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RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD
I
FIRST MEMORIES
I SHOULD like to know whether any one can
definitely fix that moment of his existence when,
for the first time, a distinct conception of his own
personality, his own ego, the first glimmer of
conscious life, arose within him. I cannot, in the least.
When I begin to sort out and classify my earliest
recollections, the same thing always happens with
me: these recollections disperse before me. At times it
seems to me that I have found that first definite
impression which has left a distinct trace in my memory;
but as soon as I concentrate my thoughts on it for a
while, other impressions, of a still more remote period,
begin to peep forth and acquire form. And the
difficulty of it is that I cannot myself in the least
determine which of these impressions I really remember;
that is to say, I cannot decide which of them I really
lived through, and which of them I only heard about
later on,—in my childhood,—and imagine that I
recall, when, in reality, I only remember the accounts
of them. Worse still, I can never succeed in evoking
a single one of these original recollections in all its
purity; I involuntarily add to it something foreign
during the very process of recalling it.
At any rate, this picture is among the first which
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