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!