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PARVULUS
Paris has a child, and the forest has a bird; the bird is
called the sparrow; the child is called the gamin.
Couple these two ideas which contain, the one all the furnace,
the other all the dawn; strike these two sparks together, Paris,
childhood; there leaps out from them a little being.
Homuncio, Plautus would say.
This little being is joyous.
He has not food every day, and he goes to the play every evening,
if he sees good.
He has no shirt on his body, no shoes on his feet, no roof
over his head; he is like the flies of heaven, who have none of
these things. He is from seven to thirteen years of age, he lives
in bands, roams the streets, lodges in the open air, wears an
old pair of trousers of his father's, which descend below his
heels, an old hat of some other father, which descends below his
ears, a single suspender of yellow listing; he runs, lies in wait,
rummages about, wastes time, blackens pipes, swears like a convict,
haunts the wine-shop, knows thieves, calls gay women thou, talks
slang, sings obscene songs, and has no evil in his heart. This
is because he has in his heart a pearl, innocence; and pearls
are not to be dissolved in mud.
So long as man is in his childhood, God wills that he shall
be innocent.
If one were to ask that enormous city:
"What is this?" she would reply: "It is my
little one."
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