[Footnote 92:  One must make mention here of the poorness and awkwardness of Berlioz’s harmony—­which is incontestable—­since some critics and composers have been able to see (Am I saying something ridiculous?—­Wagner would say it for me) nothing but “faults of orthography” in his genius.  To these terrible grammarians—­who, two hundred years ago, criticised Moliere on account of his “jargon”—­I shall reply by quoting Schumann.

“Berlioz’s harmonies, in spite of the diversity of their effect, obtained from very scanty material, are distinguished by a sort of simplicity, and even by a solidity and conciseness, which one only meets with in Beethoven....  One may find here and there harmonies that are commonplace and trivial, and others that are incorrect—­at least according to the old rules.  In some places his harmonies have a fine effect, and in others their result is vague and indeterminate, or it sounds badly, or is too elaborate and far-fetched.  Yet with Berlioz all this somehow takes on a certain distinction.  If one attempted to correct it, or even slightly to modify it—­for a skilled musician it would be child’s play—­the music would become dull” (Article on the Symphonie fantastique).

But let us leave that “grammatical discussion” as well as what Wagner wrote on “the childish question as to whether it is permitted or not to introduce ‘neologisms’ in matters of harmony and melody” (Wagner to Berlioz, 22 February, 1860).  As Schumann has said, “Look out for fifths, and then leave us in peace.”]

As soon as the profound originality of Berlioz’s music has been grasped, one understands why it encountered, and still encounters, so much secret hostility.  How many accomplished musicians of distinction and learning, who pay honour to artistic tradition, are incapable of understanding Berlioz because they cannot bear the air of liberty breathed by his music.  They are so used to thinking in German, that Berlioz’s speech upsets and shocks them.  I can well believe it.  It is the first time a French musician has dared to think in French; and that is the reason why I warned you of the danger of accepting too meekly German ideas about Berlioz.  Men like Weingartner, Richard Strauss, and Mottl—­thoroughbred musicians—­are, without doubt, able to appreciate Berlioz’s genius better and more quickly than we French musicians.  But I rather mistrust the kind of appreciation they feel for a spirit so opposed to their own.  It is for France and French people to learn to read his thoughts; they are intimately theirs, and one day will give them their salvation.

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