From an engraving by Auguste Hüssener.
]
After _Faust_ and _Romeo_, comes the _Requiem_,—another triumph; a
romantic composition of the first class, written with feverish
enthusiasm by a master who rather sought to paint a striking picture to
each line of the _Requiem_ than to probe to the literal sense of the
Latin text. The _Kyrie_ is the least eccentric and the most expressive
number. The _Tuba Mirum_, in particular, produces a tremendous effect
with its four orchestras of brass; an idea that Félicien David and Verdi
borrowed from this. Berlioz has given to the _Lacrymosa_ a searching
pathos. Perhaps the finest movement in the work to which Schumann
rendered such ample justice, is the _Offertorium_. The requiem ends with
a _Sanctus_ for tenor solo, seraphic in sentiment, followed by a
beautiful _Agnus_ and a lovely, unfugued _Amen_. It is fitting to bring
together, for comparison, this composition and the _Te Deum_ written
about 1850, of which the finest page is the hymn of the seraphim, _Tibi
omnes angeli_, that rises to a magnificent crescendo and dies away at
the close on a long and distant chord of the organ. The prayer for tenor
solo, _Te ergo quæsumus_ is equally perfect, and the final chorus is a
majestic number to which Berlioz has attached a brilliant and thrilling
triumphal march for the “presentation of flags.” It recalls by the
vastness of its proportions and its orchestral massiveness, his
_Symphonie funèbre et triumphale_, so much admired by Richard Wagner,
and of which the peroration, entitled _Apothéose_, forced a flattering
exclamation of praise from even the savage Habeneck.
The _Symphonie Fantastique_, to return to the most applauded work of
Berlioz, after _Faust_, is one of the most bizarre eccentricities ever
hatched in a composer’s brain; but it is also one of the most
impressive. The first movement, _Rêveries-passions_, at once so sad and
tender, is, however, excelled by the _Scène aux champs_, which soothes
and charms us with its peacefulness. It is the most inspired movement of
the symphony. _Le Bal_ and the _Marche au supplice_ are aflame with the
extraordinary verve of the composer, who, taking motives that are
neither very striking nor very original in themselves, develops them
with extraordinary power, and with such fullness that each movement
attains an almost incredible expressiveness. Though in the _Songe d’une
nuit de Sabbat_, the _Dies Iræ_ is burlesqued and degraded by the
mocking accents of the piccolo, the tinkling of bells, the bellowing of
ophicleides, yet this last part produces an irresistible effect and
drags the hearer along in the train of the hellish turmoil. In _Harold
en Italie_ Berlioz pushes this seeking for extremely varied tone-colors,
and unexpected contrasts, and curious surprises for the ear so far, that
he frequently falls into excess. The fine _Marche des Pélerins_ has
eclipsed the other portions of the symphony, but the first movement,
_Harold aux montagnes_, is full of poetic melancholy, and the _Serénade
d’un montagnard_, breathes a tranquil peace with which the fiery and
tumultuous _Orgie de brigands_ forms a powerful, nay, almost exaggerated
contrast.
In the exquisite religious legend _L’Enfance du Christ_, and the
graceful opera comique, _Béatrice et Bénédict_ we make the acquaintance
of a Berlioz tempered by age and who no longer seeks to “make a noise in
the world.” The second part of his oratorio-drama _La Fuite en Egypte_,
is universally known through its delightful chorus of shepherds and its
lovely tenor recitative; there is also much charm in the first duet of
Mary and Joseph as they watch over Jesus. The third part includes a
powerfully dramatic scene in which the fugitives knock in vain at every
door, followed by a patriarchal scene with the beautiful phrase of the
father of the family welcoming Jesus, and the trio, with two flutes and
harps, of young Ishmaelites. This is music that delights the world. It
is the same with the famous duet-nocturne in _Béatrice et Bénédict_,
whose beauty dwells in the opening strain of Hero’s air, and in the
splendid andante, à la Gluck, sung by Beatrice. What gaiety, perhaps a
little forced now and then, emanates from the mocking duet between
Beatrice and Benedict; from the trio of men and the trio of women. What
exquisite sweetness there is in the _Chant d’hyménée_ heard from afar;
what verve in the piquant rondo sung at the close by the reconciled
lovers!
_Benvenuto Cellini_, a work that has never been revived, is not one of
the finer achievements of Berlioz; in it we meet too many concessions to
the virtuosity of the conventional opera prima-donna, but it is pervaded
by a spirit wholly youthful, set off by sparkling instrumentation. The
trio of the first act, and the sad air of Teresa; the grand quartet in
the Place Colonne with its different themes ingeniously blended and
strongly marked; the couplets of Ascanio; the narrative air of Cellini;
the scene in which the poltroon Fieramosca simulates a duel; the
charming love-duet between Teresa and Cellini,—here, indeed, are page
after page of limpid melody that delight their hearers, as did the
opening brilliant overture with the following long carnival scene, which
reproduces with extraordinary effect the mutterings and rumblings of a
crowd. This is, in truth, the climax of the work. To this opera must be
joined the overture, _Le Carnaval Romain_, written later by Berlioz, and
perhaps the most beautiful of his isolated overtures. In any case, it is
that which has had the greatest success, eclipsing the overture, _Les
Francs Juges_, even in Germany where it was at first so much applauded,
as well as the overtures, _Waverly_, _The Corsair_, and _King Lear_, the
last, though so expressive, having never enjoyed equal favor with _Le
Carnaval Romain_.
The tragedy _Les Troyens_, imitated from Virgil, marked the return to
first principles made by Berlioz when maturity had calmed the
effervescence of youth and the ebulition of middle age. It was taken up
again in a moment of classic aspiration and shows how much the teachings
of Lesueur influenced him. _La Prise de Troie_ and _Les Troyens à
Carthage_, separate works, but performed together for the first time at
Carlsruhe in December, 1870, are of equal worth and of a superior order.
In _La Prise de Troie_ the despairing appeals of Cassandra, the tender
replies of Corèbe; the fiery choruses, the ballet music, of which the
local color is so appropriate; the epic grandeur of the benediction of
Astyanax by Paris; the excited joy of the Trojan people welcoming the
entrance of the wooden horse; the woe-fraught prophecies of Cassandra.
In _Les Troyens à Carthage_ the peaceful songs of the Trojans; the
sublimely touching melodies of Dido; the caressing responses of Anna;
Æneas’ call to arms, and the stirring orchestral scene of the royal
hunt; the third act, an unmistakable masterpiece, with its pretty dance
tunes, its quintet, its incomparable septet, and its fine love-duet; the
last two acts, with the sweet plaint of the sailor, Hylas; the pathetic
farewell of Æneas and the splendid death scene of Dido,—all prove that
both parts of _Les Troyens_ must be placed in the same rank as two great
works that blend into one perfect whole.
Berlioz, in addition to his large symphonic and vocal works, wrote
numerous detached songs with orchestral or pianoforte accompaniment. _La
Captive_, which was greatly extended from the original sketch written in
Italy; _Le 5 mai_, a magnificent song glorifying the first Napoleon;
_Sara la baigneuse_, and _La Mort d’Ophélie_, lovely works for two
female voices; a fine _Hymne à la France_; _Neuf mélodies Irlandaises_,
a youthful effort, inspired by the poems of Thomas Moore; _Les nuits
d’été_, six settings of poems by Théophile Gautier, are the most notable
of this class of compositions. By adding to these the pieces collected
to form _Lelio; Rêverie et Caprice_, for violin solo and orchestra; a
charming _Meditation religieuse_, after Thomas Moore; and a striking
_Marche Funêbre_ for the interment of Hamlet; we have enumerated all the
works of Berlioz, great and small, that are worth remembering.
The true domain of Berlioz, that in which he is really king, is the
orchestra. He gave an extraordinary impetus to the art of
instrumentation,—even after Beethoven and Weber, on whom he leaned,—by
his marvellous instinct for blending the various timbres of orchestral
instruments, by his indefatigable search for new combinations of tone,
by his constant effort to add to the power and the expressiveness of the
orchestra in order to make it translate the most diverse sentiments,
thus giving to his music a stronger relief, a more animated color. The
prodigious result was, that he almost recreated the art of
orchestration, opened a new horizon to it, and therefore deserves the
title of the French Beethoven. Is it not also astonishing that his
genius, audaciously innovating in regard to instrumentation, exercised
an influence not only on all those musicians who began their career
after his success was established, but on others who were his elders by
age and reputation, such as Meyerbeer, or somewhat younger, such as
Richard Wagner? These two composers, not the least able of their day,
having heard the works of Berlioz at a time when very few took him
seriously, had an intuition of his worth and from the very first felt
instinctively even more than Schumann, that it was necessary to respect
this young man gifted with such extraordinary imagination.
[Illustration: