Permanent Residence
After convalescing for several months at home, I felt I could return to my beloved sons. Every day many of them were coming to see me or were writing to me, urging me to come back to them soon. But where could I find lodging? I had been sent away from the Refuge. What means did I have to keep my work going, work that was daily becoming more demanding and expensive? How was I to support myself and the persons who were indispensable to me?
At that time, two rooms fell vacant in the Pinardi house, and these were rented as a dwelling for me and my mother.
Mother, I said to her one day, I should take up residence in Valdocco, but considering the people who live in that house, I can’t take anyone with me but you.
She knew what I was hinting at and replied straightaway,
If you think such a move is God’s will, I’m ready to go right now.
My mother made a great sacrifice. At home, even though we were not well off, she was in charge of everything, everyone loved her, and to young and old she was a queen.
We sent ahead some of the more necessary items, and together with my things from the Refuge, these were delivered at our new lodgings. My mother filled a hamper with linen and other things we would need. I took my breviary, a missal, and some of the more important books and copybooks. This was our entire fortune. On foot, we set out from Becchi towards Turin. We made a short stop at Chieri, and on the evening of the 3rd November 1846, we arrived at Valdocco.
When my mother laid eyes on those barren rooms, she said jokingly, At home I had so many worries about administration and direction. Here I’ll be much more at ease: I have nothing to manage, nobody to command.
But how were we to live? What were we to eat? How could we pay the rent and supply the needs of the many children who constantly asked for bread, shoes, clothes, or shirts, which they needed to go to work? From home we had brought some wine, millet, beans, grain, and so forth. To meet initial expenses, I had sold part of a field and a vineyard. My mother sent for her wedding trousseau, which up to then she had jealously preserved intact. From some of her dresses we made chasubles; from the linen we made amices, purificators, surplices, albs, and towels. Everything passed through the hands of Mrs Margaret Gastaldi, who since then has helped look after the needs of the Oratory.
My mother also had a little gold necklace and some rings; they were quickly sold to buy braid and trimmings for the sacred vestments. My mother was always in good humour. One evening, she laughingly sang to me:
Woe to the world if it should learn,
We’re just penniless strangers!
When our domestic affairs were somewhat organised, I rented another room, which was intended for a sacristy. As we lacked classrooms, for the time being we had to use the kitchen or my room.
But the students – prime little rascals – either destroyed everything or left everything topsy-turvy. When we started, some classes met in the sacristy, in the apse, or in other parts of the church. But the noise, the singing, the coming and going of one group disturbed whatever the other groups were trying to do. After a few months, we were able to rent two other rooms and so organise our night classes better. As was said above, during the winter of 1846-7 we got excellent scholastic results. Every evening we had an average of three hundred pupils. In addition to the academic side, the classes were animated by plainchant and vocal music, which we have always cultivated.
Amongst those who helped in the night school and taught the young men speech through the use of skits and little plays, Prof Dr Chiaves, Fr Musso, and Dr Hyacinth Carpano must be remembered.