Jean Sibelius
“While other composers are mixing cocktails of every color, I offer pure, cold water.”
At a glance 🔭💭
Some coordinates adapted from GeoNames (CC BY 4.0) · Pleiades (CC BY 3.0)
Those close to him ⏳🌊
- TeacherMartin Wegelius
As director of the Helsinki Music Institute, he passed on to him a rigorous grounding in composition and a passion for Wagner.
- FriendshipFerruccio Busoni
An Italian-born pianist he met at the Helsinki Music Institute, who remained a lifelong friend and introduced his works to the Berlin stage.
- FamilyAino Sibelius
Daughter of General Järnefelt, she married him in 1892, bore six daughters, and shared with him to the last the running of Ainola and her husband's straitened means.
- FriendshipRobert Kajanus
As a conductor, he led Sibelius toward the Kalevala with his “Aino Symphony,” and championed “Finlandia” and the symphonies.
- PatronageAxel Carpelan
Patron and long-time adviser, he raised the money to send Sibelius to Italy; his death in 1919 was a heavy loss to the composer.
I. A child of Hämeenlinna · 1865–1885 (age 0–20)
(Birth) He was born in December 1865 in Hämeenlinna, in the Grand Duchy of Finland under the Russian Empire (today's Finland). He was baptized Johan Julius Christian Sibelius, and at home he was called ‘Janne.’ His father, Christian Gustaf, was the town's doctor; his mother was Maria Charlotta Borg. As was usual among the Finnish upper classes of the day, the family spoke Swedish. (Loss) In July 1868 his father died of typhoid. Sibelius was two and a half. Because of the debts his father left, the household was declared bankrupt, and his mother moved with his elder sister Linda, Sibelius, and his brother Christian, born the following year, into her own mother's house. He grew up at the side of his grandmother and mother, and spent his summers with his father's family in the coastal town of Loviisa. (Finnish) His mother sent the children not to a Swedish-language school but to a Finnish-language secondary school that had only recently opened. There he learned Finnish and read the national epic, the “Kalevala.” The world of myth that would later nourish his music first opened to him then. (Violin) Around the age of ten he is said to have written a small piece for violin and cello, “Water Drops.” At fourteen he began violin lessons with the military bandmaster Gustaf Levander; though it was a late start, he dreamed of becoming a soloist. With Linda at the piano and Christian on the cello he formed a trio and played often at home, and a number of chamber-music studies from those years survive. The habit of taking long solitary walks through the forests and along the lakeshores also began then and stayed with him all his life. In 1885 he passed his final examinations and left for Helsinki.
II. Toward the Kalevala · 1885–1892 (age 20–27)
(Law) In the autumn of 1885 he entered the law faculty of the University of Helsinki, but his heart turned toward the Helsinki Music Institute, where he had begun studying at the same time, and within a year he gave up law. Its director, Martin Wegelius, gave him a rigorous grounding in composition and passed on to him his passion for Wagner as well. (Friendship) In 1888 the Italian pianist Ferruccio Busoni joined the faculty. Only a year apart in age, the two quickly grew close, and their friendship lasted a lifetime. At the home of his friend Armas Järnefelt he met Aino, the general's daughter. The Järnefelt family stood at the center of the Finnish-language cultural movement. (Study abroad) In 1889 he went to Berlin to study counterpoint with Albert Becker. The lessons were dull, but there he heard Robert Kajanus conduct his “Aino Symphony” and was spurred by the thought that the Kalevala could be carried into music. After becoming engaged to Aino in 1890, he moved to Vienna to study with Karl Goldmark and Robert Fuchs, and was deeply moved on hearing Anton Bruckner's Third Symphony. At an audition for the violin section of the Vienna Philharmonic, by contrast, his nerves got the better of him and he failed. His dream of being a soloist was, in effect, laid aside. Socializing and spending drove his debts ever higher. (Kullervo) In the summer of 1891, after his return home, he heard the rune singer (a singer who performs the old songs of the Kalevala by oral tradition) Larin Paraske in person. In April 1892 he himself conducted the premiere of “Kullervo,” about the Kalevala's tragic hero, and this large-scale work with a Finnish text met with a rapturous reception. Two months later he married Aino and left for Karelia in the east, where he again wrote down folk songs.
Conceived in Vienna and completed after he heard the rune singer, it was his first large-scale work sung in Finnish. Its success made him, at twenty-six, the hope of Finnish music overnight.
- In the third movement, ‘Kullervo and His Sister,’ the male chorus recites the story in 5/4 time, counting five beats as a single group. This is thought to reflect the rhythm of the old rune songs in which the Kalevala was chanted.
- Later in the same movement comes the climax of the whole work, when the soprano (the sister) cries out on learning that the man who seduced her is her lost brother. The monologue of the baritone (Kullervo) follows, as if crumbling in its wake.
- In the fifth movement, ‘Kullervo's Death,’ the chorus calmly narrates the hero's end, and the theme from the opening of the first movement returns to close the tragedy.
- Because the composer withdrew the score during his lifetime and the work long lay buried, it is worth comparing the performances that followed Paavo Berglund's first complete recording in 1970.
III. The voice of a nation · 1893–1903 (age 28–38)
(Opera) In 1893, having won popularity with his “Karelia” music, he planned an opera on a Kalevala subject, “The Building of the Boat.” But after seeing Wagner's music dramas in Bayreuth and Munich in 1894 he abandoned it, and the music he had meant as its overture became “The Swan of Tuonela,” drifting on the river of death. The “Lemminkäinen Suite,” which contains it, was the fruit of adapting the symphonic poem pioneered by Liszt to Finnish myth. (Drinking) In Helsinki he often drank through the night with the painter Gallen-Kallela and the conductor Kajanus. Gallen-Kallela preserved the scene in his painting “Symposium” (1894). His debts kept swelling, and only in 1897, when the Finnish Senate granted him a pension for 10 years, could he finally breathe again. (Daughter) After his daughters Eva and Ruth, a third, Kirsti, was born in 1898, but he lost her to typhoid in 1900. It was the very disease that had taken his father. (Finlandia) When Russia curtailed Finland's autonomy in 1899, he wrote music for an event supporting freedom of the press. “Finlandia,” a reworking of its final number, became known abroad in 1900 through Kajanus's touring performances for the Paris World's Fair. The First Symphony, premiered in 1899, drew remarks that it lay deep in Tchaikovsky's shadow. (Patronage) Axel Carpelan, an aristocratic music lover of modest means, raised money from patrons and sent him to Italy. The Second Symphony, begun in Rapallo in 1901, was premiered in 1902 to great success. Kajanus read the work as a tale of national liberation, but Sibelius himself never accepted such a program.
When he abandoned his Wagnerian opera, the overture that remained became a tone poem depicting the river of death. It is the first work in which his way of rendering myth in orchestral color clearly emerges.
- From beginning to end the swan's song is carried by a single English horn, a woodwind lower and darker than the oboe. This long-breathed solo is counted among the most demanding in the repertoire, even by orchestral players themselves.
- Chords laid down very low and soft by strings divided into many parts sound like a black, still river.
- Listen in the middle for the passage where a solo cello trades brief phrases with the English horn, as if in conversation.
- Near the end the strings strike with the wooden part of the bow (col legno), adding a dry sound to the stillness of the underworld.
- Because Sibelius changed the order of the four pieces, this one stands second or third in the suite, depending on the recording.
A reworking of the final number of his music for a press event that stood against Russian pressure. The Paris World's Fair tour first made his name known to the world.
- In the introduction the brass sound heavy, dark chords, as if bearing down. They are often heard as the atmosphere of an oppressed age.
- In the fast section, the driving rhythms of the timpani and brass sound like a scene of struggle.
- In the middle, the hymn melody sung quietly by the woodwinds later had words set to it and came to be known as the ‘Finlandia Hymn.’ Sibelius insisted that the melody was not borrowed from folk song but of his own making.
- Near the end, don't miss the moment when that hymn melody returns grandly in the brass.
He began the piece in Italy, on a journey paid for with money Carpelan had raised. Audiences heard in it the hopes of a nation, but the composer wished it to be heard without a program, as music itself.
- At the opening of the first movement, the strings repeat a short three-note motif that climbs like steps (ascending) from a low note. This small seed grows throughout the work, changing shape as it goes.
- The second movement begins with two bassoons singing a dark melody over a tread of double basses and cellos plucking the strings with their fingers (pizzicato). In sketches written in Italy he had noted down scenes of Don Juan and Death.
- The fast sections of the third movement alternate with a slow oboe pastoral and then pass without a break straight into the finale; that seam is the glory of the work.
- Near the end of the finale, the brass soar above low strings stubbornly repeating the same figure (ostinato). Kajanus interpreted this passage as the triumph of liberation.
IV. Ainola · 1904–1913 (age 39–48)
(The move) In the autumn of 1904 he moved to the shore of Lake Tuusula at Järvenpää, about 40 kilometers north of Helsinki. The house, designed by the architect Lars Sonck, was named ‘Ainola’ after his wife. The move was also a resolve to escape the drinking bouts of the city. His neighbors included his brother-in-law, the painter Eero Järnefelt, the painter Pekka Halonen and the writer Juhani Aho. After Katarina, born in 1903, Margareta (1908) and Heidi (1911) were born in this house. (The concerto) The Violin Concerto, premiered in February 1904, was harshly reviewed. He cut and revised it, and presented it again in Berlin in October 1905, with Karl Halíř as soloist and Richard Strauss conducting. It was his only concerto, a debt to the soloist's dream he had set aside, repaid in composition. “Valse triste,” written around the same time, was loved the world over, yet because he had sold the rights for a pittance, little of the money came back to him. (Mahler) In November 1907, the year he unveiled Symphony No. 3, he talked with Gustav Mahler, who was visiting Helsinki. When Sibelius said that the allure of the symphony lay in the severity of its style and the profound logic connecting its motifs, Mahler is said to have replied, “No, the symphony must be like the world. It must embrace everything.” Like this conversation, the paths of the two men diverged. (The tumor) In 1908 a tumor developed in his throat, and he underwent several operations in Berlin. It was benign, but in fear of its return he gave up alcohol and cigars for several years. From this period, when he felt death close at hand, came the string quartet “Voces intimae” (1909) and Symphony No. 4 (1911). No. 4 was the darkest and most concise of his works, and the audience at its premiere was bewildered.
The only concerto by a man who once dreamed of becoming a violinist. After a failed premiere, the revised version came to light in Berlin under the baton of Richard Strauss.
- At the opening, muted violins shimmer very softly, and above them the solo violin enters as if rising to the surface. Many listeners liken it to cold northern air.
- In movement 1, a passage for the soloist alone (the cadenza) stands where the development section would be, and serves as the pillar of the work. It is a rare design for a concerto.
- In movement 3, timpani and low strings drive a dogged dance rhythm. The British musicologist Donald Tovey called it ‘a polonaise for polar bears.’
- With double stops bowed on two strings at once and rapid leaps in succession, it is a notoriously difficult piece. The 1935 recording by Jascha Heifetz and Beecham long stood as something like the benchmark for the work.
V. Sixteen swans · 1914–1919 (age 49–54)
(America) In the summer of 1914 he crossed the Atlantic at the invitation of the Norfolk Music Festival in Connecticut. He conducted “The Oceanides,” written for his patron Carl Stoeckel, and received an honorary doctorate from Yale University. It was the only visit to America of his life. Not long after his return home, the First World War broke out. (Hardship) When the war cut him off from his German publisher Breitkopf, his royalties stopped coming in. To pay his debts he wrote piano pieces and songs one after another and sold them to publishers at home, and his diary preserves the shame he felt at such bread-and-butter work. (Swans) In his diary on April 21, 1915, he wrote: “Today at 10 minutes to 11 I saw sixteen swans. One of my greatest experiences. Lord God, what beauty!” The sight is bound up with the theme of the finale of Symphony No. 5. The work was premiered on December 8 of that year, amid national celebrations of his fiftieth birthday. Yet he was not satisfied, and revised it heavily twice, in 1916 and 1919. (Civil war) During the Finnish Civil War in 1918, the Red Guards searched Ainola. He fled with his family to Helsinki and stayed at Lapinlahti mental hospital, where his brother Christian was director. Food was scarce, and he lost a great deal of weight. The following March, Carpelan, his longtime patron and confidant, died. In November of that same year, the final version of Symphony No. 5 was premiered.
A work in which wartime hardship, the celebration of his fiftieth birthday and the experience of sixteen swans overlap. Only after revising it over 4 years did he arrive at its present form.
- Movement 1 begins with a gentle call from the horns. From the middle onward the tempo gradually rises until it melts into a fast dance (a scherzo), the result of fusing two originally separate movements into one during revision.
- Movement 2 rests on string pizzicato (the sound of strings plucked with the fingers), while a simple melody flows on through variations that change its shape little by little.
- In the finale, the theme the horns call out, swinging broadly like bells, is linked to the flight of the swans recorded in his diary. Tovey compared it to Thor swinging his hammer.
- Long silences are wedged between the six chords that close the work. Because the length of the pauses differs from conductor to conductor, it is the passage by which great performances are compared, and it is also famous for drawing premature applause.
VI. Clear, cold water · 1920–1926 (age 55–61)
(Farewells) In 1922 his brother Christian, a respected psychiatrist, died. That same year he joined the Freemasons. As he passed fifty and lost those close to him one after another, fears of loneliness and old age surfaced often in his diary. (Water) Symphony No. 6, premiered in 1923, is marked by the colors of the old church modes (ancient scales older than major and minor) and by transparent strings. Of this period he said, “While other composers are mixing cocktails of every color, I offer pure, cold water.” In the 1920s, a decade brimming with lavish orchestration and new experiments, he walked in the opposite direction. (Compression) In March 1924 in Stockholm he premiered Symphony No. 7 under the title ‘Fantasia sinfonica.’ Melting the characters of four movements into a single movement of some 20 minutes, it was the culmination of the compression and organic connection he had pursued all his life. By then his abstinence had already collapsed; he often calmed his nerves before conducting with drink, and Aino suffered deeply over it. (Tapiola) In 1926 he wrote the symphonic poem “Tapiola” on a commission from the New York conductor Walter Damrosch. Depicting the realm of Tapio, the forest god of the Kalevala, it grows the entire work from a single short motif. In the same period he also completed his music to “The Tempest” for the Royal Theatre in Copenhagen. These were the last large-scale works he gave to the world.
His last large-scale orchestral work, written on a New York commission. The forests he had walked since childhood remain as a vast sound grown from a single motif.
- Keep in mind the short motif the strings present at the very beginning. Nearly the whole of the piece, close to 20 minutes long, grows from this one idea.
- At the head of the score stands a four-line poem he attached to it. It tells of the dark forests of the northern land standing wide and dreaming ancient dreams, and of the forest god who dwells within them.
- In the later part, strings repeating a single note so rapidly that it trembles (tremolo) and figures sliding down by semitones surge together, sounding like a storm sweeping through the forest.
- When the storm has passed, a final B major chord, long sustained by the strings, quietly closes the piece.
VII. The silence of Järvenpää · 1927–1957 (age 62–92)
(Waiting) Conductors around the world waited for Symphony No. 8. In Boston, Serge Koussevitzky believed he had been promised the premiere. A surviving record of a payment to a copyist for a fair copy in 1933 shows that much of it had been written, but year after year he put off its release. (Fame) In the 1930s his popularity reached its peak in Britain and America. The conductors Thomas Beecham and Koussevitzky performed his symphonies often, and recordings appeared one after another. Critics such as Theodor Adorno, by contrast, attacked his music as behind the times. Thanks to a state pension and royalties, his household in old age was at last secure. (Burning) In the mid-1940s he burned bundles of manuscripts in the stove of the dining room at Ainola. Aino recalled that afterward her husband became far calmer. No. 8 is believed to have vanished at this time. (Daily life) In old age he passed his days taking morning walks, smoking cigars and listening on the radio to performances from around the world. Visitors and letters never ceased, and on his ninetieth birthday in 1955, celebratory concerts were held across the globe. (Cranes) In September 1957, his family relates, he saw a flock of cranes flying south during his walk and said, “There come the birds of my youth.” A few days later, on the evening of September 20, he died of a cerebral hemorrhage at Ainola. He was ninety-one. That evening in Helsinki, it is said, his Symphony No. 5 was being performed under Malcolm Sargent. After a state funeral he was buried in the garden at Ainola, and Aino, who died in 1969, was laid to rest beside him.
Lesser-known stories
‘Jean’ was not his baptismal name. His uncle Johan Sibelius, a sea captain, used calling cards engraved in the French style as ‘Jean Sibelius’; after the uncle died in Havana, Cuba, in 1864, his nephew, then a university student, inherited the leftover cards and began using the name. His family and old friends called him ‘Janne’ to the end. “Kullervo” is today counted among his signature early works, but in his lifetime it was all but forgotten. After a few performances in 1893 he withdrew the score, and only single movements were played now and then. The complete work returned to the stage in 1958, the year after his death, in the hands of his son-in-law, the conductor Jussi Jalas. The first complete recording was made by Paavo Berglund in 1970. Symphony No. 8 has been known only as ‘the work that went up in flames,’ but traces of it remained. An invoice sent in 1933 by the copyist Paul Voigt shows that twenty-three pages of fair copy had been completed. The musicologist Timo Virtanen examined sketches the family had donated in 1982 to the Helsinki University Library (today the National Library of Finland) and found several passages that may be linked to No. 8, and in 2011 the Helsinki Philharmonic performed these fragments under John Storgårds. Together they last less than 3 minutes, and whether they truly belong to No. 8 is still spoken of with caution. He joined a Finnish Masonic lodge in 1922, and in 1927 wrote ritual music (Op. 113). Because of the principle that the rites are not made public, the music was for a long time almost never heard in ordinary concerts, and even in catalogues of his works it was treated like a footnote.
Notes on terms 📚🔎
Symphony
(Etymology) Gyohyanggok (交響曲), 'symphony,' means a piece in which many sounds resound (響) together with one another (交). The Western name symphony likewise comes from a Greek word meaning ‘sounding together.’ (In music) A long work written for the whole orchestra, usually made up of three or four large sections (movements). Each movement has its own tempo and character, yet they unfold like one great story. It is much like a school lunch, where rice, soup, side dishes and dessert each differ yet together make a single meal. Sibelius wrote seven, and in the last, No. 7, he fused several movements into one outright.
Symphonic poem
(Etymology) Gyohyangsi ('symphonic poem') means orchestral music that holds a story or a scene, like a poem (詩). (In music) A work that paints content from outside music, such as myths, novels, paintings or nature, with the orchestra, usually in a single movement. Franz Liszt was the first to give it this name. It is something like reading a wordless picture book aloud in sound, so if you listen knowing the title and the story, the scenes rise before your eyes. “The Swan of Tuonela” and “Tapiola” are Sibelius's best-known symphonic poems.
English horn
(In music) A woodwind instrument a little larger than the oboe, with a lower voice. Despite its name, it did not originate in England and has nothing to do with the horn, a brass instrument, and why it came by this name is unclear. The end of the instrument swells into a round bulb, which makes its sound dark and plaintive. Just as the same song sounds lonelier when sung in a low voice, it gives a more shadowed sound than the oboe. It is this very instrument that sings the swan's song in “The Swan of Tuonela.”
Cadenza
(Etymology) The Italian cadenza comes from the Latin cadere, ‘to fall.’ It originally referred to the point just before the music falls and settles into a close. (In music) The passage in a concerto where the orchestra stops and the soloist alone gives free rein to technique and imagination. At first performers filled it by improvising, but later composers more often wrote it out themselves. It is like the moment at a school show when the whole class is singing together and one child steps forward to show off alone. In Sibelius's Violin Concerto, the cadenza sits in the very middle of movement 1 and serves as the pillar of the work. (Elsewhere) The English cadence, from the same root, can also mean the number of times a cyclist turns the pedals in 1 minute.
Ostinato
(Word origin) Italian for 'obstinate.' It shares a root with the English word obstinate. (In music) The stubborn repetition of a short melody or rhythm in the same shape. While other melodies shift and grow above it, it holds the floor firmly in place. Think of a long jump rope: as long as the two people turning it keep the same beat, the one jumping inside is free to change moves at will. The figure repeated by the low strings near the end of the finale of Symphony No. 2 is a fine example.
Pizzicato
(Word origin) From the Italian pizzicare ('to pinch, to pluck'). (In music) A technique in which a string instrument such as the violin or cello is sounded by plucking the string with the fingers rather than drawing the bow across it. The sound is short and bouncy, and it fades almost at once. Picture the 'twang' of a rubber band flicked with a finger. At the opening of the second movement of Symphony No. 2, and in the second movement of Symphony No. 5, this sound forms the groundwork of the music.
Tremolo
(Word origin) Italian for 'trembling.' (In music) A technique in which one or two notes are repeated very rapidly so that the sound carries on as if quivering. String players produce it by moving the bow up and down in short, quick strokes. It is often used to create tension, or an atmosphere of wind or rippling water. Like teeth chattering on their own on a cold day, the sound splinters into tiny pieces and shakes. In the storm scene of Tapiola, the string tremolo sounds like wind sweeping through the forest. (Elsewhere) The 'tremolo' effect on an electric guitar does not mean repeating the same note; it refers to a device that periodically swells and shrinks the volume of the sound.