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In his Confessions Jean-Jacques Rousseau tells the story of his life, from the formative experience of his humble childhood in Geneva, through the achievement of international fame as novelist and philosopher in Paris, to his wanderings as an exile, persecuted by governments and alienated from the world of modern civilization. In trying to explain who he was and how he came to be the object of others' admiration and abuse, Rousseau analyses with unique insight the relationship between an elusive but essential inner self and the variety of social identities he was led to adopt. The book vividly illustrates the mixture of moods and motives that underlie the writing of autobiography: defiance and vulnerability, self-exploration and denial, passion, puzzlement, and detachment. Above all, Confessions is Rousseau's search, through every resource of language, to convey what he despairs of putting into words: the personal quality of one's own existence.
255 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1773
There are times when I am so unlike myself that I could be taken for someone else of an entirely opposite character.
I have always laughed at the false ingenuousness of Montaigne, who, feigning to confess his faults, takes great care not to give himself any, except such as are amiable; whilst I, who have ever thought, and still think myself, considering everything, the best of men, felt there is no human being, however pure he may be, who does not internally conceal some odious vice.
I know my heart, and have studied mankind; I am not made like anyone I have been acquainted with, perhaps like no one in existence; if not better, I am least claim originality, and whether Nature did wisely in breaking the mold with which she formed me, can only be determined after having read this work.
Toutes les fois qu’avec le livre de Philidor ou celui de Stamma j’ai voulu m’exercer à étudier des parties, la même chose m’est arrivée; et après m’être épuisé de fatigue, je me suis trouvé plus faible qu’auparavant. Du reste, que j’aie abandonné les échecs, ou qu’en en jouant je me sois remis en haleine, je n’ai jamais avancé d’un cran depuis cette première séance, et je me suis toujours retrouvé au même point où j’étais en la finissant.
Every time I tried to study the game using the books of Philidor or Stamma, the same thing happened; after tiring myself out, I found I played even worse than I had previously. And in general, whether I stopped playing or tried hard, I never got further than I had during that first session, and always found myself at the point I had reached on finishing it.