Background
Hector Berlioz was born in France at La Côte-Saint-André in 1803. His father, Louis Berlioz, was a physician of repute, and by his desire Hector for some time devoted himself to the study of medicine.
conductor music critic composer of the romantic movement
Hector Berlioz was born in France at La Côte-Saint-André in 1803. His father, Louis Berlioz, was a physician of repute, and by his desire Hector for some time devoted himself to the study of medicine.
France was at war, the schools were disrupted; and Berlioz received his education from his father, an enlightened and cultured physician, who gave him his first lessons in music as well as in Latin. But, like many composers, Berlioz received in his early years little formal training in music. In 1821 his father sent him to Paris to study medicine, and for a year he followed his courses faithfully enough to obtain his first degree in science. He took every opportunity to go to the Paris-Opéra, however, where he studied, score in hand, the whole repertory, in which the works of Gluck had for him the most appeal and authority. His musical vocation had become so clear in his mind that he contrived to be accepted as a pupil of Jean-François Lesueur, professor of composition at the Paris Conservatoire. This led to disagreements between Berlioz and his parents that embittered nearly eight years of his life. He persevered, took the obligatory courses at the Conservatoire, and in 1830 won the Prix de Rome, having received second prize in an earlier competition.
From the age of 12 Hector was producing compositions for the local ensemble, some of them based on the extraordinary kind of melody which was his native gift.
We know that the second subject of the Francs-Juges Overture (1826) and the opening bars of the Symphonie Fantastique (1830) were first used in some of these juvenile works.
In a later autobiographical fragment he characterized this as "my Thirty Years' War against the professors, the routineers, and the tone-deaf. "
In less epigrammatic form, it can be described as exposing all Europe to the dramatic idiom of the symphony as developed by Beethoven, and to the principles of orchestral composition which Berlioz evolved as a necessary consequence of his uncommon melodic invention.
Despite unmistakable turns of phrase that proclaim them Berlioz' handiwork, each of these scores establishes a distinct style.
Berlioz' private life was punctuated by deep sorrows, the details of which may be read in his admirable Memoirs (1870).
Friendships of an unusually lasting sort testify to Berlioz' affectionate and upright character.
The works in which Berlioz exhibited and elaborated his forms and styles are, in order of composition: Symphonie Fantastique (1830), Harold in Italy (1834), Benvenuto Cellini (1836), Requiem Mass (1837), Romeo and Juliet (1839), Funeral and Triumphal Symphony (1840), Nuits d'Etéd'Ete (1841), The Damnation of Faust (1846), Te Deum (1849), The Infant Christ (1854), Les Troyens (1858), BéatriceBeatrice and BénédictBenedict (1862).
These works, plus half a dozen separate overtures and as many volumes of songs, Berlioz carried to the four corners of Europe by means of his concerts.
Between 1842 and his retirement in 1867, Berlioz repeatedly toured the Germanies, Russia, and England with a repertoire consisting largely of Beethoven, Gluck, Weber, and his own works.
He used these performances to test by ear the principles of composition he had intuitively discovered.
Some of these he consigned in his Treatise on Modern Instrumentation and Orchestration (1844; 1855).
In the intervals of composing, conducting, and organizing concerts, Berlioz had to earn a living, for the conditions of music in the 19th century favored the solo performer of light or "brilliant" pieces at the expense of other artists.
Berlioz earned his livelihood as music critic for the influential Journal des Débats, where his Tuesday article soon became an important feature.
The outstanding characteristics of Berlioz’s music—its dramatic expressiveness and variety—account for the feeling of attraction or repulsion that it produces in the listener. Its variety also means that devotees of one work may dislike others, as one finds lovers of Shakespeare who detest Othello. But Berlioz also presents a particular difficulty of musicianship in being closer to the true sources of music than to its German, Italian, or French conventions; his melody is abundant and extended and is often disconcerting to the lover of four-bar phrases; his harmony may be obvious or subtle, but it is always functional and frequently depends on elements of timbre; his modulations can be harsh and may even seem harsher than they would in another composer because he uses his effects sparingly and achieves much by small means and adroit contrasts. This is also true of his orchestration, generally light and transparent, never pasty. As George Bernard Shaw said: “Call no conductor sensitive in the highest degree to musical impressions until you have heard him in Berlioz and Mozart.”
The Belgian composer César Franck once said that Berlioz’s whole output is made up of masterpieces. He meant by this that each of the composer’s dozen great works was the realization of a conception distinct from all the others, rather than successive efforts to attain perfection in the last or best of a series. Franck’s judgment is borne out by the fact that, unlike many composers, Berlioz almost never repeats himself. Rather, he created a fresh style for each of his subjects, with the result that familiarity with one is no guarantee of ready access to another. Nothing could be less alike than the Symphonie funèbre et triomphale and Roméo et Juliette or than the Requiem and L’Enfance du Christ. To be sure, Berlioz’s harmonic system seems the same throughout, partly because it deviates so noticeably from common expectation and partly because its nuances are only now being appreciated for what they are, instead of being looked upon as clumsy attempts to do something else. Again, his melody and free counterpoint everywhere carry his mark—the sinewy originality and dynamic equilibrium of the former, the ingeniously careless independence of the latter. Yet, out of these characteristic elements, Berlioz makes a radically different atmosphere for each of his dramas and within them for each of his dramatis personae. Only a repeated hearing of any given work discloses all the power and art (including what would now be called psychology) that it contains. This does not mean that these works are without flaw; it does mean that they embody unique conceptions, to be taken for what they have to give and which no other composer provides.
In the creation of drama and atmosphere, Berlioz excels in scenes of melancholy, introspection, love—gentle or passionate—the contemplation of nature, and the tumult of crowds. His intention throughout is to combine truth with musical sensations, be they powerful or (to quote Shaw again) “wonderful in their tenuity and delicacy, unearthly, unexpected, unaccountable.”
Much might be added or quoted that would show the extent to which Berlioz’s music still needs careful and dispassionate study. In 1935 the respected British musicologist Sir Donald Tovey, who had not before heard Les Troyens, declared that it is “one of the most gigantic and convincing masterpieces of music drama.” And, he went on, “You never know where you are with Berlioz.” What is certain is that books that date from the 19th century or echo its views, with or without a bias toward Wagner or Debussy, will mislead the student and possibly close the ears of the listener. It is easy to represent Berlioz as merely a craftsman in tone color who helped develop the resources of the orchestra. But with the repeated performance of the major works all over the Western world, the more comprehensive judgment has come to prevail that Berlioz is a dramatic musician of the first rank. Before 1945 the Berlioz repertoire was limited to the Symphonie fantastique and a few brief extracts. The great works, done once and usually with insufficient preparation, produced little effect and confirmed the wisdom of letting them lie. The advent of long-playing records radically altered the situation. Audiences can now judge the interpretations that they are being given, and thus they hear Berlioz performances with a knowledge and critical attention comparable to those with which they hear other composers.
Hector Berlioz had a trenchant and witty pen as well as a depth of knowledge and feeling.
On 3 October 1833 Berlioz and Harriet Smithson got married in a civil ceremony at the British Embassy with Liszt as one of the witnesses. The following year their only child, Louis Berlioz, was born. The marriage was a tempestuous mistake. In 1840 he separated from his wife, who died in 1854. Six months later Berlioz married to Marie Recio. In 1827, Berlioz watched Irish actress Harriet Smithson at the Odéon theatre. This led to two intense infatuations.
His marriage, in 1833, to the Irish actress Harriet Smithson, ended in separation in 1843.
She died in 1854.
