Pierre Curie

by Marie Curie

Although my parents adopted a university career, they continued to keep in close touch with their numerous family in the country. It was with their relatives that I frequently spent my vacation, living in all freedom and finding opportunities to know the field life by which I was deeply attracted. To these conditions, so different from the usual villegiature, I believe, I owe my love for the country and nature.

Born at Warsaw, on the 7th of November, 1867, I was the last of five children, but my oldest sister died at the early age of fourteen, and we were left, three sisters and a brother. Cruelly struck by the loss of her daughter and worn away by a grave illness, my mother died at forty-two, leaving her husband in the deepest sorrow with his children. I was then only nine years old, and my eldest brother was hardly thirteen.

This catastrophe was the first great sorrow of my life and threw me into a profound depression. My mother had an exceptional personality. With all her intellectuality she had a big heart and a very high sense of duty. And, though possessing infinite indulgence and good nature, she still held in the family a remarkable moral authority. She had an ardent piety (my parents were both Catholics), but she was never intolerant; differences in religious belief did not trouble her; she was equally kind to any one not sharing her opinions. Her influence over me was extraordinary, for in me the natural love of the little girl for her mother was united with a passionate admiration.

Very much affected by the death of my mother, my father devoted himself entirely to his work and to the care of our education. His professional obligations were heavy and left him little leisure time. For many years we all felt weighing on us the loss of the one who had been the soul of the house.

We all started our studies very young. I was only six years old, and, because I was the youngest and smallest in the class, was frequently brought forward to recite when there were visitors. This was a great trial to me, because of my timidity; I wanted always to run away and hide. My father, an excellent educator, was interested in our work and knew how to direct it, but the conditions of our education were difficult. We began our studies in private schools and finished them in those of the government.

Warsaw was then under Russian domination, and one of the worst aspects of this control was the oppression exerted on the school and the child. The private schools directed by Poles were closely watched by the police and overburdened with the necessity of teaching the Russian language even to children so young that they could scarcely speak their native Polish. Nevertheless, since the teachers were nearly all of Polish nationality, they endeavored in every possible way to mitigate the difficulties resulting from the national persecution. These schools, however, could not legally give diplomas, which were obtainable only in those of the government.

The latter, entirely Russian, were directly opposed to the Polish national spirit. All instruction was given in Russian, by Russian professors, who, being hostile to the Polish nation, treated their pupils as enemies. Men of moral and intellectual distinction could scarcely agree to teach in schools where an alien attitude was forced upon them. So what the pupils were taught was of questionable value, and the moral atmosphere was altogether unbearable. Constantly held in suspicion and spied upon, the children knew that a single conversation in Polish, or an imprudent word, might seriously harm, not only themselves, but also their families. Amidst these hostilities, they lost all the joy of life, and precocious feelings of distrust and indignation weighed upon their childhood. On the other side, this abnormal situation resulted in exciting the patriotic feeling of Polish youths to the highest degree.

Yet of this period of my early youth, darkened though it was by mourning and the sorrow of oppression, I still keep more than one pleasant remembrance. In our quiet but occupied life, reunions of relatives and friends of our family brought some joy. My father was very interested in literature and well acquainted with Polish and foreign poetry; he even composed poetry himself and was able to translate it from foreign languages into Polish in a very successful way. His little poems on family events were our delight. On Saturday evenings he used to recite or read to us the masterpieces of Polish prose and poetry. These evenings were for us a great pleasure and a source of renewed patriotic feelings.

Since my childhood I have had a strong taste for poetry, and I willingly learned by heart long passages from our great poets, the favorite ones being Mickiewecz, Krasinski and Slowacki. This taste was even more developed when I became acquainted with foreign literatures; my early studies included the knowledge of French, German, and Russian, and I soon became familiar with the fine works written in these languages. Later I felt the need of knowing English and succeeded in acquiring the knowledge of that language and its literature.

My musical studies have been very scarce. My mother was a musician and had a beautiful voice. She wanted us to have musical training. After her death, having no more encouragement from her, I soon abandoned this effort, which I often regretted afterwards.