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.