JULY.
THE LAST PAGE FROM MY MOTHER.
Saturday, 1st.
SO the 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 among them 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.
THE EXAMINATIONS.
Tuesday, 4th.
Here are the examinations at last! Nothing else is to be heard underdiscussion, 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. Yesterdaymorning there was composition; this morning there is arithmetic. It wastouching to see all the parents, as they conducted their sons to school,giving them their last advice in the street, and many mothersaccompanied their sons to their seats, to see whether the inkstand wasfilled, and to try their pens, and they still continued to hover roundthe entrance, and to say:
"Courage! Attention! I entreat you."
Our assistant-master was Coatti, the one with the black beard, whomimics the voice of a lion, and never punishes any one. There were boyswho were white with fear. When the master broke the seal of the letterfrom 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 announcethe answer also, so that we might all get promoted, he would have beendelighted.
After an hour of work many began to grow weary, for the problem wasdifficult. One cried. Crossi dealt himself blows on the head. And manyof them are not to blame, poor boys, for not knowing, for they have nothad much time to study, and have been neglected by their parents. ButProvidence was at hand. You should have seen Derossi, and what troublehe took to help them; how ingenious he was in getting a figure passedon, and in suggesting an operation, without allowing himself to becaught; so anxious for all that he appeared to be our teacher himself.Garrone, too, who is strong in arithmetic, helped all he could; and heeven assisted Nobis, who, finding himself in a quandary, was quitegentle.
Stardi remained motionless for more than an hour, with his eyes on theproblem, and his fists on his temples, and then he finished the wholething 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, asthough about to devour him, in imitation of a lion, in order to make himlaugh and inspire him with courage. Toward eleven o'clock, peeping downthrough the blinds, I perceived many parents pacing the street in theirimpatience. There was Precossi's father, in his blue blouse, who haddeserted his shop, with his face still quite black. There was Crossi'smother, the vegetable-vender; and Nelli's mother, dressed in black, whocould not stand still.
A little before mid-day, my father arrived and raised his eyes to mywindow; my dear father! At noon we had all finished. And it was a sightat the close of school! Every one ran to meet the boys, to askquestions, to turn over the leaves of the copy-books to compare themwith the work of their comrades.
"How many operations? What is the total? And subtraction? And theanswer? And the punctuation of decimals?"
All the masters were running about hither and thither, summoned in ahundred directions.
My father instantly took from my hand the rough copy, looked at it, andsaid, "That's well."
Beside us was the blacksmith, Precossi, who was also inspecting hisson's work, but rather uneasily, and not comprehending it. He turned tomy father:--
"Will you do me the favor to tell me the total?"
My father read the number. The other gazed and reckoned. "Brave littleone!" he exclaimed, in perfect content. And my father and he gazed ateach other for a moment with a kindly smile, like two friends. My fatheroffered 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 usturn our heads. It was the blacksmith-ironmonger singing.
THE LAST EXAMINATION.
Friday, 7th.
This morning we had our oral examinations. At eight o'clock we were allin the schoolroom, and at a quarter past they began to call us, four ata time, into the big hall, where there was a large table covered with agreen cloth; round it were seated the head-master and four othermasters, among them our own. I was one of the first called out. Poormaster! how plainly I perceived this morning that you are really fond ofus! While they were interrogating the others, he had no eyes for any onebut us. He was troubled when we were uncertain in our replies; he grewserene when we gave a fine answer; he heard everything, and made us athousand signs with his hand and head, to say to us, "Good!--no!--payattention!--slower!--courage!"
He would have suggested everything to us, had he been able to talk. Ifthe fathers of all these pupils had been in his place, one after theother, 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 tome, "That is well; you may go," his eyes beamed with pleasure.
I returned at once to the schoolroom to wait for my father. Nearly allwere 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 eachother for an hour. I had not yet told Garrone that I should not gothrough the fourth grade with him, that I was to leave Turin with myfather. He knew nothing. And he sat there, doubled up together, with hisbig head reclining on the desk, making ornaments round the photographof 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 tog
ether, with his blouse a little open infront, I saw on his bare and robust breast the gold cross which Nelli'smother 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 saidto him:--
"Garrone, my father is going away from Turin this autumn, for good. Heasked 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. Ianswered "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 canforget you?"
He looked at me fixedly and seriously, with a gaze that said a thousandthings, but he said nothing; he only offered me his left hand,pretending to continue his drawing with the other; and I pressed itbetween mine, that strong and loyal hand. At that moment the masterentered hastily, with a red face, and said, in a low, quick voice, witha 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 hiscontentment, and to exhilarate us, as he went out in haste, he made amotion of stumbling and of catching at the wall, to prevent a fall; hewhom 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 andtenderness. All his reward was that moment of cheerfulness,--it was thecompensation for nine months of kindness, patience, and even sorrow! Forthat he had toiled so long; for that he had so often gone to givelessons to a sick boy, poor teacher! That and nothing more was what hedemanded 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 performanceof that act, when I recall him through many years; and when I havebecome a man, he will still be alive, and we shall meet, and I will tellhim about that deed which touched my heart; and I will give him a kisson his white head.
FAREWELL.
Monday, 10th.
At one o'clock we all assembled once more for the last time at theschool, to hear the results of the examinations, and to take our littlepromotion books. The street was thronged with parents, who had eveninvaded 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 filledthe entire space between the wall and the front benches. There wereGarrone'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 sidesa whispering and a hum were audible, that seemed to proceed from thesquare outside.
The master entered, and a profound silence ensued. He had the list inhis hand, and began to read at once.
"Abatucci, promoted, sixty seventieths. Archini, promoted, fifty-fiveseventieths."--The little mason promoted; Crossi promoted. Then he readloudly:--
"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 easyand beautiful smile, and looked at his mother, who made him a salutewith 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 theentrance, made a menacing gesture at him. But the master said to thefather:--
"No, sir, excuse me; it is not always the boy's fault; it is often hismisfortune. And that is the case here." Then he read:--
"Nelli, promoted, sixty-two seventieths." His mother sent him a kissfrom her fan. Stardi, promoted, with sixty-seven seventieths! but, athearing this fine fate, he did not even smile, or remove his fists fromhis temples. The last was Votini, who had come very finely dressed andbrushed,--promoted. After reading the last name, the master rose andsaid:--
"Boys, this is the last time that we shall find ourselves assembledtogether in this room. We have been together a year, and now we partgood friends, do we not? I am sorry to part from you, my dear boys." Heinterrupted himself, then he resumed: "If I have sometimes failed inpatience, if sometimes, without intending it, I have been unjust, or toosevere, 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 youwill not be with me; but I shall see you again, and you will alwaysabide in my heart. Farewell until we meet again, boys!"
So saying, he stepped forward among us, and we all offered him ourhands, as we stood up on the seats, and grasped him by the arms, and bythe skirts of his coat; many kissed him; fifty voices cried in concert:
"Farewell until we meet again, teacher!--Thanks, teacher!--May yourhealth be good!--Remember us!"
When I went out, I felt oppressed by the commotion. We all ran outconfusedly. Boys were emerging from all the other class-rooms also.There was a great mixing and tumult of boys and parents, bidding themasters and the mistresses good by, and exchanging greetings amongthemselves. The mistress with the red feather had four or five childrenon top of her, and twenty around her, depriving her of breath; and theyhad half torn off the little nun's bonnet, and thrust a dozen bunches offlowers in the button-holes of her black dress, and in her pockets. Manywere 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 greetedeach other, too. Ah! now all disagreements were forgotten at thatmoment! Votini, who had always been so jealous of Derossi, was the firstto throw himself on him with open arms. I saluted the little mason, andkissed him, just at the moment when he was making me his last hare'sface, dear boy! I saluted Precossi. I saluted Garoffi, who announced tome the approach of his last lottery, and gave me a little paper weightof majolica, with a broken corner; I said farewell to all the others. Itwas beautiful to see poor Nelli clinging to Garrone, so that he couldnot be taken from him. All thronged around Garrone, and it was,"Farewell, Garrone!--Good by until we meet!" And they touched him, andpressed his hands, and made much of him, that brave, sainted boy; andhis father was perfectly amazed, as he looked on and smiled.
Garrone was the last one whom I embraced in the street, and I stifled asob against his breast: he kissed my brow. Then I ran to my father andmother. 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 havewronged, go and ask his pardon, and beg him to forget it. Is there noone?"
"No one," I answered.
"Farewell, then," said my father with a voice full of emotion, bestowinga last glance on the schoolhouse. And my mother repeated: "Farewell!"
And I could not say anything.
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
The original language and spelling have been retained, except wherenoted. Minimal typographical errors concerning punctuation have beencorrected without notes.
The signatures at the end of the following sections
MY MOTHER. POETRY. GARIBALDI. ITALY. MY FATHER. THE LAST PAGE FROM MY MOTHER.
are missing in the original text and have been added according to theItalian editions of the book.
The [oe] ligature has been rendered as "oe".
The following changes were made to the original text (the original textis on the first line, the correction is on the following line):
97: two battalions of Italian infantry and two cannon two battalions of Italian infantry and two cannons
117: replied, that the the man was a mason who had replied, that the man was a mason who had
177: Feruccio stood listening three paces away, leaning Ferruccio stood list
ening three paces away, leaning
201: with the wound on his neck, who was with Garabaldi, with the wound on his neck, who was with Garibaldi,
292: which anounced the field artillery; and then the which announced the field artillery; and then the
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