Hector Berlioz

“ The natural result of constantly reading Florian’s Estelle was that I ended by setting parts of that mawky pastoral to music.
The faded old-time poetry comes back to me as I write here in London, in the pale spring sunshine. Torn as I am by anxiety, worried by sordid, petty obstacles, by stupid opposition to my plans, it is strange to recall the sickly-sentimental words of a song I wrote in despair at leaving the Meylan woods, which were “lighted by the eyes”—and, may I add, by the little pink slippers of my cruel lady love. ”

“ I felt triumphant, and took care to go round next day. We spoke of nothing but the masterpiece we had heard; yet he seemed to reply to my ravings rather constrainedly. Still I persevered, until, after dragging out of him another acknowledgment of his heart-felt appreciation, he ended, with a curious smile:
“Yes, it’s all very well; but such music ought not to be written.”
“No fear, dear master,” I retorted; “there will never be too much of it!”
Poor human nature! Poor master! ”

“ I seem to be going down hill so rapidly, life is so short! The end is often before my eyes now and I clutch with frenzied eagerness at the flowers beside my path as I slip quickly past.
“There was a rumour that I was to succeed Habeneck at the Opera, it is a dictatorship that I should enjoy in the interests of Art. But, for that, Habeneck would have to be translated to the Conservatoire, where Cherubini still goes to sleep. Perhaps when I am old and incapable I shall go to the Conservatoire. ”

“ Ah, why do not the thrice-gifted ones of this world know of the passionate love and devotion their works inspire! If they could but divine the suppressed admiration of a few faithful hearts! Would they not gladly gather these chosen disciples about them to become a bulwark against the shafts of envy, hatred, malice, and luke-warm tolerance of which a thoughtless world makes them the target!
Weber was justly angry when he found out how Castilblaze—veterinary surgeon of music—had butchered his beautiful work, and he published a complaint before leaving Paris. ”

“ I seem to see Beethoven looking down on me with calm severity; Spontini—safely cured of woes like mine—with his pitying indulgent smile; Weber from the Elysian Fields, whispers consoling words into my ear....
“Mad, mad, mad! is this sense for a student of the Institute; a domino-player of the Café de la Régence?
“Nay, I will live—live for music—the highest thing in life except true love! Both make me utterly miserable but at least I shall have lived! Lived, it is true, by suffering, by passion, by lamentation and by tears—yet I shall have lived! ”

“ It is one of the real misfortunes of musical history that Hector Berlioz and Richard Wagner never became to each other the kinsmen and spiritual brothers they should have been. Some unhappy flaw in their respective natures always thwarted a consummation which, one feels, fate should have preordained. ”

“ If only you could conceive the frightful impetuosity with which one bores oneself in Paris!
“I am alone, more than alone. I hear never a note of music—nothing but gibberish to right of me, gibberish to left of me. When will you be back? When shall I hear you play a sonata again? I often talked of you in Geneva, where I was petted, spoilt—and scolded a little, too. ”

“ In Paris Hector lost no time visiting the Opéra, the Théâtre Italien, the Théâtre Feydeau, the Ambigu-Comique. He heard Salieri’s “Danaides”, Boieldieu’s “Voitures Versées”, Dalayrac’s “Nina”. Above all, he heard Gluck’s “Iphigénie en Tauride”, and this masterpiece definitely settled the question. His life would be dedicated to music and medicine could go hang! Berlioz the scarlet Romanticist was born at the moment he solemnly made this resolve. It was farewell, henceforth, to the “human charnel house, littered with fragments of limbs, ghastly faces and cloven heads ... ”

“ HECTOR BERLIOZ (1803-1869)
o the concert-goer the name Hector Berlioz calls up a series of vast and magnificent whirlwinds of vocal and orchestral sonority, the thoughts of scores that sound and look imposingly complex to the eyes and ears of both the educated and uneducated in the composer's art. We have a vision of close pages embodying the most unequivocal and drastic of musical "realism." The full audacity and mastery of a certain sort of genius are represented in his vast works. They bespeak, too, the combative musician and reformer. Berlioz took the kingdom of music by violence. ”

“ Dear Friend,—All that the most tender delicate love can give is mine. My exquisite sylph, my Ariel, loves me more than ever and her mother says that, had she read of love like mine, she could not have believed it.
“I am shut up in the Institute for the last time, for the prize shall be mine this year, our happiness hangs on it. Every other day Madame Moke sends her maid with messages. Can you credit it, Humbert? This angel, with the finest talent in Europe, is mine! I hear that M. de Noailles, in whom her mother believes greatly, has pleaded my cause, despite my want of money. ”

“ His marvellous discoveries have brought him world-wide fame, but, insatiable searcher after truth as he is, he takes no rest. He is a genius, and I am honoured in being allowed to call him friend.
I also enjoyed the chemistry lectures of Gay-Lussac, of Thénard (physics) and, above all, the literature course of Andrieux, whose quiet humour was my delight.
Drifting on in this sort of dumb quiescence, I should probably have gone to swell the disastrous list of commonplace doctors, had I not, one night, gone to the Opera. It was Salieri’s Danaïdes. ”

“ Before discussing that development, however, we must consider for a moment the work of a composer who has already engaged our attention and who cannot be classed with any of his compatriots.
Hector Berlioz stood apart from the course of French opera. Fashionable people in his day applauded the pomposity of Meyerbeer and Halévy, the facility of Auber, but made short work of Berlioz’s operas, when these were fortunate enough to reach performance. Berlioz might conceivably have adapted himself to the popular taste, but he was too sincere an artist and too impetuous an egotist. ”

“ La Côte Saint-André is a large village some thirty odd miles from Grenoble; here, in a handsome house in the Rue de la République, Louis Hector Berlioz was born. His home education and seclusion from healthy school-life and the society of other children of his age ill-fitted him for the battle of life, which began with his medical student career in Paris. ”

“ Incredible as it may seem, she and Hector had not yet actually met. The Irish actress divined his passion fully when, at a performance under the conductor Habeneck (at which not only the “Fantastique” but also the monodrama, “Lélio”, were performed) she heard from the actor who spoke the text the words: “Ah, could I but find this Juliet, this Ophelia, whom my heart is ever seeking.... Could I but sleep my last sad sleep in her beloved arms”! Instead of going to Germany at New Year’s, 1833, Berlioz determined to remain, for the moment, in Paris. His love for Henrietta had been newly awakened ”

“ Hector’s friends seemed, perhaps, a little less devoted to him since his marriage, and since his miseries were a trifle less spectacular than they had been during his bachelor days. But these comrades included not a few personages illustrious in their respective spheres. Among them were the musical chroniclers Janin and d’Ortigue; the essayists and novelists Legouvé, Eugène Sue, Alexandre Dumas, Sainte-Beuve, Victor Hugo; among the creative and performing musicians, Liszt of course and Chopin, who though personally the antithesis of Berlioz, never wavered in his faithfulness to the man. ”

“ The audience did not seem inclined to leave and loudly called for the symphony, one voice in the gallery shouting, “Give us the Marche au Supplice!”
“How can I,” cried I, “perform such a thing with five violins? Is it my fault that the orchestra has disappeared?”
I was crimson with rage and shame.
With disappointed murmurs the people melted away. Of course my enemies announced that my music “drove musicians out of the place.”
That miserable evening brought in seven thousand francs, which went into the gulf of my wife’s debts without, alas! filling it up. ”

“ A COLOSSAL CONCERT When I got back to Paris, I found M. Pillet planning a revival of Der Freyschütz. Now, by the rules of the Opera every word must be sung and as there are spoken dialogues in Weber’s opera he engaged me to set them in the form of recitations.
“It is all wrong,” I said, “but as that is the only condition on which it will be played and as, if I don’t do it, you will give it to someone who does not know Weber as I do, I accept but with one stipulation—that you change neither music nor libretto.”
“Certainly,” he replied, “do you suppose I would revive Robin des Bois?” ”

“ The Berlioz family originated in Savoie and can be traced back to the sixteenth century. Hector’s father, Louis Berlioz, a doctor and a property owner, had at one time been mayor of La Côte-Saint-André. In 1802 he had married Marie-Antoinette-Joséphine Marmion, a good-looking woman, religious to the point of bigotry. Hector was the oldest of six children, two of whom died at an early age. ”

“ As for the musical world, the corruption in Paris is beyond belief, and I retire more and more into my shell.
“Beatrice is to be performed in Stuttgart, and I may go to conduct it. I am also asked to go to St Petersburg in March, but shall not do so unless they offer me a sum tempting enough to make me brave that horrible climate. Then I shall do it for Louis’ sake, for of what use are a few thousand francs more to me?
“I cannot imagine why some people have taken to flattering me so grossly. ”

“ Next night that obstinate motif returned more clearly than before—I could even see it written out. I started up in feverish agitation, humming it over and—again my decision held me back, and I put the temptation aside. I fell asleep and next morning my symphony was gone for ever.
“Coward!” cries the young enthusiast, “brave all and write! Ruin yourself! Dare everything! What right have you to push back into oblivion a work of art that stretches out to you its piteous hands crying for the light of day?” ”

“ But I must go back to Beatrice.
To my mind it is one of the liveliest and most original things I have ever done, although it is difficult—especially in the men’s parts. Unlike The Trojans it is inexpensive to mount; but they will take precious care not to have it in Paris; they are right, it is not Parisian music at all. With his usual generosity, M. Benazet paid me four thousand francs for the music and the same for the words—eight thousand in all, and gave me another thousand to conduct it the following year. ”

“ Perrin also wishes me to superintend the rehearsals of Alcestis, but he dawdles so, waiting for Society to come back to Paris (as if there were Society for Alcestis!) , that I am going to leave him stranded and start for Geneva.
“Ah! dear lady, how glorious it is! how grand! The other day at rehearsal we all wept like stags at bay.
“‘What a man Gluck was!’ cried Perrin.
“‘No,’ said I, ‘we are the men. Don’t get confused.’
“Taylor said yesterday that Gluck had more heart than Homer; truly, he is more thoroughly human. ”

“ At least I can truly say that never have I grudged the fullest, most heartfelt praise to all that aims at the good and true and beautiful—even when it emanates from my bitterest foes.
One day Armand Bertin, who was grieved at my narrow circumstances, told me he had heard that I was to be appointed professor of composition at the Conservatoire, in spite of Cherubini. M. X., whom I met at the Opera, confirmed it, and I begged him to tender my thanks to the Minister for a position that would be to me assured comfort. ”

“ He therefore chose King Lear, the festival and love-scene from Romeo, the Carnaval Romain overture, and Harold in Italy. As he had no harpist, Madame Pohl of Weimar, with her husband, was invited.
The Prince had greatly changed since my visit in 1842; he was a martyr to gout, and was, after all, unable to be present at the concert he had planned. He was keenly disappointed, for, said he, “You are not a mere conductor; you are the orchestra itself; it is hard that I cannot reap the benefit of your stay here.”
He has built a splendid music-room in the castle, with a musical library ”

“ Occasionally he rivals Heine in power of seeing the odd side of his own divagations; his account of his headlong flight from Rome to murder the whole erring Moke family is inimitable. Yet he never discovers—as a man with a true sense of humour would have done—that, in sharpening his rapier on Wagner and the Music of the Future, he is meting out to a struggling composer precisely the same measure that the Parisians had meted out to himself. It speaks volumes for the strength of his friendship with Liszt that even Wagnerism could not divide them. ”

“ One when, at Herbeck’s desire, he went to Vienna to conduct the Damnation de Faust, and the other when the Grand Duchess Helen prevailed on him to visit St Petersburg again.
That was the real end.
On leaving Russia he wandered drearily to Nice—a ghost revisiting its old-time haunts—then made one last appearance at Grenoble, and so the flame went out. He who had never peace in life was at rest at last.
Of his music this is not the place to speak. He has fully described his own ideas, others have analysed them, and we are now concerned with the man himself. ”

“ A NEW LOVE To Humbert Ferrand.
“July 1829.—I am sorry I did not send your music before, but I may as well own that I am short{81} of money. My father has taken another whim and sends me nothing, so I could not afford the thirty or forty francs for the copying. I could not do it myself, as I was shut up in the Institute. That abominable but necessary competition! My only chance of getting the filthy lucre, without which life is impossible.
‘Auri sacra fames quid non mortalia pectora cogis!’
My father would not even pay my expenses in the Institute. M. Lesueur did so for me.” ”