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JEAN SIBELIUS
Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 43 (1900–02)

Outsider status is difficult to overcome. The nexus of the late Romantic symphony was still Vienna, Germany, and sometimes France and Russia. In order to gain acceptance, a composer writing symphonies in England and even the United States often imitated Beethoven—the dominating symphonic master. Russian folk music, American tunes, and Slavic modes seeped in, enhancing a genre that remained essentially Viennese. Of writing symphonies, the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius once reflected, “It is as if the Almighty had thrown down pieces of a mosaic from Heaven’s floor and asked me to put them together.”

Sibelius began his Second Symphony during a vacation in Italy. He sketched it out in Rapallo, south of Genoa, where he brought his family. The sweet Italian air bathed him as he jotted down musical ideas about an enchanted garden and contemplated the story of Don Giovanni. Instead of looking into Finnish water, Sibelius looked over the Mediterranean from Chiavari where he wrote, “The sea is raging violently, the waves seem as big as houses.” Emphatically he announced, “The Mediterranean rages! Moonlight!!” In a note to his friend and fellow Finnish composer Robert Kajanus, Sibelius juxtaposed Italian and Finnish temperaments, “All our songbirds are here but they shoot them, and kill them. And still they sing and wait for the Finnish spring. Finland! Finland!! Finland!!! They are all here: the willow warbler, thrush, lark, oriole.”

Sibelius returned to Finland to spend the summer at the estate of his mother-in-law. He focused on completing the work that he had sketched out in Italy but acknowledged the stress: “I have been in the throes of a bitter struggle with this symphony. Now the picture is clearer and I am now proceeding under full sail.” Sibelius was scheduled to premiere the piece in January 1902 but postponed it to March after fretful tinkering and a touch of influenza. He conducted his new Symphony on March 8, 1902, to an enthusiastic full house in Helsinki.

Although Sibelius consistently denied any Russian connection, critics found the Second Symphony to be his response to Russian geo-political aggression, specifically threats to annex Finland. Ilmari Krohn, an early Finnish musicologist, nicknamed Sibelius’s Second Symphony the “Finnish” Symphony and described it as “Finland’s Struggle for Freedom.” Furthermore, Krohn suggested a programmatic title for each movement: I. The Development before the Conflict; II. The Storm; III. National Resistance; IV. Free Fatherland.

In this epic Symphony, Finland’s greatest composer extols his country with majestic music, saturated with Finnish folk traditions and Viennese grandeur. The first movement begins quietly with wavy strings followed by staccato winds, planting the listener straight atop Austrian mountains. Here is the outsider’s nod to the Symphony’s proverbial home turf. This sonic world is further enhanced by a violin recitative. Dignity emerges. Big ideas stay strong, while a repeated folksy quarter-note figure haunts. The oboe introduces a sense of foreboding. The rest of the movement flaunts magisterial unease. 

The second movement is an imaginative contrapuntal wonderland of different timbres emanating from steady string eighth notes and bassoons playing octaves. Rests pierce the musical tapestry until a sweeping violin melody takes charge. The triplets unmistakably harken back to the second movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony but with a Modernist twist: They wander into uncouth high registers. 

A collision of city and country forces follows. Strings (the city) saw away at the start of the third movement in melodramatic fashion until woodwinds temper the emotions. A stoic oboe (the country), modest in its initial intentions, calms the group until the anxious strings return. The oboe interrupts the madness again with quiet assuredness, reminding the listener of the natural world. Finally, the violins return to their expected roles of playing a grand crescendo at the end in this ABA movement. 

Sibelius lets out all the stops in his loud finale. It is attacked without a pause from the previous movement, and in it he alludes to elements from the others, including wavy string accompaniment and cheerful wind melodies. Trumpets take over, establishing nationalist fervor. Proud Finland stands up against its aggressive neighbor. The Second Symphony evokes Beethoven not only in its traditional Viennese instrumentation but also in its heroism.

—Aaron Beck

JEAN SIBELIUS
Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 43 (1900–02)

Outsider status is difficult to overcome. The nexus of the late Romantic symphony was still Vienna, Germany, and sometimes France and Russia. In order to gain acceptance, a composer writing symphonies in England and even the United States often imitated Beethoven—the dominating symphonic master. Russian folk music, American tunes, and Slavic modes seeped in, enhancing a genre that remained essentially Viennese. Of writing symphonies, the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius once reflected, “It is as if the Almighty had thrown down pieces of a mosaic from Heaven’s floor and asked me to put them together.”

Sibelius began his Second Symphony during a vacation in Italy. He sketched it out in Rapallo, south of Genoa, where he brought his family. The sweet Italian air bathed him as he jotted down musical ideas about an enchanted garden and contemplated the story of Don Giovanni. Instead of looking into Finnish water, Sibelius looked over the Mediterranean from Chiavari where he wrote, “The sea is raging violently, the waves seem as big as houses.” Emphatically he announced, “The Mediterranean rages! Moonlight!!” In a note to his friend and fellow Finnish composer Robert Kajanus, Sibelius juxtaposed Italian and Finnish temperaments, “All our songbirds are here but they shoot them, and kill them. And still they sing and wait for the Finnish spring. Finland! Finland!! Finland!!! They are all here: the willow warbler, thrush, lark, oriole.”

Sibelius returned to Finland to spend the summer at the estate of his mother-in-law. He focused on completing the work that he had sketched out in Italy but acknowledged the stress: “I have been in the throes of a bitter struggle with this symphony. Now the picture is clearer and I am now proceeding under full sail.” Sibelius was scheduled to premiere the piece in January 1902 but postponed it to March after fretful tinkering and a touch of influenza. He conducted his new Symphony on March 8, 1902, to an enthusiastic full house in Helsinki.

Although Sibelius consistently denied any Russian connection, critics found the Second Symphony to be his response to Russian geo-political aggression, specifically threats to annex Finland. Ilmari Krohn, an early Finnish musicologist, nicknamed Sibelius’s Second Symphony the “Finnish” Symphony and described it as “Finland’s Struggle for Freedom.” Furthermore, Krohn suggested a programmatic title for each movement: I. The Development before the Conflict; II. The Storm; III. National Resistance; IV. Free Fatherland.

In this epic Symphony, Finland’s greatest composer extols his country with majestic music, saturated with Finnish folk traditions and Viennese grandeur. The first movement begins quietly with wavy strings followed by staccato winds, planting the listener straight atop Austrian mountains. Here is the outsider’s nod to the Symphony’s proverbial home turf. This sonic world is further enhanced by a violin recitative. Dignity emerges. Big ideas stay strong, while a repeated folksy quarter-note figure haunts. The oboe introduces a sense of foreboding. The rest of the movement flaunts magisterial unease. 

The second movement is an imaginative contrapuntal wonderland of different timbres emanating from steady string eighth notes and bassoons playing octaves. Rests pierce the musical tapestry until a sweeping violin melody takes charge. The triplets unmistakably harken back to the second movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony but with a Modernist twist: They wander into uncouth high registers. 

A collision of city and country forces follows. Strings (the city) saw away at the start of the third movement in melodramatic fashion until woodwinds temper the emotions. A stoic oboe (the country), modest in its initial intentions, calms the group until the anxious strings return. The oboe interrupts the madness again with quiet assuredness, reminding the listener of the natural world. Finally, the violins return to their expected roles of playing a grand crescendo at the end in this ABA movement. 

Sibelius lets out all the stops in his loud finale. It is attacked without a pause from the previous movement, and in it he alludes to elements from the others, including wavy string accompaniment and cheerful wind melodies. Trumpets take over, establishing nationalist fervor. Proud Finland stands up against its aggressive neighbor. The Second Symphony evokes Beethoven not only in its traditional Viennese instrumentation but also in its heroism.

—Aaron Beck