The Italian Symphony clearly illustrates Mendelssohn’s position within the musical landscape of the 19th century. Although it contributed enormously to the composer’s fame, it was not enough to secure him a place within the Austro-German symphonic canon of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. Perhaps for this reason, he undertook a revision of the work as early as 1834, the year after its premiere. He never considered it fully finished.
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Regardless of the brilliant and distinctive writing that sets it apart, the Italian Symphony does not align straightforwardly with the idealist orientation that prevailed in historiography. In the wake of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony (1824), Mendelssohn did not adopt the avant-garde aesthetic stance that might, perhaps, have been more highly valued. Broadly speaking, he was not regarded as an heir to the First Viennese School. This may explain why his relationship with the symphony was somewhat uneasy. Immediately after the premiere, he began a process of revision, resulting in notable differences for those familiar with the “original” version—the one almost always performed today. While the melodic themes of the second movement remain recognisable, subtle inflections introduce a sense of strangeness. Some orchestration details were substantially altered, and transitions between sections were “reinvented.” The Minuet’s central section (the Trio) becomes considerably more dramatic. Among other harmonic adjustments, the most striking changes occur in the final movement, in the pursuit of greater congruence between the exposition, the development, and, above all, the recapitulation. Mendelssohn had intended to revise the first movement as well, but refrained, as it would have required a much larger investment of time and effort. In this sense, the Italian Symphony is an unfinished work.
Mendelssohn’s hesitations contrasted with the enthusiastic reception the symphony enjoyed from audiences of the time. Moreover, the alterations he shared with those closest to him were not warmly received—among them his sister Fanny. He never fully embraced the work. By the early 1840s, he no longer even considered it part of his catalogue. Nonetheless, a reconstruction based on the orchestral parts from the London premiere made possible the first (posthumous) edition in 1851. As a result of the composer’s doubts and procrastination, this became the version that prevailed in concert halls. The 1834 revision raises questions about the very concept of perfection—or about the healthy dissatisfaction that drives an artist forward.
Rui Campos Leitão