Musicians of To-Day | Page 8

who
brought him to England became bankrupt. He was haunted by thoughts
of rents and doctors' bills. Towards the end of his life his financial

affairs mended a little, and a year before his death he uttered these sad
words: "I suffer a great deal, but I do not want to die now--I have
enough to live upon."
One of the most tragic episodes of his life is that of the symphony
which he did not write because of his poverty. One wonders why the
page that finishes his _Mémoires_ is not better known, for it touches
the depths of human suffering.
At the time when his wife's health was causing him most anxiety, there
came to him one night an inspiration for a symphony. The first part of
it--an allegro in two-four time in A minor--was ringing in his head. He
got up and began to write, and then he thought,
"If I begin this bit, I shall have to write the whole symphony. It will be
a big thing, and I shall have to spend three or four months over it. That
means I shall write no more articles and earn no money. And when the
symphony is finished I shall not be able to resist the temptation of
having it copied (which will mean an expense of a thousand or twelve
hundred francs), and then of having it played. I shall give a concert, and
the receipts will barely cover half the cost. I shall lose what I have not
got; the poor invalid will lack necessities; and I shall be able to pay
neither my personal expenses nor my son's fees when he goes on board
ship.... These thoughts made me shudder, and I threw down my pen,
saying, 'Bah! to-morrow I shall have forgotten the symphony.' The next
night I heard the allegro clearly, and seemed to see it written down. I
was filled with feverish agitation; I sang the theme; I was going to get
up ... but the reflections of the day before restrained me; I steeled
myself against the temptation, and clung to the thought of forgetting it.
At last I went to sleep; and the next day, on waking, all remembrance
of it had, indeed, gone for ever."[23]
That page makes one shudder. Suicide is less distressing. Neither
Beethoven nor Wagner suffered such tortures. What would Wagner
have done on a like occasion? He would have written the symphony
without doubt--and he would have been right. But poor Berlioz, who
was weak enough to sacrifice his duty to love, was, alas! also heroic
enough to sacrifice his genius to duty.[24]

[Footnote 23: _Mémoires_, II, 349.]
[Footnote 24: Berlioz has already touchingly replied to any reproaches
that might be made in the words that follow the story I have quoted.
"'Coward!' some young enthusiast will say, 'you ought to have written it;
you should have been bold.' Ah, young man, you who call me coward
did not have to look upon what I did; had you done so you, too, would
have had no choice. My wife was there, half dead, only able to moan;
she had to have three nurses, and a doctor every day to visit her; and I
was sure of the disastrous result of any musical adventure. No, I was
not a coward; I know I was only human. I like to believe that I
honoured art in proving that she had left me enough reason to
distinguish between courage and cruelty" (_Mémoires_, II, 350).]
And in spite of all this material misery and the sorrow of being
misunderstood, people speak of the glory he enjoyed. What did his
compeers think of him--at least, those who called themselves such? He
knew that Mendelssohn, whom he loved and esteemed, and who styled
himself his "good friend," despised him and did not recognise his
genius.[25] The large-hearted Schumann, who was, with the exception
of Liszt,[26] the only person who intuitively felt his greatness, admitted
that he used sometimes to wonder if he ought to be looked upon as "a
genius or a musical adventurer."[27]
[Footnote 25: In a note in the _Mémoires_, Berlioz publishes a letter of
Mendelssohn's which protests his "good friendship," and he writes
these bitter words: "I have just seen in a volume of Mendelssohn's
Letters what his friendship for me consisted of. He says to his mother,
in what is plainly a description of myself, '---- is a perfect caricature,
without a spark of talent ... there are times when I should like to
swallow him up'" (_Mémoires_, II, 48). Berlioz did not add that
Mendelssohn also said: "They pretend that Berlioz seeks lofty ideals in
art. I don't think so at all. What he wants is to get himself married." The
injustice of these insulting words will