My faults

Now I return to the letters in which Mama speaks to you about Céline and me. This is the best means I can use to have you understand my character. Here is a passage where my faults shine forth with great brilliance: “Céline is playing blocks with the little one, and they argue every once in a while. Céline gives in to gain a pearl for her crown. I am obliged to correct this poor little baby who gets into frightful tantrums; when things don’t go just right and according to her way of thinking, she rolls on the floor in desperation like one without any hope. There are times when it gets too much for her and she literally chokes. She’s a nervous child, but she is very good, very intelligent, and remembers everything.”¹⁷

You can see, dear Mother, how far I was from being a faultless little child! They weren’t even able to say about me: “She’s good when she’s asleep” because at night I was more restless than during the day, throwing off the blankets and sending them in all directions and (while still sleeping) banging myself against the wood of my little bed. The pain would awaken me and I’d cry out: “Mama, I bumped myself!” Poor little Mother was obliged to get up and convince herself that I really had bruises on my forehead, that I really bumped myself!  She’d cover me up and then go back to bed, but in a short time I would begin bumping myself again, so much so they had to tie me in bed. And so every evening, little Céline came to tie me up with a lot of cords that were to prevent the little rascal from bumping herself and waking up her Mama; this was so successful a mean that I was, from then on, good when sleeping.

There was another fault I had when wide awake, which Mama doesn’t mention in her letters, and this was an excessive self-love. I will give only two examples of this in order not to prolong the recital. One day, Mama said: “Little Thérèse, if you kiss the ground I’ll give you a sou.” A sou was a fortune at the time and to get it I didn’t have to lower my dignity too much, my little frame didn’t put much of a distance between my lips and the ground. And still my pride revolted at the thought of “kissing the ground”; so standing up straight, I said to Mama: “Oh! no, little Mother, I would prefer not to have the sou!”

Another time we had to go to Grogny to Mme. Monnier’s home. Mama told Marie to dress me in my Sky-blue frock with the lace trimming but not to leave my arms bare left the Sun burn them. I allowed myself to be dressed with the indifference a child of my age should really have, but I thought within myself that I would look much more pretty with my arms bare.