PROGRAM NOTES Stabat Mater, Opus 58 Antonin Dvořák

For the listener who knows little of Dvořák’s music, what may come to mind is its likability. Almost everything he wrote feels homegrown, nurtured by rich soil, the themes sunny, warm, and amiable. This isn’t to say Dvořák wrote only happy music; he could summon at will great power and tension, evident in his last three symphonies alone. More important, Dvořák wove native folksong into his music with such ease and effectiveness that he remains his native Bohemia’s most important musical nationalist. 

Brahms greatly admired his music − no easy feat for a mortal – and Dvořák won celebrity on a global scale after the premiere of his New World Symphony in 1893 at Carnegie Hall. Dvořák from then on could pick and choose what he wrote and where he lived, and the royalties from his scores, especially the Slavonic Dances, provided all the comforts of a good life.

But that life earlier had been shaken to its core by a series of family tragedies. In 1875, after completing his Symphony No 5, Dvořák and his wife lost their infant daughter, Josefa. He found solace in composing and began writing a large choral piece based on the 13th century Latin hymn Stabat Mater Dolorosa, which depicts the Virgin Mary weeping over the body of a crucified Jesus.

But he put aside the unfinished score for two years to focus on commissions. Then, within a period of a single month, the couple’s baby daughter Ruzenka died from accidental poisoning, and their three-year-old son Otakar died from smallpox. Devastated, Dvořák again turned to the Stabat Mater and through sheer resolve, completed it in eight weeks.

“I have always loved the music of Dvořák and the beauty and poignancy of the Stabat Mater text, and I believe that this is the most heartfelt setting I know,’’ says Dr. John Sinclair, artistic director of the Bach Festival. “Just like the text telling the story of Mary standing at the foot of the cross, Dvořák understood the sorrow and pain of losing a child (much less three). The music’s strong emotional content reflects his grief.’’

Although Dvořák employs the full resources of orchestra, chorus and soloist, the music unfolds as a meditation, an intimate prayer more than a theatrical performance. While inspired by darkness, Dvořák managed to bring light to this otherwise mournful music, heard in many of its folk-tinged melodies.

The first of 10 sections is the longest and begins with an orchestral introduction, the ascending octaves symbolic of spiritual purity. From there, Dvořák continues the story by interspersing sections for solo quartet, chorus, bass solo, chorus, tenor solo, chorus, soprano and tenor duet, alto solo, and solo quartet and chorus, respectively. It concludes, appropriately, in hushed reverence.

“It should be noted that the work ends in a major key,’’ Sinclair says. “For me, this tonal shift provides a sense of hope. This work is truly one my favorite oratorios.’’

Kurt Loft is a journalist and arts writer who has covered classical music for more than 40 years and is a member of the Music Critics Association of North America.