reflection, the mere introduction of unaccustomed forms, of
unused modes, must present an obstacle to the immediate
comprehension of any very original composition. The surprise,
nay, the fatigue, caused by the novelty of the singular
impressions which it awakens, will make it appear to many as if
written in a language of which they were ignorant, and which that
reason will in itself be sufficient to induce them to pronounce a
barbarous dialect. The trouble of accustoming the ear to it will
repel many who will, in consequence, refuse to make a study of
it. Through the more vivid and youthful organizations, less
enthralled by the chains of habit; through the more ardent
spirits, won first by curiosity, then filled with passion for the
new idiom, must it penetrate and win the resisting and opposing
public, which will finally catch the meaning, the aim, the
construction, and at last render justice to its qualities, and
acknowledge whatever beauty it may contain. Musicians who do not
restrict themselves within the limits of conventional routine,
have, consequently, more need than other artists of the aid of
time. They cannot hope that death will bring that instantaneous
plus-value to their works which it gives to those of the
painters. No musician could renew, to the profit of his
manuscripts, the deception practiced by one of the great Flemish
painters, who, wishing in his lifetime to benefit by his future
glory, directed his wife to spread abroad the news of his death,
in order that the pictures with which he had taken care to cover
the walls of his studio, might suddenly increase in value!

Whatever may be the present popularity of any part of the
productions of one, broken, by suffering long before taken by
death, it is nevertheless to be presumed that posterity will