Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)
Symphony No 4, in A Major, Op. 90, “Italian” (1833)
Despite being one his most popular works, Felix Mendelssohn’s cheerful “Italian” Symphony cost him some of the bitterest moments of his career.
Jakob Ludwig Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy—born Feb. 3, 1809, in Hamburg, Germany, into a wealthy family known to rub elbows with leading artists and musicians—had more than his fair share of talent. He excelled as a painter, poet, athlete, linguist, and musician.
His mother began teaching Felix piano at 6, which he continued to study along with his siblings, following a move to Berlin. Recognized as a child prodigy, Felix received all the encouragement and support his family withheld from his talented sister, Fanny.
Felix gave his first public performance at 9. Between ages 12-14, he debuted his early compositions (influenced by Bach, Beethoven and Mozart), during gatherings in the family home, including several of his 12-string symphonies. At 13, he published his first work, a piano quartet. Felix was barely 15 when he completed his first symphony for full orchestra.
A cheerful fellow, Felix enjoyed traveling and expressing his adventures through music. After his first visit (of many) to Britain in 1829, at the urging of his friend Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and composition teacher Carl Friedrich Zelter, Felix headed to Italy, where he felt inspired by the people, landscape, culture, and visual arts.
He wrote to his teacher: “My family have no doubt told you of the exhilarating impression made on me by the first sight of the plains of Italy. I hurry from one enjoyment to another, hour by hour, and constantly see something novel and fresh…”
Alas, his spirits were soon dampened by the deaths of Goethe, Zelter, and his boyhood friend and violin teacher. But in November 1832, the Philharmonic Society of London offered him a generous commission for a new symphony, an overture, and a vocal composition, and Felix leapt into his “Italian” Symphony.
The work, he said, was meant to embody not only his impressions of Italy’s art and landscape, but also the vitality of the people. To Fanny, he wrote, “I have once more begun to compose with fresh vigor, and the “Italian” symphony makes rapid progress; it will be happiest piece I have ever written, especially the last movement.”
While many symphonies begin in the minor mode and end in the major, “Italian” begins in the major and ends in the minor. Generally speaking, major-key music is considered happy music, and minor-key music “sad,” but this symphony says otherwise.
Completed in 1833, the extroverted “Italian”—scored in four movements for pairs of woodwinds, horns and trumpets, timpani and strings—is reminiscent of the first movement of Beethoven’s Seventh.
Energetic from the start, the violins fire off the spirited initial theme (of many), heard over the woodwind’s repeated notes. After a second more leisurely theme, a solo clarinet revitalizes the first, announcing the nervous tension that is sustained throughout the middle section. A solo oboe delivers a single, nine-and-a-half-measures-long A note, then a lengthy F-sharp, when the main theme resurfaces from the orchestra’s depths.
The second movement is a more restrained, somber march, inspired by a procession of monks, while the third movement is an old-style minuet and trio with horns peppering the air from a distance and introducing the trio section in the middle.
The finale, the most Italian of all, is a Saltarello, a traditional 14th-century Italian dance. It’s a breathless display of rhythmic energy combined with lively, cheerful counterpoint. Just when you think it’s danced itself out—down to just first violins delivering a hushed, rhythmic pianissimo over the cellos and basses—it rebounds with a fat crescendo, ending in a mighty forte.
Felix conducted the premiere in London on May 13, 1833, at a London Philharmonic Society concert, to great enthusiasm. Yet, Felix was disgruntled. He revised the work repeatedly, intending to write alternate versions of all but the first movement. He never allowed the “Italian” to be played in Germany or be published. It didn’t appear in print until after his death in 1851 (without revisions, btw).
Due to the delay, it became Symphony No. 4, when it was actually his third. Felix claimed the work cost him “some of the bitterest moments of his career.” Ironically, it’s one of his most popular works.
Felix was unwell during his last years. A hectic tour of England left him exhausted and suffering from a series of strokes; he died at age 38. Queen Victoria called Felix “the greatest musical genius since Mozart,” as well as “the most amiable man.”
Jayce Keane, who began her career as a journalist for The Rocky Mountain News, has been working in the orchestra industry and writing about music for 18 years. A longtime resident of California, she now lives in Colorado.