[2]"With regard to the Woman of Samaria herself, it will be plainly seen that the composer has treated her as a secular and worldly character, though not without indications here and there of that strong intuitive religious feeling which has never been denied to her. This feeling is especially shown when she says: 'I know that Messias cometh; when He is come He will tell us all things.' Also, towards the end of the narrative, where she passionately exclaims to the Samaritans: 'Come, see a man who told me all the things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?'"--Original Preface.
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BERLIOZ.
Hector Berlioz, one of the most renowned of modern French composers, and an acute critic and skilful conductor as well, was born, Dec. 11, 1803, at La Côte St. André, in France. His father was a physician, and intended him for the same profession. He reluctantly went to Paris and began the study of medicine; but music became his engrossing passion, and medicine was abandoned. He entered the Conservatory as a pupil of Lesueur, and soon showed himself superior to all his masters, except Cherubini,--which aroused a strong opposition to him and his compositions. It was only after repeated trials that he took the first prize, with his cantata, "Sardanapale," which entitled him to go to Italy for three years. On his return to Paris he encountered renewed antipathy. His music was not well received, and he was obliged to support himself by conducting at concerts and writing [69] articles for the press. As a final resort he organized a concert tour through Germany and Russia, the details of which are contained in his extremely interesting Autobiography. At these concerts his own music was the staple of the programmes, and it met with great success, though not always played by the best of orchestras, and not always well by the best, as his own testimony shows; for his compositions are very exacting, and call for every resource known to the modern orchestra. The Germans were quick in appreciating his music, but it was not until after his death that his ability was conceded in France. In 1839 he was appointed librarian of the Conservatory, and in 1856 was made a member of the French Academy. These were the only honors he received, though he long sought to obtain a professorship in the Conservatory. A romantic but sad incident in his life was his violent passion for Miss Smithson, an Irish actress, whom he saw upon the Paris stage in the rôle of Ophelia, at a time when Victor Hugo had revived an admiration for Shakspeare among the French. He married her, but did not live with her long, owing to her bad temper and ungovernable jealousy; though after the separation he honorably contributed to her support out of the pittance he was earning. Among his great works are the opera, "Benvenuto Cellini;" the symphony with chorus, "Romeo and Juliet;" "Beatrice and Benedict;" "Les Troyens," the text from Virgil's "Æneid;" the symphony, "Harold in Italy;" the symphony, [70] "Funèbre et Triomphale;" the "Damnation of Faust;" a double chorused "Te Deum;" the "Symphony Fantastique;" the "Requiem;" and the sacred trilogy, "L'Enfance du Christ." Berlioz stands among all other composers as the foremost representative of "programme music," and has left explicit and very detailed explanations of the meaning of his works, so that the hearer may listen intelligently by seeing the external objects his music is intended to picture. In the knowledge of individual instruments and the grouping of them for effect, in warmth of imagination and brilliancy of color, and in his daring combinations and fantastic moods, which are sometimes carried to the very verge of eccentricity, he is a colossus among modern musicians. He died in Paris, March 8, 1869.
The Requiem.
Ferdinand Hiller writes in his "Künstlerleben:" "Hector Berlioz does not belong to our musical solar system; he does not belong to the planets, neither to the large nor to the small. He was a comet, shining far, somewhat eerie to look at, soon again disappearing; but his appearance will remain unforgotten." The Requiem ("Messe des Morts") exemplifies Hiller's words. It is colossal, phenomenal, and altogether unique. It is not sacred, for it never came from the heart. It is not solemn, though it is a drama of death. It is a combination [71] of the picturesque, fantastic, and sublime, in a tone-poem dedicated to the dead.
In 1836 Berlioz was requested by M. de Gasparin, Minister of the Interior, to write a requiem commemorating the victims of the July Revolution; but the work was not given to the public until 1837, when it was sung at the Invalides in memory of General Damremont and the soldiers killed at the siege of Constantina. It was subsequently asserted by Berlioz that Cherubini had conspired with others in the Conservatory to prevent its performance and to secure that of his own, by virtue of the precedence which his position gave him. The charge, however, must have been a mere fancy on his part, as he had already written a letter to Cherubini, saying:--
"I am deeply touched by the noble abnegation which leads you to refuse your admirable Requiem for the ceremony of the Invalides. Be convinced of my heartiest gratitude."
The work embraced ten numbers: I. Requiem and Kyrie ("Requiem æternam dona eis"); II., III., IV., V., and VI., including different motives taken from the hymn, "Dies Iræ;" VII. "Offertorium;" VIII. "Hostias et Preces;" IX. "Sanctus;" X. "Agnus Dei." It will be observed that the composer has not followed the formal sequences of the Mass, and that he has not only omitted some of the parts, but has also frequently taken license with those which he uses. This may be accounted for in two ways. First, he was not of a religious nature. Hiller, in the work already quoted, says of him:
"Of his Catholic education every trace had disappeared. Doubts of all sorts had possession of him, and the contempt of what he called 'prejudice' bordered on the monstrous. Berlioz believed neither in a God nor in Bach."