Venture had taught me this air with the bass, set to other words, by the help of which I had retained it: thus at the end of my composition, I put this minuet and his bass, suppressing the words, and uttering it for my own as confidently as if I had been speaking to the inhabitants of the moon.They assemble to perform my piece; Iexplain to each the movement, taste of execution, and references to his part- I was fully occupied.They were five or six minutes preparing, which were for me so many ages: at length, everything is adjusted, myself in a conspicuous situation, a fine roll of paper in my hand, gravely preparing to beat time.I gave four or five strokes with my paper, attending with "Attention!" they begin- No, never since French operas existed was there such a confused discord! The musicians could not keep from laughing; the audience opened their eyes wide and would like to shut their ears, but that was impossible.The musicians made merry and scraped their violins enough to burst your eardrums.I had the constancy to go through the performance, but large drops of perspiration were standing on my forehead, and it was only shame that prevented me from running away.I heard the assistants whisper to each other or rather to me: "It is pretty hard to stand!"Poor Jean-Jacques, in this cruel moment you little thought, that one day, in the presence of the King of France and his whole court, your sounds should produce murmurs of surprise and applaud, and that lovely women in the boxes should tell each other in a whisper: "What charming music! What beautiful sounds!"Next day, one of the musicians, named Lutold, came to see me and was kind enough to congratulate me on my success.The profound conviction of my folly, shame, regret, and the state of despair to which I was reduced, with the impossibility of concealing the cruel agitation of my heart, made me open it to him; giving, therefore, a, loose to my tears, not content with owning my ignorance, I told all, conjuring him to secrecy; he kept his word, as every one will suppose.
The same evening, all Lausanne knew who I was, but what is remarkable, no one seemed to know, not even the good Perrotet, who (notwithstanding what had happened) continued to lodge and board me.
I led a melancholy life here; the consequences of such an essay had not rendered Lausanne a very agreeable residence.Scholars did not present themselves in crowds, not a single female, and no person of the city.I had only two or three great dunces, as stupid as I was ignorant, who fatigued me to death, and in my hands were not likely to edify much.
At length, I was sent for to a house, where a little serpent of a girl amused herself by showing me a parcel of music that I could not read a note of, and which she had the malice to sing before her master, to teach him how it should be executed; for I was so unable to read an air at first sight, that in the charming concert I have just described, I could not possibly follow the execution a moment, or know whether they played truly what lay before them, and I myself had composed.
In the midst of so many humiliating circumstances, I had the pleasing consolation, from time to time, of receiving letters from my two charming friends.I have ever found the utmost consolatory virtue in the fair; when in disgrace, nothing softens my affliction more than to be sensible that an amiable woman is interested for me.
This correspondence ceased soon after, and was never renewed: indeed it was my own fault, for in changing situations I neglected sending my address, and forced by necessity to think perpetually of myself, Isoon forgot them.
It is a long time since I mentioned Madam de Warrens, but it should not be supposed I had forgotten her; never was she a moment absent from my thoughts.I anxiously wished to find her, not merely because she was necessary to my subsistence, but because she was infinitely more necessary to my heart.My attachment to her (though lively and tender, as it really was) did not prevent my loving others, but then it was not in the same manner.All equally claimed my tenderness for their charms, but it was those charms alone I loved, my passion would not have survived them, while Madam de Warrens might have become old or ugly without my loving her the less tenderly.My heart had entirely transmitted to herself the homage it first paid to her beauty, and whatever change she might experience, while she remained herself, my sentiments could not change.I was sensible how much gratitude I owed to her, but in truth, I never thought of it, and whether she served me or not, it would ever have been the same thing.I loved her neither from duty, interest, nor convenience; Iloved her because I was born to love her.During my attachment to another, I own this affection was in some measure deranged; I did not think so frequently of her, but still with the same pleasure, and never, in love or otherwise, did I think of her without feeling that I could expect no true happiness in life while in a state of separation.