Naples
Berlioz visited Naples several times. On one occasion (late September – early October 1831) he went there with four companions, among them two of his Prix de Rome fellow laureates, Constant Dufeu the architect and the elder Dantan, the sculptor (who made a medallion of Berlioz in Rome in 1831):
[...] I was sleeping one day in the laurel grove in the gardens of the Academy, rolled up like a hedgehog in a heap of dead leaves, when I felt prodded by the feet of two of my companions: Constant Dufeu, the architect and Dantan the elder, the sculptor, who had come to wake me.
— Hey there, Father Grumpy! Do you want to come to Naples? We are heading there.
— Get lost! You know I have no money left.
— You fool! We have money and will lend you some!
Come one, Dantan, give me a hand, pick him up otherwise we won’t get anything out of him. Good, so you are on your feet!... Shake yourself, and go and ask M. Vernet leave for a month, and as soon as your suitcase is ready, we are off, that’s a deal.
And so we set out.(Memoirs, chapter 40)
Berlioz was very impressed by the town and its mountainous surroundings, and by the ruins of Pompeii:
Naples! The pure and clear air, the drenching sun, the fertile earth!
Everyone has described, much better than I can, this wonderful garden. No traveller has failed to be struck by the splendour of the sight. Everyone has admired the sea resting at noon, its soft blue folds, and the soothing ripple of the waves. Anyone stranded at dead of night in the crater of Vesuvius will have experienced a strange feeling of awe at the rumble of subterranean thunder, or the fury that belches from its mouth, at the explosions, the quantities of molten rock hurled at heaven like incandescent cries of blasphemy, which fall back to the ground, roll over the side of the mountain and come to a halt forming a fiery necklace on the vast neck of the volcano! Who has not wandered sadly through the skeletal desolation of Pompeii, a solitary spectator expecting from the terraces of the amphitheatre the performance of a tragedy by Euripides or Sophocles for which the stage still seems to be set? Who has not warmed up to the habits of the lazzaroni, this enchanting population of children, with their exuberance, their addiction to stealing, their mocking wit, and their occasional moments of genuine goodness?
(Memoirs, chapter 41)
In a letter to his family, Berlioz told them how he felt when he saw the ruins of Pompeii (Correspondance générale no. 246):
Since my last letter, I have visited the famous ruins of Pompeii; I do not want to bore you with a description of this skeleton of a city, but without doubt it corresponds to expectations. But my four travelling companions and the guide spoiled my little ancient world; that is not the effect that Pompeii has. I was cursing inwardly the circumstances which prevented me from being on my own, wandering at night among the columns and their shadows, seen only by the moon and free to surrender to all my impressionable impulses, not to say my imagination. It must be wonderful to be able to dream thus surrounded by silence, walking on these large smooth slabs, in these long echoing streets, among the temples and palaces; to go and sit in the great tragic theatre, thinking of Sophocles and Euripides; to thrill in the immense amphitheatre, gazing through the mists of time at the gladiators, lions and tigers, and, more frightening still, the people thirsting for blood, watching avidly the heart of the victim being torn apart by the claws of a desperate animal, and cheering as it throbs for the last time. I would have loved to sleep in one of those charming houses paved with mosaics, which imagination fills with beautiful women draped in Greek style with an imperious look on their face, and surrounded by beautiful slave girls playing the lyre and singing of pleasure. But all this is impossible. There are guards everywhere who follow you with a watchful eye; I have not even been able to steal for my father a miserable fragment from a fresco or a mosaic.
From Naples, Berlioz set out for the Abruzzi mountains and Subiaco, and then Tivoli with two Swedish officers of his acquaintance, Bennet and Klinksporn, whom he had run into.
All the pictures reproduced on this page have been scanned from engravings, newspapers, postcards and old photos in our own collection. © Monir Tayeb and Michel Austin. All rights of reproduction reserved.
An eruption of the Vesuvius in 1843
This event was reported in the Illustrated London News, on 11 December
1843.
The bay of Naples in the 19th century
This steel engraving, entitled "Early Morning" and drawn in the 1870s by R Wallis, is based on an earlier drawing by the British artist William Callow (1812-1908).
The bay of Naples ca 1900
Naples – Vesuvius
Naples – Pallonetto St. Lucia
Ruins of Pompeii
Ruins of Pompeii
© 2003-2008 Michel Austin and Monir Tayeb for all the pictures and information on this page.
Copyright notice: The texts, photos, images and musical scores on all pages of this site are covered by UK Law and International Law. All rights of publication or reproduction of this material in any form, including Web page use, are reserved. Their use without our explicit permission is illegal.
Back to Berlioz in Italy main page