Romanian Rhapsody no. 2, in D major, op. 11, no. 2

The Romanian Rhapsody in D major, Op. 11 No. 2, stands as the lyrical counterpart to its much more famous, dance-like sister. Unlike the extroverted energy of the first rhapsody, this second piece is guided by a sense of communal singing and balladic storytelling, transforming even originally festive folk tunes into contemplative musical reflections. The opening itself exemplifies this “ennobling” of a dance melody: the lively accents of “Pompieru’s Sârba” are softened into a solemn string unison, slowly unwinding over a dominant pedal, setting the stage like a musical “once upon a time.” Over this backdrop enters the central theme, “On a black cliff, in an old castle,” a patriotic ballad attributed to Alexandru Flechtenmacher, based on Dimitrie Bolintineanu’s poem Mother of Stephen the Great. Enescu likely encountered this melody through folk collections or potpourri-style compositions by the lăutar Gheorghe A. Dinicu. Regardless of its origin, Enescu recontextualizes it within a symphonic rhetoric of memory, presenting it three times with increasingly rich harmonic and orchestral textures, suggesting a symbolic landscape shaped by national history and heroic legend.

After a brief, darker theme (“Bâr oiță, bâr”) that adds a touch of uncertainty, the initial “Sârba” attempts to reawaken the protective embrace of the ballad. Instead, a dreamlike shift occurs: the musical landscape is filtered through a magical lens, drawing the listener into a twilight vortex of mysterious sounds—soft string tremolos and faint cymbal whispers. From this mist emerges the English horn’s doina “Văleu, the wolf will eat me,” a passage Enescu himself highlighted in his later radio conversations with Bernard Gavoty. Many scholars have identified this moment as a foundational one for Enescu’s melodic style, marked by subtle major-minor shifts, expressive rhythmic variation, and meticulous agogic notation. The doina becomes the nucleus of a thematic expansion, culminating in the rhapsody’s apotheosis: trumpets in octaves herald the contrapuntal fusion of previously separate themes—ballad, doina, and sârba—suggesting a euphoric unity between the individual, the homeland, and its history. Yet, the ending introduces playful “intruders”: the viola’s cheeky “Țânțăraș with wide boots,” a breeze of “Ciocârlia” from the first rhapsody, and finally, a flickering echo of the doina from the solo flute—five descending notes suspended in the evening air, hinting that mystery remains inscrutable at the heart of Enescu’s musical landscape.