Cuore (Heart) by Edmondo De Amicis (ebook reader below 3000 txt) 📖

misfortune and human charity which is passing by. Always pretend not to notice any one who has a repulsive or laughter-provoking deformity. Always extinguish every match that you find in your path; for it may cost some one his life. Always answer a passer-by who asks you the way, with politeness. Do not look at any one and laugh; do not run without necessity; do not shout. Respect the street. The education of a people is judged first of all by their behavior on the street. Where you find offences in the streets, there you will find offences in the houses. And study the streets; study the city in which you live. If you were to be hurled far away from it to-morrow, you would be glad to have it clearly present in your memory, to be able to traverse it all again in memory. Your own city, and your little country—that which has been for so many years your world; where you took your first steps at your mother’s side; where you experienced your first emotions, opened your mind to its first ideas; found your first friends. It has been a mother to you: it has taught you, loved you, protected you. Study it in its streets and in its people, and love it; and when you hear it insulted, defend it.

Thy Father.

MARCH THE EVENING SCHOOLS.

Thursday, 2d.

Last night my father took me to see the evening schools in our Baretti schoolhouse, which were all lighted up already, and where the workingmen were already beginning to enter. On our arrival we found the head-master and the other masters in a great rage, because a little while before the glass in one window had been broken by a stone. The beadle had darted forth and seized a boy by the hair, who was passing; but thereupon, Stardi, who lives in the house opposite, had presented himself, and said:—

“This is not the right one; I saw it with my own eyes; it was Franti who threw it; and he said to me, ‘Woe to you if you tell of me!’ but I am not afraid.”

Then the head-master declared that Franti should be expelled for good. In the meantime I was watching the workingmen enter by twos and threes; and more than two hundred had already entered. I have never seen anything so fine as the evening school. There were boys of twelve and upwards; bearded men who were on their way from their work, carrying their books and copy-books; there were carpenters, engineers with black faces, masons with hands white with plaster, bakers’ boys with their hair full of flour; and there was perceptible the odor of varnish, hides, fish, oil,—odors of all the various trades. There also entered a squad of artillery workmen, dressed like soldiers and headed by a corporal. They all filed briskly to their benches, removed the board underneath, on which we put our feet, and immediately bent their heads over their work.

Some stepped up to the teachers to ask explanations, with their open copy-books in their hands. I caught sight of that young and well-dressed master “the little lawyer,” who had three or four workingmen clustered round his table, and was making corrections with his pen; and also the lame one, who was laughing with a dyer who had brought him a copy-book all adorned with red and blue dyes. My master, who had recovered, and who will return to school to-morrow, was there also. The doors of the schoolroom were open. I was amazed, when the lessons began, to see how attentive they all were, and how they kept their eyes fixed on their work. Yet the greater part of them, so the head-master said, for fear of being late, had not even been home to eat a mouthful of supper, and they were hungry.

But the younger ones, after half an hour of school, were falling off the benches with sleep; one even went fast asleep with his head on the bench, and the master waked him up by poking his ear with a pen. But the grown-up men did nothing of the sort; they kept awake, and listened, with their mouths wide open, to the lesson, without even winking; and it made a deep impression on me to see all those bearded men on our benches. We also ascended to the story floor above, and I ran to the door of my schoolroom and saw in my seat a man with a big mustache and a bandaged hand, who might have injured himself while at work about some machine; but he was trying to write, though very, very slowly.

But what pleased me most was to behold in the seat of the little mason, on the very same bench and in the very same corner, his father, the mason, as huge as a giant, who sat there all coiled up into a narrow space, with his chin on his fists and his eyes on his book, so absorbed that he hardly breathed. And there was no chance about it, for it was he himself who said to the head-master the first evening he came to the school:—

“Signor Director, do me the favor to place me in the seat of 'my hare’s face.’” For he always calls his son so.

My father kept me there until the end, and in the street we saw many women with children in their arms, waiting for their husbands; and at the entrance a change was effected: the husbands took the children in their arms, and the women made them surrender their books and copy-books; and in this wise they proceeded to their homes. For several minutes the street was filled with people and with noise. Then all grew silent, and all we could see was the tall and weary form of the head-master disappearing in the distance.

THE FIGHT.

Sunday, 5th.

It was what might have been expected. Franti, on being expelled by the head-master, wanted to revenge himself on Stardi, and he waited for Stardi at a corner, when he came out of school, and when the latter was passing with his sister, whom he escorts every day from an institution in the Via Dora Grossa. My sister Silvia, on emerging from her schoolhouse, witnessed the whole affair, and came home thoroughly terrified. This is what took place. Franti, with his cap of waxed cloth canted over one ear, ran up on tiptoe behind Stardi, and in order to provoke him, gave a tug at his sister’s braid of hair,—a tug so violent that it almost threw the girl flat on her back on the ground. The little girl uttered a cry; her brother whirled round; Franti, who is much taller and stronger than Stardi, thought:—

“He’ll not utter a word, or I’ll break his skin for him!”

But Stardi never paused to reflect, and small and ill-made as he is, he flung himself with one bound on that big fellow, and began to belabor him with his fists. He could not hold his own, however, and he got more than he gave. There was no one in the street but girls, so there was no one who could separate them. Franti flung him on the ground; but the other instantly got up, and then down he went on his back again, and Franti pounded away as though upon a door: in an instant he had torn away half an ear, and bruised one eye, and drawn blood from the other’s nose. But Stardi was tenacious; he roared:—

“You may kill me, but I’ll make you pay for it!” And down went Franti, kicking and cuffing, and Stardi under him, butting and lungeing out with his heels. A woman shrieked from a window, “Good for the little one!” Others said, “It is a boy defending his sister; courage! give it to him well!” And they screamed at Franti, “You overbearing brute! you coward!” But Franti had grown ferocious; he held out his leg; Stardi tripped and fell, and Franti on top of him.

“Surrender!”—“No!”—“Surrender!”—“No!” and in a flash Stardi recovered his feet, clasped Franti by the body, and, with one furious effort, hurled him on the pavement, and fell upon him with one knee on his breast.

“Ah, the infamous fellow! he has a knife!” shouted a man, rushing up to disarm Franti.

But Stardi, beside himself with rage, had already grasped Franti’s arm with both hands, and bestowed on the fist such a bite that the knife fell from it, and the hand began to bleed. More people had run up in the meantime, who separated them and set them on their feet. Franti took to his heels in a sorry plight, and Stardi stood still, with his face all scratched, and a black eye,—but triumphant,—beside his weeping sister, while some of the girls collected the books and copy-books which were strewn over the street.

“Bravo, little fellow!” said the bystanders; “he defended his sister!”

But Stardi, who was thinking more of his satchel than of his victory, instantly set to examining the books and copy-books, one by one, to see whether anything was missing or injured. He rubbed them off with his sleeve, scrutinized his pen, put everything back in its place, and then, tranquil and serious as usual, he said to his sister, “Let us go home quickly, for I have a problem to solve.”

THE BOYS’ PARENTS.

Monday, 6th.

This morning big Stardi, the father, came to wait for his son, fearing lest he should again encounter Franti. But they say that Franti will not be seen again, because he will be put in the penitentiary.

There were a great many parents there this morning. Among the rest there was the retail wood-dealer, the father of Coretti, the perfect image of his son, slender, brisk, with his mustache brought to a point, and a ribbon of two colors in the button-hole of his jacket. I know nearly all the parents of the boys, through constantly seeing them there. There is one crooked grandmother, with her white cap, who comes four times a day, whether it rains or snows or storms, to accompany and to get her little grandson, of the upper primary; and she takes off his little cloak and puts it on for him, adjusts his necktie, brushes off the dust, polishes him up, and takes care of the copy-books. It is evident that she has no other thought, that she sees nothing in the world more beautiful. The captain of artillery also comes frequently, the father of Robetti, the lad with the crutches, who saved a child from the omnibus, and as all his son’s companions bestow a caress on him in passing, he returns a caress or a salute to every one, and he never forgets any one; he bends over all, and the poorer and more badly dressed they are, the more pleased he seems to be, and he thanks them.

At times, however, sad sights are to be seen. A gentleman who had not come for a month because one of his sons had died, and who had sent a maidservant for the other, on returning yesterday and beholding the class, the comrades of his little dead boy, retired into a corner and burst into sobs, with both hands before his face, and the head-master took him by the arm and led him to his office.

There are fathers and mothers who know all their sons’ companions by name. There are girls from the neighboring schoolhouse, and scholars in the gymnasium, who come to wait for their brothers. There is one old gentleman who was a colonel formerly, and who, when a boy drops a copy-book or a pen, picks it up for him. There are also to be seen well-dressed men, who discuss school matters with others, who have kerchiefs on their heads,