Confession

Author: (French) Rousseau
Publisher:
Publication Date: 1997-01-01
Features: My uncle was just like my father—a man who loved fun and entertainment. He, like my father, did not know his responsibilities and showed great concern for us. My aunt was a somewhat devout woman, similar to a pious believer, but she preferred to sing religious hymns rather than manage our education. They gave us almost complete freedom, but we never let ourselves run wild. Myself and my cousin were inseparable; as long as we were together, we were content, and we had no desire to associate with the mischievous children of our age. Therefore, we never developed any carefree or rebellious habits. I would even be wrong to call us idle, for we never truly loafed around. Fortunately, the games we loved kept us at home, and we had no inclination to go out to play. We made birdcages, flutes, three-ball games, drums, small houses, toy rifles, and slingshots. We imitated our learned grandfather and learned to make clocks, often breaking his tools in the process. We were particularly fond of scribbling, drawing, coloring, and painting on paper, wasting paint in the process. An Italian traveling performer named Gambacorta came to Geneva. We saw his performance once, but we were no longer interested in going afterward. However, he had some puppets, so we also started making them. His puppets performed comic actions; we also wrote comedies for our own puppets. Without ventriloquist whistles, we learned to imitate clown voices and performed those amusing comedies. Our poor, kind parents endured our performances and listened patiently. But one day, after my uncle Bernard finished reading a beautiful sermon he had written at home, we abandoned the comedy and began writing sermons ourselves. I admit, such trivial matters are not particularly interesting, but they demonstrate how much guidance our early education needed to prevent us, at such a young age, from running wild with almost complete control over our time and children. We rarely needed companions, and even when the opportunity arose, we were not particularly enthusiastic. When we went for walks, we saw other children playing but were not envious or even thought about joining them. Friendship filled our hearts, and as long as we were together, even the simplest games brought us great joy. When I came before Madame Valence, I immediately relaxed upon seeing her expression. As soon as she spoke, I trembled, fell at her feet, and in an overwhelming wave of joy, pressed my lips to her hand. I could not tell if she had heard any rumors about me, for her face showed no surprise or sorrow. She said in a warm voice, "Poor child, you're back? I knew you were too young to travel so far. But I'm glad it wasn't as bad as I feared." Then she asked me to tell her what had happened. There wasn't much to say, but I spoke honestly, omitting some details, but I did not excuse myself or make excuses. Among those we love, our emotions enrich our wisdom and souls, and we do not need to seek ideas elsewhere. I lived with Therese just as comfortably as I did with my mother. Her mother, having been educated early on with the Marchioness de Montbéliard, was quite proud and aspired to be a learned woman, wanting to guide her daughter. However, due to her cunning, I...