"There are people who are only able to express themselves through coughing, sneezing, snorting and spitting: it would appear that M. Berlioz is one such person." Thus fulminated one of Goethe’s musical advisors, Carl Friedrich Zelter, after perusing the eight movement score which the young composer had written based on the Nerval French translation of the first part of Faust. Berlioz had sent it to the German poet, along with an over effusive and embarrassingly unguarded introduction. All this happened in 1829. It is perhaps as well that neither Goethe nor Zelter were present during the Damnation of Faust’s composition and premiere, which took place 17 years later. They would have been angered beyond bounds by Berlioz’s wilful treatment of the poet’s text. Berlioz felt justified in transporting Faust, the ageing scholar, to Hungary. This is how the work, characterised by the unusual genre of a "dramatic legend" commences. Faust is walking on the Hungarian Great Plain, and finds himself fascinated by the spectacle of the "infinite Puszta." He enviously observes the modest and joyous Hungarians. The spectacle of the splendid Hungarian army emerging from the distance throws him into astonishment… The explanation for Berlioz’s indisputable assassination attempt on Goethe’s work is simple. Shortly before he composed The Damnation of Faust, Berlioz visited Pest where he enjoyed his greatest ever success with his setting of the Rákóczi March. He thus contrived to incorporate his march into his current ‘work in progress.’ If this meant transporting Faust to the banks of the river Tisza, so be it. In the remainder of the work, Berlioz is a little more faithful to the original. Mephisto stands out, Faust and his diabolic companion visit the Aurbach cellar, the famous rat song, and then the flea song are heard (both of these were among the movements composed at the end of the 1820s), Faust makes the acquaintance of Margaret and so on. The action therefore is roughly formulated as it is in Goethe. The ending, however, is again arbitrary. In Berlioz, Faust goes irretrievably to hell. They gallop with Mephisto to their doom (the music evokes the rhythm of the horses in almost cinematic fashion.) They hurtle by the group preying to Mary. The supplicants cry out once: a terrible nightmare figure follows Faust. Faust looks back and is horrified by the spectacle. What he sees is not specified in the libretto. The music gives us better clues. We hear extraordinary effects from the brass instruments: here is Berlioz, perhaps the greatest master of orchestration, in his true element. After briefly coming to a stop, the chase continues and we reach the gates of hell. A diabolic chorus welcomes those who have arrived. "Irimiru karabrao, hasz, hasz, hasz!" These words mean nothing – but that is precisely why they mean so much. Berlioz did not find this in Goethe but rather in the writings of the 18th century mystic thinker, Swedenborg, who believed that this is how the occupants of hell spoke, having witnessed it in a dream. He believed that dreams do not lie. We can only understand the essence of life like this, by dreaming or by imagination – thus says the Swedish mystic who began life as a scientist, only to turn away from it. It is a message underlined by Berlioz, the revolutionary composer.