Martyr in China

Chapter 1. A Messenger of Good News

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Fr. John Botton: 1908-1944

On a summer morning in 1934, the mail carrier knocked at the door of a country farm-house. The door was answered by an old lady who, after greeting him, took the letter and went back inside.  The house was home to Margherita and Pio Botton and they had raised their family there. All their children had left home and were living in different parts of Italy.

Margherita announced to her husband that they had just received a letter from their son Gino, who was a missionary in Parma in the Congregation founded by Guido Maria Conforti, where he had been ordained priest a few years previously.

Gino began his letter apologizing for the fact that his elderly parents had learned from others about his departure for the mission in China: “I myself only received official confirmation this morning, and I thought that there was nothing to be gained by telling you earlier, since I will not be leaving before September”. The letter was dated June 22.

He continued: “Needless to say, I am happy: I learned from you that we are not born for this world, but for Heaven; and Heaven is well worth some sacrifice. I have also learned from you the necessity of self-sacrifice and I will never forget your example. Although I am sent as an apostle, I will never be able to match you, my first models and example. My departure means yet another sacrifice for you; but since you have already offered everything to the Lord, this one will not be too heavy to bear…Our hearts will always be united. I need nothing except that you be happy for me”.

We can only imagine how moved his parents must have been as they read these words, thinking of the great distance that would separate them, of the difficulties that their son would surely encounter and of their advancing years: would they ever see him again?

Perhaps it was asking too much to expect them to be happy, but they were surely resigned to accepting what was the will of God. 

Needless to say, I am happy: I learned from you that we are not born for this world, but for Heaven; and Heaven is well worth some sacrifice. I have also learned from you, my parents, the necessity of self-sacrifice and I will never forget your example. Although I am sent as an apostle, I will never be able to match you, my first models and example. 
Fr. John Botton

Pio and Margherita had met many years before in particular circumstances.

Margherita was the daughter of Mattia Gabardo, a patriot from Milan who belonged to the secret society of the “Carbonari” that championed the cause of Italian independence from Austria. Gabardo had been a friend of Silvio Pellico and was wanted by the police. He had fled to the Veneto region, and took up hiding in a village of the Valsugana where he married and had a child, Margherita.

The family was quite poor and Margherita, while still a child, was sent to work in the large village of Carmignano, on the river Brenta, not far from Vicenza (Northern Italy). She found a job as a waitress in a tavern where she met Pio Botton who was a regular customer. They fell in love, married, and had ten children. The youngest of them all was John, known affectionately as Gino, born on 9 May 1908 when his mother was already 44 years old.

By the year 1934, three of the children had entered religious life: Luigi in Rome, Maria in Vicenza and Gino in Parma. The others had married, and their elderly parents lived alone in the old country farm-house which had become too big for just the two of them. 

When the day came for him to leave, Gino had been at home for a few weeks to greet his relatives and friends. He was to sail from Venice on the ship “Conte Verde”. Neither of his parents were able to accompany him to the port of departure: his father was in bed with a temperature and his mother had to remain at home to look after him or, perhaps, she did not feel up to watching her son leave.

On the morning of September 7, Gino, putting on a brave face, said goodbye to his parents. His brothers and sisters accompanied him to the ship. His mother went as far as the doorway with him, kissed him and burst into tears. Almost ashamed of her tears, she closed the door and went back inside to her old and sick husband who whispered to her: “My dearest Mora, we will never see him again…”.

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