Antonio Vivaldi and Le Quattro Stagioni (excerpt)
Rachel Bender, The 2024-25 Whipple Scholar for Eighteenth Century Studies
In the world of classical music, a small number of pieces have been celebrated since the time they were created and continue to be performed year after year. Perhaps one of the best-known and universally beloved classical works is the collection of violin concertos known as Le quattro stagioni (The Four Seasons). Composed around the year 1720 by Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741), this celebrated work encompasses far more than just the musical score. The Four Seasons is a set of four concerti, each of which represents a different season of the year. These concerti were published in 1725 in Amsterdam as four of twelve concerti to form the set called Il cimento dell’armonia e dell’inventione or The Contest Between Harmony and Invention.
Since The Four Seasons have eight other concerti to contend with, what makes them so unique? The answer to that question is multifaceted. One aspect of The Four Seasons, however, renders them accessible to both musicians and non-musicians alike: The Four Seasons are composed as program music and therefore are highly accessible to a wide range of audiences. Vivaldi prefaces each concerto with a sonnet (presumably written by him), which corresponds to their respective season. The fact that Vivaldi composed program music, though not unheard of, was less common during the Baroque era. Most composers still composed absolute music, or music without text, while program music did not become widespread until the Romantic era. Though much debate shrouds the origins of the sonnets, many believe Vivaldi wrote them due to the close congruity between poetry and music. Regardless of their origins, the sonnets provide a literary component to the performance of The Four Seasons which greatly complements the auditory experience.
Born on 4 March 1678, Vivaldi centered his life and work around the city of Venice. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the attractions in Venice were more culturally based rather than trade or manufacture, since it was well past its time as a center for trade. The arts were greatly esteemed and therefore highly competitive. Vivaldi’s father was a professional violinist and passed his talent onto his son, who around the age of fifteen, began studying for the priesthood and was ordained in 1703. Shortly after his ordination, some facts about Vivaldi become murky:
It is known for a certainty that our Prete rosso (Red-headed priest) was actually ordained in 1703; Wright, who describes him as a eunuch, and Gabriele Fantoni, who makes him the husband of the singer Anna Girò, are both equally wrong. It is known also that after some months he ceased to perform the offices of priesthood, probably for reasons of health; he complained of a feeling of suffocation sometime later in a letter addressed to the Marchese Guido Bentivoglio.
Vivaldi’s impious tendencies were likely influenced by the decadent Venetian culture which elevated the arts over religion. Whatever the case may have been, Vivaldi ceased to say masses on account of his poor health. Consequently, nearly all of his time was devoted to music.
For a considerable length of time, Vivaldi worked at the Ospedali della Pietà, an orphanage for girls located in Venice. At the Ospedali, groups of girl performers staged concerts every Sunday for the public and had quite a reputation for excellence, for “l’orchestre de la Pieta était repute le meilleur de Venise.” Since the orchestra at the Ospedali had such a grand reputation, Vivaldi must have gained favor in the public eye simply by association. Eventually, he operated as maestro di violino and, as the French musicologist, critic, and violinist Marc Pincherle writes, “qu’il y a rempli, de façon peut- être intermittente, mais souvent et longtemps, les fonctions de chef d’orchestre et de compositeur ordinaire.”
As a result of his prestigious position, Vivaldi was able to perform his own compositions with the girls. This gave him the opportunity to write pieces for specific individuals, for as Pincherle and Marble explain, “Vivaldi had at his disposal a musical laboratory of unlimited resources.” Vivaldi did not write The Four Seasons with any one performer in mind; however, he did compose the set of concerti during his time as maestro di violino and likely envisioned his musicians performing them even while he composed. Indeed, he was aware of the flexibility that his youthful ensemble afforded him. His young, talented students were eager to be pushed, for “what was more characteristic of his pupils than their talents, was the almost insatiable appetite for music,” writes Pincherle and the New York journalist Manton Marble. One can perhaps see this love of music in Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, for he often evokes a playful, light or exuberant feeling which is reminiscent of youth.
The girls who performed for a wide range of audience each Sunday were highly regarded and generally admired. Pincherle writes that “l’on venait de loin pour entendre, derriere une barrière fragile qui les dissimulait fort mal, ces jeunes symphonistes, souvent jolies, a qui leur virtuosité amenait des admirateurs de tous grades, galants, épouseurs, mécènes.”
It was not simply the audience that esteemed these girls, however. Those in government found reasons to desire these weekly concerts to continue, for “the power of music to attract a ‘numerosissimo concorso’ was important to the governors.” Recalling the worldliness of Venice and the emphasis on culture above all else, Pinchele and Marble wrote that the governors delighted in the influx of visitors due to these performances, noting that Vivaldi’s “contract with the authorities imposed upon him the duty of supplying a full measure of ‘fresh’ or constantly new music.” Although beneficial to the economy of Venice, the prayerful, contemplative aspects of the Ospedali did not exist: “the very nature of the success with which they met in their concerts evoked the world of the theater far more than the seclusion of the monastery.” The design of the Ospedali was to mimic a monastery; however, the concerts that were so sought after lead to fame rather than to isolation.
During his time at the Ospedali, Vivaldi composed The Four Seasons. What makes this particular set of concerti so special and why have they received so much recognition? As stated, the answer lies in the fact that Vivaldi composed them as program music, wherein each season has an accompanying sonnet that serves as a guide by which one interprets the music. One reason Vivaldi composed The Four Seasons as program music seems to have been out of a desire for “newness,” asserts the professor of music and musicology, Massimo Ossi. The term “newness” refers to the musical approaches Vivaldi pioneered (his extensive use of octaves, for example) and which were not seen before his time. One of the ways Vivaldi was new was his choice in making the Season’s program music. Program music was not widely composed during the Baroque era as absolute music was still predominant. Michael Talbot writes:
Programme music, whose history stretches back to the middle ages, was less popular in eighteenth century Italy than in France, where the view of Art as an imitation of Nature was taken more literally. Nature was still man-centered, however; not the least modern aspect of The Four Seasons is their subordination of human activity to the uncontrollable play of the natural elements.
Despite the use of program music in the past, Vivaldi depicting nature as exerting dominance over man is a very Romantic idea not prevalent during the Baroque era. Though it is unclear which came first between the music and the sonnets, they certainly complement each other to such an extent that it is not easy to fully appreciate one without the other, for they are “an integral part of the finished composition, put there by the composer to condition as much as possible the listener’s response to the music.”
The season which is generally played first in the set is called Spring (La primavera). This season is in the key of E major and has an overall joyful, carefree feel. The first movement begins with a cheerful melody with a steady pulse in the bass to indicate that “spring has returned.” The first solo section is called “the song of the birds,” and is indicated by a series of high trills being passed off between the violins with the note E serving as a dominant pedal point. The bird calls then trail off into the distance before the theme of spring returns for a brief space. This theme carries the listener next to the “flowing fountains,” which are expressed as rolling waves of sound that crescendo and decrescendo down to a whisper. Following another burst of the spring theme, the joy of the piece becomes suddenly cut short by a peal of thunder. The solo violin flashes a sequence of fast notes which represent lightning as the orchestra cuts in during the rests and attempts to overpower the lightning with loud thunder. By the end of the storm, the piece has been brought to the relative major key of C sharp minor. Although the birds return, the minor key gives an ominous disquiet to the piece which was previously lacking. Just when it seems as though spring has disappeared, Vivaldi ushers it back in after a wandering melodic line played by the soloist. The movement ends as cheerful as it began in the key of E major.
The second movement of Spring has a wholly different character from the preceding movement. As Talbot points out, “Different strata in the texture are often contrasted dynamically; thus in the second movement of La primavera the dog (viola) barks ‘molto forte e strappato’, while the leaves (violins) rustle ‘pianissimo.’” The whole movement is a contrast of three differing sounds: the quiet, rustling leaves played by the violins, the sleeping goatherd represented by the soloist, and the sharp, abrasive dog barks in the viola section. This contrast is unique for a Baroque concerto, and indeed among the Four Seasons themselves, for the movement plays as a cohesive whole while exhibiting the sharp contrast of parts to indicate the uneasy sleep of the goatherd.
The third movement opens with a lively pastoral dance in the cheerful key of E major. In his chapter covering pastoral topics, Haringer quotes the eighteenth-century writer Johann Georg Sulzer, describing pastoralism as “a studied nonchalance that should shun all extravagance.” Music theorist, critic, and composer Raymond Monelle adds to this description, asserting that “Pastorale indicates…a piece of rustic, simple, but tender character, in which the singing of the idealized world of shepherds is expressed.” The 12/8 time signature gives each measure an elongated feel which speaks to the rhythm of the dance and allows a leisurely style with emphasis on the first and third beats. The sonnet accompanying this movement as a time when nymphs and shepherds dance to the music of bagpipes under the sky. Besides the dance-like quality, the most defining characteristic of this movement is the sound of these bagpipes, represented by the low strings droning throughout the movement. Later, the soloist takes over the drone while also continuing to play the dance rhythm. The remainder of the movement proceeds much like the beginning, with the exception of a note-worthy example of mode mixture in the middle of measure 61. This sudden shift to minor here creates an uneasy feeling, and shows how Vivaldi took the nonchalance, typical of a pastoral movement, and adds some intrigue. Despite the change in character, the movement reverts to major again and finishes in as high of spirits as it began.
Following Spring comes Summer, which Vivaldi chooses to compose in G minor. The first movement of Summer sets the tone that this season will be darker than Spring. While the latter was cheerful and carefree, Summer takes on an intense feeling of labor struggling in the heat of the day. The first movement begins in an unsettling manner and feels off-kilter due to the downbeat of each measure begin left empty while the notes begin on the second beat. After the opening 3/4 section, the solo violinist begins in 4/4 with a rapid sequence designed to mimic a cuckoo. This mimicking is accomplished in part by a series of octaves juxtaposed with a note (typically performed with an accent) which is played on irregular beats to sound like a cuckoo. Similarly to the first movement of Spring, this movement features the sounds of birds, accomplished by trills between the violin sections. Throughout the movement, it seems uncertain whether it will settle or not, for each time a theme begins to develop, it is cut off by a new section of music. A prime example of this is in measure 90 when the “changing winds” cut right into the section depicting a gentle breeze. Despite a prolonged part in which “a frightened shepherd bemoans his fate,” the feisty winds win the battle and the movement ends in a flurry of notes.
After the anxiety of the first movement, a calm ensues in which a shepherd attempts to rest after his labors. But the lonely melody played by the solo violin is periodically interrupted by a rumble of thunder in the distance (played in unison by the orchestra). Though the melody represents a weary shepherd, there is a certain unease that permeates the calm. The sonnet speaks of gnats and flies buzzing in the air, portrayed by the dotted rhythms of the orchestral accompaniment. The movement ends with a long, mournful note held by the soloist which continues long after the orchestra ceases playing.
The beginning of the third movement of Summer jolts the listener out of the calm stupor evoked by the previous movement. The rumbles of thunder overtake the shepherd, and every instrument plays furiously to evoke the chaos of the storm. Vivaldi uses octave leaps and accents on the first sixteenth note of each measure to accentuate the sound of thunder. Talbot writes, “[t]o Vivaldi’s contemporaries those pounding octaves were novel, exciting and worthy of imitation.” The excitement of the storm reaches a particular peak in measure 85 when the solo violin reaches a high Eb. That is not the only climax, however. Throughout the movement, the violins continue to play sixteenth notes in a frenzied manner. However, measures 51-63 allow a little breathing room for the upper strings while the lower section of the orchestra carries on the sixteenth notes in a series of descending scales. Much of this movement is comprised of scales in order to add a wild, up-and-down character to the storm. The final note is the only spot in the movement in which all of the instruments are playing a dotted half note G. The storm is finally over.
A major shift in character takes place in the transition from Summer to Autumn. Whereas the former is characterized by a thunder, lightning, and the chaos of a storm, the first movement of Autumn begins in a highly controlled manner. As if the storm had never existed, this movement depicts a merry peasant dance in celebration of the harvest. The main theme is quite repetitive and is usually played once at forte followed by a second time at piano. Beginning at the first solo section, the rustic nature of the season is exemplified by double-stop thirds and sixths. These echo the main theme but add a touch of uniqueness, as though an old peasant fiddler was trying to join in playing the harvest tune. Once a drunkard appears, the notes begin to get faster and more abrupt and to take on a haphazard feel. Sixteenth note triplets are introduced in measures 39, and these tend to alternate with the descending thirty-second note runs (which first arrive in measure 36). Measures 89-105 depict the drunkard sleeping, and therefore bear a strong resemblance to the second movement of Summer. Indeed, even the pattern of a long-held note followed by a short note at a higher pitch carries over into this section of Autumn. The first movement ends with the main theme played as strongly and robustly as ever.
The second movement is perhaps the most unique of all of the Four Seasons, due to the fact that it does not feature the solo violinist as the soloist. If anyone has a solo, it is the keyboard, for it is in its part that the most subdivisions occur. The entire movement is very serene and calm, though not without intrigue. “Even the improvised continuo realization does not escape Vivaldi’s attention,” states Michael Talbot, for “the direction ‘Il cembalo arpeggio’ appears in the slow movement of L’autunno, a picture of dozing inebriates.” For although the peasants are asleep, the drunkards snoring beside them give the movement a fantastical feeling evoked by the keyboard playing wandering arpeggios. During the last few measures, the piece takes another turn and wanders into the realm of A major. This is accomplished by the tonicization of E in the solo violin part, in which the ii becomes the V/V.
After the harvest comes the hunt. According to Monelle, “the hunt is always a noble and heroic topic,” which has “a suggestion of glory and adventure, of noble prestige, coats of arms, and manly swagger.” A common subject among Baroque concertos, the third movement of Autumn depicts a hunt with hunting horns and gun shots. Much has been written regarding horn calls, and Haringer quotes the poet Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart, saying “the horn is an instrument of primary importance, since it is heeded by man and beast alike.” Indeed, this movement includes the horn calls of man and the escape of the prey, depicting the juxtaposition between man and beast. The main theme is quite dignified and simple, but quickly turns into double stops at the first solo section. The hunting horns are evoked by the double stops ranging from thirds to fourths to fifths to sixths. Measures 82-85 are where the gunshots enter the scene. These are played alternately by the orchestra as if each section takes a shot at the prey one at a time. Additionally, the triplets that appear in the first movement return in the third in much greater numbers. Instead of peasants dancing, however, the triplets represent the chase of the prey, who runs away from the hunters. At last, the prey dies, and the piece very nearly comes to a faltering end in measures 135-139. It appears to be in C minor for a short space, only to return to the cheerful F major theme at the beginning. The hunt is over, and the nobles rejoice at the prey they have obtained.
At last, the approach of Winter is felt as the season starts in F minor. The predominant feeling depicted in the first movement is a sense of piercing winds and icy temperatures. The stringed instruments portray shivering using a technique called ponticello, where one plays with the bow on the bridge. This creates a chilling effect for the opening of the movement before the cruel winds begin to howl. These are portrayed through the solo violinist, who performs many sequences of swift passages. Finally, measures 40-46 return to the shivering motif, however, without playing it ponticello. The piece seems to have stabilized in the comfortable key of Eb major when the chattering begins again. Softly, the chattering thirty-second notes of the soloist ebb and flow until they begin to crescendo. The movement ends with the return to the main theme.
The second movement of Winter is perhaps the best known and most beloved of all the seasons. Talbot offers one perspective which can help put the middle movements of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons into perspective: “In slow movements, whose smaller dimensions almost preclude the narrative element, Vivaldi is content with a tableau-like depiction of a scene, of which different constituents may be represented by different layers of texture.” These layers of texture are clearly seen in the second movement of Winter. There are two distinct themes being depicted: the first is the pattering of water on the windows of a house (pizzicato in the violin/viola sections) and the steady rhythm of rain (which is played by the solo cellist); secondly, the solo violinist player a beautiful melodic line which is the picture of contentment. One can almost hear the fire dancing merrily indoors while outside the rain falls steadily. The key of Eb major contributes to the sense of ease and contentedness.
The final movement of all the seasons begins with a long pedal point on F by the lower strings. Melodically, the solo violinist is the only one playing for the first 20 measures. Afterwards, a swaying motif which is exhibited at the beginning of the movement returns to a much more exaggerated degree. This is accomplished by the violins alternating and one section goes high while the other one goes low, and vice versa. Throughout the movement, one can hear the attempts made at walking on ice and then falling down again. The falling down is evidenced by descending scales performed by the entire ensemble. Just before the end of the piece, there appears a soft wind that gently floats up and down. However, this quickly changes once the final desperate spurt of howling wind bursts forth in measure 120 and continues until the very end. The final section of the movement is so rapid and hectic that it appropriately riles one up for the end of Winter and thus the end of Vivaldi’s entire set of concerti.
After a close look at Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, one can deduce why these concerti have become so popular while so many others have fallen out of style or have become lost in obscurity. The Four Seasons match their respective sonnets so closely that they are almost inseparable from one another and cannot be fully appreciated on their own. Since program music generally did not enjoy such a close relationship between music and words, The Four Seasons became very popular. Talbot writes of the importance of Venetian music in influencing music from other areas: “For this reason it is important to view Venetian music of Vivaldi’s time not merely in the perspective of a long and noble ingenious tradition but also in that of its newly acquired role as a setter of fashion for the whole of Europe.” Therefore, Vivaldi’s music became a sort of trend-setter and was quickly spread outside of Venice.
Due to their programmatic nature, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons are timeless pieces which appeal to a much wider audience than many other classical works. The piece is enhanced by comparing and contrasting the different seasons with one another and discovering similarities. By highlighting the Seasons as program music in my thesis performance, I hope to make classical music more accessible to all as there is something everyone can enjoy, whether one prefers a story, poetry, or music. In addition to this research essay, I will be performing The Four Seasons to an audience of mostly non-musicians. As I have shown, Vivaldi’s concerti are naturally ordered toward a wider audience due to their programmatic nature. However, there will be aspects of the performance that help the audience understand and appreciate classical music more, which is one of my primary goals. For instance, the sonnets will be listed in both the original Italian as well as English in the program. By including these elements, the audience should have a better idea of what to expect from The Four Seasons and will have tangible things to listen for. Since the performance will exhibit an ensemble to accompany the solo violinist, there will be several programmatic elements that will be visible which otherwise might go unnoticed if it were just the soloist alone. Examples of this phenomenon include the storms in the third movement of Summer, which will be seen as rapid movements by all of the string players’ arms, or the gunshots during the third movement of Autumn when the shots bounce visibly from one string section to another. All of these examples will envelop the audience in the music and will create a musical experience that involves both the eyes and ears.
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