The Venerable Don Bosco, the Apostle of Youth

Front matter

THE VENERABLE

DON BOSCO

THE APOSTLE OF YOUTH

Chapter I

THE VENERABLE DON BOSCO APOSTLE OF YOUTH

CHAPTER I

BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD

This year, 1915, all the nations are doing honor to the memory of a man who was born a hundred years ago, August 16, 1815, in sunny Italy, on the western slope of the Alps. They are keeping the centenary of his birth, some with magnificent celebrations. And who is this illustrious favorite of four continents? you will ask. Is he a great general who won famous victories? No, he never steeped his sword in the blood of his fellow-men. Was he a renowned poet, a singer of songs to the heart of the people, a chanter of high epics, a great dramatist? Human histories do not so record him. Was he an extraordinary musician, then, or a Titian or Raphael in art that the world so honors him? No, he was not a Napoleon, nor a Mozart, nor a Raphael. Yet I dare to say he was all of these, but in a sublime and supernatural manner; and I think when we have studied him a little together the generous hearts of my readers will be in accord with me.

The name of Don Giovanni Bosco, the saintly parish priest of Turin, the Apostle of Youth, has gone forth into the whole world. The Church has already set her seal of approval, on his sanctity by proclaiming her priest Venerable; and the Apostle of Youth he is rightly called, for he saved thousands, hundreds of thousands, of children from moral destruction.

In the far days of the past, so far back that they seem like a beautiful, hallowed dream, I learned to know and love Don Bosco, then in the zenith of his great achievements, a living and powerful force for good. His name became a household word with us because of the profound appreciation of our mistress for his heroic character, his noble simplicity, and his astounding labors for the glory of God and the salvation of the poor little homeless boys roaming the streets of Italy—waifs in her beautiful, historic cities, no one to love them, to care for them, or educate them, but many, alas! to teach them crime and wickedness by word and example. Don Bosco had known the pangs of poverty, and his great heart, Christ-like in its vast capacity of loving, took them all in, and they became his own children, his own far-reaching, virtuous, and happy little world of souls.

You are familiar with Joseph's prophetic dream, how he and his eleven brethren were all binding sheaves in the field, when suddenly his sheaf arose and stood, and their sheaves all bowed down before it. How cruelly they hated him for that dream—selling him finally as a slave into Egypt, where the vision was realized when Joseph became ruler of the country and held their destinies in his hands. God often foreshadows the future to little children who are serving Him with their whole heart and soul. What beautiful visions the little Joan of Arc had of her supernatural mission as savior of France! And perhaps some of you have read the story of the child, Just de Bretenière, afterwards the heroic priest-martyr of Corea at twenty-eight years of age. In 1844, ere Just had completed his sixth year, he was one day playing with his brother in the garden, both digging, when suddenly Just stopped, and looking into the hole he cried: "Look, I see the Chinese! I see the Chinese! Come, let us dig deeper and we shall reach them." While digging vigorously, he described their appearance and costumes, and declared he could even hear their voices. "They are calling me," he said to his mother who had come to the spot; "and I must go to save them."

God favored our little John Bosco with such a vision, though he told it as a dream to his mother and brothers at breakfast. Here is his own version of it: "I stood on a hillock, and saw numberless wild beasts approaching me from the neighboring wood; they terrified me as they advanced jumping, fighting and biting each other, when a mysterious voice told me to bring them to pasture. Immediately I held a crook to them; they followed, and, strange to say, I had then around me only a flock of gentle sheep."

The mother treated the dream lightly, as an illusion, though in her heart she trembled with joy as she thought it might be a token that this beloved son was called to the priesthood. Anthony and Joseph pleasantly ridiculed it; one warned him not to become a bandit chief; the other prophesied that he would have a drove of pigs. Later in life, at Barcelona, he confessed that the mysterious voice was the Blessed Virgin's; disguised as a shepherdess she gave him the crook, saying that he would tame the animals, and even indicated how this was to be accomplished. In a vision later he saw that some of the lambs became shepherds and assisted in guarding and directing the flocks. And the whole world is witness of the miraculous manner in which this prophetic dream has been fulfilled in the stupendous moral transformations Don Bosco wrought during his long and active life of seventy-two years.

Some one has said and truly: "If in creatures there is any spark of goodness, it comes from an intimate participation of God's abundance." Baptism brings to every Christian soul this abundance of God, since from the moment of the pouring of the waters He dwells there, One God in the Three Divine Persons, as in His palace, His temple, filling it with the Light Invisible before which angels bow in reverence. But the soul must be active, must be trained to know its heavenly dignity, and to love the Eternal Creator and Sovereign who is living there within it. Poor little child, so helpless, so dependent! It grows and develops, and if there is no one to impart this divine knowledge in those early, impressionable years, what a lifelong, nay, what an eternal loss! What designs of God over that little creature are all frustrated!

Now who is the being to whom this beautiful, awe-inspiring mission is intrusted? Whose tender hand shall mould that little heart to good, who shall teach those little lips to murmur its first prayer, who shall instruct, console, strengthen it in virtue, even turn it wholly to God from the beginning? In all your hearts is the answer, Nature's own answer—the mother!

And such a mission did John Bosco's mother accomplish. Upright, religious, a truly holy woman, she participated in that abundance of God that I have told you of, and by continual prayer sweetened her hard life of toil and poverty. She must have married when very young, for at nineteen she was a widow with two children of her own, Joseph and John, and a step-son, Anthony, John, the youngest, was two years old when his father died. They had their little home on a slope of the Alps, their modest vineyard above, and below a pasture for the cattle, while opposite was a deep, wild forest. A lonely place, you might think, for our little John; but there he grew up, thoughtful, observant and prayerful, in the midst of grand and impressive scenery that was ever drawing his heart upward, while the pure, invigorating mountain airs were nourishing mind and body, and helping to build up that strong, magnificent physique which later rendered him capable of such incredible labors and hardships.

Margaret Bosco did not bring her sons up in softness or idleness. They rose with the sun in the summer, and long before dawn in the winter; dutiful children, they worked in the fields and helped in the house—prayer, work and play divided their day; their meals were frugal and they took their night's rest on the floor. John was inured early, you see, to penance; but under this regime he flourished, and was the delight of his mother's heart because of his tender piety, his purity of conscience, and his love tor the poor. Margaret, though her prospect of education had been blighted by the repressive measures of the time, had a beautiful mind, with rare force of character; she was somewhat of a poet, too, for from nature and from little daily happenings, she could draw analogies most sweetly spiritual, and these have often a lasting influence with children.

The neighbors, near and from a distance, used to meet in Margaret's barn of a winter evening, where she would relate Bible stories or traits from the lives of the saints. Little John was frequently called upon to report the Sunday sermon—for he had a prodigious memory—or read aloud, or perform some juggling tricks. But these diversions, which he had learned at a fair, were generally enacted under a large old pear tree, his seances beginning and ending with prayer or a hymn. Indeed his only end in these humorous entertainments was to gain a moral influence over his audience: prayer and rosary, or no admittance, was his inflexible law, to which all willingly submitted.

He became a practiced acrobat, danced, turned somersaults, walked on his hands, his feet in the air, multiplied eggs, drew nuts from the noses of the spectators, and transferred watches to neighboring pockets, with other tricks, all enthusiastically applauded by his rural admirers. I have often thought that in his extraordinary genius for fun and humor we may find a partial explanation of the wonderful magnetism with which he attracted the boy nature of every class.

John Bosco, the little preacher,

repeating the Sunday Sermon

Chapter II

CHAPTER II

EDUCATION. VOCATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. ORDINATION

In April, 1826, when John was eleven years old, a mission was given by some renowned preachers at Buttigliera, a small town in the vicinity. Crowds from all the neighboring parishes attended, and among them the aged and saintly Cure of Murialdo, Don Calosso. As he was returning home one day he observed a little boy walking along the road in deep reflection.

"What is your name, my child?" he asked.

"John Bosco, padre mio," was the reply.

"And you come to hear the missionaries?" questioned the Curé, with a smile. "Very likely your mother could give you a sermon better suited to your capacity."

"That's true, sir," said John, with glowing face; "but I like to hear the missionaries, too."

"Now, my little one," said Don Calosso, in a challenging voice, "I will give you three pence if you will repeat four sentences of the last sermon."

This had been one of the most forcible sermons of the mission, "The Danger of Delay in Conversion." John paused a moment as if to gather up the divisions of the discourse and put them in order. Then clearly and without embarrassment, he gave almost word for word the exordium, the three points, and the conclusion. Don Calosso was surprised and delighted, and asked him if he would not like to study.

"My brother Anthony says it is useless waste of time for a peasant; but I would like to learn if I could."

"And have you ever thought of being a priest, my son?" persisted Don Calosso.

"I think if I knew enough myself," John answered modestly, "I should like to instruct poor neglected children and preserve them from wickedness."

The cry of his angelic soul was already mounting up to God: Da mihi animas: caetera tolle! the prayer of St. Francis of Sales, the beloved Missionary-Bishop and Doctor of the Church—the prayer which was one day to be the watchword of his great triple Society of Salesians, engraved on their hearts, in all their utterances, stamped on their documents and books, and carved in golden evidence over their world-wide homes.

Eleven years old! The mystic dream had already become an incentive, a hope, a great desire in that young heart—a desire that burned more ardently the more it was repressed. But God was on his side. Don Calosso was not long in arranging matters with Margaret, and he himself became the boy's teacher. John's brothers were strong in opposition; but Margaret declared stoutly: "Divine Providence will assist us; certainly John was never intended for the plough."

John had begun to attend a public school at a distance, walking several miles a day to and from the village. But the complaints of Anthony at last forced him for the sake of peace to relinquish his studies and resume his daily labors on the farm. However, the charge of the cows and other animals being left to him, his book was his inseparable companion while guarding them. Don Calosso gave him lessons in the early morning after Mass; and John, his daily labors at an end, studied and wrote his exercises at night. Poor boy! is it a wonder that his whole heart went out in sympathy to all the neglected boys in this great wide world?

The saintly Curé laid a solid foundation of study and doctrine in his youthful disciple; but in two years he was summoned to his eternal reward, leaving John without a guide. This trial, however, did not last long. Anthony, the step-brother, coming of age, a division of the property was made; and Margaret and her two sons, Joseph and John, separated from him, taking a smaller house. This gave John his liberty; and he joyously resumed his regular studies, making a specialty of Latin. In 1831 he entered the college at Chieri, and pursued with ardor the courses of science, literature and art; but his favorite studies were history, oratory, and the Sacred Scriptures.

A desire to enter a religious order now began to agitate the young student. He laid open the state of his soul to Don Cafasso, the holy director of the Ecclesiastical Institute of Turin, where he studied; enlightened by the Holy Spirit, his wise guide, in admiration of the ways of God over this soul still in its baptismal innocence, after prayer and examination, answered decisively: "My son, enter a seminary and finish your studies. I think you are called by God to be a good parish priest."

John followed his counsel: he pursued his studies more earnestly than ever, especially philosophy and theology, and with phenomenal success, for his soul was steeped in the abundance of God, and he learned more in Holy Communion, where the divine Light flooded his soul, than he did from his professors and books.

But the great day for which he had so long sighed and so fervently prepared came at last, and John Bosco was ordained a priest of the Most High on June 5, 1841, the eve of Trinity Sunday, by the Archbishop of Turin, Msgr. Louis Franzoni. On Corpus Christi there was universal rejoicing in his native village of Castelnuovo, for there he celebrated that sacred feast, bearing the Blessed Sacrament in solemn procession through its festive streets, in the midst of an adoring multitude.

Three excellent livings were offered to the newly ordained priest. Consulting Don Cafasso anew, he was answered: "You should complete your course of moral theology and your preparation for the pulpit: give up all thought of benefices for awhile and come here." Don Bosco obeyed, and remained in the Institute for two years devoting himself to the higher studies in divinity. In intervals of intellectual labor, he accompanied Don Cafasso to the prisons, where each new scene of crime and punishment was to him a tragic revelation. The number of the prisoners, their moral misery and, more than all, the tender youth of many, astounded him and wrung his heart with pity. These children were orphans or the children of vicious parents; many of the boys would end—where? On the scaffold. This terrible thought haunted Don Bosco day and night, and strong and prevailing prayers went up to God and His Holy Mother for light and strength to help them, while, to render his petitions more effectual, he inflicted upon himself severe fasts and bodily penances.

The Venerable Don Cottolengo, one of Turin's most saintly apostles, met him one day and invited him to the great Hospital for youth he had founded. Don Bosco was moved to the soul at the sight of the sufferers, and spoke words of comfort on his way. As he was taking leave the Venerable Cottolengo, pressing the sleeve of his coat, said: "Your coat is too thin. Get one of stronger stuff, for a time will come when you will be pulled about by a great many boys."

Chapter III

CHAPTER III

BARTHOLOMEW GARELLI. FOUNDATION OF THE ORATORY OF ST. FRANCIS DE SALES

God, the Omnipotent, takes strange ways, simple and sometimes even apparently foolish ways of beginning a great and sublime work. On the feast of the Immaculate Conception of Our Lady, December 8, 1841, Don Bosco was vesting for Mass when he heard the sacristan scolding a strange boy who entered the church for refusing to serve at the altar. "But I don't know how," said the poor little fellow. "Then be off with you," and the sacristan gave him a rough push.

Don Bosco turned to him: "Why do you ill-treat the child?" he said gently. "Call him back; I want to speak to him." Quite ashamed the sacristan obeyed, and Don Bosco told the boy to come to him after Mass. The sacred function concluded, he made the child sit down by him and began a series of questions. "My name is Bartholomew Garelli," he answered to the first. And I want my readers to remember the name, Bartholomew Garelli, because that little boy of fifteen, fatherless, motherless, homeless, began all the great, miraculous, boy-saving works which have made Don Bosco great on earth and great in Heaven. That boy of fifteen could not read or write, he had not made his First Com , did not even know his prayers. how Don Bosco's heart ached as he heard the pitiful story! So he sat there with his arm around the little lad and taught him to make the Sign of the Cross, explaining what it meant and giving him his first lesson on God his Father. Then he dismissed him kindly and the boy promised to return.

In a day or two Bartholomew presented himself again, and with him were two other boys seeking instruction. In the succeeding weeks the little band grew; and lo! in two months, February 2, 1842, Don Bosco had a class of twenty poor boys educating them and training them in virtue. He interested himself in their work, visited them in their homes, if they had any, provided some with lodging and food and procured places for those out of work. On Sundays he took them to church, and afterwards for recreation to some park or public place; so that all Turin soon became alive to the good he was doing.

All this time he was pursuing the highest course of theological studies, deeming it imperative to fit himself to cope with the difficult questions of the time, with doctrinal, social, philosophical and political problems that agitated individuals and nations. In fact, he was preparing himself for authorship and studying a style which he had not valued so much in his early days of flowery rhetoric, that style which would appeal most powerfully to the heart and conscience of the people. He sought to instruct, to convince, to persuade. And right here I may digress a little and tell you that he succeeded and later put forth burning doctrinal and moral treatises that ran up into the thousands and hundreds of thousands. He wrote about a hundred volumes in his own name and many others anonymously.

His studies finished Don Cafasso questioned him as to the future. "I am ready to do what ever you appoint," replied the young priest, with the docility of a child.

"Three appointments await your choice," said his director; "a curacy at Asti, a professorship of moral theology here in the Institute, or chaplaincy of the Hospital near the Refuge. Which do you prefer?"

"Whichever you think best, Father. I have only one preference—to dedicate myself to the young; but your decision will be to me the will of God."

A few weeks of vacation, and on Don Bosco's return to Turin, his guide had determined upon the chaplaincy, where he was to assist Don Borel in the management of an institute of four hundred girls. His friends still urged him to accept a benefice offered by the Archbishop. But Don Bosco replied: "And who will take care of my poor children?"

By this time they had increased to three hundred, and he had initiated the famous evening classes. The society was known as "The Oratory of St. Francis of Sales", a saint whom Don Bosco chose above all others for their patron because of his sweetness and charity; for these were the two chief virtues he required in dealing with the poor little children he so loved.

Through Don Borel two large rooms were allowed for the Oratory meetings, one serving as a chapel; but this limited space could not accommodate two thirds of the boys. However, seven months of progress ensued, with ever increasing numbers. The latter brought trouble, for the authorities of the Hospital grew suspicious of the little army, and eviction followed. The municipality in the meantime had become keenly interested in the evening classes, and through the influence of Archbishop Franzoni, they granted to Don Bosco the use of St. Martin's Church at stated hours for the little multitude, and afterward St. Peter's; but three hundred boys playing in the courtyard—and Don Bosco never repressed their fun—distracted and annoyed so many, priests and parishioners, that their destiny was soon settled.

Ejected and at last homeless, did Don Bosco's courage fail or his hope in God's providence waver? Not for a moment. Calling his grieving children together, he said with his usual cheerfulness: "My dear children, God's sky must be our roof, our next meeting in the open air, but do not be troubled; in time I shall find a home for you."

Don Bosco and Bartolomew Garelli on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, December, 8, 1841

Chapter IV

CHAPTER IV

A TYPICAL SUNDAY. OPPOSITION AND TRIAL. VALDOCCO. ILLNESS OF DON BOSCO

A personal relation by one of the actors in these Sunday dramas tells its own story of the happiness and the potent moral influence which these red-letter days brought into so many young lives. I am sure my readers will find it of interest.

"At the end of each meeting, before separating, the good Father always told us the excursion for the next Sunday; the road, program and hour; gave advice as to our conduct and asked us to be as numerous as possible. 'If you have any comrades, invite them for me; the more the merrier.' The walk for the next Sunday was a topic of conversation during the week in our workshops and families; it exacted more attention, obedience and application to duty so as not to incur the punishment of being kept at home. The chief walks, carefully varied, were: The Mont des Capucines; Notre Dame des Champs; Pozzo di Strada; and Notre Dame des Lacs d'Avigliano. Those happy days are engraved in our memories; piety and joy reigned among us and influenced our future lives. Arrived at some church in the precincts of a town, Don Bosco asked leave to celebrate Mass, a permission always granted; at a signal the noisy band gathered together to attend with a celerity and unanimity which amazed the bystanders. Catechism followed, then breakfast; the grass or the rocks supplied the place of tables, forks were unnecessary; as for wine, the rivulets or fountains supplied what was needful; those who had too much shared with less fortunate boys; and Don Bosco fed those who had none. It is true, bread failed now and then; but gaiety and a good appetite never. Continuing our walk, we stopped somewhere to chant Vespers, the itinerant Oratory already possessing a good choir: catechism was heard a second time; the rosary was recited while walking; and at sunset we marched again into Turin, fatigued, but with light consciences and contented hearts."

A beautiful picture, that might have been drawn by a hundred thousand boys and more since those early days of test and trial. Trial—yes, for God's works are built on a foundation of pain. It was in keeping with the divine plan that harsh and severe criticisms of Don Bosco and his work began to be circulated; the clergy of Turin complained; the civil authorities saw danger lurking in those large gatherings; persecution set in from all sides; and Don Bosco's friends at last said: "Give up the boys! You can't fight against all this prejudice and opposition; no one will rent you a house for them; the authorities are against you; even good people are down on you. Give it all up, in the name of God!"

"God's mercy has sent me these boys," an Don Bosco heroically; "I shall not give one up; if I cannot hire a house I shall build one; and I tell you that one day, with God's help and the protection of His Blessed Mother, these children and a great many more will have a house, workshops, a college, a church and their own professors," and his eyes glowed with a supernatural light as he raised his hands toward Heaven.

No more was said and his friends left him free, rather awed at his sublime faith and hope, though many wise people thought him mad.

Just then, when all seemed lost, a man named Pinardi, offered Don Bosco a lease for some years of an old, neglected house, surrounded by a large field, in Valdocco, a suburb of Turin. Valdocco is very celebrated in Salesian annals, for there Don Bosco settled on Easter Sunday, 1846, and began his permanent work. A poor, broken-down house indeed it was; but there were playgrounds and plenty of room to build for the five hundred children that had to be sheltered there. The government was still obstinate in its opposition. King Charles Albert, however, made investigations, became convinced of the good and lasting results of Don Bosco's work and extended to him his approval and assistance. Among these orphans and waifs were found many with latent and extraordinary talents; these were educated to their capacity by the holy director himself, aided by the Abbé Borel, his devoted friend, and other good priests, who often went to help him in his arduous labors; and in their turn these boys became teachers of lower classes.

God is jealous of His elect and would have them like His Son in suffering; on the bed of pain He holds long and serious and loving commune with the soul, and the light of His Holy Spirit shines in its secret places uniting it more closely to the Adorable Trinity during this enforced solitude. Don Bosco was to be His victim for a while; he fell ill with bronchitis, accompanied with a violent cough and dangerous inflammation, and in eight days he was at death's door. With heavenly resignation he received the Last Sacraments, amid the tears of his friends, and to the indescribable grief of his boys of the Oratory, whose prayers and Communions were fervently offered for his recovery. "Some watched in prayer through the night; others vowed to say the Rosary daily, some for a year, and not a few for their whole lives. Many fasted on bread and water, and promised to fast for months or years if Our Lady would restore their beloved Don Bosco to health." Father Borel was watching at midnight by his side expecting at any moment to receive his last sigh, when suddenly he felt inspired to ask the dying man to pray for his recovery.

"Let us leave God to do His Holy Will," was Don Bosco's reply.

"Say at least, Lord, if it be Thy Will, let me recover." But Don Bosco was silent.

"Grant me this favor," pleaded his friend. "Say only those words and say them with your whole heart."

Don Bosco yielded and in a weak voice said: "Yes, Lord, if it so please Thee, let me recover."

The prayer was heard; and the next morning the doctors to their astonishment found him, not dead, but out of all danger. Joy flooded every heart, and the universal gladness was still more pronounced when Don Bosco was able, supported by a cane, to be among his dear children again cor the first time. A year of rest was prescribed; but after three months spent with his own family at Castelnuovo, where the boys and those of the neighboring villages formed a new Festive Oratory every Sunday around him, his heart was moved by the entreaties and affectionate letters of his Turin disciples, and he turned his steps again to Valdocco, where he was to refrain from teaching, preaching or hearing confessions!

"At first," he said years after, "I certainly intended to obey and keep my promise; but when I saw that Abbé Borel and the other Fathers were unable to attend to all the boys, and that on feast-days many of them were without confession or instruction, I could no longer remain idle. So I took up my wonted occupations again, and for upwards of twenty-five years I have had no further need of doctors or medicine. This has made me believe that after all methodical work does not injure bodily health."

The First Oratory, Turin, from 1841 to 1852

DOMINIC SAVIO

"Death rather than Sin!"

Born April 2, 1842. Died March 9. 1857. One of Don Bosco's first Pupils His Cause of Canonization was introduced February 11, 1914.

Chapter V

CHAPTER V

MARGARET BOSCO IN VALDOCCO. SUCCESS OF THE ORATORY. ATTEMPTS ON THE LIFE OF DON BOSCO