The next day he called on her.
Their engagement lasted nearly a year, opposed by her mother and
sister, and also by Hector's family. The following summer Henrietta
Smithson, all but ruined from her theatrical ventures, and weak from
a fall, which made her a cripple for some years, was married to Hector
Berlioz, in spite of the opposition of their two families.

And now there opened to Berlioz a life of stress and struggle,
inseparable from such a nature as his. At one moment he would be
in the highest heaven of happiness, and the next in the depths of
despair. His wife's heavy debts were a load to carry, but he manfully
did his best to pay them. We can be sure that every work he ever
produced was composed under most trying circumstances, of one kind
or another. One of his happiest ventures was a concert of his own
compositions, given at the Conservatoire on October 22, 1833. Of it he
wrote: "The concert, for which I engaged the very best artists, was a
triumphant success. My musicians beamed with joy all evening, and to
crown all, I found waiting for me a man with long black hair, piercing
eyes and wasted form. Catching my hand, he poured forth a flood of
burning praise and appreciation. It was Paganini!"

Paganini commissioned Berlioz to write a solo for his beautiful Strad.
viola. The composer demurred for a time, and then made the attempt.
While the result was not just what the violinist wished, yet the
themes afterward formed the basis for Berlioz' composition "Childe
Harold."

The next great work undertaken by Berlioz was the Requiem. It seems
that, in 1836, the French Minister of the Interior set aside yearly,
3,000 francs to be given to a native composer, chosen by the Minister,
to compose a religious work, either a mass or an oratorio, to be
performed at the expense of the Government.

"I shall begin with Berlioz," he announced: "I am sure he could write
a good Requiem."

After many intrigues and difficulties, this work was completed and
performed in a way the composer considered "a magnificent triumph."

Berlioz, like most composers, always wished to produce an opera.
"Benvenuto Cellini" was the subject finally chosen. It took a long
time to write, and perhaps would never have been finished, since
Berlioz was so tied to bread-winning journalistic labors, if a kind
friend--Ernest Legouve--had not offered to lend him two thousand
francs. This loan made him independent for a little time, and gave him
the n