THE DOMINICANS, AND MY LIFE AMONG THEM.

Whoever speaks of the Inquisition, immediately recalls to mind the race of monks who appear to be, even from their origin, the primary agents of this terrible institution.

These monks are called Dominicans, from the name of their founder; and it was by the advice of Pope Innocent III. that their Order was instituted. They called themselves Preachers, because they went to different cities preaching; not, however, the Gospel of Christ, but the rosary of the Virgin Mary; the most absurd system of prayer that the Christian world has ever yet had: a system, indeed, diametrically opposed to the doctrine of Christ, who says: "But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions ... after this manner, therefore, pray ye: Our Father, &c."

Now the rosary is a repetition of fifteen Pater Nosters, with one hundred and fifty Ave Marias, and it is said that the Virgin herself taught this stupid form of devotion to Domenico di Guzman. The fact, however, is certain, that he was the promoter of it, leaving it as an heritage to his followers.

The rosary was the Marseillaise hymn of the Crusaders, when, headed by St. Dominic, they ravaged the provinces of Languedoc, Narbonne, and Dauphiny, to exterminate the heretics, as they called those true Christians who would not subject themselves to the dominion of the pope.

The Order of the Dominicans can boast of many men of great talent; yet they allowed themselves to be seduced from the primitive mode of worship, and to become in their turn seducers, to perpetuate this absurd system. It is from them that every thing most foolish and malignant in the barbarous ages, both in Spain and Italy, has been continued down to our own times. A multitude of fanatics started up on the same field, who, at first, called themselves monks, or hermits; then friars or brothers; afterwards, regular clergy; in order to distinguish themselves from those who call themselves priests, after the Greek presbiteros, or elders.

In every age there has been a rivalry and emulation between all these parties, to serve the papal cause; always, however, first taking good care of themselves. It therefore happens, that those in whom the love of that system has prevailed over the love of themselves, have advanced to the highest distinctions in the Romish Church; while, on the contrary, those in whom the love of themselves has been the dominant passion, have remained behind, and are held in little consideration; like the Monks of San Francesco d'Assisi.

Among all these various parties, I think the Dominicans hold a middle rank; though not the most active, they are by no means the most idle or most selfish of the ecclesiastical orders: they are zealous in things belonging to the Church, and have many theologians and preceptors among them; some of whom are ambitious of appearing eloquent in set sermons, studied for the purpose.

The Inquisitors also occupy themselves in preaching; not that they wish to instruct the Christian world, but because it is the only means of procuring them money; of which they are perpetually in want; less, however, for their personal necessities, than for their personal vices.

The Dominicans are known to be rich, and to lead an easy life. Their dress is the most becoming, or, I should say, the least unbecoming of all the tunics, capes, hoods, cowls, gowns, and scarfs, that form the monkish garb; and certainly, their mode of life is less irrational than that of the other orders: still they are full of hypocrisy and deceit. They have a code of laws; but although they swear to obey them all, they do not observe half of them. The Superior of the monastery has power to dispense with the observance of any of them, on the slightest pretext. According to their rules, they ought all to dress in woollen only, restrict themselves to meagre diet, rise in the night to pray, and so forth. They do nothing of the kind, however; and so far, I do not blame them: but they are wrong in practising so many deceptions. They profess never to eat meat in the refectory, or room for their common meals; and it is true, that in the refectory itself they do not eat it; but there is another room near it, which they call by another name, where they eat it constantly. On Good Friday they are commanded by their rules to eat bread and drink water. At the dinner hour they all go together into the refectory, to eat bread and drink water: but having done so, for the sake of appearance, they go one after the other into another room, where a good dinner is prepared for them all. I do not blame them for enjoying it, but I blame them for first feigning an abstinence, which none of them intend to keep. When I made a profession of these rules, at the age of seventeen, I was totally unacquainted with such pharisaical deceptions. I looked upon the Dominicans as a noble order, where propriety of life was observed; and, above all, I was pleased that the sciences and literature were studied among them, and that professors and preachers came to teach them.

The first year, called the year of noviciate, which is the time given for deliberation, passed away without my seeing what was going on, for I was kept apart from all the other monks. Nevertheless, I was twice strongly tempted to renounce my career, but some friends I had in the monastery prevailed upon me to remain. Unhappily, however, the eye becomes accustomed to see deformities, the ear to hear follies, and the mind to stupefy itself by the habits it contracts; thus, after some time, I became a monk, and attached to the system; for as I believed Domenico di Guzman to be a great saint, so also I believed his Order to be a useful and respectable institution. Being by nature frank and sincere, I could not endure false and lying practices; but it may easily be imagined that these people can readily find distinctions and subtleties, to render their professions in plausible accordance with their deeds. Besides evil example goes a great way. There were persons in the monastery whom I much esteemed; and seeing them live in ease and apparent sanctity, I tranquillized my mind, in order to associate myself to the same system. Moreover, I led a life of study: at the age of sixteen I had completed not only the courses of natural philosophy, mathematics, natural history, and experimental philosophy, but also those of civil and criminal law. All this was before I entered the monastery of the Dominicans; they were therefore rather proud of me; partly because I was the only one who was thus distinguished, and partly because they hoped by my example to attract others to recruit their fraternity.

I professed the institution of the Dominicans, with the view of being freed from every distraction, and enabled first to perfect myself in the sciences, and afterwards to teach them to others. I preferred this task to every other, and it was a passion with me to learn all that was worthy of being learnt. The hours of the day were insufficient for this desire, and during several years I accustomed myself to pass two whole nights, every week, in reading and writing.

My most delightful study was that of the classics, both ancient and modern; but I felt it necessary to apply myself to the sciences, especially to logic, for which I had much taste. I studied the philosophy of the Peripatetics, in order to become acquainted with it, though I did not teach it; also the theology of the Schoolmen, to purify it from the dross by which it is defiled. All that I acquired of these sciences was by studying books, as I learned nothing from the teaching of preceptors, which was at that time inconsiderable among the Dominicans.

I must confess that I was at this time well contented with my condition, and would not have changed it for any other, because it enabled me to satisfy my desire of learning. I had all the comforts of life necessary for a student, and amply sufficient leisure, uninterrupted by any thing either to trouble me or distract my attention. I had, in short, retirement, quietude, and an abundance of books. I thought also that I should have had learned conversation, but in this I was mistaken.

The life of the Dominicans is intended for the cultivation of the sciences; and the design, not only of Domenico di Guzman himself, but of the succeeding heads of the Order, appears to have been to form an institution of learned men devoted to the service of the Romish Church.

The privileges accorded by the laws of the Order to any individual who cultivates the study of the sciences, and, moreover, the honours granted to it by the popes, corroborate this design. The doctor, or Master of Theology, as he is called, enjoys many distinctions and advantages: his degree is equal to that of the principal universities, and the same as that of the Sorbonne and of Salamanca. With the Dominicans the road which leads to this academical rank is long and difficult, while in the other Orders, and from the class of priests, the path is easy and short. A doctor of Theology, among the Dominicans, is chosen from the class of professors after many rigid examinations, and a course of lectures which last twelve years: but once elected, he is free from all the inconveniences of a monastic life, and enjoys every comfort and honour. Happy, then, is he who can attain to this high rank! The number, however, is very limited; hence arise endless disputes and intrigues to obtain admittance into it.

Il Maestro Domenicano is generally considered a personage of much importance; he would not abandon this way of living for any other employment; and if he accepted it, he would consider himself unhappy, in having given up his cherished idleness. It is related of Friar Orsini, a Dominican, who in his youth was made cardinal and bishop of Benevento, and in his old age was elected pope under the title of Benedict XIII., that one day being with his fellow-monks in the monastery of the Minerva, he said: "If I had not been removed from my office of lecturer to my Order, I should now have been a Padre Maestro;" thus manifesting that his elevation to the papal chair was regarded by him as a loss.

At the age of thirty I was a Maestro, to which high rank no one had ever before attained so early. My having taught many different things at the same time, was of use to me; as during the seven years of my lecturing I occupied three chairs at once; viz. those of theology, Holy Scripture, and philosophy. The head of the Order was anxious to advance me to this degree, as he wished to promote me to the post of Rector, or Principal of the Minerva, which is the highest of all that the Order has to bestow.

The Dominicans endeavoured still more studiously to make me a devotee to the Romish system, as they perceived I was departing from it more and more every day; and they thought the best means for accomplishing their ends would be to appoint me to offices of importance, at the same time holding out delusive promises of even higher dignities. This is the net by which they entrap many, but I was one of the few who did not allow themselves to be ensnared: on the contrary, I several times entreated the General of the Order to allow me to remain in peace with my occupations at Viterbo, in the exercise of which I desired to live and die; but he obstinately refused to comply with my request, and ordered me to renounce my professorships and repair to Rome. The Bishop of Viterbo interested himself for me, in order that I might not be compelled to leave the place against my will; and he adopted every method, both of persuasion and entreaty, on the occasion: but the General was no friend to the bishop, whose mediation therefore only served to strengthen him the more in his determination to withdraw me from Viterbo, and bring me to Rome. At last I could resist no longer, and was obliged to surrender my two professorships into the hands of the bishop, who reluctantly accepted my resignation, at the same time muttering strong expressions of resentment against the General of the Dominicans.

It was thus that I was forced, at the close of 1833, to quit Viterbo, having first received a thousand proofs of friendship from the bishop, the Prelato Governatore, and all classes of the inhabitants.

There was one crafty man, however, who, whilst he caressed me openly, used to calumniate and injure me behind my back, of which I in my own unsuspecting nature was not for some time aware. This man, a certain M. Spalletti, noted for his villainous character, was vicar to the bishop; by much intrigue he afterwards succeeded in getting himself made Bishop of Sutri and Nepi, but he finished his career by being driven away by the inhabitants, loaded with crime. This man hated me because I was a friend of the delegate's, who for many good reasons was opposed to him. After my departure, Spalletti began to raise various reports against me, by means of his acolytes. He also made use of some Dominican monks, who, through jealousy, were displeased with my advancement; as well as of certain persons whom I had reproved whilst residing in Viterbo. All these were unfriendly to me, and conspired with Spalletti against me. But the good Monsignor Sisti, governor of the province, discovered this secret conspiracy, and he one day called Spalletti to him, and gave him to understand that he was able to frustrate all his designs. Spalletti, finding himself discovered, denied having entertained any, and declared himself to be one of my best friends.

I was told of these evil reports, but I took no more notice of them than as if they had been concerning a stranger; for I endeavour neither to glory in applause, nor to suffer depression from false and injurious accusations. I feel as acutely as any one the force of injustice; but having made a solemn vow not to revenge it, I leave it to the Almighty: the only relief I seek to my feelings is the consciousness of my innocence; and I have generally had the gratification of seeing some friend, almost as if inspired by Providence, take up my cause, to the confusion of my adversary. In the affair with Spalletti, I had for my defenders, not only the Prelato Governatore, but also the most respectable persons in Viterbo. The Cardinal Gamberini, to whom I made some complaint about the conduct of the vicar of Viterbo, said to me, "Leave the unhappy man who calumniates you to himself; he is in such discredit with all good people, that being slandered by him is rather an honour than otherwise."

I went to Rome, in obedience to the General of the Order, and when he saw me he said:

"I am very glad you are about to begin a new career; for it will confer great honours upon you, whilst it will also be of the highest utility to the Order."

In the course of a few days, he presented me to some cardinals, by whom I was received with the most friendly welcome. The Cardinal de Gregorio predicted that I should become Master of the Sacred Palace, and afterwards a cardinal. Cardinal Polidori, also, said to me, "I wish this new charge may give you the opportunity of acquiring much knowledge, and that the Lord may grant you, at the same time, much humility." Some days after, the General said to me,—

"The pope wishes to see you, and has ordered me to conduct you to him to-morrow."

I had known Pope Gregory well, from the time when he was Abbot of St. Romualdo. I had gone several times to see him, and he always used to give me a good reception, presenting me with chocolate and books, as the monks are in the habit of doing. I had also visited him when he was created Cardinal; and, finally, I had waited upon him when he was Pope, being presented to him by Padre Velzi, Master of the Sacred Palace, as Vicario del Magistero. Behold me now again before him: the pope granted us a private audience, and was in a very good humour.

"Holy Father," said the General, Jabalot, "I present to you the new Rector of the College of the Minerva."

"Oh! my dear Achilli," said the pope. "I rejoice, Padre Generale, that you have made so young a Rector."

And here he said some very flattering things of me; that he had known me ever since 1825, and had always esteemed me; with many other compliments of the like nature. He then recommended me to the General, and turning to me said,—

"Now that you are in Rome, I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again; come whenever you like, and on Thursday mornings especially, you will find me more at liberty; go to my cameriere, and he will introduce you at once, without taking you the round of the ante-chambers."

The General was quite pleased with this reception, and said to me confidentially,—

"The pope wished me to call you to Rome, and from what he has told me, it appears that he has much good-will towards you; indeed, he certainly has a great partiality for you."

Soon after he said,—

"The pope speaks of you with much interest, and has great hopes of you. I therefore feel more and more delighted that I have brought you to Rome, and I hope you also will be well pleased at my having done so. I have been wishing for the last two years to have you at the Minerva; recollect when you came here, at the beginning of 1831, to graduate,[35] how I then said to you that I required you in Rome, and I offered you some employments; but you declined my proposals, and preferred returning to Viterbo. You know that whoever seeks for preferment, must reside principally in Rome; and your spirit, your talents, and the many friends you have among the most illustrious personages, as well as the interest the pope takes in your welfare, guarantee to you the highest honours and dignities in the Church."

"Padre Generale", I replied, "if this ambition to attain to high rank and dignity existed in my mind, I should then feel the necessity of remaining in Rome; but if I desire to attend to the service of my ministry, then it appears to me that I can be useful anywhere. Besides, as most talented men crowd into Rome, it is well, I think, that some like myself, assuming for argument's sake that I possess the qualifications you are pleased to attribute to me, should be dispersed here and there, in different parts of the country. I assure you, Padre Generale, that if I had not been compelled by you, I should not have left Viterbo, where I believe I was very useful; at any rate, I should have preferred going elsewhere, instead of coming to Rome. I do not know why this climate feels so heavy to me, and why it depresses my spirits, but so it is. I will, moreover, tell you frankly that the monastery of the Minerva has for me something repulsive; and from the time I left it in 1826, I never had any desire to return."

"Then you do not like Rome?"

"On the contrary, Padre Generale, I like Rome very much; you know that I am a Roman, although born in Viterbo, and God knows how I love this unhappy city! But it is precisely because I love it, that I cannot live in it: something that I cannot describe makes me suffer while I remain in Rome, but I feel it less when I am anywhere else."

"I do not understand what you mean."

"Well then, Padre Generale, I must explain. Do not you see the corrupt state of this city? Does it not appear as if you were in Babylon, when you go to the Court of the Pope and Cardinals? And of what does the clergy of Rome consist? Is it not of a number of ambitious men, who serve in the Church, only through their avidity to acquire a higher grade, and who endeavour by every species of intrigue to frustrate the designs of each other? You may see this in every class, and in every order, from the College of the Cardinals to the Capuchin monastery. What is the monastery of the Minerva, to which you have now so eagerly called me, thinking to ensure my happiness? An asylum for discontented persons, each one of whom is trying to rise above the other; every lecturer wishes to be maestro, and every monk longs to be the Superior. From this ambition arise discord and artifice, murmurings and backbitings, often generating the blackest calumnies. The monastery of the Minerva is odious to me, because here more than elsewhere the monks quarrel with each other; and the scandal of their disagreements has spread throughout the monasteries of the provinces, and causes the greatest disorders."

"From what you say it appears you are not contented with your present situation; you are like the Israelites who sighed after the leeks and onions of Egypt."

"I confess to you, Padre Generale, that with your permission, and that of the pope, I should be most delighted either to return to Viterbo, or to leave Rome, and go to any other city, to do all you wish."

"Well! this is curious! What a pretty figure I should make, undoing all that I have done! What would the pope say? What would the cardinals whom we have visited say? Even the monks would find something to say, if you were no longer the Rector whom I have appointed."

"As to the monks, you need not trouble yourself about them: they have already murmured enough that I am placed here. Accustomed as they have been to see only aged men called to the office, they do not like my being where I am; they would indeed be very glad if I remained no longer. I could easily, through the aid of the pope or the cardinals, find means to resign, without any blame accruing to your reverence."

At this moment we were interrupted. Several days passed before I again saw the Superior, who then received me with great coldness. This man had, as is well known, a remarkable talent for preaching, so that he passed for the finest orator of his time. The Jesuit Finetti and the Franciscan Pacifico of Brescia were certainly inferior to him. Proud of the applause he continually received, Father Jabalot daily expected to be elevated to the dignity of the purple, so much so that amongst his friends he himself spoke of it as certain and near at hand. Father Velzi, another Dominican, the Maestro of the Sacred Palace, had been created a cardinal a short time before; everything, therefore, encouraged our General in the belief that he too was one "infieri," for so in Rome are those called who are about to be made cardinals, or who so flatter themselves. Consequently, he immediately assumed an air of dignity and patronage. Such was this Father Jabalot; bulky in person, gentle in his manners, he was already prepared for the cardinal's hat. To those who congratulated him he mildly answered with downcast eyes, and a modest smile of internal approbation; and when any one spoke of his high attainments, of his claims to the office, of the ornament he would be to the sacred purple, "Stavasi tutto umile in tanta gloria,"—he was humble amid so great glory.

The good friar was well aware that I was not one of those who pay court to cardinals, real or expectant. He knew very well that he could not make a tool of me to advance his ambition; that on the contrary, eschewing all ambitious views myself, I should have been a continual thorn in his side; in fact, he saw he had gained nothing by having brought me to Rome; and I think he repented having done so. However that might be, he was determined to try a last expedient. "Perhaps," said he, "you do not like to be the principal of a college, since the office is one of very great responsibility; and accustomed as you are to have your time at your own disposal, you may find it too great a confinement. If this be all your difficulty, I can easily rectify that point; I have other posts to offer you, which perhaps you may like better: for instance, the office of librarian at the Casanatense is vacant, and I can give it you, if you would like it; in fact the pope, only the other day, speaking of you, told me that he should be pleased to see you in that post. I am persuaded he would be delighted if I mentioned to him that you had made the exchange. You shall have three days to turn it over in your mind, and then you can give me your answer."

"My answer," I replied, "is ready this moment, if you will permit me to give it; I have no need of ruminating on the matter to come to a decision. It is not the office of Principal that is the difficulty with me; on the contrary, that is the very one in which I feel I could do some good. But I find it impossible to live in this Roman monastery, where there is nothing but opposition, contrariety, and dissension. Suppose, for a moment, I should wish to reform any abuses that might exist in the college, I should be sure to encounter a war of persecution, as has ever been the case. My predecessor has not yet recovered from the effects of his attempt in that way. Above all, there is one thing in which I feel the great necessity of alteration, and that is, in the course of study. We are barbarians with our scholastic theology; it is that of the middle ages; it is horrible! Aristotle is taken as the expositor of the Bible; his works, with those of Pietro Lombardo, are the two text books of Thomas Aquinas. In Christian schools the apostle should explain the philosopher. The famous motto of the Platonists, 'Ipse dixit,' has its counterpart in the motto of the Thomasines, 'Ut ait philosophus et Magister sententiarum.' Now, Father General, does this appear to you to be the proper way to explain theology, which is the science of reasoning upon, and drawing conclusions from, the principles of Divine Revelation,—that is to say, from the Holy Scriptures, since there is no other revelation than what they set forth?"

"But our Order has always held this system of instruction; our theology has always been that of St. Thomas Aquinas, which is authorized by the Church; and whoso has ever deviated from his doctrine, said Pope John XXII., has always been suspected as to his faith (fuit semper de fide suspectus). How would you think then of introducing any reform in such matters? Certainly, all the lecturers and masters would to a man rise against it. For my part, I cannot see why the system hitherto adopted should not be still pursued: our Order has been always distinguished for its theologians, and this distinction they derive from the study of the 'Summa TheologiÆ' of St. Thomas Aquinas. Take this from them, and it would be like taking the sun from the universe; all would be darkness."

"Father General, I knew that this would be a sore subject; and though I could sustain some weight of odium, if I thought I could do any good, I see I should not be seconded, and therefore I should labour in vain. For this reason have I deemed it unadvisable to open my mouth on the subject; for it is written: Non effundas sermonem ubi non est auditus. My voice would be as 'the voice of one crying in the wilderness.' Perhaps the time is not yet come; perhaps I am not the instrument destined for such a work; or perhaps it is to be brought about in some other way. I feel that the monastery of Minerva is no longer the abode for me, and that Rome itself is no longer the place in which I can dwell. I hope that you will, for my own justification, make these reasons known. Let it be clearly understood that my not remaining at the Minerva, or in Rome at all, has depended on myself alone."

"And the pope?"

"I will undertake to excuse myself to him. And he is so good a man that I am sure he will not find the arguments I shall lay before him unreasonable."

"Of course you will speak to him of the theology of St. Thomas Aquinas!——"

"Oh! as to that, we have often talked together on the subject when he was simple Padre Abate Cappellari of St. Romualdo; and perhaps he was really the first who made me take this view of the subject. Believe me, Father General, I am no innovator; nor is this a novelty; it is a thing that has been long desired, according to the exigencies of times and persons. The sentiments I have expressed are those which the favourers of scholastic theology have often endeavoured to smother, but which they have never been able to extinguish; and now it seems to me they are ready to break forth anew. Theology, such as it is at present among us, can no longer stand; and the reason, Father General, is, because it is not so ancient as it ought to be. In matters of religion there are neither discoveries nor novelties; that which was established in the beginning, that same should remain for ever. Can the Bible ever become old or obsolete? To me it appears that it cannot; and yet, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, an attempt was made to remodel and modernise it in some particulars. This work of the dark ages must be destroyed, and the original system renewed. And what I call reform, is not a novelty, as some imagine, but simply a return to the ancient religion."

"Let this discourse go no further; for I fear if others should hear it, they may conceive a bad opinion of you. This, you very well know, is the constant cry of heretics; they want a reform in the Church, but it is not their office to effect it; it is that of the pope alone, as sole head of the Church. It is always dangerous to speak of reform, for it invariably savours of heresy: and at any rate I would not advise you to give utterance to such sentiments, especially in Rome."

Father Jabalot was one of those blind followers of the doctrines of Rome, who, between Christ and the pope, would rather have decided for the latter than for the former. Leo XII., speaking of him used to say, that he thought Father Jabalot one of the most ambitious men in the world; that is to say, most ambitious to serve the papal chair. He could not, therefore, well agree with me, who saw in the past nothing but a system of corrupted faith and relaxed Christian morality. In his eyes the pope was infallible; a dogma which, in our age, every Roman theologian, who is not an actual fanatic, is ashamed of sustaining. It was impossible to reason with such a man upon theology, because he always preferred believing whatever was most preposterous, foolish, and least credible. His was a weak mind in a robust body. Such a man being the head of the Order, was one of my principal reasons for not wishing to reside in Rome; especially in an office which would have brought me into perpetual collision with him. On the contrary, from that moment, I was incessantly contriving how I might withdraw from the whole race of friars, who had now become odious to me. Their superstitions, on the one hand, and their irregularities, on the other, every day diminished my esteem and attachment to the Order. Truly, it required much to make me dislike those whom before I had sincerely loved; and yet this work, by Divine mercy, was perfecting in my soul.

I had long dissented from the Romish doctrines, but was still bound by certain ties of friendship—perhaps the force of habit, and the prejudices of education, had much to do in the matter—so that it appeared very difficult to take the resolute step which should entirely separate me from all and everything with which I had so long been closely connected. And yet that Providence, which governeth all things, at length effected even this.

Rome did all she could to attach me to her side; but in this point, I, who at any other time would have been most docile, now remained inflexible.

"It appears to me incredible," said a friend of mine, "that neither pope, cardinals, nor generals of orders, have eloquence enough to persuade you to stay in Rome, to be loaded with honours and dignities."

Father Velzi, the Maestro of the Sacred Palace, having some little time before been created Cardinal, and sent as bishop to Monte Fiascone, it was my office, as his vicar, in the discharge of my duty, to be in the midst of all the festivities which are customary on these occasions; and, moreover, to accompany the new Cardinal to his diocese, and to attend upon him. Viterbo being in the immediate vicinity of Monte Fiascone, I often divided my time between the two; and was but too happy to render every service to my excellent friend, who frequently asked me to pass some days with him.

I had a great regard for this man on account of his worthy qualities; with all he was obliging; for me he evinced a particular friendship. I was entirely in his confidence, and he occasionally in mine. Our conversations were very interesting, and the most perfect familiarity existed between us when we were together. Though a cardinal, he assumed no superiority over me, but, as is customary with the Italians, as with the French, in cases of intimacy, addressed me in the second person singular.

Cardinal Velzi was by no means a friend of the Father General Jabalot; consequently, these two friars divided the Order into two parties. As may be imagined, I was on Velzi's side; without, however, making enemies on the other, for some of whom I had a great friendship, and especially for the good old Father Brocchetti, who was then the Provincial. But, as happens in all party matters, and above all among monks, I was frequently reproved by both.

"What says your Brocchetti?" Velzi would ask, smiling.

"Well, what is your Cardinal doing?" Brocchetti and Jabalot would inquire, ironically. I had more than once endeavoured to unite these conflicting spirits, but always in vain. I could never induce Brocchetti to dine with the Cardinal, or the Cardinal to write a friendly letter to the Provincial. These dissensions were chiefly fomented by Buttaoni, the Maestro of the Sacred Palace, and Degola, secretary of the Congregation of the Index, who, holding everything from Velzi, were opposed to Jabalot; and on the other side, by some foolish monks, who, aspiring to certain petty appointments in the gift of the General, paid exclusive court to him.

It appeared as if Father Jabalot wished to gain me over by offering me the rectorship of the Minerva. He now prevented me, as much as was in his power, from visiting Cardinal Velzi as often as I could have wished; moreover, the distance I was from him, and the nature of my employment, which kept me occupied every day in the week, rendered my opportunities of seeing him comparatively rare.

"You have not much time now to pay your visits to Cardinal Velzi," said my good old friend, Brocchetti, to me one day. I could not thereupon forbear reflecting with regret, how two men of talent were, so to say, lost! Here were two most excellent individuals, hating and carping at each other, without any reason. And so it often happens, that for the slightest causes, inveterate enmities are nourished, whence the most deplorable consequences frequently spring.

I had now given my decided opinion, not only against the office of principal, but against any other which would require me to reside in Rome, and especially in that Pandemonium, the Minerva, with the Father General Jabalot.

There were, likewise, other motives which urged me to leave Rome; and those were, my aversion to the government of Pope Gregory and his Cardinal Lambruschini. The prisons were full of honest citizens, who had sacrificed their best interests for the love of their country; hundreds of good men were in exile, and their wives and children were pining in misery, exposed to every insult and derision. These and similar atrocities moved my indignation, and frequently made me speak against the government. It was a miserable sight at that time in Rome, to behold the acts of tyranny and oppression that were daily exercised; and it was beyond endurance to hear the insulting answers which the pope and certain cardinals gave to those who craved grace or justice. We see indeed at the present moment what the Gregorian school of domination is capable of.

Though reared among monks, I still felt myself a citizen, and hated the government as much as the most zealous lover of his country could do. Hence, it would have been impossible for me to remain in Rome without exposing myself to the persecutions of the police, by the animadversions I should continually have been tempted to make.

One day I was summoned into the presence of Cardinal Galeffi, chancellor of the Roman university, who offered me a chair at the Sapienza. Here was a new difficulty for me! Still the same question of staying in Rome, and residing in the monastery of the Minerva; every hope and comfort vanished at the thought of these two evils. I was also offered the choice of two professorships in the university of Macerata, namely that of Holy Scripture, vacant by the resignation of Professor Matteucci, or that of theology, which Professor Borgetti would have ceded to me.

Macerata is a pretty city, the capital of La Marcadi, Ancona. I preferred this locality to that of Rome, and was just upon the point of making arrangements accordingly, and of declining the offers of the General of the Dominicans, and of Cardinal Galeffi; but can any one with impunity renounce even the honours of the Church of Rome? The renunciation is always suspected. I had before me the example of Father Giovanni da Capistrano, ex-general of the Franciscans, a highly respectable character, whether as regarded his learning or his holy life. He had more than any one served the Church of Rome, but had twice refused to be made a bishop, and had shown himself indifferent as to the honour of a cardinal's hat, which the pope seemed willing to confer upon him. Aged, and worn out by fatigue and study, he wished to leave the turmoil of Rome, and pass the remainder of his life in retirement. He refused certain offices proposed to him by Cardinal Galeffi, saying, "I have served your Eminences long enough; I have need to think a little of myself; pray leave me in peace, and I will pray for you." The cardinal insisted, and the good old man (as he himself says in his apology) began to lose patience, and finally gave an answer that seemed somewhat abrupt to the Cardinal, who pronounced it offensive to the Roman Church, viz. to the pope and cardinals. This was sufficient—poor Capistrano, in spite of his grey hairs, was cast into the prison of the Inquisition, and after three years' hard treatment in the "Holy Office" in Rome, was condemned to perpetual incarceration in a monastery. This event made me determine to extricate myself from this web of obliging offers, which were as so many snares and fetters to my feet.

The thought of Capistrano being in the Inquisition made me tremble, and Cardinal Galeffi alarmed me. I saw no other means of escape than by quitting Rome; and yet this was to be done with judgment; my plan, therefore, was not to accept any appointment, and at the same time to find something which might justify my absence.

Cardinal Velzi sent for me at this period to Monte Fiascone, to stay a few months in order to assist him in putting his seminary in order. This occupation was agreeable to me, because I myself had proposed a new plan of instruction, which in less time than had hitherto been required would have produced better scholars, in various branches of learning. I omit other offers I had from several bishops, who were my friends; but I may observe that Cardinal Micara wanted me at Frascati, and Cardinal de Gregorio wished to have me for Penitentiary at Santa Maria Maggiore.

About this time the Father General Jabalot died suddenly, and Padre Olivieri, commissary-general of the Inquisition, was appointed to the office. This man formed a third party in the Order, being little friendly towards Jabalot, and a decided enemy to Velzi. Olivieri was an example of what a man of little talent, but of laborious habits, can accomplish. He was slow and dull of comprehension, yet, by dint of application to books, he had made himself master of the Hebrew, Syriac, Greek, and Arabic languages: he understood German, and read the English newspapers daily, and all this without masters, by indefatigable study day and night. Of the Hebrew and Chaldee languages he had been for some years professor in the Sapienza at Rome, and of the Greek elsewhere. Indeed, I never saw his equal for tenacity of purpose in anything he undertook; he was capable of sitting day and night over a single volume. On one occasion, having returned on foot from Turin to Rome, in 1815, as soon as he came to the Minerva, tired, hungry, and covered with dust, the first thing he asked for was the TimÆus of Plato, in Greek, to examine certain passages which he had recollected as he was walking. Such was the singular character now elected Father General of the Dominicans. The storm lowered more and more; the government of the Order was bound up with that of the Inquisition, and whoever was not friendly to that institution was sure to be persecuted.

These changes happened between Easter and Pentecost, 1834. I had preached the Lent sermons at Monte Fiascone, whither the worthy Cardinal Velzi had invited me.

"O my good Achilli," said he to me one day, "I perceive that this Order of ours will become a real disorder. The Father General Jabalot was a weak man; he has allowed a world of abuses to be introduced. The Father General Olivieri is an austere and obstinate man, and one who knows nothing of the government of a fraternity, however small; besides which, accustomed for years only to the cells and dungeons of the Inquisition, a heartless being such as he is will, I foresee, destroy every good regulation, and finish by ruining everything. I advise you by all the friendship I entertain for you, not to remain in Rome, nor to accept any appointment which obliges you to reside in the Minerva. Keep aloof till we see how things are likely to go on; if you like to come here, my house, my seminary, and everything you may desire, shall be at your disposal."

A letter from the Father General Olivieri now called me to Rome. On my arrival he saluted me as rector of the Minerva, and spoke to me of certain arrangements he had made with regard to the collegians and professors. Prudence forbade my showing any opposition at that moment, and suggested the expediency of my letting him say and do whatever he thought fit, till an opportunity should present itself of getting quit of my embarrassing situation, and leaving Rome altogether. Meanwhile he charged me with several occupations, in proof of his particular esteem; making me privy to certain important secrets, and submitting to me the decision of some of the affairs of the Order. One of the most important of these was in the monastery of Santa Sabina, upon the Aventine Hill in Rome, in which at that time was the general noviciate of two provinces, the Roman and the Lombard. This monastery was immediately under the General, and he elected me as visitor in his place. This was an appointment I could not refuse; and since I had accepted it, it became me to fulfil it with all due care and exactitude.

The superior of the monastery of Santa Sabina, Fra Savoldello, a Venetian, was one of the most extraordinary men I had ever seen among the Dominicans. He had under him two other strange beings, little inferior to himself in eccentricity; and these were as his arms, wherewith to work the machine which was to transform innocent, docile, good young men, apt and easy to be trained in all that is right, into malicious, headstrong, ill-educated monks, capable of no one thing useful to themselves or to society. Such was the spirit of that noviciate, as ordered by the late Father General Jabalot.

As soon as these monks saw me, they resolved, as they knew me well, to hide as much as possible from me, and whispered in the ears of the young men that they must not reveal anything relative to the establishment. But I, seeing the embarrassment of the heads of the monastery, easily imagined their malice, and therefore gave orders that the novices should be brought before me immediately, one by one in succession; and not in a body, as the prior had proposed. I also requested both the prior and the novice master to leave the room. The first of these poor creatures who was introduced began to weep, and said:

"I thought the life of a monk was a very different thing to what I have found it. I thought I was to serve God, and to prepare myself for the ministry of the holy Church; I imagined I should have to study useful things, to instruct my mind; and above all, I fancied a cloistral life was one of peace and tranquillity; that the brethren respected and loved one another. I entered these walls with no other feelings or sentiments, and for my own part, I have always endeavoured to practise the duties they inculcate: but I am sorry to say this is not the system which I find here; the laws are good, but they are not put in practice; everything is governed by the caprice of the superior, who often gives contrary orders, and makes us lose our time in things of no value. Instead of useful books, to form the mind and make men of us, they put into our hands none but ascetic works, calculated to make us bigots. The lives of the saints, abounding with the greatest absurdities, are what they perpetually give us to read, and their conversation is only on austerities and miracles. I therefore come to say that this life will not do for me; and I beg my parents may be informed of it, that they may take me away. I wish to get out of this place as soon as possible, for it is worse than a prison—it is a perfect hell."

"My good child," said I, "there is no difficulty in your leaving immediately, as you are not professed. I myself will take care that your relations shall be made acquainted with your wish, in order that they may send you a change of clothes, and take you home. But tell me, why are you so troubled as to weep? Perhaps you are afraid of me, or have some other occasion for fear."

"Oh no, I am not afraid of you; you have not a surly threatening face; and besides, I know that all the youths like you. If you were our superior, I should not take this step; since I am not so much discontented with the Order, or with a monastic life; but I feel I cannot live with such a race of beings as there is here. I love religion, not bigotry; good people, not fanatics."

"Then you have something to say against the local superiors! Speak out."

"Oh no, I will not say anything, because well I cannot, and ill I will not speak of them."

I endeavoured to persuade him to try his vocation a little longer. I told him all superiors were not like Savoldello and his agents; that, once out, he would find better people, and more liberty as his years increased; but nevertheless, if such were his feelings, if he did not feel the same vocation in him, he had better return to his former way of life. Which he did accordingly.

The second had been trained by Savoldello, and replied to my questions in a manner which led me to suppose that everything was well conducted; others were in the same story; but one was so witty, and so well exposed the whole by-play of these wretched friars, that I must quote some of his conversation with me. Upon being asked if he had anything to say, he replied,——

"I have plenty to say; but I cannot speak."

"Why?"

"Because my mouth is shut, like that of a newly-made cardinal."[36]

"And who has shut your mouth?"

"Our pope, the novice master."

"Oh! if that be all, I am superior to him, and can open it again: so I command you to speak."

"There is a difficulty in doing so, nevertheless; in obeying you, and not him, I shall expose myself to persecution from him, which would be terrible; and you could not remove the penance he would enjoin."

"I promise you, in the name of the Father General, to protect you against any persecution from him. You know that the General can change the master; and I can tell you thus much, that it is very probable he will change him, unless he does his duty."

"In that case I will speak. You must know the prior, the novice master, and the Procuratore all join in persecuting us. Nevertheless, we frequently hear them quarrelling among themselves; and only the other day I thought they would have come to blows: when, however, there is a question of some new rigour,—or observance, as they term it,—that is to say, some fresh torment or vexation for us, then they are in perfect harmony with each other. We are tired of this system, which forms neither the Christian nor the man, but the hypocrite and the animal. All politeness, all decency among them is banished. They are filthy in their persons, and would wish us to be the same. Cleanliness and neatness, they call worldly-minded foppery. For my part, I never thought that to be a monk it was necessary to be a dirty sloven. And then both prior and master do nothing but send us to hell. On every little disobedience they cry out, 'You'll go to hell.' If we speak a word in the hours of silence, if we raise our hoods, if we look about us in the least, if ever we laugh,—'to hell with us;' I say nothing about singing—there is then no hell bad enough."

"Tell me, what do your masters teach you? what do they point out to you as the way of salvation? and in what, according to them, does the Christian life consist?"

"The master says that to be saved we have only to imitate the patriarch St. Dominic, be devout to the Madonna, and observe the rules of the Order; and then we shall be the best Christians in the world, because these lead to perfection."

"Does he ever speak of Christ?"

"Scarcely ever; he gives us the lives of the saints of the Order to read; and recounts to us the miracles done by them." My visit to the monastery of Santa Sabina had the effect of making some quit the habit, and others open their eyes to a better mode of life. The General made some changes in the plans, but not such as I pointed out to him. In short, the same system was practised everywhere by monastic bigotry, and what the followers of it desired least of all was to reform themselves.

The institution of monastic fraternities was a bad thing from the very commencement: they were devised about the beginning of the thirteenth century, by that knave, Innocent III., who commissioned the wild fanatics, Domenico di Gusman and Francesco di Assisi, to establish, as to them seemed best, a body of idle fellows especially calculated to maintain the cause of popery; principally in Italy, and from thence to propagate their doctrines over all the world. Hence these two orders have ever been rivals. If one had a saint in a particular branch, the other wanted one directly. For example: the Dominicans lauded to the skies the doctrines of their dear Thomas Aquinas, whom they call the angelic doctor; and behold, the Franciscans immediately cry up their Bonaventura da Bagnorea, whom they dub the seraphic: so the Franciscan order chose to have a thaumaturgus (a grand miracle worker), in the friar Antonio da Lisbona, or da Padova; and the Dominicans, not to be behind-hand with their rival brethren, immediately exalted Fra Vincenzo Ferreri to the same dignity.

Whoever wants to see how far the art of publishing fables as things divine has gone, let him read the lives of these two, let him compare one with the other, and see which could draw the longest bow.

As the Franciscans preach up their Antonio, as the greatest saint in heaven, so do the Dominicans exalt their Vincenzo, as having the power of Omnipotence itself in his hands; so as to work prodigies and miracles at the beck and call of any one, as a conjuror plays his tricks at the pleasure of his audience. St. Anthony, we are told, preached to the fishes when men would not listen to his discourses: St. Vincent, in order to convert an impenitent sinner, wrote a letter to the Holy Trinity, and received an answer. St. Anthony, to prove transubstantiation, made a hungry mule kneel before the Host, regardless of the food offered by its master: St. Vincent had only to ring the bell for any miracle that was called for. What Franciscan would not swear by the miracles of his St. Anthony? and what Dominican would not be filled with wonder and faith at the recounting of the miracles of his St. Vincent? In fact, they adore him, under the figure of a youthful friar, with a flame on his head (as represented of the apostles at Pentecost), an open book in his left hand, two wings on his back, and his feet in the act of rising, or dancing; by which they intend to represent the angel who is spoken of in the tenth chapter of the Revelation. Indeed, they assert, that one day he flew from his pulpit round the church, and then, having ordered a corpse to be brought to him, he restored it to life, and asked it who he, St. Vincent, was; upon which, the resuscitated body replied, "Thou art the angel of the Apocalypse:" and, so saying, he died once more.[37]

Now such follies (which I know not that I ever believed, and which I certainly had then rejected) form the food of all the self-styled devout. Could I live among such? Every day I felt my soul further alienated from them and their system. In fact I remained a friar solely to combat against friars. They were already aware that I was no longer one of them, and they feared in me a potent adversary.

The Father General Olivieri called me one day, to communicate to me, as he said, an important measure. Brocchetti, the provincial, was with him.

"When I sent you to Santa Sabina," he said, "it was not only the wants of that monastery which I had in my mind, but those of several others, which I and the provincial had thought of sending you to visit. They are the monasteries of the Roman province along the line that terminates with Terracina on one side, and Lucca on the other. It will be a journey of some months, which the Father Provincial can hardly undertake, on account of his health and infirmities. He is willing to be represented by you, and I give my assent and approbation to the measure. This journey is very pleasant in fine weather. The Father Provincial will accompany you a part of the way, and the rest you will go alone."

I received this announcement with pleasure; not because I had again to be mixed up with monks, their intrigues, and their immoralities, but because it afforded the prospect of my getting out of Rome, in which I could no longer bear to reside. As soon as Brocchetti had gone out of the room, Father Olivieri added:

"You know Brocchetti is old, and his head does not serve him so well now; he is not so capable of conducting the business of the provinces. I have begged of him to let you have the management, not only of the visitations, but also of the direction of the monasteries, and the government of the province. He will remain in office pro formÂ, and you will in reality act as provincial. So you will learn what may be your own office in future."

"I accept, willingly, this new charge," I replied, "to serve the Order, and to do what is agreeable to you, Father General, and to my good friend, the Provincial, Brocchetti, whom I revere as a father. With him I am certain I shall perfectly agree, and I hope I shall meet your wishes also. Such a charge is fraught with difficulties, but I am not of a nature to be daunted by them. On principle, I hate evil; I have pity on those who commit it, and I do all I can to lead them back to good. I am a sworn enemy to hypocrisy, and I would it were banished from society. I could never agree with that axiom of St. Bernard's: 'Would that my brethren were hypocrites!' Utinam fratres mei hypocritÆ essent! No; rather would I there was not a hypocrite on the face of the earth; for hypocrites are liars who falsify the things of Christ, under the cloak of religion. We have many who pursue this system, and I assure you, Father General, that I shall make it my especial care to mortify and expose them: certainly, I will persecute these Jesuits."

At these words, the Father General laughed heartily. "You are right," said he; "persecute all the Jesuits you find among the Dominicans."

Our visit began with the monasteries of the "Campagna Romana;" thence we went into Umbria and Tuscany: returning, we visited those of Patrimonio di S. Pietro. To some of them the good Brocchetti accompanied me; but this he only did for a little relaxation, for he did not mix himself up in any business whatsoever; and, with the exception of making a short discourse at the opening and closing of each visit, he did nothing. The rest was left to me. I acted as visitor, with full authority; so much so, that many things I did not even think it necessary to mention to him. The good old man was daily at his prayers. Oh, what a holy man he would have been if his head had not been full of popish errors! He prayed even during the night; but instead of praying to God, he was praying to the saints, and lavishing his affections upon the mother of Christ, instead of turning them to Christ himself. Whenever I found him in his room, he was always repeating his rosary and the office of the Blessed Virgin. Once there arose an argument between us about fasting, for which he was a great advocate.

"I think you do not much like fasting," said he.

"No; to say the truth, I do not. A moderate fast may be very well as a sanitary measure, but I do not think it equally good as a moral system; especially as those who practise it, generally attach so much importance to it. Is it not true, my good Father, that you, for instance, every time you fast, indulge yourself in the belief that you thereby merit the grace of God? and yet you teach me the doctrine of St. Paul, which says, grace is such, precisely because it has no merit of works. Grace is a gratuitous gift. If, then, our justification be by grace, it cannot be by works. What will render you justified before God? certainly not your own works, but the works of Christ, the Just One, imputed to us, the unjust, by faith in Him alone. This is my doctrine, and I know it to be yours also. But yet you trouble yourself about works, and attach merit to the exercise of them. I do that which my faith suggests, and I attach no importance thereto. Precisely as a servant who does his duty obeys his master, and performs his will, without pretending that the master is therefore his debtor. Who dare say to the Lord: 'Here are my works, now give me thy gracious gifts?' I should be ashamed to offer to the Lord my fast, as a thing acceptable to Him, when the Scripture tells us that all the works of our righteousness are before the Lord as filthy rags: I endeavour to do what faith inspires, and to do it for duty's sake; and from no other motive."

Father Brocchetti was a great admirer of the Thomasine school, and inclining a little to Jansenism. He was a firm upholder of the doctrine of St. Paul to the Romans and the Galatians, that we are justified by grace through faith. Often, when we have been conversing together on religion, has he repeated these words to me:—

"Remember that grand maxim, which our school has always maintained against the Jesuits, 'We are justified by grace, through faith.' This is what does honour to the Dominicans, who follow the doctrine of St. Augustine and St. Thomas."

I observed to him that the force of this truth came from St. Paul; and that, if we had not had it through Divine revelation, we should not have been bound to believe it.

"I am not obliged to believe Thomas, or Augustine," I added, "but I am obliged to believe Paul."

The good old man was silent at these observations, and seemed to receive them with approbation. He often read the Bible, but never allowed himself any other than the Vulgate, with the notes. He disliked the Italian version; but one day finding me reading the New Testament, translated by Martini: he took it from me, smiling, and said, "Let us make an exchange;" at the same time giving me a Latin version of the Vulgate. As he read the Bible himself, so he recommended others to read it, but always with the notes of the Roman Theologians, drawn from the Holy Fathers.

This visitation kept me employed from the summer of 1834, till February in the next year. My old friend accompanied me as long as the fine weather continued; when it began to break up, he returned to winter quarters, to take care of his health.

I had now all the burden on my own shoulders; I had to provide for the wants of several monasteries, and to hear the complaints of the monks. I had to connect spiritual with worldly interests; external strictness with interior comfort; to reconcile contending minds; to settle differences, and harmonize discord; to rouse the slothful; to excite emulation in sacred things; to inculcate a love of study, and an observance of the rules; and to correct the vicious with mildness.

Every one will remember the name of Domenico Abbo, who was condemned ten years after the period I am speaking of, for enormous crimes, to be beheaded in the Castle of St. Angelo, at Rome.[38] He was at this time a Dominican friar, Superior and Reader at the little monastery of Nepi, near Rome. I had heard several reports against him, and I went to verify the matter. I found him culpable in many things, and I advised him to renounce his present offices, and to retire to another monastery; repent of his evil ways, and lead a better life; he denied the whole, and turned against me, uttering the bitterest threats. I then suspended him from his ministry, removed him from office, and ordered him to leave in a few days. He appealed to the bishop, the provincial, the general, and got up a certificate from certain persons in the neighbourhood, to prove his good conduct: he even sent some of his friends to intercede with me for pardon, but I could not relax my decree towards one so incorrigibly bad, and I insisted upon his leaving the monastery. He accordingly went to Rome, quitted the Dominican Order, put on the dress of a priest, and was on the point of being made a prelate, through the protection of Cardinal Lambruschini, and the favour of Pope Gregory, then ignorant of the extent of his wickedness; but the Divine justice had prepared to make an example of him. He was guilty of the most enormous and detestable crimes. The facts became public—the people took part against him, and the government was obliged to act promptly in order to calm the popular tumult. One tribunal condemned him to death; another confirmed the sentence; Cardinal Lambruschini was afraid for his own safety; the Pope was obliged to consent, and the wretched man's head rolled on the scaffold. He on that occasion had moved a strong party against me, saying I had persecuted him because he was not of my way of thinking. He excited hatred in many towards me, but I thought no more of him, and the affair, melancholy enough in itself, passed away.

This visitation made me acquainted with many things of which I was before ignorant, but which certainly were anything but virtues, either in a Christian, or a citizen; and on my return to Rome, I made known to several persons the effect my visit to the monasteries had produced upon my mind.

Meanwhile, I had been sent for by the Cardinal Archbishop of Capua, as preacher of the Lent Sermons in his cathedral. The Father General allowed me to accept the invitation, on condition that I should return immediately, and enter upon my new office. Accordingly I went to Naples, in February 1835; certainly not with the intention of returning to Rome, but, on the contrary, with that of speedily emancipating myself from monkish thraldom.

[35] L'Esame ad gradus. The Dominicans so call the examination for the degree of Doctor of Theology.