GRAND' MESSE DES MORTS OP.5 (1837)                                           HECTOR BERLIOZ (1803-1869)

created the cosmos and let it run without interference). His own descriptions of his youthful spiritual tendencies seem pantheistic, acutely aware as he was of Spirit in all things. Of course,  his own age was guided by men of science, who declared that true reality is bare matter (materialism). Also contending for the devotion of many during that time was the newly emerging religion of art, along with its worship of the cult of "genius." Thus, the religious/philosophical milieu in which Berlioz lived spanned and embraced many contradictions. In the final analysis Berlioz was a true Romantic, embracing Love as the source of art and believing music to be "our passions poetized."

What happens then, when this mind takes on the text of the Requiem Mass? And what are the spiritual implications for us, the participants in this work of art? To begin, the intention of Berlioz is not that we simply observe the dramatic portrayal of the progression through this world and the next, but rather that we assume the role of contemplative auditor, visualizing ourselves present at the wonderful and terrible scenes described. He has carefully constructed his use of the text to contrast the public and private aspects of the Mass, the depiction of events complimented by the individual's response. His progression somewhat parallels that of Dante in the Divine Comedy, from the Inferno through Purgatory into Paradise.

The opening gesture of the Introitus is a question, earthbound, which will be answered both musically and religiously at the conclusion of the last "Amen," after we have traversed Hell and Heaven. We begin by requesting eternal rest for those that have passed from this life, singing our praises to God, in whose hand rests all authority forever. Immediately following we descend into the depths of Hell and experience the terror on that Day of Judgment of those who have chosen to reject the grace offered by God to every living being. Berlioz uses four brass orchestras, placed north, south, east and west, to symbolize the angelic gathering of humanity. One is reminded of the "wager" of French scientist and philosopher Blaise Pascal: the existence of God cannot be scientifically proven or disproved, so every person must place a wager. If you wager that there is a God and that one must give an account at the end of one's life, and then find you were wrong, you haven't really lost much. You probably were a much better person, husband, wife, father, mother, neighbor than you would have been otherwise. If, however, you wager that there is no God and no judgment and have lived your life according to your own desires and dictates, and then come to the end of your life and find you are wrong, you have lost eternity. That revelation must be terrifying.

This Dies Irae is followed by the extremely personal and reflective Quid sum miser, the response of a soul terrified, whose arrogance has been humbled by the preceding events. The Rex tremendae is again a contract between the incomprehensible majesty of God with the only possible response of the soul, "Save me." Quarens me is a wonderful depiction of God's pursuit of us, the "Hound of Heaven" who, in His unfathomable love for us, never gives up on the possibility of our responding to His grace. Lacrymosa rounds off this section of the Mass, a "Dance of Death" lamenting those whose indifference separates them from the love of God.

The Offertorium is a wonderful example of one of Berlioz's favorite compositional techniques: the use of ostinato, a repeated musical figure that remains consistent throughout the piece and governs its development. In this case, surprisingly, it is the choir that intones the ostinato, composed of only two tones undulating throughout. The orchestra executes an extremely inventive fugato underneath and around the "Domine Jesu Christe" of the choir. The piece is predominately in a minor mode, so that the concluding D Major an the text "promisisti" (God's promise to Abraham that the righteous are justified by faith) is absolutely luminous.

Hostias is a microcosm of the Mass as a whole, encompassing the entire visionary range of the Requiem. The chasm that separates Heaven and Hell is portrayed by an ensemble of flutes in their upper register against eight trombones playing actually below their normal range. This is an example of Berlioz's "architectural" writing, the use of space to achieve a psychological depiction. Here the space is in register, high to low, contrasting the physical use of space by the brass choirs in the Dies Irae and Lacrymosa. In between this Heaven and Hell stands humanity, offering prayers and praise, inhabiting the space between the possibility of God's grace and the peril of His condemnation.

The invocation of the archangel Michael during the Offertorium leads us through the Hostias into the heavenly realm of the Sanctus, where we witness the praise of God in the angelic choir, complete with swinging censors (cymbals and bass drum) acting as a rhythmic ostinato. This alternates with the chorus of the faithful singing "Hosanna." The final section, Agnus Dei (Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world), functions musically as a recapitulation of much of the Mass. The opening of this movement brings us back to music of the Hostias, the heavenly flutes and infernal trombones leading us back to earth and the praises sung in the opening Requiem. The closing cadences are from the Rex Tremendae, followed by a most inventive progression of "Amens," the bass line of which parallels that of the end of the first movement.

Now that we are once more earthbound, what are we to make of our journey? We came home to much of the same musical material, but we are changed. It is the same reality, but we are illumined, even transfigured by the experience of these visions. The hope with which this piece ends suggests that we have taken the best side in Pascal's wager. Berlioz, while not ever affiliating himself religiously and whose beliefs were certainly far from orthodox, portrays the faith required at the end of this journey with an insight and emotional depth that proves that he had a thorough understanding of this text. Like Dante centuries before, he creates a faithful picture of "the love that set in motion the sun and stars," and encourages us in our own response to that love.