Wilhelm Peterson-Berger, the oldest of seven children, was born on February 27, 1867 in Ullånger, Sweden.  Peterson-Berger came from an intellectual family.  His father, although a land surveyor, was accomplished in languages.  From him Peterson-Berger learned an appreciation for literature.  Wilhelm’s mother, was an accomplished amateur pianist.  She not only gave Wilhelm his first lessons with the instrument, when the lad showed early musical talent, but they played many pieces together.  She often lent support to the young composer.

As a youngster, Wilhelm went to school in Umeå, which like Ullånger is in the north of Sweden.  From all indications he was a bright student.  He was, as well, quite versatile; he sang, and he was the editor of the school paper.

As a high school student Wilhelm discovered the music of Edward Grieg.  At the time Grieg’s music was considered very modern and radical.  Under the influence of Grieg and the Swede August Söderman, Wilhelm decided to be a composer.

In 1886 Peterson-Berger became a student at the Royal College of Music in Stockholm.  He started in the organist class, then gained admittance to the composition class.  He didn’t do especially well in examinations, for his modernistic bent did not sit well with his conservative professors.

Peterson-Berger wasn’t specifically a rebel—at least, he certainly did not set out to be one.  But he did hold steadfastly to his own beliefs.  He had a personal approach to music, colored by a Nordic feeling.  At times those attitudes were in opposition to prevailing conventional musical thought.  Even as early as when he was in the Royal College of Music, P-B found that his personal style of composition was frowned upon by some in the establishment.  One of the most delightful images we have of the young Peterson-Berger coming into conflict with the authorities is a story that is told about the young composer and his instructor Dente.  The student pointed out to his teacher that he, P-B, was only following in the footsteps of Grieg, Chopin, and Schumann.  The teacher exclaimed: “I don’t give a damn about Chopin and Grieg.  Here we write by the rules.”

In April of 1887 Wilhelm was exposed to the music of Richard Wagner.  He was awestruck by Die Meistersinger and became a lifelong admirer of the German composer and supporter of Wagner’s work.  Throughout his life Peterson-Berger tried to promote an appreciation of the composer and German culture in general.

In 1889 Wilhelm took a walking tour of Jämtland in the north of the country.  This event would have a profound impact on the young man and his creative journey.  He immediately fell in love with the region, with its mountains and wide vistas and mysterious forests and glimmering lakes, and from then on he sang its praises in opera, piano pieces, orchestral works, and songs for choir and solo voice.  Decades later, he would move to the remote area.

Wilhelm continued his musical studies in Germany; he went to Dresden to study composition, piano, and orchestration with Edmund Kretschmer.

He had been composing for some time, and later years would see the publication of some of those works.  At the age of 16, he wrote A Country Manor Melody.  From the 1889-1890 timeframe came the composition Oriental Dance.  While in Dresden he composed the lively May Carnival in Stockholm.

After his studies in Germany Peterson-Berger returned to Sweden.  He taught languages for a year in Umeå, but found life in the small town stifling.  He returned to Dresden, where he taught at the music institute.  However, he found teaching upper classes kids with little interest in music unsatisfying also, and he left that position as well.

About this time, Peterson-Berger’s life took a dramatic turn, although he might not have been aware of it at the time.  He settled in Stockholm, and in 1896 he became music critic for Dagens Nyheter—the Daily News.  With the exception of a few breaks (such as when he produced Tristan and Isolde), he remained the music critic until 1930.  In that role, and the larger role of cultural critic, he wielded immense influence in Stockholm and indeed all of Sweden.  His initials P.-B. at the end of articles and reviews and essays became legendary.

Eighteen ninety-six saw another important landmark for Peterson-Berger.  He published the first volume of his Frösöblomster, piano miniatures that would become beloved throughout the country.  He wrote two more suites of these fresh, open-air miniatures.

On the newspaper Peterson-Berger was a ruthless critic—indeed, he himself wrote that criticism should be ruthless.  But that idea should not be misconstrued.  Ruthless does not necessarily mean cruel.  What Peterson-Berger meant was that criticism should be totally and completely honest—it should be above petty politics, above personal concerns, even above nationalistic considerations.  He was unafraid to condemn a work or a performance if he thought it was substandard.  Musicians, composers, singers, conductors, all cringed when they opened the paper to a P.-B. review.  By the same token, he would praise a performance or a composition if he felt the performer or composer was being honest.

Unfortunately, Peterson-Berger’s newspaper work did much to damage his career as a composer.  Had he been kinder in the press, it is probable his life as a composer would have been easier.  As it was, Peterson-Berger was excluded from concerts highlighting Swedish music.  The Royal Swedish Academy of Music became upset with him when he publicly demanded to learn how appointments were made and offices given out.  Other personal issues got in the way.  For instance, P-B got into an argument with John Forsell, and when Forsell became the head of the Royal Opera, the chances of one of Peterson-Berger’s operas being given a sympathetic performance became remote.

It should be noted that when Peterson-Berger found fault with a performance, it was usually a principled stand on his part.  He intensely disliked the ‘star” system that was prevalent during his time, and indeed still exists to some degree.  The music should be good in itself, he felt, and the performance free of egotism.  Performances and music that were merely vehicles for the performer’s ego he loathed, and he didn’t hesitate to express his contempt on the printed page.

It should also be pointed out that unlike today, when a critic is expected to be evenhanded and present a calm and balanced review, in those days highly antagonistic reviews that were the norm.  Peterson-Berger is unusual only in that he continues to be read today, while most critics are not.

However, the composer-conductor was not without some recognition in his own country.  For instance, he was elected a member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Music, and in 1922 he was made a Knight of the Order of the Northern Star.  Elsewhere, his music was performed in Germany  and in the United States.

Peterson-Berger’s output is interesting in that he produced work in all major genres—symphonic and orchestral music, music for voice and choir, several operas, a violin concerto and numerous piano pieces and suites.  Moreover, he composed in all genres throughout his life.  Rarely, did he focus for long on just one musical field.

He wrote five symphonies: Symphony No. 1, The Banner in 1903; the masterly Symphony No. 2, Journey on Southerly Winds in 1910; Symphony No. 3, the Lapland Symphony in 1915; Symphony No. 4, Holmia (Stockholm) 1929; and the profound Symphony No. 5, Solitude in 1933.  These work span 30 years of composition.

He wrote four operas: Ran in 1900; Arnljot, which is near to a national opera, in 1909; The Doomsday Prophets was composed in 1917; and Adils and Elisiv was performed in 1924.  His operas represent a quarter of a century of work.

In addition, Peterson-Berger wrote a number of piano suites and miniatures, first-rate orchestral pieces, a lyrical violin concerto, as well as a violin romance, and any number of songs, cantatas and pieces for choir throughout his lengthy and prolific career.

As if all this weren’t enough, this remarkable Renaissance man translated Wagner, wrote a controversial book in 1911 on Swedish Music Culture, wrote a booklet on Wagner and another on Nietzsche, wrote travelogues and important cultural essays.  He did all this writing in addition to his daily chores as a critic and newspaper writer.

In 1920-21 Peterson-Berger took a trip to Italy.  With his pronounced ideas of the synthesis of the south and the north, this trip was especially important to him.  Besides other work, several piano suites were the result, especially the Italiana and the Earina suites.

In 1930 Peterson-Berger, a fixture on the newspaper scene for a quarter of a century, resigned his position on Dagens Nyheter.  Some years before then Peterson-Berger had bought some land on an island in the north, Frösö, and built a summer home.  Upon his retirement, Peterson-Berger moved to Sommarhagen near Östersund.    

Although certainly it cannot be denied that P-B withdrew, somewhat, into isolation during the 30s and 40s in his home in the far North, he still kept busy and continued to contribute to the cultural life of Sweden, including writing several articles denouncing the Nazi menace.  While he wasn’t as prolific as he once was, perhaps, he did manage to write his fifth symphony, composed Törnrosasagan, and revised older works.  He also kept busy running an annual Frösö Festival at which Arnljot was performed.

Wilhelm Peterson-Berger died on December 3, 1942 in Östersund.

Since his death, the Peterson-Berger Society and Foundation sees that Arnljot continues to be performed in the summer, runs the Peterson-Berger Museum at Sommarhagen, and generally promotes the music and literary works of the great Swedish composer and writer.