that flowering grove, and into that sea, his soul!
Josef Bohuslav Foerster (1859–1951)
Foerster was a major figure in the transitional period between the Czech Romantics Dvořák, Smetana, and Fibich and the interwar avant-garde. A Christian humanist, Foerster imbued his compositions with spiritual themes of a highly emotional but complex and sometimes cerebral nature; his religious themes have been posited as a reason for his works’ fading prominence after the Second World War as the Communist era began. Penned during Foerster’s twilight years, this opus shows the hallmarks of the composer’s later works: the return to an earnest, youthful simplicity. While melodic and textual clarity are foremost, the composer’s rich harmonic vocabulary and contrapuntal skill are still evident.
3 Notturna (3 Nocturnes), Op.163, 1939
I. Notturno
Zas violoncell slyším zníti,
jak v onen večer setmělý,
kdy naše ruce znenadání
se pevně vroucně sevřely.
Ten vábný nástroj sladce zpíval,
já v dojetí se na tě díval,
a nápěv zněl a večer has.
Tu chvíli moci zadržeti,
to kouzlo, toho štěstí jas,
kdy na nebe se hvězdy schvěly
a violoncella zněl hlas.
II. Měsíčná noc
Krok zadrželo mi
posvátné osamění.
Les, měsíc nad lomy
se v přeludný svět mění.
V mráček jak v peřinku
se choulí měsíc vzňatý.
Sem, na mou pěšinku
spad jeho vlásek zlatý.
III. Všecky smutky pominou
Všecky smutky pominou,
všecky dozní žaly
za poslední hodinou
v nekonečné dáli.
Bude tam jen ticho hvězd
kráčet mléčnou drahou,
zkvete, co mohlo kvést
věčnou nocí vlahou.
Co zde v prachu haslo snad,
věčným ohněm vzplane,
souhvězdími budou plát
oči milované.
I. Nocturne
Once more I hear the cello playing
As it did on that dusky evening,
When, all of a sudden, our hands
Clasped one another firmly and passionately.
That seductive instrument sweetly sang;
I looked at you, moved,
And the melody played, and the evening faded.
If only I could hold onto that moment,
The magic, the radiance of that joy,
When the stars in the sky were shining
And the voice of the cello singing.
II. Moonlit Night
A sacred solitude
Has stopped me in my tracks.
The forest and the moon over the quarries
Are transforming into a phantom world.
The floating moon
Is snuggled into his cloud-quilt.
Here, onto my little footpath,
A strand of his golden hair has fallen.
III. All sorrows will pass away
All sorrows will pass away,
All grief will subside
After that final hour
In the endless distance.
There will be only the quiet of the stars
Traversing the Milky Way;
All will bloom which could not bloom before
In that warm, eternal night.
All that perished amid earthly dust
Will come aflame again with eternal fire—
And the eyes of the beloved
Will blaze through the constellations.