The Musician Berlioz

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31316, 11 March 1967, Page 4

The Musician Berlioz

(Reviewed by G.R.L.)

Hector Berlioz. A Selection From His Letters. Selected, edited and translated by Humphrey Searle. Gollancz. Bibliography and Index. 224 pp.

To the English-speaking musical world, Berlioz has always been slightly suspect. Even today, with his works enjoying increasing critical favour, he is regarded in some quarters as something of a musical oddity and not wholly deserving of serious consideration. Part of the reason lies perhaps in the fact that he had the musical misfortune to be born in France, and while France may have produced great writers and glorious painters, in music she has been, in comparison, a disappointment. French composers have in general been content to explore a somewhat rarefied musical world —one of elegance, polish and refinement They have not aspired to scale any great philosophical heights .or plumb any perilous emotional depths. To those brought up on a diet of Beethoven and Brahms, the musical range of French vision seems strictly limited, although there is no doubt that within that range lies some of the most distinctive music of all. But on the whole French composers have lacked range and depth. They seem to be more concerned with mannerisms than matter.

Berlioz, however, was the odd man out. He had ambitious musical ideas. Ernest Newman once wrote that Berlioz had grandiose visions but was rarely able to realise them—and if the remark seems unsympathetic, it is fair comment Stirred by the cool classicism of Virgil, Shakespearean drama and great historical themes, the impressionable Berlioz was never quite able to match the consistently high level of his source material. Sometimes he scaled the heights, but his foothold was precarious. It was almost as if he found the rarified atmosphere too much for him, and it is surprising how often he slipped into the tasteless and banal. If he did slip from time to time, it was admittedly an exciting descent, and he was always quickly on his feet. His was an art full of originality and vitality—an art which faith-

i fully mirrors the personality . of its uncompromising and I often reckless creator. Berlioz was a man of many ■ parts. As well as being a busy . composer and conductor, he regularly wrote columns of , informed music criticism, ’ was u diligent correspondent ‘ and a keen traveller. Music, he wrote, was the only thing ; which could help him suppress his appetite for travel. A visit to New Zealand was ruled out as being impracticable, but even to give New Zealand a passing thought in 1849 suggests a certain spirit and dash. Above all, he has long been accepted as one of the great masters of the orchestra, and the Berlioz sound is as distinctive for its richness as for the clarity of its texture. In his orchestrations Berlioz was for once well-equipped to reconcile his classical tastes with his romantic disposition. Though many of his works call for large musical resources, his reputation as something of a musical megalomaniac is quite unjustified. It is true choirs and orchestras of hundreds were nothing to him, and yet for the size of the forces involved in many of his scores, his writing is apt and economical. It is no use a depleted or scratch orchestra attempting his music. Lack of technique or any reduction In the forces he requires causes irreparable damage to his work. Berlioz was certainly no misguided composer with extravagant musical ideas and the dominant impression one gains from a reading of these letters is of an intelligent, clear-headed and astute personality. In the realisation of his musical ambitions, he never wavered, and in a letter to his father written at the age of twenty he displays his confidence in his ability and his determination to succeed:

I am driven voluntarily towards a magnificent career (no other epithet can be applied to the career of an artist) and I am not in the least heading for perdition. For I believe I shall succeed. Yes, I really believe it. There is no longer any point in being modest about this, since I have to prove to you that I am not drifting haphazardly. I think, indeed I am convinced, that I shall attain distinction in music ... I want to make a name for myself, I want to leave on thi« earth some trace of my existence which is by no means an ignoble feeling—and so strongly do I feel it that I would rather be Gluck or Mehul dead than what I am in the flower of my manhood . . . This is the way I think, the way I am, and nothing in the world will change me.

This selection of letters Is drawn from all periods of the composer’s life and includes correspondence with his family, old friends and personalities such as Liszt, Paganini and Wagner. Some of the most rewarding letters were written to Princess Carolyne SaynWittgenstein, Liszt’s mistress in his later years, but there is not an uninteresting letter in the collection, and this perhaps says as much for Berlioz and bis ability with the pen as it does for Humphrey Searle’s judicious selection. Short notes clarify points in the letters and also serve as a linking commentary. The result therefore is something in the nature of an autobiography. It may not be highly detailed, but it is an excellent introduction to Berlioz and his work.

Those with little knowledge of this particular composer should find it fascinating; those who have already read his “Memoirs" or “Nights in the Orchestra” will not be wasting their time in reading the present collection. Mr Searle, a first-rate musician in h’.s own right, wastes no space on the inessential and a reading of this volume should remove many of the misconceptions acquired from a reading of abbreviated programme notes by poorly informed commentators.

Berlioz may have been first and foremost a man of feeling, but he had a keen intelligence and was an observer of perception and wit In the necessarily limited range of the present collection his editor has done him credit.