Hector Berlioz (1803–1869)

Berlioz was the composer who — single-handedly, if we are to believe his own account — dragged French music out of the neo-classical slumbers it had entered into at the end of the eighteenth century and into the Romantic period. Quite a few of his big symphonic and choral works, especially the Symphonie Fantastique, still appear regularly on concert programmes. He lived out the Romantic dream in his quixotic battles with the musical establishment and his fiery passion for Harriet show more Smithson, the Jane Birkin of the 1820s. But he was also a talented writer and critic, who gave us all sorts of (often scurrilous) accounts of musical life in the first half of the nineteenth century as well as what remained for a very long time the standard textbook on the art of instrumentation.

In his memoirs he often presents himself as a kind of comic-romantic hero struggling with his parents— who want him to stick to his medical studies — and with musical authority figures who want him to stick to their ways of doing things. He doesn’t tell us very much about his personal life, apart from the things that are a matter of public record anyway. The singer Marie Recio, who lived with him for about twenty years and became his second wife after Harriet died, barely gets a mention. However, there are a few stories that were apparently too good to leave out, like the incident just after he arrived in Rome where he received news that made him determined to return to France and kill the people concerned and then himself (he doesn’t quite explain why: it was a girlfriend who had used the opportunity of his going away to announce her engagement to someone else). He buys a gun and a maid’s outfit to use as disguise, and gets almost as far as the French border before seeing sense and returning to Rome.

Travel is a big part of the book. It’s interesting to see that he finds the period of study in Italy that goes with winning the prestigious Prix de Rome a waste of time: at that point there was simply nothing going on in Italian music that was relevant to him. Germany is different, people understand his music and want to make the effort to perform it well, and he meets friends and supporters like Mendelssohn (and the young Wagner!). But there are always technical difficulties. Berlioz is very particular about instruments, and he has trouble with the way that German orchestras have moved on from the ophicleid to bass tubas or trombones, or the lack of competent harpists.

In the second part of the book he reprints some “letters” to friends in France which are less travelogues than essays setting out his views on how orchestras, choirs, opera houses and music conservatories should be run. Sometimes these are lively and full of satirical venom, but not always, and for the casual reader there are limits to our desire for detailed information about the composition and skill-levels of German provincial orchestras in the 1840s and 50s. But it’s worth hanging in there until the end, because in the last few pages we get the semi-fiasco of his “unperformable” opera Les Troyens and the touching story of his old-age courtship, after they were both widowed, of his first love, Estelle. He had been madly in love with her when he was twelve and she eighteen, but of course nothing came of it at the time.

Too long, by modern standards, but still for the most part a very readable book, with a lot of fascinating first-hand glimpses into the musical world of the mid-19th century. show less

As an opera, it is a perilously overstuffed work, and some of Berlioz's musical tastes can be a bit mathematical. YET, ultimately this is a fascinating, relentless, ambitious work. Worth seeing at least once, and perhaps - like me - you'll find yourself poring over it for ages to come.

Hector Berlioz’s memoirs are notoriously unreliable but are also entertaining, funny, and passionate. He provides a good look at the musical milieu of the mid-19th c. While telling the story of his music and struggles, Berlioz also settles scores, criticizes the conservatism of the French public and critics and mostly bemoans but occasionally praises the orchestras and players of the day. He describes his encounters with famous musicians, composers and European leaders. Berlioz’s wild show more love for Beethoven, Gluck and Shakespeare and his ceaseless efforts to compose and perform his music are inspiring but one can see how people would be annoyed by him and in the end he was left very bitter by personal tragedies and the indifference of the Parisian public. I’d like to read a biography for a more objective history and some musical background but it would be hard to replicate the liveliness of Berlioz’s own writing.

Berlioz first describes his childhood. His father wanted him to have a practical career but medical school bored and disgusted him. Berlioz had always loved music and decided to pursue that instead. He managed to get accepted into the Conservatoire which led to endless battles between him and the teachers – mainly Cherubini, a well-known composer. Cherubini comes out the loser in some of their encounters (whether real or not) but his portrait isn’t too nasty – more one of a stuffy but sharp musical conservative. In Paris, Berlioz had odd jobs and one that he would keep over the years - a critic. He frequently had money problems. He also saw his first wife, Harriet Smithson, a Shakespearean actress who he loved and pursued from a distance though he became engaged to another woman (not mentioned in the book – only in the notes). Berlioz finally won the Conservatoire prize for composition - after a couple years of composing pieces that were too radical, he did a sell-out one. Part of the prize was a stay in Italy. He had already composed some pieces (including the Symphonie fantastique) and describes the hassles and effort that had to be put into getting together a performance. In Italy, he wasn’t the most productive but saw operas and concerts, had adventures, romanticized nature and peasants, and met many other composers and musicians (including Mendelssohn). Back in Paris, he convinced Harriet to marry him and they had a son but Berlioz doesn’t describe how he fell out of love with her and took up with an unpleasant singer, Marie Recio (that part is also related in the notes). There were some musical successes (Romeo and Juliet, a commission for a Requiem) but many failures and he decided to try his luck in Germany and Bohemia.

The descriptions of his foreign concerts are given in letters he wrote. Berlioz acts as a critic at performances and narrates his efforts to conduct his own music. A recurring problem is the paucity of good harp and percussion players. He is complimentary about the German public though that’s unsurprising as he generally had a good reception there. However, Berlioz complains about some towns sorely lacking in musical resources and even where he mostly praises, he still has some criticisms. He also rails against the musical education and performance practices of the day. In the German cities, Berlioz interacted with composers and conductors – Meyerbeer, Wagner, Strauss – and nobility and heads of state. Back in Paris, Berlioz’s hybrid opera La Damnation de Faust flopped horribly and he embarked on another foreign tour to raise money, this time in Russia. Berlioz has similar praises and complaints for the receptive Russian public and the often ill-equipped orchestras. After his return, his life and career declined. Many relatives and friends died – his father, sister, two wives and son. Berlioz’s ambitious opera Les Troyens was presented in a butchered form and was not a success. Though he had enough money to avoid poverty, he was unhappy and in ill health. The occasional honor would be given to him but it was apparent that he had failed with the Parisian public. He died after a lingering illness.

Berlioz often comes across as the quintessential Romantic artist – he starved in a garrett, had a wild passion for an actress he didn’t even know, literally screamed at the orchestra if they changed the music of his beloved Gluck or Beethoven and lived for his work. Accounts of other people confirmed some of his craziness – Mendelssohn referred to him as such in a letter and a friend of Berlioz’s described their initial meeting, in a concert where he saw Berlioz shout at the players for altering the orchestration. However, Berlioz was always concerned about money and was perpetually organizing concerts, pushing for commissions and appointments and generally networking nonstop. He worked hard, not only at composing music, but churning out articles and reviews to pay the bills and doing all the work to put together and conduct his concerts.

Berlioz’s writing is vivid and funny. He can no more restrain himself in his letters or writing than it seemed he could in real life. Berlioz can’t heap enough insults on what he considers wretched performances but is all bliss after seeing something he loves. Adaptations and cutting for skill and taste were the order of the day but Berlioz has a modern desire for pieces to be played as the artist intended. Here’s his anger over various people who altered Shakespeare – “Where is he? Tell us, so that every poet on earth, every artist, every father, every lover, may flog him, pillory him, and say to him, ‘Detestable idiot! You have committed an atrocious crime, the most odious, the most enormous of crimes – an assault on that combination of man’s highest faculties that is called Genius! Curses on you! Despair and die!!’” Similar outbursts are found throughout the book but Berlioz’s love also comes through – his excitement (and antics) at the opera, the overwhelming experience of seeing Shakespeare, his joy, tears and giddiness after conducting a great performance of his works. Berlioz is also humorous and entertaining so his criticisms usually don’t come off as bitter ranting until the end. Here’s his response to the failure of his Faust - “This same innocent fellow accused me in the same article of vilifying Mephistopheles by making him cheat Faust…Yes, was it not disgraceful on my part? I am convicted of having slandered the spirit of evil and falsehood, of being worse than a demon, of not being so good as the devil.” Berlioz’s stellar musical taste is often noted today and his criticisms quoted – while he saw what looks like piles of forgettable operas, most of the music that he loved (including his own) is played today or at least acknowledged as innovative and influential (Gluck, Spontini, Weber).

I enjoyed reading about the musical culture of the day but that might bore some people. Berlioz relates how he composed specific pieces, what inspired them and occasional descriptions of his “effects” but a traditional biography could probably provide more musical analysis and contrasts to other works or what was popular. I also wanted to know more about his personal relationships and some events that were only mentioned in the notes (Wagner sent him the score of Tristan und Isolde – though Berlioz had praised Wagner’s earlier works that one was too much for him). Despite that, Berlioz’s memoirs are well-worth reading and a must for anyone interested in his music. show less

Berlioz was not only a volcanic new force in music, he was a passionate critic of his own art and its relationship with literature. Not for years after his death was his music appreciated at its true value; he died a disappointed man unaware of the high value that later musicians and listeners would place on his works. Being pestered by an autograph-collecting hostess to write something in her album, he wrote "'The death penalty is a great evil, since but for it I should probably have show more murdered a great number of people, and we would now be plagued by fewer of those pernicious fools who are the bane of art and artists' They laughed a great deal at my aphorism, thinking I had not meant it seriously." You don't have to be a musician to be moved by this intimate history of a life lived at high pressure. show less