Felix Mendelssohn – Symphony No. 4 in A major, Op. 90 “Italian” (Analysis)

In Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony, impressions of travel become radiant melodies, a processional tread and the driving energy of the Saltarello.

i Work Information

Composer:

Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy (1809–1847)

Work:

Symphony No. 4 in A major “Italian”, Op. 90, MWV N 16

Composition:

First ideas in 1830–1831; the first version completed on 13 March 1833

Revisions:

The last three movements rewritten in 1834; the intended revision of the symphony as a whole remained unfinished

First performance:

13 May 1833, Hanover Square Rooms, London; Philharmonic Society, conducted by the composer

First publication:

1851, after the composer’s death

Genre:

Symphony

Musical period:

Early Romantic

Structure:

Four movements

Duration:

Approximately 27–32 minutes, depending on tempi and the observance of repeats

Scoring:

Two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, timpani and strings

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The analysis follows the 1833 version generally heard in performance. The revised versions of the last three movements are discussed in “A Chapter in the Life of the Work”.

The “Italian” Symphony begins as though the space around the music has already opened wide. A lively pulse springs into motion, and the violins unfold their melody with momentum, lightness and an almost tangible sense of joy. About half an hour later, the orchestra reaches its destination in A minor, caught up in the intensity of a dance. Between that radiant opening and this sharper ending lie the reflection of an Andante, the grace of a minuet, and passages in which contrapuntal writing brings remarkable density to the sound. The symphony’s joy is full of movement, contrast and depth.

Its beginnings lie in the young Mendelssohn’s journey through Italy in 1830–1831. Rome, its monuments and collections of paintings, scenes of outdoor life and impressions of the south all offered stimulation to a musician who also drew and painted alongside his work as a composer. His letters preserve something of that alertness: he observes the world around him, compares what he sees and hears, moves between enthusiasm and disappointment, and thinks about the compositions he hopes to bring home. During this journey, the symphony acquired the name “Italian”, which he himself used when writing to his family.

The connection with Italy is clear, while the music leaves room for many kinds of response. Mendelssohn left no detailed programme assigning each theme to a city or a particular event. The symphony invites images and associations through its sound: the spring in the first movement’s step, the concentrated processional tread of the second, the horn calls in the trio, the leaping energy of the Saltarello. Such images belong to the experience of listening and can sit comfortably alongside an understanding of the work’s musical architecture.

The complete score took shape later, in Berlin, in response to a commission from London’s Philharmonic Society. Between the journey and the concert of 1833 came the time needed to turn impressions into thematic relationships, harmonic journeys and balances of orchestral colour. The vitality of the finished music makes this work seem effortless. Beneath the immediate appeal of the melody, however, lies a composition of carefully judged proportions, whose material is handled with extraordinary fluency.

The familiar Classical sequence of four movements remains easy to recognise. Sonata form gives direction to the energy of the Allegro; the Andante opens a more inward expressive world; and the minuet allows the phrases to breathe before the speed of the finale. Within this framework, rhythm and orchestral colour continually change the nature of the movement. The winds sustain the pulse, sing, answer the strings or illuminate an inner line, while counterpoint gathers intensity without clouding the texture.

The symphony also occupies an unusual place in the history of Mendelssohn’s works. It was completed before the “Scottish”, numbered No. 3, and its posthumous publication accounts for the designation No. 4 and the opus number 90. The familiar version established itself in the repertoire even though its composer had already explored other solutions and left a larger revision unfinished. Knowing that this music’s persuasive assurance coexisted with Mendelssohn’s persistent doubts adds another dimension to the pleasure of hearing it.

Movements / Structure

The sequence of movements creates clear contrasts of rhythm, colour and character. The return to A major in the third movement restores a familiar tonal foundation, which the finale decisively changes to A minor.

Movement	Key and metre	Structural and expressive outline
I. Allegro vivace	A major; 6/8	Sonata form: an exuberant opening, a lyrical second thematic group, and a development introducing a new contrapuntal theme
II. Andante con moto	D minor; 4/4	Processional material alternates with more songful passages, above a persistent tread in the lower texture
III. Con moto moderato	A major; 3/4	Minuet and trio: a broad melodic line, horn calls, and a subtle connection between the two sections in the coda
IV. Saltarello: Presto	A minor; 4/4	A dance finale shaped by continuing development and thematic returns, with triplets giving the movement its distinctive energy

Musical Analysis

I. Allegro vivace — Joy Finds Its Architecture

The first movement has the immediacy of music already in flight. Before an expectation of a slow introduction can form, repeated notes in the winds have set the pulse and the first violins have taken up the melody. The phrase rises, turns and continues with such agility that each small point of arrival seems to launch the next gesture. From the outset, the orchestra offers two experiences at once: a freely curving melodic line and, beneath it, a clear, persistent rhythmic framework.

The 6/8 metre is central to this springiness. Its two main beats, each divided into three smaller units, give the movement a buoyant lift. Phrases can stretch across the pulse while retaining its momentum, and accents and dynamic changes continually shift their internal emphasis. A major gains its brilliance from the way the sound is organised and articulated as well as from the key itself: individual lines remain distinct, entries are sharply defined, and the melody retains its agility even as the orchestra approaches full strength.

This outgoing beginning sets a journey in sonata form in motion. The exposition introduces the material and its principal tonal relationships; the development takes it into new territory and works upon it; and the recapitulation brings it back into the orbit of the home key. Hearing this framework in the “Italian” helps us experience the opening joy as the beginning of a real progression. There are places to relax, changes of direction, and stretches in which the initial sense of assurance is put under pressure.

After the first thematic group, the transition broadens the harmonic movement and prepares E major, the dominant key. Here, clarinets and bassoons introduce a gentler, more songful character. Their rounded colour gives the melody a new warmth, while the string accompaniment leaves it room to breathe. The pulse continues, but attention moves from the violins’ headlong curve to a phrase that seems more willing to linger over its own sound.

This second group enriches the exposition while preserving its continuity. The change can be heard both in the choice of instruments and in the shape of the melody: the lively opening gestures yield to smoother connections, while quick notes in the accompaniment keep the underlying energy alive. Brilliance gathers again in the closing section, bringing the exposition to its conclusion. The repeat marked in the score gives the listener another opportunity to become familiar with these ideas before their transformation begins.

As the music enters the development, harmonic stability becomes more fragile. Within this changing landscape, a new theme appears, built from short, crisply articulated units and coloured by the minor mode. It passes from one voice to another, with successive entries beginning to overlap. The fugato—a passage of imitation resembling the opening of a fugue—turns the orchestra into a lively conversation. The same idea arrives from different directions, gradually claiming more of the musical space.

Counterpoint becomes a source of dramatic tension here. Modulations carry the music away from the exposition’s relative security; short thematic units meet material already familiar to us; and successive entries build towards powerful orchestral climaxes. The music remains agile, but the sound grows denser and more insistent. The new theme establishes a presence of its own, and its arrival changes how the eventual return of the opening will be heard.

The recapitulation restores A major and the familiar melodic impetus, giving a palpable sense of return. Yet the journey has left its mark. The transition is adjusted so that the second thematic group can now settle in the home key, while the development’s theme remains active in the movement’s final large section. As the ideas come together again near the end, the brilliant close gathers up the memory of what has happened along the way. The opening joy has found its architecture through the interaction of melody, harmony and independent orchestral voices.

II. Andante con moto — A Procession Beneath the Melody

With the Andante, time acquires a different weight. A spare introductory phrase opens the world of D minor, and a chant-like melody emerges above the tread of the lower strings. The music seems to gather around a shared breath: the melody moves with measured expressiveness, while the accompaniment gives the sense of a procession continuing beneath every phrase.

The indication con moto is essential to the movement’s character. Within the 4/4 metre, cellos and double basses maintain a steady pulse, active enough to keep the music from becoming heavy or static. Above it, the main theme is presented by the distinctive combination of oboes, bassoons and violas. Their blended colours give the melody body and restraint, like a voice that carries clearly without needing to rise beyond its natural strength.

As the movement unfolds, the melodic surface becomes richer and the instruments take on more individual roles. A flute can bring light to the line from above, while the low tread keeps the underlying course recognisable. This relationship between the almost chant-like melody and the mobile accompaniment gives the movement its particular identity. Reflection finds expression through motion, and the continuing pulse allows even the most inward phrases to keep moving forward.

The form grows through the alternation of processional material with a warmer, more songful idea. Passages in the major mode allow the phrase to expand more freely and the orchestra to soften its colour. The change feels like an opening within the austerity of the beginning. The persistent pulse keeps the two moods connected, so that the lyrical expansion belongs to the same journey that began with the spare introduction.

When the original theme returns, we recognise it with the warmer episode still in mind. Changes of scoring and inner detail give it fresh shading, while dynamic climaxes carry particular weight in this restrained setting. The music develops its ideas while retaining its processional character. Each renewed appearance seems to bring the same melody a little closer to the end of its course.

In the final section, the minor mood returns and the tread gradually loses intensity. The last phrase closes quietly, with a clear sense of resolution. The processional character has often encouraged associations with the religious ceremonies Mendelssohn encountered in Italy. That connection is plausible as a response to the sound; identification with a particular procession in Rome or Naples remains uncertain. The movement’s power is already present in the music itself: in the persistence of the accompaniment and the expressive dignity of the melody moving above it.

III. Con moto moderato — A Graceful Line and the Calls of the Trio

The third movement restores A major through a broad, tranquil string melody. The 3/4 metre and minuet character give it a familiar dance rhythm, while the phrase unfolds with enough continuity to acquire the ease of song. After the concentrated tread of the Andante, the music opens out again. Its movement remains measured, but its breathing has become freer.

Con moto moderato keeps the dance at a calm pace while allowing it to flow. Balanced phrases and their returns create a sense of familiarity, with harmonic changes introducing subtle differences within them. The grace of the music depends on the relationship between melodic continuity and articulation: the line needs to hold together while preserving the lightness of the three-beat step. The winds support and illuminate the strings’ song, adding depth to the texture without continually occupying the foreground.

In the trio, horn calls introduce a different sense of distance. Their phrases, the presence of the bassoons and the delicate movement of the strings suggest short signals exchanged across a more open space. The tonality remains within the sphere of A major, but the scoring changes how we experience it. The connection with the pastoral and hunting vocabulary of Central European music helps explain this colour without tying it to a particular Italian landscape.

The minuet’s return brings back the continuous melodic line and the poise of the opening phrases. Near the end, however, elements of the trio reappear in the coda, the movement’s brief concluding section. The opening music and the wind calls can now be heard together, as two aspects of the same recollection. Through this delicate connection, the familiar minuet–trio–minuet design acquires a deeper unity: the central contrast remains present as the movement approaches the quiet balance of its close.

IV. Saltarello: Presto — The Dance and Its Insistent A minor

The finale changes the mood abruptly. After the calm grace of the third movement, A minor and the clipped opening impulse draw the orchestra into a movement with a sharper edge. The Presto marking makes speed a defining force, while the flutes’ melodic presence and the rapid string writing create a sound charged with inner tension. The dance now has the power to sweep the entire symphony towards its conclusion.

The title Saltarello refers to an Italian dance characterised by leaping movement, and the music has often been associated with the tarantella as well. Its nimble rhythmic gestures, repeated short note values and shifting accents give substance to this kinship with dance. The score, however, provides no evidence of the direct quotation of a particular folk melody. Mendelssohn shapes a symphonic finale in which the language of dance takes on a thematic and orchestral life of its own.

The whirling sensation rests on an intriguing relationship between the written metre and its rhythmic subdivision. The movement is in 4/4, with triplets giving the main beats their characteristic threefold motion. Beneath the speed, a steady framework remains in place, allowing the smaller note values to change their accent and articulation. Clear string playing and distinct wind lines give this continuing movement shape, direction and dancing vitality.

The flutes’ opening melody is exceptionally nimble. It passes above the strings like a fine line crossing a rhythmic space that is already alive. Small groups of notes and clipped articulation keep the theme sharply defined, while orchestral responses gradually give it greater weight. The difference between a light presentation and a fuller return creates tension without requiring a change of tempo: the same moving figures acquire different force according to who plays them and at what dynamic level.

Returns of the material help organise the form, but the dance evolves more than a simple rondo label would suggest. Ideas move through different harmonies, change their place in the orchestra, and encounter material that has appeared in the meantime. The relationship between presentation, development and return invites an understanding related to sonata form, though without the first movement’s regularity. In listening, this becomes especially apparent when we recognise a familiar rhythm and realise that the music surrounding it has already changed.

Changes of articulation provide one of the finale’s most telling contrasts. In quieter passages, a connected melodic line stretches across the movement and the sound temporarily loses its angular edge. The dynamics recede, the voices become easier to distinguish, and speed can be heard as a delicate activity in the background. This moment of relief keeps the pulse alive, allowing the next orchestral build-up to carry renewed expressive weight.

The final stretch brings back the dance material with increasing determination. Contrasting articulations and dynamics have prepared the intensity of the last pages, where the orchestra gathers its energy into a clear conclusion. A minor holds to the very end. The symphony finishes with strong chords that firmly establish its tonal close, and this very certainty makes the choice of the minor mode so striking: the opening’s home note remains, while its bright colour has changed. The dance brings the form to a forceful conclusion, retaining in its last sound the edge that marked its first appearance.

Italy Experienced and Transformed

The name “Italian” accompanied the symphony while Mendelssohn was still working on it, and his letters clearly connect its creation with his travels. This historical background gives listening a wealth of possible images: a city continually offering something new, a ceremony drawing people together, the movement of a dance. The music welcomes such images through its strong and varied characters. It remains useful, however, to distinguish what can be traced to an actual event from what arises in the listener’s imagination.

The Saltarello has an explicit dance reference in the score. For the other movements, the relationship with Italian experiences is more open. The Allegro can suggest a bright outdoor space through its flexible pulse and transparent orchestration; the Andante can evoke a procession through its persistent accompaniment and restrained melody. The minuet, with its horn calls in the trio, draws on a vocabulary familiar within the Central European tradition. These different affinities can coexist without being arranged into a fixed itinerary of four episodes.

The letters also show that Mendelssohn’s admiration for Italy was far from indiscriminate. Nature, painting and monuments often offered him stronger inspiration than the musical performances he heard in theatres and churches. His attention was selective, and his observations retained the comparisons and standards of a musician whose artistic education had already set demanding expectations. The symphony’s relationship with the country is consequently more complex than a musical picture of a pleasant stay.

In the “Italian”, impressions of travel pass through the German symphonic tradition, a command of counterpoint, and a Classical feeling for proportion. Memories of place meet a musical language capable of shaping an independent experience. The first movement’s development, the thematic returns of the Andante, and the concluding connection between minuet and trio all have significance within the composition itself, even when we listen without looking for an external image.

This independence helps explain the work’s lasting appeal. The story of the journey enriches listening, while the melodies, contrasts and tonal relationships retain their own strength. Italy is present as an experience that set the composer’s imagination in motion; within the symphony, that experience has acquired the duration, order and freedom of a new musical form.

Rhythm, Clarity and the Tonal Journey

The four movements give the symphony four distinct ways of moving. The Allegro’s 6/8 has a spring in its step; the Andante’s 4/4 maintains a steady tread; the minuet’s 3/4 lets the phrase sway; and the Saltarello’s triplets intensify the sense of a whirl. Continuity of pulse connects this variety while preserving the differences of character. Depending on melody, articulation and orchestral setting, the impulse to move can convey joy, reflection, grace or tension.

For this journey, Mendelssohn uses an orchestra close to the established Classical forces: paired woodwinds, two horns, two trumpets, timpani and strings. The variety of sound comes from the flexibility with which he deploys the ensemble. A melody changes character as it moves from the violins to clarinets and bassoons; a processional theme gains density when oboes, bassoons and violas present it together. The choice of instrumental combinations often carries greater expressive significance than a simple increase in volume.

Clarity of texture becomes particularly valuable as the music grows denser. In the Allegro’s contrapuntal development, hearing each new entry allows us to experience the accumulation of tension. In the finale, differences between staccato and legato give the themes distinct identities within the speed. A clear outline for each voice helps us recognise relationships and returns, keeping the thematic material vivid even when the orchestra is at its most active.

There is also a characteristic tendency for an idea introduced later in a movement to remain alive in its musical memory. The Allegro’s new development theme returns in the final stretch; material from the trio meets the minuet in the coda. These connections give the concluding sections the feeling of gathering more than the opening alone. What has happened in between has found a place in the ending.

Across the symphony as a whole, the final A minor carries comparable weight. A remains the tonal centre, while the opening major mode changes to minor. The connection with the beginning is preserved, and its expressive meaning changes. This choice can be heard as the culmination of a journey in which outgoing joy has encountered other moods and acquired greater intensity. The score provides a clear tonal resolution, leaving the listener’s imagination free to respond to the particular character of this last shade of colour.

🪶 A Chapter in the Life of the Work

From Rome to London — A Symphony Its Composer Kept Reconsidering

In February 1831, Mendelssohn was still in Rome, the city’s impressions sharing his attention with a number of unfinished musical projects. In his letter to Fanny on the 22nd, he moved from the Sunday musical gatherings she was preparing at the family home in Berlin to his new cantata on Goethe’s The First Walpurgis Night. He encouraged her to continue the gatherings and offered to write something new for them. A little further on, amid accounts of the compositions occupying him, he came to the “Italian”. The symphony was progressing, and he expected it to become the liveliest work he had written, especially in its final movement. He had yet to settle on the slow movement and was thinking of leaving it until he had seen Naples.

A few days later, on 1 March, the symphony was still unfinished. His time in Rome was running short, and Mendelssohn wondered whether he had made the most of his stay. He wanted to hold back the “Italian” until he had visited Naples, believing that the city should have its own share in the work. Meanwhile, he drew every day, trying to gather memories of the places he loved. Composition, sightseeing and drawing competed for the same hours, and the letters reveal how difficult it was to bring a large work to completion while so many new impressions still demanded his attention.

In Naples, the experience became more complex. In the letter of 27 April, Mendelssohn moved from his visit to Pompeii to the living city, and from the beauty of the bay to his distress at the poverty in the streets. He also described his musical acquaintances and continued working on The First Walpurgis Night. He still hoped to finish the “Italian” in Italy, returning home with the winter’s compositions ready. That plan did not materialise. The impressions of the journey continued to accompany him, while the symphony waited for the time and occasion that would bring it into its complete orchestral form.

The occasion arrived from London in November 1832. William Watts, secretary of the Philharmonic Society, sent word of the Society’s decision to commission a symphony, an overture and a vocal work from him, for a total fee of one hundred guineas. Mendelssohn accepted and returned to the “Italian”. Work advanced quickly early in 1833, and on 13 March he completed the score in Berlin. In a letter written that day, he could already express satisfaction with the result: despite the doubts that had troubled him, he felt that the work had taken him forward as a composer.

He reached London at the end of April and delivered the score to the Philharmonic Society. The symphony that had begun to take shape during his Italian travels was now part of the practical world of musicians, copied orchestral parts and preparations for a concert. Mendelssohn checked the material and prepared to conduct it himself. On 13 May, at the Hanover Square Rooms, he presented the “Italian” and also appeared as pianist in Mozart’s D minor Piano Concerto. The evening thus brought together two sides of his musical life: the interpreter of a work he admired and the creator of a new symphony.

The response was warm. The audience asked to hear the second movement again, and Ignaz Moscheles recorded the enthusiasm surrounding the performance in his diary. The Andante, with its persistent tread and restrained melody, had found an immediate response in the hall. Later that year, Mendelssohn mentioned in a letter that he intended to publish the symphony after The Hebrides overture. For a time, the way towards publication seemed open.

The following summer, however, the music was back on his desk. In Düsseldorf in June 1834, Mendelssohn was rewriting the last three movements, changing melodies, proportions and orchestral details. Fanny had asked him to send her the Andante’s theme; on 5 July, he sent the entire second movement in its revised form. Her reply brought an objection of particular weight, coming from a musician who knew his writing intimately and could address him with a sister’s candour.

Fanny was unconvinced by the change to the first melody. She wondered whether he had made it to avoid the repeated A, whereas she had found the earlier line natural and beautiful. She had reservations about other changes too, while acknowledging that she was not yet familiar enough with the whole new movement to judge every detail. She asked him to bring the earlier version when they met, so that they could discuss the two settings side by side. In their correspondence, revision acquired a specific musical shape: two versions of the same melody, a disagreement about its naturalness, and the prospect of a conversation with the scores before them.

Mendelssohn continued to have doubts about the first movement as well. In February 1835, he wrote to his friend Karl Klingemann that he was struggling with this music and considering a radical change, perhaps even replacing it altogether. A new version of the complete symphony never emerged. The score of 1833 existed as a finished whole; the last three movements had been rewritten; and the first remained caught in a process the composer could not yet bring to a close.

His friends waited. In December 1837, Moscheles asked for the revised symphony for another performance, expressing his affection for the work and his curiosity about the changes. These hopes produced no definitive new score, and Mendelssohn did not publish the symphony during his lifetime. The familiarity it had gained among those who had heard it existed alongside his persistent need to reconsider it.

After his death in 1847, the “Italian” began to acquire a wider public life. In 1851, Breitkopf & Härtel published the version associated with the 1833 premiere, and this became the basis of the symphony established in the repertoire. The revised versions of the last three movements remained much less familiar for a long time, until later editions and recordings made wider comparisons possible. Every performance of the standard version today therefore continues the life of music that had already moved its first audience while its creator was still searching within it for other possibilities.

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🎧 Listening Guide

The pulse beneath the melody. At the beginning of the Allegro, the winds’ rhythmic foundation and the violins’ energetic line can be heard as two distinct forces working together. Their difference helps us feel the opening’s elasticity. Later, as the second thematic group passes to the woodwinds, the melody grows gentler while the accompaniment keeps the movement alive. The continuity of the pulse makes the change of character all the more apparent.

The density of the development. The first movement’s new minor-mode theme offers a clear point of reference. Its clipped units and successive entries alter the relationship between the voices: the orchestra begins to sound like a gathering of independent lines that meet and reinforce one another. The later return of this material gives the brilliant ending a fuller sense of thematic completion.

The Andante’s accompaniment. The tread of the lower strings maintains a steady direction as melody, harmony and colour change above it. Against this constant background, the more songful passages become an expansion of the same journey. The processional theme returns carrying the memory of the lyrical contrast that has intervened.

The distance between voices in the trio. The minuet’s continuous melodic line gives way to horn calls and responses from the other instruments. The change can feel like an opening of the space around the sound. When elements of the trio reappear in the coda, the two sections become connected, and the close retains something of a second, more distant voice remembered.

Articulation within speed. In the Saltarello, the energy becomes easier to follow when the differences between clipped and connected phrases are audible. The triplets keep moving even in quieter passages, while dynamic changes alter the density of the sound and its apparent distance. The final A minor has a clear power of resolution. Our memory of the opening A major gives this last colour its particular place in the experience of the symphony as a whole.

🎶 Further Listening

• Claudio Abbado — London Symphony Orchestra, Deutsche Grammophon. The performance accompanying the four movements in this article offers an opportunity to follow the flexibility of the melodic line, the orchestral balances and the contrapuntal activity. The relationship between clear articulation and continuity of phrasing is a rewarding thread to pursue, especially in the first movement and the finale.
• Herbert von Karajan — Berliner Philharmoniker, Deutsche Grammophon. A different symphonic perspective, emphasising continuity of orchestral sound and the weight of the climaxes. Comparison reveals how much the experience of the same melody can change when the sound becomes denser and phrases unfold within a broader orchestral sweep.
• John Eliot Gardiner — Wiener Philharmoniker, Deutsche Grammophon. The release that also includes the revised versions of the last three movements is particularly valuable for comparative listening. The Vienna Philharmonic plays on modern instruments; the historical and musicological interest lies in hearing Mendelssohn’s different solutions in a performance attentive to rhythmic articulation.

📚 Further Reading

• A score that distinguishes the 1833 and 1834 versions. Christopher Hogwood’s Bärenreiter edition allows the familiar version to be studied alongside the revised versions of the last three movements. Comparison is especially useful for understanding form, orchestration, and the relationship between revision and economy of expression.
• Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy — Letters from Italy and Switzerland. The letters illuminate the actual circumstances of the journey and the compositions Mendelssohn was working on alongside the symphony. They help distinguish recorded experiences from later programmatic interpretations of the music.
• R. Larry Todd — Mendelssohn: A Life in Music. An extensive biographical and musicological study of the composer’s artistic development. It offers a broader context for the relationship between travel, composition, family correspondence and public musical life.
• John Michael Cooper — “Aber eben dieser Zweifel”: A New Look at Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony. A specialised study of the work’s complex history and revisions. It provides a valuable next step for readers interested in why the version established in the repertoire does not represent the composer’s final approval.

🔗 Related Works

• Felix Mendelssohn — Symphony No. 3 “Scottish”, Op. 56. Another journey becomes a symphonic experience, with a different atmosphere and a distinctive approach to continuity. Comparison shows how widely differing musical forms can grow from a similar engagement with memories of place.
• Felix Mendelssohn — The Hebrides Overture, Op. 26. Its shorter orchestral form offers a more concentrated view of a travel impression transformed into thematic and harmonic development.
• Felix Mendelssohn — A Midsummer Night’s Dream Overture, Op. 21. The lightness of the writing, precision of articulation and agility of the strings provide a useful parallel to the orchestral imagination of the Saltarello, within a different poetic world.
• Ludwig van Beethoven — Symphony No. 6 “Pastoral”, Op. 68. The explicit movement titles allow a clearly defined programme to be compared with the “Italian” Symphony’s more open relationship to images beyond the music.
• Hector Berlioz — Harold in Italy, Op. 16. The Italian experience takes a different musical shape, with solo viola and specific programmatic references. Comparison brings out the varied possibilities Italy offered the Romantic symphonic imagination.

🎼 Closing Reflection

The “Italian” turns impressions of travel into rhythm, melody and orchestral relationships.
From the joy of the opening to the final dance, movement changes its colour and character.
The closing A minor preserves the connection with the beginning, letting us hear how far the music has travelled. 

📖 Bibliography & Sources

Scores and Editorial History

Mendelssohn Bartholdy, Felix. Symphony No. 4 in A major, Op. 90. Edited by Julius Rietz. Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdys Werke, series I. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1877. Historical full-score edition, available through IMSLP.

Mendelssohn Bartholdy, Felix. Symphony in A major, Op. 90 “Italian”. Edited by Christopher Hogwood. Bärenreiter, BA 9094. Includes the 1833 version and the revised movements II–IV.

Mendelssohn Bartholdy, Felix. Symphony No. 4, Op. 90 “Italian”. Edited by Boris von Haken. Edition Eulenburg No. 420. Mainz/London: Eulenburg, 2014. Preface and discussion of the sources.

Letters and Historical Documents

Mendelssohn Bartholdy, Felix. Letters of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy from Italy and Switzerland. Translated by Lady Wallace. London: Longman, Green, Longman, and Roberts, 1862. Particularly the letters from Rome, 22 February and 1 March 1831, and Naples, 27 April 1831. Digital edition: Project Gutenberg.

Citron, Marcia J., ed. The Letters of Fanny Hensel to Felix Mendelssohn. Pendragon Press, 1987. Fanny’s response to the changes in the Andante is quoted and discussed in the preface to the Eulenburg edition; the account here draws on that documented reference.

Musicological Studies

Cooper, John Michael. “Aber eben dieser Zweifel”: A New Look at Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony. 19th-Century Music 15, no. 3 (1992): 169–187.

Todd, R. Larry. Mendelssohn: A Life in Music. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003.

Mercer-Taylor, Peter. The Life of Mendelssohn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Performance and Recording Information

Wan, Ernest. Programme note on Mendelssohn’s Symphony No. 4. Basel Chamber Orchestra concert, Hong Kong City Hall, 25 June 2024. Leisure and Cultural Services Department, Hong Kong.

Deutsche Grammophon. Official release information for the recordings by Abbado / London Symphony Orchestra, Karajan / Berliner Philharmoniker, and Gardiner / Wiener Philharmoniker.