And so the new year has begun. It is necessary to make plans for a new life, according to tradition: but even though I have thought a lot about such a plan I have never managed to achieve it. This has always been a great difficulty in my life from my earliest rational years.
In those days the elementary schools would assign, at this time of year, as a theme for composition, the question: ‘What will you do with your life?’
A difficult question, which I resolved for the first time, at eight years of age, fixing my sights on the profession of carter. I found that the carter unites all of the characteristics of usefulness and delight: he flicks the reins and guides the horses, but, at the same time, he performs a work that ennobles the man and earns him his daily bread.
I remained faithful to this direction also the following year, but for reasons that I would describe as extrinsic. If I could be sincere, I would have to say that my liveliest aspiration was to become a Court Usher. Why? Because in that year there came to my village as a Court Usher an elderly man who possessed a very charming little poodle, always dressed to the nines, with little red ribbons on his tail, a tiny cape on his back, a varnished collar, a little horse bridle around his head.
I was completely unable to separate the image of the little poodle from his owner or from his profession. But, with many regrets and because of a formidable logic and a strong sense of duty that would make the great heroes blush, I renounced this prospect that so seduced me. Yes, I discovered that it would be useless to try to become a Court Usher and thus to possess a poodle so marvellous: for I did not know by heart the eighty four articles of the Constitution of the Republic! Just so!
I had reached the second elementary class (the first revelation of the civic virtues of the carter!) and I had begun to think, in the month of November, of doing the release examinations, to proceed to the fourth class by leaping over the third: I believed myself capable of as much, but when I presented myself to the Director of Studies to answer the call according to protocol, I faced, at point-blank, the question: ‘But do you know the eighty four articles of the Constitution?’ I had never even thought of these articles: I had limited myself to studying the notion of ‘rights and duties of the citizen’ which were contained in my textbook.
This was for me a terrible admonition, which impressed me more because I had participated for the first time, the previous 20th of September[2], in the commemorative parade, with a little venetian lantern, and I had called out with the others: ‘Long live the Lion of Caprera![3] Long live the dead of Staglieno[4] (I don’t remember exactly if I called out ‘the dead’ or ‘the prophet’ of Staglieno; possibly both, for variety’s sake), certainly because I was to be promoted in the examination and able to conquer the juridical titles, becoming an active and perfect citizen. However I did not know the eighty four articles of the Constitution. What kind of a citizen was I then? And how could I aspire so ambitiously to become a Court Usher and to possess a dog with a ribbon and a cape? The Court Usher is a cog in the wheel of state (I thought however that he was the whole wheel); he is a depository and custodian of the law, and also a protector against any tyrants who might like to trample upon us. And I ignored the eighty four articles!
Thus my horizons became limited, and once more I acclaimed the civic virtues of the carter, who anyway could have a dog, even him, let it be completely without ribbons or cape. See how plans construed too rigidly and schematically go bang, wrecking themselves against the hard reality, when one has a vigilant and dutiful conscience.
Hugs,
Antonio