Berlioz definitely enjoys gossip and writing, apart from the famous I-write-my-own-program-note of the Symphony Fantastique. He has a memoir, and a frictional book:
U of C Press: link.
During the performances of fashionable operas in an unidentified but “civilized” town in northern Europe, the musicians (with the exception of the conscientious bass drummer) tell tales, read stories, and exchange gossip to relieve the tedium of the bad music they are paid to perform. In this delightful and now classic narrative written by the brilliant composer and critic Hector Berlioz, we are privy to twenty-five highly entertaining evenings with a fascinating group of distracted performers.
Berlioz has good humor, good music taste (obviously) and bad writing skill. I’ll leave for the readers to judge. Nevertheless, the 6th evening tells a story of a tenor’s rise and fall. After the tenor’s overnight success and before he launched his career, his teacher warned him insightful words, including the following:
When you accept a new role, do not allow yourself to make any changes in it except by the author’s leave. Bear in mind that a single note added curtailed, or transposed may make a melody commonplace or distort its expression. You have in any case no right to do this at any time.
To modify the music one sings or the book one is translating without saying a word about it to the man who wrote it only after much thought, is to commit a shocking breach of trust. People who borrow without giving notice are called thieves. Unfaithful interpreters are called libelers and assassins