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BACK ISSUES | SEPTEMBER 2009 | CURRENT ISSUE
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SEPTEMBER 2009
Carlo Collodi, better known as the father of Pinocchio, was born in Florence in 1826. Successful as a soldier, journalist, satirist, dramatist and critic, it was not until he was fifty that he began to write for children. In 1880 he began writing The Adventures of Pinocchio, which was published weekly in an Italian newspaper for children. In 1890, Collodi died unaware of the fame and popularity that awaited his work.
Pinocchio is a story with many morals. The goal of Pinocchio’s quest is normal happy childhood and the many mishaps which befall him in its pursuit spring from defects inherent in his own character. Collodi’s Pincocchio is a reflection of every human being, young and old alike. As Italian philosopher Benedetto Croce said, “The wood out of which Pinocchio is carved is humanity itself.”
Part 18
"Let him weep."
"Have you taught him to speak?"
"No, he learned to mumble a few words when he lived for three years with a band of trained dogs."
"Poor beast!"
"Come, come," said the Little Man, "do not lose time over a donkey that can weep. The night is cool and the road is long."
The wagon started again. Toward dawn they finally reached that much-longed-for country, the Land of Toys.
This great land was entirely different from any other place in the world. Its population, large though it was, was composed wholly of boys. The oldest were about fourteen years of age, the youngest, eight. In the street, there was such a racket, shouting, blowing of trumpets - it was deafening. Everywhere groups of boys were gathered together. Some played marbles, hopscotch, ball. Others rode on bicycles or wooden horses. Here a group played circus, there another sang and recited. A few turned somersaults, others walked on their hands with their feet in the air. Generals in full uniform leading regiments of cardboard soldiers passed by. Laughter, shrieks, howls, catcalls, hand-clapping followed this parade. All together they created such a pandemonium. The squares were filled with small wooden theaters, overflowing with boys from morning till night, and on the walls of the houses, written with charcoal, were words like these: HURRAH FOR THE LAND OF TOYS! DOWN WITH ARITHMETIC! NO MORE SCHOOL!
Pinocchio, Lamp-Wick, and all the other boys who had traveled with them started out on a tour. They wandered everywhere; they looked into every nook and corner, house and theater. They became everybody's friend. Who could be happier than they?
What with entertainments and parties, the hours, the days, the weeks passed like lightning.
"Oh, what a beautiful life this is!" said Pinocchio each time that, by chance, he met his friend Lamp-Wick.
"Was I right or wrong?" answered Lamp-Wick. "And to think you did not want to come! If today you are free from pencils and books and school, you owe it to me, to my advice, to my care. Do you admit it? Only true friends count, after all."
"It's true, Lamp-Wick, it's true. If today I am a really happy boy, it is all because of you. And to think that the teacher, when speaking of you, used to say, 'Do not go with that Lamp-Wick! He is a bad companion and some day he will lead you astray.'"
"Poor teacher!" answered Lamp-Wick. "I know how much he disliked me and how he enjoyed speaking ill of me. But I am of a generous nature, and I gladly forgive him."
"Great soul!" said Pinocchio, fondly embracing his friend.
Five months passed and the boys continued playing and enjoying themselves from morn till night, without ever seeing a book, or a desk, or a school. But, there came a morning when Pinocchio awoke and found a great surprise awaiting him, a surprise which made him feel very unhappy.
Everyone, at one time or another, has found some surprise awaiting him. Of the kind which Pinocchio had on that eventful morning of his life, there are but few.
What was it? I will tell you, my dear readers. On awakening, Pinocchio put his hand up to his head and there he found...
Guess!
He found that, during the night, his ears had grown at least ten full inches!
You must know that Pinocchio, even from his birth, had very small ears, so small indeed that to the naked eye they could hardly be seen. Fancy how he felt when he noticed that overnight those two dainty organs had become as long as shoe brushes!
He went in search of a mirror, but not finding any, he filled a basin with water and looked at himself. There he saw what he never could have wished to see. His manly figure was adorned and enriched by a beautiful pair of donkey's ears.
I leave you to think of the terrible grief, the shame, the poor Pinocchio's despair. He began to cry, to scream, to knock his head against the wall, but the more he shrieked, the longer and the more hairy grew his ears.
At those piercing shrieks, a Dormouse came into the room, a fat little Dormouse, who lived upstairs. Seeing Pinocchio so grief-stricken, she asked him anxiously:
"What is the matter, dear little neighbour?"
"I am sick, my little Dormouse, very, very sick — and from an illness which frightens me! Do you understand how to feel the pulse?"
"A little."
"Feel mine then and tell me if I have a fever."
The Dormouse took Pinocchio's wrist between her paws and, after a few minutes, looked up at him sorrowfully and said: "My friend, I am sorry, but I must give you some very sad news."
"What is it?"
"You have a very bad fever."
"But what fever is it?"
"The donkey fever."
"I don't know anything about that fever," answered Pinocchio, beginning to understand even too well what was happening to him.
"Then I will tell you all about it," said the Dormouse. "Know then that, within two or three hours, you will no longer be a Marionette, nor a boy."
"What shall I be?"
"Within two or three hours you will become a real donkey, just like the ones that pull the fruit carts to market."
"Oh, what have I done? What have I done?" cried Pinocchio, grasping his two long ears in his hands and pulling and tugging at them angrily, just as if they belonged to another.
"My dear boy," answered the Dormouse to cheer him up a bit, "why worry now? What is done cannot be undone, you know. Fate has decreed that all lazy boys who come to hate books and schools and teachers and spend all their days with toys and games must sooner or later turn into donkeys."
"But is it really so?" asked Pinocchio, sobbing bitterly.
"I am sorry to say it is. And tears now are useless. You should have thought of all this before."
"But the fault is not mine. Believe me, little Dormouse, the fault is all Lamp-Wick's."
"Who is this Lamp-Wick?"
"A classmate of mine. I wanted to return home. I wanted to be obedient. I wanted to study and to succeed in school, but Lamp-Wick said to me, 'Why do you want to waste your time studying? Why do you want to go to school? Come with me to the Land of Toys. There we'll never study again. There we can enjoy ourselves and be happy from morn till night.'"
"And why did you follow the advice of that false friend?"
"Why? Because, my dear little Dormouse, I am a heedless Marionette — heedless and heartless. Oh! If I had only had a bit of heart, I should never have abandoned that good Fairy, who loved me so well and who has been so kind to me! And by this time, I should no longer be a Marionette. I should have become a real boy, like all these friends of mine! Oh, if I meet Lamp-Wick I am going to tell him what I think of him — and more, too!"
After this long speech, Pinocchio walked to the door of the room. But when he reached it, remembering his donkey ears, he felt ashamed to show them to the public and turned back. He took a large cotton bag from a shelf, put it on his head, and pulled it far down to his very nose.
Thus adorned, he went out. He looked for Lamp-Wick everywhere, along the streets, in the squares, inside the theatres, everywhere; but he was not to be found. He asked everyone whom he met about him, but no one had seen him. In desperation, he returned home and knocked at the door.
"Who is it?" asked Lamp-Wick from within.
"It is I!" answered the Marionette.
"Wait a minute."
After a full half hour the door opened. Another surprise awaited Pinocchio! There in the room stood his friend, with a large cotton bag on his head, pulled far down to his very nose.
At the sight of that bag, Pinocchio felt slightly happier and thought to himself: "My friend must be suffering from the same sickness that I am! I wonder if he, too, has donkey fever?"
But pretending he had seen nothing, he asked with a smile:
"How are you, my dear Lamp-Wick?"
"Very well. Like a mouse in a Parmesan cheese."
"Is that really true?"
"Why should I lie to you?"
"I beg your pardon, my friend, but why then are you wearing that cotton bag over your ears?"
"The doctor has ordered it because one of my knees hurts. And you, dear Marionette, why are you wearing that cotton bag down to your nose?"
"The doctor has ordered it because I have bruised my foot."
"Oh, my poor Pinocchio!"
"Oh, my poor Lamp-Wick!"
An embarrassingly long silence followed these words, during which time the two friends looked at each other in a mocking way.
Finally Pinocchio, in a voice sweet as honey and soft as a flute, said to his companion:
"Tell me, Lamp-Wick, dear friend, have you ever suffered from an earache?"
"Never! And you?"
"Never! Still, since this morning my ear has been torturing me."
"So has mine."
"Yours, too? And which ear is it?"
"Both of them. And yours?"
"Both of them, too. I wonder if it could be the same sickness."
"I'm afraid it is."
"Will you do me a favour, Lamp-Wick?"
"Gladly! With my whole heart."
"Will you let me see your ears?"
"Why not? But before I show you mine, I want to see yours, dear Pinocchio."
"No. You must show yours first."
"No, my dear! Yours first, then mine."
"Well, then," said Pinocchio, "let us make a contract."
"Let's hear the contract!"
"Let us take off our caps together. All right?"
"All right."
"Ready then!"
Pinocchio began to count, "One! Two! Three!"
At the word "Three!" the two boys pulled off their caps and threw them high in air.
And then a scene took place which is hard to believe, but it is all too true.
(CONTINUED IN PART 19)