We began together a course of chemistry at Rouelles. That I might
be nearer at hand, I left my Hotel St. Quentin, and went to lodge at
the Tennis Court, Rue Verdelet, which leads into the Rue Platiere,
where M. Dupin lived. There, in consequence of a cold neglected, I
contracted an inflammation of the lungs that had like to have
carried me off. In my younger days I frequently suffered from
inflammatory disorders, pleurisies, and especially quinsies, to
which I was very subject, and which frequently brought me near
enough to death to familiarize me to its image. The evening
preceding the day on which I was taken ill, I went to an opera by
Royer; the name I have forgotten. Notwithstanding my prejudice in
favor of the talents of others, which has ever made me distrustful
of my own, I still thought the music feeble, and devoid of animation
and invention. I sometimes had the vanity to flatter myself: I think I
could do better than that. But the terrible idea I had formed of the
composition of an opera, and the importance I heard men of the
profession affix to such an undertaking, instantly discouraged me, and
made me blush at having so much as thought of it. Besides, where was I
to find a person to write the words, and one who would give himself
the trouble of turning the poetry to my liking? These ideas of music
and the opera had possession of my mind during my illness, and in
the delirium of my fever I composed songs, duets, and choruses. I am
certain I composed two or three little pieces, di prima intenzione,*
perhaps worthy of the admiration of masters, could they have heard
them executed.
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