BERLOZ
SYMPHONIE FANTASTIQUE, Op. 14
PIERRE MONTEUX
(1875-1964)
conducts the NDR Symphony Orchestra, Hamburg
BERLIOZ, in his Memoirs, has a good deal to say about the Symphonie Fan-
tastique. He writes that it was written under Goethe’s influence, and he describes his
method of work: “very slowly and laboriously in some parts, incredibly quickly and
easily in others. The Scene aux Champs worried me for three weeks; over and over
again I gave it up; but the Marche au Supplice was dashed off in a single night. Of
course they were afterwards touched and retouched.”
‘the great French composer goes on to describe how an orchestral conductor
named Bloc determined that the new symphony should be heard, and helped arrange
a concert at the Theatre des Nouveautes, in 1830. “The directors”, wryly notes Berlioz,
“attracted by the eccentricity of my work, agreed, and I invited eighty performers
to help, in addition to Bloc’s orchestra. On my making enquiries about accommoda-
tion for such an army of executants the manager replied, with the calm assurance of
ignorance, “Oh, that’s all right. Our property man knows his business”. The day of
rehearsal came, and so did my hundred and thirty musicians — with no place to
put them. I just managed to squeeze the violins into the orchestra, and then arose
an uproar that would have driven a calmer man than myself out of his senses. Cries
for chairs, desks, candles, strings, room for the drum, etc., Scene shifters tore up
and down, improvising desks and seats, Bloc and I worked like mad — but it was all
useless; a regular rout; a passage of the Beresina. However Bloc insisted on trying
two movements to give the directors some idea of the whole. So, all in a muddle,
we struggled through the Ball Scene and the Marche au Supplice, the latter calling
forth frantic applause. But my concert never came off. The directors said that they
had no idea so many arrangements were necessary for a symphony. Thus my hopes
were dashed, and all for want of a few desks . . .” The symphony, however, did
achieve performance a few months later, at the Paris Conservatoire.
Much ink has been spilled over this score, a stupendous stroke of genius, con-
sidering that there was no precedent for it; none at all. Beethoven and Schubert,
but a few years dead, had never conceived anything like it; neither had their pre-
decessors; and the romantics had not yet come on the scene. The music must have
fallen upon contemporary ears like a thunderclap. No composer up to that time had
showed anywhere near an equal instinct for the orchestra; none had bound his
music with a story to such an extent. Weber and others had composed programme
music, and even Beethoven had taken a fling at it; but the Symphonie Fantastique
is the work that really set off the whole school of programme music which was to
culminate with Liszt and Strauss. The sounds of the Fantastique, and their relation
to a programme that was supplied by the composer, were novel and daring. They
shocked the conservative listeners at the Conservatoire, just as they thrilled the
avant-garde, of which Berlioz soon became the acknowledged musical leader.
The programme of the symphony deals with a young musician in love. By not
too peculiar a coincidence. Berlioz was madly in love at the time with a young
English actress named Henrietta Smithson. In his recent biography of the composer,
Jacques Barzun suggests that really there is little relation between the symphony
and Miss Smithson. Barzun’s case is not very strong. Even if the programme is not
purely autobiographical — Berlioz, for instance, never was an opium addict — it is
close enough to the facts for the parallel to be inescapable.
Notes by Charles STANLEY
Cover © VOX PRODUCTIONS, INC.
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Prefacing the programme of the symphony is the note: “A young musician of
unhealthy sensitive nature and endowed with vivid imagination has poisoned himself
with opium in a paroxysm of lovesick despair. The narcotic dose he has taken is too
weak to cause death, but it has thrown him into a long sleep accompanied by the
most extraordinary visions. In this condition his sensations, his feeling, and his mem-
ories and utterance in his sick brain in the form of musical imagery. Even the Be-
loved One takes the form of a melody in his mind, like a fixed idea which is ever re-
turning and which he hears everywhere.
First Movement: DREAMS, PASSIONS
At first he thinks of the uneasy and nervous condition of his mind, of somber
longings, of depression and joyous elation without any recognizable cause, which he
experienced before the Beloved One had appeared to him. Then he remembers the ardent
love with which she suddenly inspired him: he thinks of his almost insane anxiety of
mind, of his rising jealousy, of his reawakening love, of his religious consolation.
Second Movement: A BALL
In a ballroom, amidst the confusion of a brilliant festival, he finds the Beloved One
again.
Third Movement; SCENE IN THE MEADOWS
It is a summer evening. He is in the country, musing, when he hears two shepherd
lads who play, in alternation the ranz des vaches (the tune used by Swiss shepherds
to call their flocks). This pastoral duet, the quiet scene, the soft whisperings of the
trees stirred by the zephyr wind, some prospects of hope recently made known to him,
all these sensations unite to impart a long unknown repose to his heart and to lend
a smiling colour to his imagination. And then She appears once more. His heart stops
beating, painful forebodings fill his soul. “Should she prove false to him!” One of
the shepherds resumes the melody, but the other answers him no more . . . Sunset . . .
distant rolling of thunder . . . loneliness . . . silence . . .
Fourth Movement: MARCH TO THE SCAFFOLD
He dreams that he murdered his Beloved, that he has been condemned to death
and is being led to execution. A march that is alternately somber and wild, brilliant
and solemn, accompanies the procession . . . The tumultuous outbursts are followed
without modulation by his measured steps. At the last the fixed idea returns, for a
moment a last thought of love is revived — which is cut short by the death blow.
Fifth Movement: DREAM OF A WITCHES’ SABBATH
He dreams that he is present at a witches’ revel, surrounded by horrible spirits,
amidst sorcerers and monsters in many fearful forms, who have come together for his
funeral. Strange sounds, groans, shrill laughter, distant yells, which other cries seem
to answer. The Beloved melody is heard again, but it has lost its shy and noble character;
it has become a vulgar, trivial, grotesqae dance tune. She it is who comes to attend the
witches’ meeting. Riotous howls and shouts greet her arrival . . . She joins the infernal
orgy . . . bells toll for the dead .. . a burlesque parody of the Dies Irae... the Witches,
round dance ... The dance and the Dies Irae are heard together.
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