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\newcommand{\symfas}{{\em Symphonie Fantastique}}
\newcommand{\idee}{{\em Id\'ee Fixe}\,}

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\title{Reflections by the \\ \idee}
\author{George A. Madrid \\ \\ 21.60---Introduction to Music}
\date{December 22, 1988}





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\noindent Dearest sister,
\vspace{1eM}

I was delighted to receive your letter in the week just past.  I am glad
that all goes well with our parents and the household.  As for the
matter of the garden, I suggest covering the precious bushes at night.  

I am having the most wonderful time here in Paris.  The Parisians love
us.  They can't seem to get enough of Shakespeare.  I'll say that the
English don't quite appreciate Shakespeare enough.  The English should
treat us as the French do.  We are invited to balls and concerts
almost every night.  {\em La voyage fran\c{c}aise} was a wonderful idea.
Do you see, my French has even improved.  Oh yes, when I return to
England,  I will dazzle you with my wonderful {\em phrases de la langue
d'amour}.  

I have met some of the most interesting people, all of them upper-class
Frenchmen, or artists or some type or other.  One of them is certainly
worth describing.  His name is Hector Berlioz, and he is one of the
wildest men I've ever known.  

Imagine this.  First, he's a Frenchman.  He's tall and has wild eyes
that seem to stare at me.  His black hair is everywhere, seeming to lag
just a moment behind his other movements.  He is always ready with a
laugh or a song, he's a composer.  

He just opened a new symphony, his \symfas.  It was incredible.  All
those people in the orchestra.  My dear, you have never seen such a
large and loud orchestra.  Berlioz, himself, is in it, playing the
tympani of all things.  He does seem to like his noisemakers.

I received a personal invitation to the opening.  It was amazing, a sort
of morbid love story.  It was a story or sorts, of a young man who
attempted to kill himself for love scorned, but the silly fool messed
up.  He poisoned himself with opium, but didn't take enough.  He just
lay and had visions.  It was an incredible story.

It begins with the young musician reliving his first meeting and
dreaming of the young lady, a wonderful tune.  Almost a love song, and
not the overture to a symphony.  Then comes what Hector calls the \idee.
It is a short melody that recurs throughout the symphony.  The \idee is
about as close as it gets to a theme.  It was actually fun to watch the
musicians play, they were so involved in their playing.  Especially
Hector,  he stand there banging away on his drums.

The second movement is called ``The Ball.''  It's a waltz, of all things
to put into a symphony.  Hector is so wild.  He uses harps, two of them.
It's just beautiful.  And all through the movement, I would almost swear
that Hector was looking at me.  He's really crazy, he stood behind his
tympani and waltzed with himself.  

Hector calls the third movement a ``Scene in the Fields.''  It is about
two young ones.  He actually has two instruments which seem to ``act''
as the boy and the girl.  Everything starts out peacefully enough, then
the girl shows up.  Suddenly the music becomes more excited as they
``converse'' to each other.  Then the drums echo a thunder clash to
foreshadow the turmoil to come.  There is great chaos, and  I do mean
chaos.  The orchestra gets quite loud, almost painfully so.  And when
you listen closely, you notice that the girl's voice is no longer there.
This leads to the heart break of the young boy.

The young boy becomes so angry that he kills his loved one.  This leads
to the fourth movement, ``March to the Scaffold.''  The name really says
it all.  It is a march.  Up and down the hills, and through the streets,
to the horrible guillotine.  The marchers get more and more wild as they
approach the scaffold.  Then, as the young musician lies with his head
under the knife, he sees {\em her}\,, and the \idee is heard, but it is
never finished.  The blade falls right in the middle of the \idee.
Hector is such a gruesome genius.

But wait, sister.  I thought the last movement was gruesome, but then I
heard the fifth movement.  Yes, I did say fifth.  Hector went beyond the
classical.  He is really such a genius.  You {\em really} do have to
meet him someday.

The fifth movement was called ``Dream of a Witches' Sabbath.''  Somehow,
after death, the musician is at a Black Mass.  He hears the witches
dancing around and hears horrible noises.  You should have heard the
orchestra now.  They were so loud, and Hector was just banging away on
his tympani.  It was a terrible row.  And in the midst of it all, he
hears the \idee again.  There she is, at the Witches' Mass.  She begins
to sing with the witches, and dance with them.  Then, the funeral bell
tolls midnight, and they have a human sacrifice.  Hector played the {\em
Dies irae}\,, but not the one you would hear at a real mass, but a
twisted dark variation, because it is the witches who are singing it.
It was a terrible vision.  

Oh, sister, you simply must meet Hector.  He is just like his
music---wild and unpredictable, and sometimes, just a little bit bad.
He is great fun.  I believe he likes me also, because all through the
symphony, whenever he had to bang his tympani, I imagined that he was
staring at me.  He is a truly magnificent man.  

I wish you good health, sister, until we meet again.  

\hspace{2.5in}Your loving sister,

\hspace{2.5in}Harriet









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