Tag: Harriet Smithson

  • Berlioz: Passion, Obsession, and Rediscovered Music

    Berlioz: Passion, Obsession, and Rediscovered Music

    Hector Berlioz was a man governed by his passions.

    When rejected by the object of his desire, the Shakespearean actress Harriet Smithson, he frenziedly dashed off his “Symphonie fantastique,” an opium-induced fever dream that envisions his own execution for murdering her. In the last movement, her spirit reappears in the midst of a witches’ sabbath, to jeer at his headless corpse. Perhaps counterintuitively, Smithson went for this in a big way, and the two were married, though, perhaps unsurprisingly, not at all happily.

    Berlioz’s biography is full of crazed, seething adventures. Whether in regard to his affairs of the heart, his musical education, or his notorious compositions, always he was driven by mercurial passion and excess.

    He lived large, and he dreamed big music. One need only think of his Requiem, with its massive choir, antiphonal brass ensembles, and 16 timpani. The composer even suggested the orchestration could be doubled or tripled, depending on the size of the space. (However, in an uncharacteristic show of restraint, he recommended the chorus be limited to 400 singers, except in some of the larger numbers.)

    Today is Berlioz’s birthday. It also happens to be the Christmas season, so naturally my thoughts gravitate to “L’enfance du Christ” – which, I must say, is not my favorite Berlioz work. Fortunately, he also composed a “Messe solennelle” in 1824, on virtually the same subject – the commemoration of the Feast of the Slaughter of the Holy Innocents by King Herod, in his attempt to the snare the baby Jesus.

    Berlioz was only 20 years-old at the time, but already he was driven by his creative demons. If you are a fan of the composer, you must hear this piece, which teems with presentiments of many of his major works, including the “Symphonie fantastique,” “The Damnation of Faust,” “Benvenuto Cellini” (with its “Roman Carnival Overture”), and of course the Requiem.

    Berlioz himself played the tam-tam at the work’s premiere, and in his excitement gave the instrument such a blow that it knocked everyone back in their pews. The “Messe” was favorably received (unusual for this composer), but Berlioz decided he hated the piece and wound up burning the score.

    The work was believed lost for nearly 170 years, until it was rediscovered by a Belgian schoolteacher, in an organ gallery in Antwerp, in 1991. Sir John Eliot Gardiner conducted the first modern performance two years later.

    Who knows how Berlioz would have reacted? This is the guy, after all, who once responded to a Dear John letter by racing back from Italy in full drag, bearing two pistols and vial of poison.

    No one partied like Hector Berlioz. Happy birthday, my misguided friend.


    John Eliot Gardiner conducts the rediscovered “Messe solennelle”

    A knock-out recording of the “Symphonie fantastique,” conducted by Argentinean powder keg Carlos Païta – with an interesting choice of imagery: 48 minutes of fetishizing an antique Chinese vase! An exercise in misguided passion, perhaps worthy of Berlioz himself.

  • Berlioz Smithson and a Symphony of Obsession

    Berlioz Smithson and a Symphony of Obsession

    You might say Hector Berlioz was a man easily governed by his passions.

    When denied by the object of his affection, the Irish Shakespearean actress Harriet Smithson, he responded by furiously scrawling his “Symphonie fantastique,” an opium-induced fever dream that imagines his own execution for her murder. She then reappears during the course of a witches’ sabbath to mock his corpse. Perhaps counterintuitively, Smithson went for this in a big way, and the two were married on this date in 1833. Franz Liszt was one of the witnesses. Hardly surprising, but the union would not be a happy one.

    Here’s a knock-out recording of “Dream of a Witches’ Sabbath,” from “Symphony fantastique,” led by Argentinean powder keg Carlos Païta:

    The witches’ sabbath quotes from the portentous “Dies irae,” a medieval plainchant still widely familiar thanks to its continued use in countless horror movies (including the opening credits of “The Shining”).

    Liszt also used this theme as the basis for a set of variations for piano and orchestra, which he titled “Totentanz” (“Dance of Death”). Marvel here at the mercurial György Cziffra, captured live in concert:

    Damn, if these Romantics weren’t so Halloween…

  • Berlioz Love Passion and Revenge

    Berlioz Love Passion and Revenge

    Quite possibly, he is the quintessential Romantic composer, with a capital “R.”

    Hector Berlioz revolutionized art music, even as his personal life practically rolled off the rails with unbridled emotion. My favorite Berlioz anecdote concerns Harriet Smithson, the equally fiery Irish actress who resisted his advances. Then he wooed her with a symphony – the grandest of grand gestures – and they lived miserably ever after, at least for a time. Berlioz could not understand spoken English, and Smithson didn’t know French, but apparently they were both fluent in volcanic passion.

    They married in 1833. (Franz Liszt was a witness at the civil ceremony.) It would prove to be a tempestuous relationship between two strong-willed artists. The couple had a son, but then Berlioz found a mistress and Smithson began to drink. Eventually, they separated, but Berlioz continued to support Smithson until her death in 1854.

    Ostensibly both the “Symphonie fantastique” (1830) – with a program of unrequited love that drives an artist to attempt suicide through an overdose of opium (and the nightmarish visions he experiences as a result) – and its seldom-heard sequel, “Lelio, or The Return to Life” (1831) – in which the artist finds consolation in music and literature, especially Shakespeare – were inspired by Smithson. That was the official story endorsed by the composer.

    However, Berlioz being Berlioz, after writing the symphony, but before Smithson could hear it, he reacted to her indifference by entering into a rebound relationship. This resulted in a quick engagement. Then the composer went to Italy to study, having been awarded a Prix de Rome scholarship. While there, he learned that his recent fiancée, prompted by her mother, had made a more favorable match.

    Berlioz flew into a rage, and he was determined to have his revenge. His plan involved assuming the disguise of a woman and taking a coach back to Paris with a pair of double-barrel pistols in order to put an end to his inconstant lover, her new beau, her mother, and then himself. If the pistols happened to jam, he would poison everyone instead. As luck would have it, he left the costume in the side pocket of the carriage, and this gave him a chance to cool down.

    In his day, much of Berlioz’s music was deemed hopelessly avant-garde and met with confusion, if not outright hostility. We know better now. Right?

    Join me for selections by Berlioz, Miecyszlaw Karlowicz, and Elliot Carter, all birthday celebrants, this afternoon between 4 and 7 p.m. EST, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.


    Berlioz in 1832. Believe it or not, I once had hair like this.

Tag Cloud

Aaron Copland (92) Beethoven (95) Composer (114) Film Music (119) Film Score (143) Film Scores (255) Halloween (94) John Williams (185) KWAX (229) Leonard Bernstein (99) Marlboro Music Festival (125) Movie Music (134) Opera (198) Philadelphia Orchestra (86) Picture Perfect (174) Princeton Symphony Orchestra (106) Radio (87) Ralph Vaughan Williams (85) Ross Amico (244) Roy's Tie-Dye Sci-Fi Corner (290) The Classical Network (101) The Lost Chord (268) Vaughan Williams (102) WPRB (396) WWFM (881)

DON’T MISS A BEAT

Receive a weekly digest every Sunday at noon by signing up here


RECENT POSTS