by Hector Malot
CHAPTER VII
CHILD AND ANIMAL LEARNING
Vitalis' small group of actors were certainly very clever, but theirtalent was not very versatile. For this reason we were not able toremain long in the same town. Three days after our arrival in Ussel wewere on our way again. Where were we going? I had grown bold enough toput this question to my master.
"Do you know this part of the country?" he asked, looking at me.
"No."
"Then why do you ask where we are going?"
"So as to know."
"To know what?"
I was silent.
"Do you know how to read?" he asked, after looking thoughtfully at mefor a moment.
"No."
"Then I'll teach you from a book the names and all about the townsthrough which we travel. It will be like having a story told to you."
I had been brought up in utter ignorance. True, I had been sent to thevillage school for one month, but during this month I had never once hada book in my hand. At the time of which I write, there were manyvillages in France that did not even boast of a school, and in some,where there was a schoolmaster, either he knew nothing, or he had someother occupation and could give little attention to the childrenconfided to his care.
This was the case with the master of our village school. I do not meanto say that he was ignorant, but during the month that I attended hisschool, he did not give us one single lesson. He had something else todo. By trade he was a shoe-maker, or rather, a clog maker, for no onebought shoes from him. He sat at his bench all day, shaving pieces ofbeech wood into clogs. So I learnt absolutely nothing at school, noteven my alphabet.
"Is it difficult to read?" I asked, after we had walked some time insilence.
"Have you got a hard head?"
"I don't know, but I'd like to learn if you'll teach me."
"Well, we'll see about that. We've plenty of time ahead of us."
Time ahead of us! Why not commence at once? I did not know how difficultit was to learn to read. I thought that I just had to open a book and,almost at once, know what it contained.
The next day, as we were walking along, Vitalis stooped down and pickedup a piece of wood covered with dust.
"See, this is the book from which you are going to learn to read," hesaid.
A book! A piece of wood! I looked at him to see if he were joking. Buthe looked quite serious. I stared at the bit of wood. It was as long asmy arm and as wide as my two hands. There was no inscription or drawingon it.
"Wait until we get to those trees down there, where we'll rest," saidVitalis, smiling at my astonishment. "I'll show you how I'm going toteach you to read from this."
When we got to the trees we threw our bags on the ground and sat down onthe green grass with the daisies growing here and there. Pretty-Heart,having got rid of his chain, sprang up into a tree and shook thebranches one after the other, as though he were making nuts fall. Thedogs lay down beside us. Vitalis took out his knife and, after havingsmoothed the wood on both sides, began to cut tiny pieces, twelve all ofequal size.
"I am going to carve a letter out of each piece of wood," he said,looking up at me. I had not taken my eyes off of him. "You will learnthese letters from their shapes, and when you are able to tell me whatthey are, at first sight, I'll form them into words. When you can readthe words, then you shall learn from a book."
I soon had my pockets full of little bits of wood, and was not long inlearning the letters of the alphabet, but to know how to read was quiteanother thing. I could not get along very fast, and often I regrettedhaving expressed a wish to learn. I must say, however, it was notbecause I was lazy, it was pride.
While teaching me my letters Vitalis thought that he would teach Capiat the same time. If a dog could learn to tell the hour from a watch,why could he not learn the letters? The pieces of wood were all spreadout on the grass, and he was taught that with his paw he must draw outthe letter for which he was asked.
At first I made more progress than he, but if I had quickerintelligence, he had better memory. Once he learnt a thing he knew italways. He did not forget. When I made a mistake Vitalis would say:
"Capi will learn to read before you, Remi."
And Capi, evidently understanding, proudly shook his tail.
I was so hurt that I applied myself to the task with all my heart, andwhile the poor dog could get no farther than pulling out the fourletters which spelled his name, I finally learned to read from a book.
"Now that you know how to read words, how would you like to read music?"asked Vitalis.
"If I knew how to read music could I sing like you?" I asked.
"Ah, so you would like to sing like me," he answered.
"I know that would be impossible, but I'd like to sing a little."
"Do you like to hear me sing, then?"
"I like it more than anything. It is better than the nightingales, butit's not like their song at all. When you sing, sometimes I want tocry, and sometimes I want to laugh. Don't think me silly, master, butwhen you sing those songs, I think that I am back with dear MotherBarberin. If I shut my eyes I can see her again in our little house, andyet I don't know the words you sing, because they are Italian."
I looked up at him and saw the tears standing in his eyes; then Istopped and asked him if what I had said hurt him.
"No, my child," he said, his voice shaking, "you do not pain me; on thecontrary, you take me back to my younger days. Yes, I will teach you tosing, little Remi, and, as you have a heart, you also will make peopleweep with your songs."
He stopped suddenly, and I felt that he did not wish to say more at thatmoment. I did not know the reason why he should feel sad.
The next day he cut out little pieces of wood for the music notes thesame as he had for the letters. The notes were more complicated than thealphabet, and this time I found it much harder and more tedious tolearn. Vitalis, so patient with the dogs, more than once lost patiencewith me.
"With an animal," he cried, "one controls oneself, because one isdealing with a poor dumb creature, but you are enough to drive me mad!"He threw up his hands dramatically.
Pretty-Heart, who took special delight in imitating gestures he thoughtfunny, mimicked my master, and as the monkey was present at my lessonsevery day, I had the humiliation to see him lift his arms in despairevery time I hesitated.
"See, Pretty-Heart is even mocking you," cried Vitalis.
If I had dared, I would have said that he mocked the master just as muchas the pupil, but respect, as well as a certain fear, forbade me.
Finally, after many weeks of study, I was able to sing an air from apiece of paper that Vitalis himself had written. That day my master didnot throw up his hands, but instead, patted me on the cheek, declaringthat if I continued thus I should certainly become a great singer.