nd he was obliged to support himself by conducting at concerts
and writing 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
_role_ 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 "AEneid;" the symphony,
"Harold in Italy;" the symphony, "Funebre 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 "Kuenstlerleben:" "Hector