Ottorino Respighi
“Fontane di Roma”

Given a choice, he would have preferred to pack his things immediately and return to his native Bologna. When 34-year-old Ottorino Respighi was appointed to a professorship at the Liceo musicale di Santa Cecilia in Rome in 1913, he initially was deeply uncomfortable there. Everything frightened him; it all seemed oversized and exalted – he felt lost in the face of the many monuments and the weight of history confronting him at every turn. And yet it was Respighi, of all people, who would go on to create perhaps the most beautiful musical homage to the Eternal City with his Roman Trilogy. At the same time, he achieved the remarkable feat of freeing Italian music from a long-standing curse: he proved that Italian composers could not only write operas, but also excel in the symphonic realm.

The first part of his Roman Trilogy – a cycle of three tone poems forming a symphonic homage to the city of Rome – was composed in 1915/16: Fontane di Roma (“Roman Fountains”). In choosing this subject, Respighi could draw from a rich source. Countless fountains adorn Italy’s capital, so there was no shortage of inspiration, and the musical depiction of water features had long been a popular subject in music. But Respighi went far beyond mere tone painting of trickling droplets, soaring jets or cascading waterfalls. He links his portraits of four fountains to the time of day “at which their beauty made the greatest impression upon the observer”. Nor was he aiming for realism alone: Respighi sought to “express the sensations” that the sight of the fountains awakened in him – an impressionistic approach, in other words.

The first movement begins very quietly, with muted strings and delicate wind solos in the early dawn. It is dedicated to the Fontana di Valle Giulia, located near the Villa Borghese, and depicts, as Respighi puts it, “a pastoral landscape in dewy mist”. The music seems to harken back not so much to baroque idylls as to a far more distant past, as Respighi employs archaic parallel fifths and evokes the harmonies of ancient church modes. A horn call in the morning then leads into the heart of Rome, to a baroque fountain dedicated to the sea god Triton. In his honour, Respighi unleashes a “corybantic dance”, in which nymphs rush in, teasing and chasing one another. The monumental Trevi Fountain in front of the Palazzo Poli is the setting for the third movement, which takes place at noon. It portrays the Roman god of water, Neptune

, riding in a chariot drawn by sea horses. Respighi illustrates the scene with a broad dynamic build-up that surges in waves, allowing the orchestra to unfold in full splendour before gradually subsiding into near silence. The poetic finale follows seamlessly, leading us from the city out to the Villa Medici and into the twilight. There is a touch of melancholy in the air, “filled with the sound of bells, birdsong and rustling leaves”, as Respighi notes. “Then all this gently dies away in the silence of the night.”