Sunday, 5th.
That medal given to Precossi has awakened a remorse in me. I have never
earned one yet! For some time past I have not been studying, and I am
discontented with myself, and the teacher, my father and mother are
discontented with me. I no longer experience the pleasure in amusing
myself that I did formerly, when I worked with a will, and then sprang
up from the table and ran to my games full of mirth, as though I had
not played for a month. Neither do I sit down to the table with my
family with the same contentment as of old. I have always a shadow in my
soul, an inward voice, that says to me continually, "It won't do; it
won't do."
In the evening I see a great many boys pass through the square on their
return from work, in the midst of a group of workingmen, weary but
merry. They step briskly along, impatient to reach their homes and
suppers, and they talk loudly, laughing and slapping each other on the
shoulder with hands blackened with coal, or whitened with plaster; and I
reflect that they have been working since daybreak up to this hour. And
with them are also many others, who are still smaller, who have been
standing all day on the summits of roofs, in front of ovens, among
machines, and in the water, and underground, with nothing to eat but a
little bread; and I feel almost ashamed, I, who in all that time have
accomplished nothing but scribble four small pages, and that
reluctantly. Ah, I am discontented, discontented! I see plainly that my
father is out of humor, and would like to tell me so; but he is sorry,
and he is still waiting. My dear father, who works so hard! all is
yours, all that I see around me in the house, all that I touch, all that
I wear and eat, all that affords me instruction and diversion,--all is
the fruit of your toil, and I do not work; all has cost you thought,
privations, trouble, effort; and I make no effort. Ah, no; this is too
unjust, and causes me too much pain. I will begin this very day; I will
apply myself to my studies, like Stardi, with clenched fists and set
teeth. I will set about it with all the strength of my will and my
heart. I will conquer my drowsiness in the evening, I will come down
promptly in the morning, I will cudgel my brains without ceasing, I
will chastise my laziness without mercy. I will toil, suffer, even to
the extent of making myself ill; but I will put a stop, once for all, to
this languishing and tiresome life, which is degrading me and causing
sorrow to others. Courage! to work! To work with all my soul, and all my
nerves! To work, which will restore to me sweet repose, pleasing games,
cheerful meals! To work, which will give me back again the kindly smile
of my teacher, the blessed kiss of my father!