Threats from Marquis Cavour
The Oratory in Trouble Again
Words cannot describe the enthusiasm these expeditions aroused in the youngsters. They thoroughly enjoyed the mixture of devotions, games, and outings, and they became so attached to me that they not only obeyed my every command, but they were eager that I should give them some task to do. One day, a carabiniere saw me bring four hundred chattering and playful boys to silence in the field by raising my hand; he exclaimed, If this priest were an army general, he could take on the most powerful army in the world. Really, the obedience and affection of my pupils bordered on foolishness.
This very thing gave renewed credence of the rumour that Don Bosco and his sons could start a revolution at a moment’s notice. It was a ridiculous claim, but local authorities swallowed it again, especially Marquis Cavour, father of the famous Camillo and Gustavo. At that time he was vicar of the city, which means he was in charge of the civil power. He therefore summoned me to city hall and reasoned with me at length about the silly stories about me which were then doing the rounds. He ended by saying,
My good priest, take my advice: let these scoundrels go their own way. They will bring only trouble on you and the public authorities. I have been assured that these meetings are dangerous, and therefore I cannot permit them.
I replied, Lord Marquis, I have no other aim but the betterment of these poor sons of the people. I do not ask for financial assistance but only for a place where I can bring them together. In this way I hope to reduce the number of loafers and those headed for prison.
You’re fooling yourself, my good priest. You’re labouring in vain. Because I regard such meetings as dangerous, I cannot give you any place for such assemblies. And where will you get the money you need to pay rent and to meet the expenses that care of these vagabonds entails? Let me say again: I cannot allow you to hold these meetings.
My Lord Marquis, the results so far convince me that I am not working in vain. Many totally abandoned youngsters have been gathered, freed from dangers, apprenticed to some trade, and are no longer dwelling in the prisons. So far, material support has not been lacking to me. This matter is in God’s hands, who sometimes uses worthless instruments to accomplish his sublime designs.
Have patience, and do as I say. I cannot allow such meetings.
My Lord Marquis, don’t grant this concession for my sake, but for the good of so many abandoned youngsters who would, most likely, come to a sad end.
Quiet! I’m not here to argue. This is a disorder, and I wish to and must put a stop to it. Don’t you know that every meeting is banned, unless held with lawful permission?
My meetings have no political scope. I teach catechism to poor boys, and I do so with the archbishop’s permission.
Does the archbishop know what is going on?
He is fully informed. I have never taken a step without his consent.
But I cannot allow these gatherings.
I cannot believe, Lord Marquis, that you want to forbid me to teach catechism when my archbishop permits it.
And supposing the archbishop were to tell you to drop this ridiculous undertaking of yours, would you put difficulties in the way?
None whatsoever. I undertook this work on the advice of my ecclesiastical superior, and I have continued with it. At the least sign from him I would be ready to do his bidding.
Go. I shall speak with the archbishop. But don’t be obstinate in accepting his orders, or I shall be forced to take severe measures which I would prefer not to use.
At this stage of the proceedings, I believed that we would be left in peace for at least a while. Imagine my disappointment, therefore, when I arrived home to find a letter from the Filippi brothers, ordering me out of the place leased to me!
Your boys, they told me, with their continuous trampling in our field have killed the grass down to the very roots. We are prepared to forgo the rent owing if you are out of the field in two weeks. There can be no extension beyond that.
When my friends got wind of these latest difficulties, many came to advise me to quit. Others, noting my preoccupation and seeing me always surrounded by boys, began to say I had gone mad.
One day, in the presence of Fr Sebastian Pacchiotti and others, Doctor Borrelli suggested to me:
Let’s cut our losses now and salvage what we can. Let’s send away all the youngsters except for about twenty of the youngest. While we continue to teach catechism to them, God will open the way and opportunity of doing more.
There’s no need to wait for further opportunity, I told them. The site’s ready: a spacious courtyard, a house with many children, a portico, a church, priests, clerics, all at our disposal.
But where are these things? Dr Borrelli broke in.
I don’t know where they are, but they do exist, and they are ours.
At this Dr Borrelli burst into tears.
Poor Don Bosco! he exclaimed. He’s losing his mind.
He took me by the hand, embraced me, and went off with Fr Pacchiotti, leaving me alone in my room.