The Start of the Hospice
While we worked to set up ways of supplying instruction in religion and literacy, another crying need became evident; it was urgent to make some provision for it. Many youngsters from Turin and migrants were quite willing to try to live hard-working and moral lives; but when they were encouraged to begin, they used to answer that they had no bread, no clothing, and no shelter where they could stay at least for a while. To accommodate at least some of those who in the evening knew not where to go, a stable was prepared where they could spend the night on a bit of straw. But some of them repeatedly made off with the sheets, others with the blankets, and in the end even the straw itself was stolen and sold.
Now it happened that late one rainy evening in May 1847 a lad of fifteen showed up soaked to the skin. He asked for bread and shelter. My mother took him into the kitchen and put him near the fire; while he warmed himself and dried his clothes, she fed him a bowl of soup and some bread. As he ate, I asked him whether he had gone to school, whether he had family, and what kind of work he did.
I’m a poor orphan, he answered me. I’ve come from the Sesia valley to look for work. I had three francs with me, but I spent them all before I could earn anything. Now I have nothing left and no one to turn to.
Have you been admitted to First Communion?
I haven’t been admitted yet.
And Confirmation?
I haven’t received it yet.
Have you been to Confession?
I’ve gone a few times.
Now where do you want to go?
I don’t know. For charity’s sake, let me stay in some corner of your house tonight.
At this point he broke down and cried. My mother cried with him. I was moved.
If I could be sure you weren’t a thief, I would try to put you up. But other boys stole some of the blankets, and you might take the rest of them.
Oh no, you needn’t worry about that. I’m poor, but I’ve never stolen anything.
If you wish, replied my mother, I will put him up for tonight, and tomorrow God will provide.
Where? I asked.
Here in the kitchen.
You’re risking even your pots.
I’ll see that it doesn’t happen.
Go ahead, then.
The good woman, helped by the little orphan, went out and collected some bricks. With these she built four little pillars in the kitchen. On them she laid some boards and threw a big sack on top, thereby making the first bed in the Oratory.
My good mother gave the boy a little talk on the necessity of work, of trustworthiness, and of religion. Finally she invited him to say his prayers.
I don’t know any, he answered.
You can say them with us, she told him. And so he did. That all might be secure, the kitchen was locked, and opened only in the morning.
This was the first youngster at our hospice. Very soon we had a companion for him, and then others. But during that year, lack of space prevented us from taking more than two. So passed 1847.
Convinced that for many children every effort would prove useless unless they were offered shelter, I set about renting more and more rooms, even though the cost was exorbitant.
Thus, besides the hospice, we were also able to start our school of plainchant and vocal music. Since it was the first time (1845) that public music lessons were offered, the first time that music was taught in class to many pupils at the same time, there was a huge crowd. The renowned musicians Louis Rossi, Joseph Blanchi, Cerutti, and Canon Louis Nasi came eagerly every evening to help at my lessons. This contradicted the Gospel dictum that the disciple is not above his teacher: there was I, not knowing a millionth of what those illustrious men knew, playing the master amongst them. They came to see how the new method was applied, the same method which is practised today in our houses. In times past, any pupil who wished to learn music had to find a teacher to give him individual lessons.