ABSTRACT
In the last three decades or so, the life and music of Hector Berlioz (1803–69) have received considerable attention through the publication of countless articles and monographs, a handsome thematic catalogue, eight volumes of letters, a complete new critical edition of his works, and many of his writings. The attraction is not just to his music, but also to the colorful life and personality of the man himself, extravagantly documented in his Mémoires—it is a fascinating and entertaining read. Discussions and performances of his music parallel those for most nineteenth-century composers, with an emphasis on orchestral works and operas. Several extended works with choral forces have also remained in public view, most notably his Grande Messe des morts (Requiem), which is perhaps best remembered for the large numbers of performers involved and for its massive sonic presence. This repertoire has shaped the commonly held view that Berlioz’s music is always louder and requires more performers than other works from the period—too frequently a programming deterrent. Yet there are a number of pieces, many including choral forces, that do not conform to these characteristics. The following passage, Berlioz’s response to remarks made by the famous German poet (and critic) Heinrich Heine, shows just how long this stereotype has influenced the reception of his music.
But in any case, why did you behave like a critic and let yourself make a categorical statement about an artist when you only know part of his work? You are always thinking of the Witches’ Sabbath and the March to the Scaffold from my Fantastic Symphony, and the Dies irae and Lacrymosa from my Requiem. Yet I think I have done and can do things that are quite different. 1
