Letter from Rome (10 May 1884)
From the Lettera da Roma, the practical companion to the 1877 treatise
Translator’s note
This translation is rendered from the verbatim Italian text of Don Bosco’s Lettera da Roma of 10 May 1884, as preserved in Volume XVII of the Memorie Biografiche di San Giovanni Bosco (Eugenio Ceria, ed., Turin: SEI, 1936, pp. 107–114) and in the Epistolario (Vol. 4, pp. 261–269). The text reproduced here follows the integral version published by the Salesian devotional archive I sogni di Don Bosco (donbosco.netsons.org/la-lettera-roma-del-1884), which prints the letter in full and marks the few minor omissions with bracketed ellipses, as does the original critical apparatus. A condensed version is also hosted by the Salesian Congregation at notedipastoralegiovanile.it. The bracketed editorial notes, [Don Bosco’s grief at what he was considering caused him such oppression that he awoke completely exhausted. But the following evening, as soon as he was in bed, the interrupted dream resumed], etc., appear in the Italian source itself, supplied by Don Bosco’s secretary Don Carlo Maria Viglietti, who took dictation of the letter as Bosco told it.
The translation follows the same principles as the 1877 Preventive System treatise. Loving-kindness (amorevolezza), familiarity (famigliarità), confidence (confidenza), and assistance (assistenza) are translated consistently. Direttore is rendered “Rector”; assistenti as “assistants”; Superiori as “Superiors.” Sacramento della Penitenza and Confessione are rendered “Confession”; Comunione as “Holy Communion.” The dream-narrative structure with its verbatim dialogue between Bosco, Valfré, and Giuseppe Buzzetti is preserved as Bosco himself preserved it, Bosco called this a sogno (dream) and considered the dialogue authoritative enough to dictate it word for word to his secretary. The Italian preserves the original speakers’ shifts in tense and address; the English follows. Latin Scripture, italicized in the Italian, is preserved italicized and translated immediately after. Sentences and paragraphs have been broken up where 19th-century Italian periods would read as run-ons in modern American English. No content has been condensed, summarized, or paraphrased.
A note on weight. This letter was dictated by a 69-year-old Bosco from Rome, four years before his death, to the Salesians and boys he had left in Turin. Eugenio Ceria called it, together with the 1877 Preventive System treatise and the Regolamento delle case, “the pedagogical trilogy left by Don Bosco to his sons.” The grief is real. Translate accordingly.
Rome, 10 May 1884
My dearest sons in Jesus Christ,
Whether near or far, I think of you always. I have only one desire: to see you happy in time and in eternity. This thought, this desire, made up my mind to write you this letter. I feel, my dear ones, the weight of being away from you, and not seeing you, not hearing you, causes me a pain you cannot imagine. For this reason I would have wanted to write these lines a week ago, but my unbroken occupations would not let me. Even so, although only a few days remain before my return, I want to come to you ahead of time at least by letter, since I cannot do it in person. These are the words of one who loves you tenderly in Jesus Christ and has the duty to speak to you with a father’s freedom. And you will permit me, won’t you? You will pay attention, and you will put into practice what I am about to say.
The Oratory before 1870
I told you that you are the one and constant thought of my mind. Now then, on one of these recent evenings I had withdrawn to my room, and as I was getting ready to go to bed, I had begun to recite the prayers my good mother taught me. In that moment, I do not know if I was overtaken by sleep, or carried out of myself by some distraction, it seemed to me that two of the Oratory’s old boys appeared before me. One of the two came up to me, greeted me affectionately, and said:
“Oh, Don Bosco, do you know me?”
“Yes, I know you,” I answered.
“And do you still remember me?” the man added.
“You, and all the others. You are Valfré, and you were at the Oratory before 1870.”
“Tell me,” the man went on, “would you like to see the boys who were at the Oratory in my time?”
“Yes, show them to me,” I answered. “It will give me great pleasure.”
Then Valfré showed me the boys, all of them with the same faces, the same height, the same age as they had at that time.
It seemed to me that I was in the old Oratory at recreation hour. It was a scene all life, all movement, all joy. Some were running, some were jumping, some were getting games going. Over here they were playing leapfrog, over there barrarotta and ball. In one spot a circle of boys had gathered around a priest, hanging on his every word as he told a little story. In another spot a cleric was in the middle of a group of boys playing asino vola and trades. There was singing and laughing on every side, and everywhere clerics and priests, with boys around them romping happily. You could see that between the boys and the Superiors there reigned the greatest cordiality and confidence. I was enchanted at this sight, and Valfré said to me:
“Look: familiarity brings affection, and affection brings confidence. This is what opens hearts, and the boys lay everything open without fear before their teachers, their assistants, and their Superiors. They become honest in Confession and outside of Confession, and they make themselves willing in everything that is commanded by the one whose love they are certain of.”
The Oratory in 1884
In that moment the other old pupil came up to me, his beard all white, and said to me:
“Don Bosco, would you like now to know and see the boys who are at the Oratory at present?”
This was Giuseppe Buzzetti.
“Yes,” I answered, “because it has already been a month since I have seen them.”
And he pointed them out: I saw the Oratory and all of you at recreation. But I no longer heard shouts of joy and singing; I no longer saw that movement, that life, as in the first scene. In the gestures and faces of many of the boys you could read a boredom, an exhaustion, a sullenness, a wariness, that grieved my heart. […]
“Have you seen your boys?” the old pupil said to me.
“I see them,” I answered with a sigh.
“How different they are from what we used to be!” the old pupil exclaimed.
“Sadly so! What listlessness in that recreation! […]”
What is missing is the best part
“But how can these dear boys of mine be brought back to life, so that they recover the old liveliness, joy, and openness?”
“With Loving-kindness (carità).”
“With Loving-kindness? But are my boys not loved enough? You know whether I love them. You know how much I have suffered for them and put up with for them across forty whole years, and how much I still put up with and suffer now. How many hardships, how many humiliations, how many oppositions, how many persecutions, to give them bread, a home, teachers, and especially to obtain the salvation of their souls. I have done whatever I knew how to do and was able to do for those who make up the affection of my whole life.”
“I am not speaking of you.”
“Of whom then? Of those who take my place? Of the Rectors, the prefects, the teachers, the assistants? Don’t you see how they are martyrs to study and to work? How they are using up their youthful years for those whom Divine Providence has entrusted to them?”
“I see, I know. But that is not enough: what is missing is the best part.”
“What then is missing?”
“That the boys not only be loved, but that they themselves know they are loved.”
“But don’t they have eyes in their heads? Don’t they have the light of intelligence? Don’t they see that everything we do for them is done for their love?”
“No, I tell you again, that is not enough.”
“What then is needed?”
“That, being loved in those things that please them, by entering into their childish inclinations, they may learn to see love also in those things that by nature please them little: discipline, study, self-denial. And that they may learn to do these things with enthusiasm and love.”
The Salesian as “soul of the recreation”
“Explain yourself better!”
“Look at the boys at recreation.”
I looked, and then I answered:
“And what is there in particular to see?”
“After all these years of educating the young, you still do not understand? Look more carefully. Where are our Salesians?”
I looked, and I saw that very few priests and clerics were mixing among the boys, and fewer still were taking part in their amusements. The Superiors were no longer the soul of the recreation. Most of them were walking about talking to one another, paying no attention to what the boys were doing; others watched the recreation without taking any thought of the boys; others were keeping watch only from a distance, without speaking to anyone who was committing some fault; a few would speak to them, but in a threatening manner, and even that rarely. There was the occasional Salesian who would have liked to step into some group of boys, but I saw that those boys were deliberately keeping their distance from their teachers and Superiors. Then my friend went on:
“In the old days of the Oratory, weren’t you always in the midst of the boys, especially during recreation? Do you remember those wonderful years? It was a foretaste of paradise, a time we always remember with love, because affection was the rule we lived by, and we had no secrets from you.”
“Of course! And in those days everything was joy for me, and in the boys there was an eagerness to come near me, to speak with me, an intense desire to hear my counsel and put it into practice. But now you see how the ceaseless audiences, the multiplied affairs, and my own health prevent me.”
“That is fair. But if you cannot do it, why don’t the Salesians make themselves your imitators? Why don’t you press them, demand of them, that they treat the boys the way you used to treat them?”
“I speak, I wear out my lungs, but unfortunately many no longer feel up to the labors of the old days.”
“And so, by neglecting the lesser, they lose the greater, and the greater is their own labors. Let them love what is pleasing to the boys, and the boys will love what is pleasing to the Superiors. Their labor will be easy that way. The cause of the present change at the Oratory is that a number of the boys have no confidence in their Superiors. In the old days hearts were all open to the Superiors, whom the boys loved and obeyed promptly. But now Superiors are looked on as Superiors and no longer as fathers, brothers, and friends, so they are feared and little loved. Therefore, if you want to make one heart and one soul again, for the love of Jesus that fatal barrier of wariness must be broken, and in its place must come a heart-to-heart confidence.”
So let obedience guide the pupil as a mother guides her little child; then peace and the old joy will reign in the Oratory.
“How then can this barrier be broken?”
“Familiarity with the boys, especially in recreation. Without familiarity, affection is not shown; and without that showing of affection, there can be no confidence. Whoever wants to be loved must let it be seen that he loves. Jesus Christ made himself small with the small, and bore our weakness. Behold the Master of familiarity. A teacher seen only at his desk is a teacher and nothing more, but if he goes into the recreation with the boys, he becomes like a brother.”
If a man is seen only preaching from the pulpit, people will say he is doing his duty and nothing more. But if he speaks one word at recreation, it is the word of one who loves. How many conversions have been brought about by a few of his words that suddenly reached the ear of a boy while he was at play!
Loving-kindness (amorevolezza) and watchful presence
He who knows he is loved, loves; and he who is loved obtains everything, especially from the young. This confidence puts an electric current between the boys and the Superiors. Hearts open and make known their needs and disclose their faults. This love is what makes the Superiors bear up under the labors, the annoyances, the ingratitudes, the disturbances, the failings, the negligences of the boys. Jesus Christ did not break the bruised reed, nor did he quench the smoking flax. Behold your model.
Then you will no longer see anyone working for ends of vainglory; or anyone withdrawing from the field of watchful presence (sorveglianza) out of jealousy at another’s feared influence; or anyone muttering about others because he wants to be loved and esteemed by the boys to the exclusion of all the other Superiors, gaining nothing but contempt and hypocritical flatteries; or anyone letting his heart be stolen by a single creature, and, in order to make a fuss over that one, neglect all the other boys; or anyone, for the love of his own comfort, treating the strictest duty of watchful presence as nothing; or anyone, out of a fear of giving offense, holding back from correcting the boy who needs to be corrected.
If there is this true love, nothing will be sought after but the glory of God and the salvation of souls. When this love grows faint, that is when things stop going well.
Why is the coldness of a regulation being put in place of Loving-kindness? Why are the Superiors drifting away from the observance of those rules of education that Don Bosco laid down for them?
Why is the system of preventing disorders by watchful presence and Loving-kindness being replaced, little by little, by the system, less burdensome, and quicker for the one giving the orders, of issuing laws which, if they are backed up with punishments, kindle hatreds and yield bitterness, and which, if no one bothers to enforce them, yield contempt for the Superiors on account of the most serious disorders?
Let the educator be all things to all
And this is what necessarily happens when familiarity is missing. So if you want the Oratory to return to its old happiness, put back into force the old system: let the Superior be all things to all, ready always to listen to every doubt or complaint of the boys, all eyes in keeping fatherly watch over their conduct, all heart in seeking the spiritual and temporal good of those whom Providence has entrusted to him.
Then hearts will no longer be closed, and there will no longer reign those secrets that kill. Only in the case of immorality should the Superiors be unyielding. It is better to run the risk of expelling an innocent boy from the house than to keep a scandalous one. Let the assistants make it the strictest matter of conscience to report to the Superiors all those things they know to be in any way an offense against God.
Then I asked:
“And what is the chief means by which such familiarity and such love and confidence can triumph?”
“The exact observance of the rules of the house.”
“And nothing else?”
“The best dish at a meal is a cheerful face.”
[Don Bosco’s grief at what he was considering caused him such oppression that he woke up completely exhausted. But the following evening, as soon as he was in bed, the interrupted dream resumed.]
I had before me the courtyard, the boys who are now at the Oratory, and the same old pupil of the Oratory. I began to question him.
“What you told me, I will make known to my Salesians. But what should I say to the boys of the Oratory?”
He answered me:
“That they recognize how much the Superiors, the teachers, the assistants labor and study for love of them, since were it not for their good they would not submit themselves to so many sacrifices. That they remember that humility is the spring of every tranquility. That they learn to bear with the failings of others, because in this world perfection is not to be found, that is only in paradise. That they leave off muttering against one another, because muttering cools hearts. And above all, let them strive to live in the holy grace of God. He who has no peace with God has no peace with himself, and no peace with others.”
“So you are telling me that among my boys there are some who do not have peace with God?”
“This is the chief cause of the bad mood. […] If the heart has no peace with God, it remains anxious, unsettled, intolerant of obedience; it is angered at nothing; everything seems to it to be going badly; and because it itself has no love, it judges that the Superiors do not love it.”
“Yet, my dear friend, don’t you see how often Confession and Holy Communion are received at the Oratory?”
“It is true that the frequency of Confession is great. But what is radically lacking in so many boys who go to Confession is stability in their resolutions. They confess, but always the same faults, the same nearby occasions, the same bad habits, the same disobediences, the same neglected duties. So it goes on for months and months, and even for years. […]”
These are Confessions worth little or nothing, and so they bring no peace. And if a boy were called in that state before the judgment seat of God, it would be a serious matter. […]
[Here Don Bosco says that he has seen things in some of the boys that have grieved him, and he intends to warn them when he returns from Rome. In the meantime he exhorts everyone to holiness.]
Here I will say to you: it is time to pray and to take firm resolutions, to propose not with words but with deeds, to make it believed that the Comollos, the Domenico Savios, the Besuccos, and the Siccardis are still living among us.
At the end I asked my friend:
“Have you nothing else to tell me?”
“Preach to everyone, great and small, to remember always Most Holy Mary, Help of Christians. That she has gathered them here to lead them away from the dangers of the world, that they might love one another as brothers, and that they might give glory to God and to her by their good conduct; that it is Our Lady who provides them with bread and the means to study, with countless graces and wonders. Let them remember that they are on the eve of the feast of their Most Holy Mother, and that with her help that barrier of wariness must fall, the barrier that the devil has succeeded in raising up between the boys and the Superiors, and that he turns to his use for the ruin of certain souls.”
“And will we succeed in taking down this barrier?”
“Yes, certainly, provided that great and small are ready to suffer some mortification for the love of Mary, and to put into practice what I have told you.”
In the meantime I went on watching my boys, and at the spectacle of those whom I saw heading toward eternal ruin I felt such a tightness in my heart that I awoke. There are many other very important things I saw that I would still wish to recount to you, but time and prudence do not allow it.
Let the days of affection and confidence return
I am ready to close. Do you know what this poor old man, who for his dear boys has used up his whole life, wants from you? Nothing other than that, with the appropriate adjustments, the happy days of the early Oratory may return. The days of affection and Christian confidence between the boys and the Superiors. The days of the spirit of giving way to one another and bearing with one another, for the love of Jesus Christ. The days of hearts open with full simplicity and candor. The days of Loving-kindness (amorevolezza) and of true joy for everyone. I have need that you console me by giving me the hope and the promise that you will do everything I desire for the good of your souls.
You do not realize enough what a fortune it is for you to have been received into the Oratory. Before God I assert it: it is enough for a boy to enter a Salesian house, and the Most Blessed Virgin at once takes him under her special protection. Let us all be of one mind, then. Let the Loving-kindness of those who command, and the Loving-kindness of those who must obey, make the spirit of St. Francis de Sales reign among us.
O my dear sons, the time is drawing near when I shall have to part from you and depart for my eternity. [Note of the secretary: At this point Don Bosco broke off his dictation. His eyes filled with tears, not from regret, but from an unspeakable tenderness that showed in his gaze and in the sound of his voice. After a few moments he went on.] Therefore I long to leave you, priests, clerics, dearest boys, on that path of the Lord on which He Himself desires you.
To this end the Holy Father, whom I saw on Friday 9 May, sends you his Blessing from his whole heart. On the day of the feast of Mary, Help of Christians, I will be with you before the image of our most loving Mother.
I want this great feast to be celebrated with every solemnity, and let Don Lazzero and Don Marchisio see to it that you are also kept cheerful in the refectory. The feast of Mary, Help of Christians, must be the prelude to that eternal feast which we must all celebrate together, joined as one, on a day yet to come, in Paradise.
Your most affectionate in Jesus Christ, Fr. Giovanni Bosco
Provenance. Critical text in Epistolario di S. Giovanni Bosco, Vol. 4, pp. 261–269 (LAS, Rome). Narrative version with secretary’s notes in Eugenio Ceria, Memorie Biografiche di San Giovanni Bosco, Vol. XVII (Turin: SEI, 1936), pp. 107–114. Eugenio Ceria’s judgment on the text: “This writing is a treasure, which together with the little treatise on the Preventive System and with the Rule of the houses forms the pedagogical trilogy left by Don Bosco to his sons.”