National Pride: Dvořák’s Slavonic Dances

by Maureen Buja  August 3rd, 2026

In 1878 and 1886, Antonín Dvořák (1841–1904) created his Slavonic Dances, Opp. 46 and 72. In this series of 16 dances, Dvořák picked up on the idea from Johannes Brahms‘ Hungarian Dances. Dvořák originally wrote this for piano four-hands, and, at the request of his publisher, they were orchestrated shortly thereafter.

Antonín Dvořák, 1892 (Gallica: btv1b8417521d)

Despite the ‘Slavonic’ title, which would imply dances from anywhere in central, southeastern, or eastern Europe (covering Poland, Croatia, Ukraine, Russia, among many other countries), the style of these dances is solidly Czech. In point of fact, Dvořák was really writing using styles and forms from his native Bohemia. As with so much of his work, he’s not quoting real folk music as much as writing in the style of, capturing Bohemian rhythms and folk-dance structures.

The release of the Slavonic Dances was Dvořák’s introduction to the musical world outside his native land. Dvořák had applied for the Austrian State Prize to support his composing work and won it three times: 1874, 1876, and 1877. Brahms, as one of the award committee members, stepped in and was enormously helpful in bringing Dvořák to the attention of his own publisher, Simrock.

Simrock was impressed with Dvořák’s four-hand Slavonic Dances and requested the orchestral version; both sets were successful and became the start of Dvořák’s international reputation. In the end, it led him to the United States and the founding of the short-lived National Conservatory of Music of America in 1892.

The seventh number of the Op. 72 Slavonic Dances was based on the Bohemian dance called the kolo. This is a chain dance for anywhere from 3 to 15 people, with all dance movements happening with the feet while the body moves little. People may hold hands or hold each other around the waist to form the chain. Dancers move to the left and right with side steps and little hops, gradually moving the line to the left. Each of the South Slavic regions will have its own variation on the kolo dance, and experienced dancers can dress up the steps with syncopation or higher hops. It’s a fast dance!

Paul Kletzki, 1965

This was recorded in 1961 by the National Orchestra of the RTF under the direction of Paul Kletzki. Polish conductor Paul Kletzki (1900–1973) spent WWII avoiding the Nazis, leaving Berlin, where he had conducted the Berlin Philharmonic under the guidance of Wilhelm Furtwängler, for Milan, Italy. Eventually, he fled to Russia to escape Italian antisemitism. In 1946, he returned to Milan for La Scala’s reopening and eventually settled in Switzerland, becoming a Swiss citizen in 1949. He was known for his championing of the works of Gustav Mahler after the war. In 1954, he was appointed chief conductor of the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, and in 1955, he led the first recordings of the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra. From 1958 to 1961, he was principal conductor of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra and from 1967 to 1970, was the General Music Director of the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande. His death in 1973 came while he was conducting a rehearsal of the Liverpool Philharmonic.

Composers and Their Nicknames

 by Siri Livingston 

Being a composer is not a very – how could one put it delicately – commonsense profession. Many of history’s well-known composers were larger-than-life characters who earned idiosyncratic nicknames from their erratic and memorable behaviour. In this article, we take a look at how some of these gargantuan musical figures might have been known to their contemporaries.

Franz Schubert the Mushroom

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This composer’s musical stature far outstrips his literal stature – Schubert was only five-foot-one, or approximately 155 centimetres. This, in combination with his unusual face and rather pudgy physique, earned him the affectionate nickname “little mushroom” or “Schwammerl.” The composer also had high standards for those he socialised with, and he often asked early in the process of being introduced to someone, “Kann er was?” or “what can he do?” This earned him the nickname “Kanevas.”   

Johannes Brahms, “Young Eagle”

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Robert Schumann gave Brahms an affectionate nickname as a token of his admiration for the composer’s abilities: “the young eagle.” This bird imagery likely came from the book of Revelations, which references “an eagle crying with a loud voice” (ESV), as Schumann had opined he “believe[d] Johannes to be the true Apostle, who will also write Revelations…” In addition to this admiring nickname, Schumann promoted Brahms’ music in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik magazine, founded by Schumann himself in 1834, and convinced Leipzig publishers to look at Brahms’ compositions.

Strangely, this avian imagery echoes elsewhere in his life, albeit less positively. Brahms once wrote about his own temperament: “I am a severely melancholic person…black wings are constantly flapping above us.”  

Joseph Haydn or “Papa Haydn”

Joseph Haydn

The nickname Haydn was given is a rare case study showcasing the power of words and the way linguistic meaning can change and be manipulated over time. Haydn was the Kapellmeister at the Esterházy court for over thirty years, presiding over a large group of much younger musicians. His benevolent attitude and willingness to stick up for the musicians of lesser status earned him the loving nickname “Papa Haydn.” As Clemens Höslinger notes, “’Papa’ arose as a term… for a father figure, someone who willingly gave advice and who was generally respected.” Eventually, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was among those who referred to Haydn as “Papa Haydn.”

The nickname grew even more popular in the 19th century as Haydn’s contributions to the symphonic and String quartet genres, and to music generally, became more broadly and formally codified. In 1797, the Tonkünstler-Societät of Vienna made Haydn an honorary life member “by virtue of his extraordinary merit as the father and reformer of the noble art of music.”

In the late 19th century, the nickname born of affection and reverence began to take on a caricatural, dismissive quality. “Papa Haydn” became a patronising and dismissive way to paint Haydn’s output as “genial, but naïve and superficial,” notes Höslinger. Recent scholarship has focused on providing a more nuanced picture of Haydn and his diversity and richness as a composer than the ideas that came to be associated with “Papa Haydn.”

Antonio Vivaldi: The Red Priest

Antonio Vivaldi

Gianbattista Vivaldi, Antonio Vivaldi’s father, was a famous Venetian violinist who regularly performed at St. Mark’s Basilica. Despite his son’s clear musical disposition, it was the local custom at the time for upper-class boys to be sent into the priesthood, and the young Antonio became a priest in 1703. This, in combination with his mop of naturally bright red hair, earned him the nickname “the red priest,” which stuck despite his relatively swift departure from the profession. Vivaldi the younger was too frail for the priestly vocation, and his true passion lay with music.   

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, or “Trazom”

Croce: Mozart Family Portait (detail), 1781

Fittingly, we end the list with the composer who sported the greatest variety of nicknames – and proper names – in his lifetime. Mozart was formally baptised in Latin as “Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart” on the 28th of January 1756, the day after his birth, at St. Rupert’s Cathedral in Salzburg.

Following the custom of the Catholic Church, Mozart’s first two names are drawn from the saint’s day of his birth, in this case St. John Chrysostom, “Chrysostomus” meaning “golden mouth.” “Wolfgang” came from Mozart’s maternal grandfather, and “Theophilus” from his paternal grandfather. Interestingly, “Theophilus” comes from Greek and means “lover of God” or “loved by God,” and it is from this that Mozart came to be called by the Latin version, “Amadeus,” or the German, “Gottlieb.”

Mozart worked across cultural borders and was linguistically flexible and very playful about his own name. As such, Mozart would toy with Italian and French, signing letters with “Amadeo” and “Amadé.” He loved to be facetious and would sign letters with purposefully incorrect Latin. Indeed, the popularity of referring to Mozart as “Wolfgang Amadeus” was a largely posthumous and Romantic-era trend, as Mozart never signed a single document “Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart” – the closest thing to this that survives in record being a silly mock-Latin signature, “Wolfgangus Amadeus Mozartus.” He also used his names backwards for fun: “Mozart Wolfgang” and “Trazom.”

Brahms - Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major (Hélène Grimaud)

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Johannes Brahms - Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major, Op. 83 Piano: Hélène Grimaud Conductor: David Zinman NHK Symphony Orchestra 0:32 - Allegro non troppo 19:16 - Allegro appassionato 28:32 - Andante 40:11 - Allegretto grazioso

Yuja Wang: Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major Op. 83 [HD]

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Munich Philharmonic conducted by Valery Gergiev, Tokyo Suntory Hall Dec 1, 2018 00:05 - 15:55 I. Allegro non troppo 18:04 - 27:19 II. Allegro appassionato 27:40 - 40:01 III. Andante 40:02 - 49:09 IV. Allegretto grazioso Playlist:    • Yuja Wang Archives