Sothe year has come to an end, Enrico, and it is well that you should be left on the last day with the image of the sublime child, who gave his life for his friend. You are now about to part from your teachers and companions, and I must impart to you some sad news. The separation will last not three months, but forever. Your father, for reasons connected with his profession, is obliged to leave Turin, and we are all to go with him.We shall go next autumn. You will have to enter a new school. You are sorry for this, are you not? For I am sure that you love your old school, where twice a day, for the space of four years, you have experienced the pleasure of working, where for so long a time, you have seen, at stated hours, the same boys, the same teachers, the same parents, and your own father or mother awaiting you with a smile; your old school, where your mind first unclosed, where you have found so many kind companions, where every word that you have heard has had your good for its object, and where you have not suffered a single displeasure which has not been useful to you! Then bear this affection with you, and bid these boys a hearty farewell. Some of them will experience misfortunes, they will soon lose their fathers and mothers; others will die young; others, perhaps, will nobly shed their blood in battle; many will become brave and honest workmen, the fathers of honest and industrious workmen like themselves; and who knows whether there may not also be amongthem one who will render great services to his country, and make his name glorious. Then part from them with affection; leave a portion of your soul here, in this great family into which you entered as a baby, and from which you emerge a young lad, and which your father and mother loved so dearly, because you were so much beloved by it.School is a mother, my Enrico. It took you from my arms when you could hardly speak, and now it returns you to me, strong, good, studious; blessings on it, and may you never forget it more, my son. Oh, it is impossible that you should forget it! You will become a man, you will make the tour of the world, you will see immense cities and wonderful monuments, and you will remember many among them; but that modest white edifice, with those closed shutters and that little garden, where the first flower of your intelligence budded, you will perceive until the last day of your life, as I shall always behold the house in which I heard your voice for the first time.Thy Mother.
Sothe year has come to an end, Enrico, and it is well that you should be left on the last day with the image of the sublime child, who gave his life for his friend. You are now about to part from your teachers and companions, and I must impart to you some sad news. The separation will last not three months, but forever. Your father, for reasons connected with his profession, is obliged to leave Turin, and we are all to go with him.
We shall go next autumn. You will have to enter a new school. You are sorry for this, are you not? For I am sure that you love your old school, where twice a day, for the space of four years, you have experienced the pleasure of working, where for so long a time, you have seen, at stated hours, the same boys, the same teachers, the same parents, and your own father or mother awaiting you with a smile; your old school, where your mind first unclosed, where you have found so many kind companions, where every word that you have heard has had your good for its object, and where you have not suffered a single displeasure which has not been useful to you! Then bear this affection with you, and bid these boys a hearty farewell. Some of them will experience misfortunes, they will soon lose their fathers and mothers; others will die young; others, perhaps, will nobly shed their blood in battle; many will become brave and honest workmen, the fathers of honest and industrious workmen like themselves; and who knows whether there may not also be amongthem one who will render great services to his country, and make his name glorious. Then part from them with affection; leave a portion of your soul here, in this great family into which you entered as a baby, and from which you emerge a young lad, and which your father and mother loved so dearly, because you were so much beloved by it.
School is a mother, my Enrico. It took you from my arms when you could hardly speak, and now it returns you to me, strong, good, studious; blessings on it, and may you never forget it more, my son. Oh, it is impossible that you should forget it! You will become a man, you will make the tour of the world, you will see immense cities and wonderful monuments, and you will remember many among them; but that modest white edifice, with those closed shutters and that little garden, where the first flower of your intelligence budded, you will perceive until the last day of your life, as I shall always behold the house in which I heard your voice for the first time.
Thy Mother.
Tuesday, 4th.
Here are the examinations at last! Nothing else is to be heard under discussion, in the streets in the vicinity of the school, from boys, fathers, mothers, and even tutors; examinations, points, themes, averages, dismissals, promotions: all utter the same words. Yesterday morning there was composition; this morning there is arithmetic. It was touching to see all the parents, as they conducted their sons to school, giving them their last advice in the street, and many mothers accompanied their sons to their seats, to see whether the inkstand was filled, and to try their pens, and they still continued to hover round the entrance, and to say:
“Courage! Attention! I entreat you.”
Our assistant-master was Coatti, the one with the black beard, who mimics the voice of a lion, and never punishes any one. There were boys who were white with fear. When the master broke the seal of the letter from the town-hall, and drew out the problem, not a breath was audible. He announced the problem loudly, staring now at one, now at another, with terrible eyes; but we understood that had he been able to announce the answer also, so that we might all get promoted, he would have been delighted.
After an hour of work many began to grow weary, for the problem was difficult. One cried. Crossi dealt himself blows on the head. And many of them are not to blame, poor boys, for not knowing, for they have not had much time to study, and have been neglected by their parents. But Providence was at hand. You should have seen Derossi, and what trouble he took to help them; how ingenious he was in getting a figure passed on, and in suggesting an operation, without allowing himself to be caught; so anxious for all that he appeared to be our teacher himself. Garrone, too, who is strong in arithmetic, helped all he could; and he even assisted Nobis, who, finding himself in a quandary, was quite gentle.
Stardi remained motionless for more than an hour, with his eyes on the problem, and his fists on his temples, and then he finished the whole thing in five minutes. The master made his round among the benches, saying:—
“Be calm! Be calm! I advise you to be calm!”
And when he saw that any one was discouraged, he opened his mouth, as though about to devour him, in imitation of a lion, in order to make him laugh and inspire him with courage. Toward eleven o’clock, peeping down through the blinds, I perceived many parents pacing the street in their impatience. There was Precossi’s father, in his blue blouse, who had deserted his shop, with his face still quite black. There was Crossi’s mother, the vegetable-vender; and Nelli’s mother, dressed in black, who could not stand still.
A little before mid-day, my father arrived and raised his eyes to my window; my dear father! At noon we had all finished. And it was a sight at the close of school! Every one ran to meet the boys, to ask questions, to turn over the leaves of the copy-books to compare them with the work of their comrades.
“How many operations? What is the total? And subtraction? And the answer? And the punctuation of decimals?”
All the masters were running about hither and thither, summoned in a hundred directions.
My father instantly took from my hand the rough copy, looked at it, and said, “That’s well.”
Beside us was the blacksmith, Precossi, who was also inspecting his son’s work, but rather uneasily, and not comprehending it. He turned to my father:—
“Will you do me the favor to tell me the total?”
My father read the number. The other gazed and reckoned. “Brave little one!” he exclaimed, in perfect content. And my father and he gazed at each other for a moment with a kindly smile, like two friends. My father offered his hand, and the other shook it; and they parted, saying, “Farewell until the oral examination.”
“Until the oral examination.”
After proceeding a few paces, we heard a falsetto voice which made us turn our heads. It was the blacksmith-ironmonger singing.
Friday, 7th.
This morning we had our oral examinations. At eight o’clock we were all in the schoolroom, and at a quarter past they began to call us, four at a time, into the big hall, where there was a large table covered with a green cloth; round it were seated the head-master and four other masters, among them our own. I was one of the first called out. Poor master! how plainly I perceived this morning that you are really fond of us! While they were interrogating the others, he had no eyes for any one but us. He was troubled when we were uncertain in our replies; he grew serene when we gave a fine answer; he heard everything, and made us a thousand signs with his hand and head, to say to us, “Good!—no!—pay attention!—slower!—courage!”
He would have suggested everything to us, had he been able to talk. If the fathers of all these pupils had been in his place, one after the other, they could not have done more. They would have cried “Thanks!” ten times, in the face of them all. And when the other masters said to me, “That is well; you may go,” his eyes beamed with pleasure.
I returned at once to the schoolroom to wait for my father. Nearly all were still there. I sat down beside Garrone. I was not at all cheerful; I was thinking that it was the last time that we should be near each other for an hour. I had not yet told Garrone that I should not go through the fourth grade with him, that I was to leave Turin with my father. He knew nothing. And he sat there, doubled up together, with his big head reclining on the desk, making ornaments round the photograph of his father, who was dressed like a machinist, and who is a tall, large man, with a bull neck and a serious, honest look, like himself. And as he sat thus bent together, with his blouse a little open in front, I saw on his bare and robust breast the gold cross which Nelli’s mother had presented to him, when she learned that he protected her son. But it was necessary to tell him sometime that I was going away. I said to him:—
“Garrone, my father is going away from Turin this autumn, for good. He asked me if I were going, also. I replied that I was.”
“You will not go through the fourth grade with us?” he said to me. I answered “No.”
Then he did not speak to me for a while, but went on with his drawing. Then, without raising his head, he inquired:
“And shall you remember your comrades of the third grade?”
“Yes,” I told him, “all of them; but you more than all the rest. Who can forget you?”
He looked at me fixedly and seriously, with a gaze that said a thousand things, but he said nothing; he only offered me his left hand, pretending to continue his drawing with the other; and I pressed it between mine, that strong and loyal hand. At that moment the master entered hastily, with a red face, and said, in a low, quick voice, with a joyful intonation:—
“Good, all is going well now, let the rest come forwards;bravi, boys! Courage! I am extremely well satisfied.” And, in order to show us his contentment, and to exhilarate us, as he went out in haste, he made a motion of stumbling and of catching at the wall, to prevent a fall; he whom we had never seen laugh!The thing appeared so strange, that, instead of laughing, all remained stupefied; all smiled, no one laughed.
Well, I do not know,—that act of childish joy caused both pain and tenderness. All his reward was that moment of cheerfulness,—it was the compensation for nine months of kindness, patience, and even sorrow! For that he had toiled so long; for that he had so often gone to give lessons to a sick boy, poor teacher! That and nothing more was what he demanded of us, in exchange for so much affection and so much care!
And, now, it seems to me that I shall always see him in the performance of that act, when I recall him through many years; and when I have become a man, he will still be alive, and we shall meet, and I will tell him about that deed which touched my heart; and I will give him a kiss on his white head.
Monday, 10th.
At one o’clock we all assembled once more for the last time at the school, to hear the results of the examinations, and to take our little promotion books. The street was thronged with parents, who had even invaded the big hall, and many had made their way into the class-rooms, thrusting themselves even to the master’s desk: in our room they filled the entire space between the wall and the front benches. There were Garrone’s father, Derossi’s mother, the blacksmith Precossi, Coretti, Signora Nelli, the vegetable-vender, the father of the little mason, Stardi’s father, and many others whom I had never seen; and on all sides a whispering and a hum were audible, that seemed to proceed from the square outside.
The master entered, and a profound silence ensued. He had the list in his hand, and began to read at once.
“Abatucci, promoted, sixty seventieths. Archini, promoted, fifty-five seventieths.”—The little mason promoted; Crossi promoted. Then he read loudly:—
“Ernesto Derossi, promoted, seventy seventieths, and the first prize.”
All the parents who were there—and they all knew him—said:—
“Bravo, bravo, Derossi!” And he shook his golden curls, with his easy and beautiful smile, and looked at his mother, who made him a salute with her hand.
Garoffi, Garrone, the Calabrian promoted. Then three or four sent back; and one of them began to cry because his father, who was at the entrance, made a menacing gesture at him. But the master said to the father:—
“No, sir, excuse me; it is not always the boy’s fault; it is often his misfortune. And that is the case here.” Then he read:—
“Nelli, promoted, sixty-two seventieths.” His mother sent him a kiss from her fan. Stardi, promoted, with sixty-seven seventieths! but, at hearing this fine fate, he did not even smile, or remove his fists from his temples. The last was Votini, who had come very finely dressed and brushed,—promoted. After reading the last name, the master rose and said:—
“Boys, this is the last time that we shall find ourselves assembled together in this room. We have been together a year, and now we part good friends, do we not? I am sorry to part from you, my dear boys.” He interrupted himself, then he resumed: “If I have sometimes failed in patience, if sometimes, without intending it, I have been unjust, or too severe, forgive me.”
“No, no!” cried the parents and many of the scholars,—“no, master, never!”
“Forgive me,” repeated the master, “and think well of me. Next year you will not be with me; but I shall see you again, and you will always abide in my heart. Farewell until we meet again, boys!”
So saying, he stepped forward among us, and we all offered him our hands, as we stood up on the seats, and grasped him by the arms, and by the skirts of his coat; many kissed him; fifty voices cried in concert:
“Farewell until we meet again, teacher!—Thanks, teacher!—May your health be good!—Remember us!”
When I went out, I felt oppressed by the commotion. We all ran out confusedly. Boys were emerging from all the other class-rooms also. There was a great mixing and tumult of boys and parents, bidding the masters and the mistresses good by, and exchanging greetings among themselves. The mistress with the red feather had four or five children on top of her, and twenty around her, depriving her of breath; and they had half torn off the little nun’s bonnet, and thrust a dozen bunches of flowers in the button-holes of her black dress, and in her pockets. Many were making much of Robetti, who had that day, for the first time, abandoned his crutches. On all sides the words were audible:—
“Good by until next year!—Until the twentieth of October!” We greeted each other, too. Ah! now all disagreements were forgotten at that moment! Votini, who had always been so jealous of Derossi, was the first to throw himself on him with open arms. I saluted the little mason, and kissed him, just at the moment when he was making me his last hare’s face, dear boy! I saluted Precossi. I saluted Garoffi, who announced to me the approach of his last lottery, and gave me a little paper weight of majolica, with a broken corner; I said farewell to all the others. It was beautiful to see poor Nelli clinging to Garrone, so that he could not be taken from him. All thronged around Garrone, and it was, “Farewell, Garrone!—Good by until we meet!” And they touched him, and pressed his hands, and made much of him, that brave, sainted boy; and his father was perfectly amazed, as he looked on and smiled.
Garrone was the last one whom I embraced in the street, and I stifled a sob against his breast: he kissed my brow. Then I ran to my father and mother. My father asked me: “Have you spoken to all of your comrades?”
I replied that I had. “If there is any one of them whom you have wronged, go and ask his pardon, and beg him to forget it. Is there no one?”
“No one,” I answered.
“Farewell, then,” said my father with a voice full of emotion, bestowing a last glance on the schoolhouse. And my mother repeated: “Farewell!”
And I could not say anything.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTEThe original language and spelling have been retained, except where noted. Minimal typographical errors concerning punctuation have been corrected without notes.The signatures at the end of the following sectionsMY MOTHER.POETRY.GARIBALDI.ITALY.MY FATHER.THE LAST PAGE FROM MY MOTHER.are missing in the original text and have been added according to the Italian editions of the book.The following changes were made to the original text:Page 97: two battalions of Italian infantry and twocannonchanged into: two battalions of Italian infantry and twocannonsPage 117: replied, thatthe theman was a mason who hadchanged into: replied, thattheman was a mason who hadPage 177:Ferucciostood listening three paces away, leaningchanged into:Ferrucciostood listening three paces away, leaningPage 201: with the wound on his neck, who was withGarabaldi,changed into: with the wound on his neck, who was withGaribaldi,Page 292: whichanouncedthe field artillery; and then thechanged into: whichannouncedthe field artillery; and then the
The original language and spelling have been retained, except where noted. Minimal typographical errors concerning punctuation have been corrected without notes.
The signatures at the end of the following sections
are missing in the original text and have been added according to the Italian editions of the book.
The following changes were made to the original text: