Symphony No. 4 in A Major, Op. 90 “Italian”
Felix Mendelssohn
Mendelssohn's life of privilege not only meant that his prodigious talent was developed without external obstacles, but also that he received advice from friends who also happened to be the greatest minds of his time. Such was the impetus for his travel to Italy in 1830 as the suggestion came from no less than renowned poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
Beginning in Venice in October, he continued via Bologna and Florence to Rome where he experienced a city caught up in interesting drama. Pope Pius VIII died November 30, 1830, and after a tense, 50-day marathon deliberation of the papal conclave, his successor Gregory XVI, was elected on the eve of Mendelssohn's 22nd birthday.
Already loving the people, the art and architecture, and landscapes (Mendelssohn, a creditable artist, made several drawings on his trip), a very happy man set to work on a new symphony that he himself titled Italian. A commission from the London Philharmonic Society provided motivation and he wrapped up the symphony on March 13, 1833, after he returned to Berlin, with the premiere coming two months later. Even though its reception was uniformly enthusiastic, Mendelssohn was not satisfied and repeatedly made revisions, refusing to allow the work to be played in Germany in his lifetime. His executors wisely ignored his proposed changes because when it was finally published, it needed no improvement.
Commencing with unforgettable shimmering chords of woodwinds and horns, the first movement bursts with relentless energy. It paints a picture of Italy's lively streets and carefree atmosphere. Entering the second movement, there’s a mood shift. Inspired by his time in Naples, Mendelssohn is more contemplative, possibly reflecting the solemn religious processions he witnessed.
The minuet flows gently with a trio introducing a persistent but equally gentle fanfare. Mendelssohn adds a clever coda that intertwines the minuet themes and the fanfare. As for the finale, it’s a dance celebration. Tagged as Saltarello, a local folk dance, this movement also flirts with the Tarantella rhythms. Both dance forms root the symphony unmistakably in southern Italy. What's more, it is a rare symphony for its time, written in a major key concluding in its minor. A relentless chase commences immediately but manages to bring us safely to a satisfying landing.
© 2010, 2015, 2023 by Steven Hollingsworth, Creative Commons Public Attribution 3.0 United States