Symphony No. 4 in A (Italian)

Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847) grew up in Berlin in privileged surroundings as the son of a bank president and a wealthy, well-connected socialite. At age 20 he was given the opportunity and means to go on The Grand Tour, that rite of passage enjoyed by upper-class youth (mostly men) with a desire for exposure to the cultural legacy of the ancient world. During the 1840s the advent of rail and steamer service made the Tour cheaper and thus more generally available; Mendelssohn would have been among the last generation to undertake the adventure in its traditional, aristocratic guise. He traveled extensively for nearly three years, 1829-1831, drawing inspiration for several great works, including the Hebrides Overture, “Scottish” Symphony, and the vigorous “Italian” Symphony.
Italy drew men like Goethe and Thomas Cole with an irresistible allure, filled with classical ruins, sunny climate, and a claim to have birthed the great “rebirth” of art. Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony taps that virile energy and joyful enthusiasm, as boundless as the radiant azure sky. Yet the work did not entirely please its creator. He withheld it from publication and turned instead to other projects. And as soon as he completed the final draft, Mendelssohn began plotting substantial revisions to three of the four movements. The only one deemed sufficient in its original form was the charming first movement. This Allegro vivace opens with one of the composer’s signature sounds (throbbing winds paired with soaring violins) and proceeds confidently through the conventional sonata form. Like Mozart at his best, this movement develops so gracefully that any effort or conflict in its genesis has been polished over to craft a shimmering final product.
Exuberant all the way to the closing cadence, the Allegro sets up a striking contrast against the ensuing slow movement, Andante con moto. Mendelssohn claims it was inspired by a religious procession he witnessed in Naples. The switch from major to minor mode causes the entire mood to change. Additional dark color comes from the move into the subdominant key area (D minor) and use of quietly plodding low strings. Even the small detail of using a lowered second scale degree (E-flat)—generally acknowledged as a favorite device of Neapolitan composers—does not escape Mendelssohn’s observant ear.
The third movement reminds us that Mendelssohn had already completed a dozen string symphonies, not to mention two ambitious symphonies for full orchestra. This minuet shows the touch of a mature hand. Although Mendelssohn tinkered more over the transitional sections that feature winds, they at least show full command of instrumental blend and color. Aided by subtle changes to key and scoring, the movement also succeeds in not being overly repetitious—the curse of many classical Minuet and Trios.
The brilliant but dark finale helps ground the initial exuberance. As a whole, the “Italian” Symphony starts in A major but ends in A minor, something that very few works did prior to Mendelssohn’s day. Built on strands of two Italian folk dances (saltarello and tarantella), the finale also benefits from the composer’s experience with evocative wind writing in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. His treatment of dynamics in two particular locations, the retransition and coda, are so deft that one marvels why Mendelssohn had planned to write an entirely new version of this movement. We are extremely fortunate that other projects intervened to draw his attention away before consigning such music to the fire.

(c) Jason Stell