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.