Don Bosco

Lifetime: Born in 1815, died in 1888 at the age of 72.

Order : Salesians

Founded: Turin, Italy, 1859, at the age of 44.

Mission: Christian education

Impact: By his death there were 768 Salesians in 64 foundations throughout Europe and South America. Today there are thousands throughout the world.

Quote: "How can I do this, when I am only a poor ignorant boy?"

"Don’t worry, I will give you someone to show you and teach you, and you will see that everything will be possible."

"At that moment I saw beside me a beautiful Lady whose garments reflected points of light like a thousand stars. She took me by the hand and said, ‘Look!’ I saw that in place of the boys, there were a lot of little wild animals, snapping and snarling at each other. ‘This is your work,’ she said, ‘make yourself humble and strong. What you are about to see is what you must do.’ I looked and I saw that the snarling animals had been changed into lambs, chasing each other and jumping for joy. I sighed once again and the Lady put her hand on my head and said sweetly, ‘Do not worry, in good time you will understand everything.’ "

Archbishop Gastaldi had been one of Don Bosco’s most trusted friends for thirty-one years. But he had for some time held serious reservations about the methods which Don Bosco and his Salesians employed. After six months in his new archdiocese of Turin, the center of Salesian activity, his attitude toward the newly-founded congregation was growing worse, as his advisors pointed out how Don Bosco ignored the archdioceses.

"Why is Don Bosco setting up his seminary against ours? Do his schools conform to the diocesan guidelines? One privilege after another! He must have a direct line to the Vatican, because he certainly does not come to us."

In 1874 Don Bosco began an association for late vocations and wanted to publish a booklet explaining the purposes of the association, but was denied an imprimatur by the Archdiocese of Turin. He had to ask his good friend, the bishop of Fossano, for an imprimatur. On the advice of Rome, he opened his first seminary for late vocations not in Turin but near Genoa.

Don Bosco frequently invited Archbishop Gastaldi to preside at mass during one of the Salesian solemnities, but every invitation was met with a refusal. He asked him to give his boys Confirmation, for the pupils of the house had not had the opportunity to receive the sacrament for nearly four years. Again, the request was denied.

In 1879, the Bruno Press of Turin published pamphlets attacking the Archbishop. One accused him of doctrinal errors and the other criticized him for his unjust treatment of Don Bosco. Immediately, Don Bosco fell under suspicion of being the author. The indignant archbishop insisted that Don Bosco make a declaration formally condemning the pamphlets. Instead, he wrote a letter disapproving the disrespectful tone of the pamphlets, but he did not censure their content. Consequently, he continued to be regarded as the inspiration for the pamphlets, if not the actual author.

"Does it really matter if he literally wrote it? Does anyone doubt that he is thinking such things as well? He has not denied the content, has he? Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Don Bosco is systematically opposing the archbishop. He wants to set himself above his authority and is carrying on a secret campaign against him."

At last, when a suit was brought against him in the Roman Court, Don Bosco for the first time felt he had to speak out. He wrote a long, detailed statement to the Congregation of Religious affirming that neither he nor any member of the congregation had taken any part in composing or editing the pamphlets. However, he found himself unable to condemn their content, for much of it was true.

When Pope Leo XIII read the statement, he was deeply moved; the strength of the case and its sincerity stirred him to the heart, so he had the case brought before him. He dictated a proposal for an agreement designed to put an end to the dispute.

Pope Leo sent the text to the Prefect of the Congregation, Cardinal Nina, who read the first article: "On receiving these instructions Don Bosco shall write a letter to Archbishop Gastaldi expressing his regret that, during these last few years, incidents should have affected their relationship and offended the archbishop. If the archbishop thought that he or any member of his institute were to blame, Don Bosco shall beg his pardon and ask him to forget the past."

When the proposal was read to a gathering of Salesian superiors, they reacted as Cardinal Nina had. "We cannot accept it, Don Bosco," they declared. "Think of us; think of the future generations of Salesians and what history will say. You have to defend yourself!"

"And you, Cagliero, what do you think?" asked Don Bosco, turning to the only one who had said nothing.

"I think it is just; the pope knows Don Bosco’s virtue and love of peace, and he must hope to settle the matter once and for all by placing the burden unjustly upon the shoulders of the innocent."

Don Bosco heeded this advice and faithfully carried out the instructions contained in the papal document.

Even so, the conflicts between Archbishop Gastaldi and the founder continued, and in private the pope deplored that Don Bosco should encounter opposition from the very person from whom he had a right to expect support.

Once, while still friends with Don Bosco, Archbishop Gastaldi had given him the following advice: "Whenever you meet with human opposition, do not be alarmed nor allow any of your sons to display any resentment. Be sure that patience, prayers, and humility before God and men will be the best way to overcome your obstacles. All the holy founders have acted in this way."

As difficult as the conflict with Archbishop Gastaldi was for Don Bosco, it was by no means his only problem. During this turbulent time of Italian unification, opposition to the Papal States ran high. Because of Don Bosco’s connections with the Holy See, the government suspected that he was opposed to a united Italy. Wild speculations began to circulate.

"Why is he working with these boys? What does he want? He must be organizing a secret army to fight for the pope. The boys are being taught reactionary principles. He is hiding arms and ammunition in the seminary."

Moreover, their suspicions seemed to be confirmed when they saw high walls being built around the seminary. Louis Farini, Minister of the Interior, ordered the seminary to be searched for anything of an incriminating nature, such as arms, documents, or large sums of money.

One afternoon, a band of police officers came to the seminary telling Don Bosco they had orders to conduct a search.

"Please show me your search warrant," he said. The police had not brought it with them. Their presence normally caused so much alarm that most people never thought to ask for it.

"Otherwise," he continued, "I shall not be able to let you enter these premises."

"Surely," said Don Bosco, "you would not dare to use force. I am only a private citizen, but under the Constitution my home is inviolable. As long as you give me no search warrant, I have my rights."

Afterwards, they went through all the furnishings, giving special attention to the wastepaper basket, but no incriminating documents came to light. Finally, aggravated by the fruitless search, the officer in charge said to Don Bosco, "Don’t make us waste our time. Hand over the papers."

"If ever I had them, they would long ago have been destroyed or put safely away. Now, go on with your search. As for me, I have no time to waste."

He sat down to write some letters. As soon as he finished, the officer took possession of them while the two others continued their investigation.

At one moment they thought they had something when they discovered a small box with a double lock.

"Sorry, I will not open it. I have the right to keep documents hidden that might discredit me or my congregation. Leave that box alone."

Don Bosco reluctantly yielded to their demand. Out of the drawer they pulled a package of bills showing that Don Bosco owed considerable sums of money to the baker Magra, the tanner who had supplied the shoemakers’ workshop, and many other local merchants. There were invoices for oil, rice, macaroni and other things.

"I was not trying to make a fool of you," he answered soothingly. "I did not wish you to find my debts, but you insisted on seeing and knowing everything. Never mind, if you would only pay a few of these bills you would be doing an act of charity."

Continuing their search, the police found the original text of Pope Pius IX’s brief giving the papal permission for the congregation. The officer wanted to carry it away.

"I object. That is an original document. Does it matter to you if I give you an exact copy? Here’s one," said Don Bosco, offering them a recent issue of Catholic Readings, the Salesian magazine.

"Yes, but the Latin is by the side; what is more, here you have a translation of it."

As their search continued, they came upon a collection of books stashed in a wardrobe. "What are these?"

"They are lives of the saints and are very edifying," said Don Bosco. "Take this one for instance, about Saint Simeon the Stylite. It is interesting, very interesting. Listen: ‘This extraordinary man, moved by the thought of hell, and knowing he had only one soul, which he must save at all costs, left his country, parents, and friends and withdrew into solitude. He lived for many years at the top of a pillar on which he had built a crude shelter. From there he preached to the multitudes, reproaching the people of the world for thinking only of their pleasures and not of the eternal punishments awaiting them for their ill use of time…’ "

"You gentlemen would be very obliging," said Don Bosco, "if you would kindly remember that it is the eve of Pentecost, and that I have several hundred boys to confess."

"We’re finished," answered one of the three. But that did not stop them from seizing the evening mail when it was delivered to him.

The first letter they happened to open was from the Minister of the Interior, Louis Farini. It strongly recommended a poor orphan to the charity of Don Bosco, for whose admission His Excellency himself pledged to pay six pounds.

This was the same Minister who had signed the search warrant. The police let their arms drop to their sides—a schizophrenic government following two policies at the same time!

In their confusion they forgot to check the rest of the correspondence. It was a good thing that they did not, for among them was a certain letter from Rome, which could have been easily distorted to cause many difficulties for Don Bosco.

Seeing this letter, Don Bosco had the presence of mind to say to the officers, "I see you are very dirty from this nasty job. Allow me to lend you this brush. You must be tired after searching for more than three hours. I will send for something to quench your thirst."

The boys playing in the yard had spent the last three hours trembling for their Father’s freedom. However, when they saw a tray with a bottle and glasses go by, they knew that Don Bosco had once more turned around the very men who had been sent to do him harm.

Although Don Bosco had no lack of resourcefulness, he often received much-needed help from an unexpected source.

Don Bosco entitled the last chapter of his Memoirs "A Mysterious Dog: Grigio." There he relates how a strange gray dog protected him from time to time. The dog came to be known as Grigio, from the Italian word for ‘gray.’ All sorts of attempts have been made to account for this animal, which always seemed to be present whenever Don Bosco needed protection but was subsequently nowhere to be found.

Those who saw it described it as a German shepherd standing about three feet high with a ferocious appearance. The first time Don Bosco’s mother set eyes on it, she cried out in alarm.

In those days the Valdocco was more isolated than it is now, and it was necessary to traverse a wide stretch of rough waste ground dotted with trees and bushes to reach the seminary. Since he had been physically attacked many times, Don Bosco was obliged to go out accompanied. One evening, however, he was returning home alone, and as he was making his way across this open area he began to feel afraid. Suddenly, a large dog bounded to his side, terrifying him even more.

"Yet its attitude was not threatening," Don Bosco writes. "It was rather like a dog that had recognized its master. We quickly became friends, and it accompanied me as far as the Oratory. That was not the only time that I encountered it. On different occasions it kept me company, sometimes providentially.

"Towards the end of November, 1854, on a sleety night I was returning from the town. In order not to be alone I took the road leading from the Consolata down to the Cottolengo Institute. At one point I noticed that two men were walking a short distance in front of me, matching their pace with mine. I crossed over to the other side to avoid them but they did the same. I then tried to turn back but it was too late. They suddenly wheeled around and were on me in two steps. Without a word they threw some kind of coat over me. I struggled in vain to break loose. One of them then tried to gag me with a scarf. I wanted to shout but I hadn’t the strength.

"At that moment Grigio appeared, growling like a bear; he hurled himself at the first man with his paws at his throat while snarling at the other. They had to let go of me to deal with the dog.

"Grigio went on barking. The two thugs took off as fast as they could, and Grigio accompanied me to the Cottolengo where I stopped to recover for a moment. Then I returned to the seminary, this time well protected. Every evening when I went out alone I always noticed Grigio on one side of the road."

One evening, Grigio flatly refused to allow Don Bosco to leave the house by lying across the doorway and growling whenever he tried to pass. "If you won’t listen to me, listen to the dog; it has more sense than you," remarked his mother. A quarter of an hour later a neighbor ran in to say that he had heard of a plot to assault Don Bosco that night.

When attempts to harm him ceased, the dog disappeared and was not seen again, save once. In 1883, Don Bosco arrived late one night to the station at Bordighera accompanied by one of his priests. Finding no one to show him the way, he wandered through the dark, stormy night trying to find the Salesian house. Suddenly, he was welcomed by a bark, as Grigio appeared and led him to the house.

"All sorts of stories have been told about this dog," remarks Don Bosco, "but I never discovered who its master was. I only know that throughout the many dangers I encountered, this animal protected me providentially."

In fact, Don Bosco never tried to discover whose dog it was. "What does it matter? What counts is that it was my friend."