The Malta Independent on Sunday
WHEN STALKING INSPIRED MUSICAL GENIUS
The story behind the creation of Hector Berlioz’ 1830 masterpiece Symphonie Fantastique is one of the greatest tales in classical music history. But as John Cordina notes, aspiring composers would do best to seek other sources of inspiration
Hector Berlioz was a fantastic composer, but anyone seeking to follow in his footsteps may well be jailed or sectioned long before they get the chance to prove their musical credentials.
Because the French composer was prone to obsess over women, and spent years engaging in a textbook example of stalking of a celebrity.
Berlioz is far from alone in obsessing over a famous actress: the attempted assassination of Ronald Reagan in 1981, for instance, was famously carried out by a man obsessed with Jodie Foster after seeing her play the role of a child prostitute in Martin Scorsese’s film Taxi Driver.
Berlioz’s own stalking tendencies may well have led to violence, but in the end, they inspired his art. His epic Symphonie
Fantastique is the direct result of years of stalking, at a time when the practice was, regrettably, more socially acceptable.
And in contrast to the vast majority of stalkers, Berlioz’s own tale has a twist: he succeeded in marrying the target of his unhealthy obsession.
Lost in translation
Berlioz’ life took a dramatic turn in September 1823, when he watched performances of two of Shakespeare’s most famous tragedies – Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet – at Paris’ famous Odéon theatre. Though the 23-year-old could not understand English at the time, he developed a lifelong love for the works of Shakespeare, which would inspire a number of works throughout his career.
But he also developed an intense infatuation for Irish actress Harriet Smithson, three years his senior, who played the roles of Ophelia and Juliet in the two plays. Though he had never even shared a word with her – nor could he, since she could speak no French at the time – Berlioz started writing love letters to her.
Smithson’s acting was earning her rave reviews and great popularity in France, so a letter from an admirer was nothing unusual. But Berlioz’s letters kept coming with startling regularity, a development which seems to have alarmed her. In typical stalker fashion, the composer even ended up renting a room close to her, so he could catch sight of her regularly, but to no avail.
The infatuation persisted for years: in fact, Berlioz only wrote Symphonie Fantastique in 1830, a full three years after first seeing Smithson on stage, having never said a word to her in the meantime.
Berlioz’ psychedelic masterpiece
Symphonie Fantastique is an early example of a programme symphony, subtitled “Épisode de la vie d’un artiste ... en cinq parties” (an episode in the life of an artist in five parts) and Berlioz’s own programme notes make the inspiration clear.
The first movement tells of an artist who sees a woman who first the image of an ideal person he had in his mind. Musically, this movement launches a recurring theme – an idée fixe – which is restated throughout the 50-minute work.
The second movement sees the artist haunted by the image of his beloved in var- ious settings, most notably a ball, while the third sees him contemplate over the situation in a pastoral setting, and even, somewhat disturbingly, thinking of the jealous rage that would be induced if his ideal woman ended up betraying him.
The final two movements help consign the work to legend, leading Leonard Bernstein to describe it as the first musical expedition into psychedelia. In the fourth movement, the artist tries to overdose on opium, but takes a dose too weak to kill him, but which provokes strange visions. He dreams that he is to be executed for killing his beloved, and is witnessing his own death by hanging.
In the fifth and final movement, the artist witnesses his own funeral, but this is a macabre affair, a witches’ Sabbath gathering many hideous and diabolic creatures. The idée fixe theme reappears, but becomes a grotesque parody of itself as the artist’s beloved is herself present at this Sabbath.
At the time, opium use was not frowned upon – even Berlioz’s father, a respected physician, regularly took it. Berlioz himself was no stranger to it, and it is highly likely that at least part of the Symphonie Fantastique was written under the influence of the drug.
Berlioz clearly hoped that the work would lead Smithson to notice him, and invited her to the premiere. However, she did not show up.
Obsession pays off
The composer sought consolation elsewhere, and began a fling with the Belgian pianist Marie Moke. The two became engaged in short order, but Moke broke off the engagement to marry another pianist, Camille Pleyel.
Berlioz initially contemplated suicide and even murder – coming up with an elaborate plan to kill the couple and Moke’s mother while disguised as a chambermaid – but in the end, he ended up writing a sequel to
Symphonie Fantastique, called Lélio, in which the artist wakes up from his opium dream, reflects on the state of his life and on his unrequited love, and decides to immerse himself in music.
The work was written in Italy in 1831, and premiered in Paris a year later. While less highly regarded than Symphonie Fantastique at present, the work was more immediately popular than its predecessor.
And as luck would have it, Smithson – invited by a mutual friend – attended the premiere. As the story goes, Berlioz organised a second performance of Symphonie Fantas
tique which she attended, prompting her to realise she inspired the work, congratulate him, consent to meet him, marry him within a year and become the mother of his only child within two.
This may be mostly true, but the entire story is a bit more complicated. And certainly, “they lived happily ever after” does not conclude this tale.
An unhappy finale
In hindsight, it was practically impossible for Smithson to meet Berlioz’s expectations after unwittingly serving as the object of his obsession for years, and the circumstances when they finally met didn’t help.
While Berlioz’s own star was rising, Smithson’s was on the wane. Her career was declining, the beauty which had charmed Parisian theatregoers fading under the strain of alcohol abuse, and fi- nancial troubles were mounting.
The marriage nevertheless took place over the objection of Berlioz’s family, but it was increasingly bitter and unhappy, particularly as Smithson’s health deteriorated. The two separated in 1843, two years after the composer started an affair with mezzo-soprano Marie Recio, who was to become his second wife a few months after Smithson’s death in 1853. By all accounts, this marriage was a happier one, although cut short by Recio’s sudden death at the relatively young age of 48 in 1862.
In the meantime, Berlioz revised his programme notes to Symphonie Fantastique, downplaying the source of inspiration. But much like the symphony, the tale concludes with a somewhat macabre coda.
Smithson had been buried at the Cimitière Saint-Vincent, but this cemetery was to be redeveloped in the 1860s. Berlioz thus had her remains moved to the nearby Montmartre cemetery, to the vault where his second wife had been buried – and where he was to be buried after his death in 1869. Berlioz even left a morbid account of his first wife’s re-internment, and to this day, Smithson shares her final resting place with her romantic rival and the man who wrote the epic symphony she inspired, possibly his greatest work.
The Malta Philharmonic Orchestra will be performing Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique and his song cycle Les Nuits d’Été – which will be sung by Maltese soprano Gillian Zammit - under the direction of French conductor Raoul Lay in Berlioz le Fantastique, a concert which will be held at the Mediterranean Conference Centre on Friday, 22 June. Tickets may be purchased from showshappening.com, or from the MCC’s box office