THE MONKS OF NAPLES.

Separated from human ties, apart from the laws of nature, there is no race of beings, in my estimation, so useless to society, so immoral, and so absurd, in a religious point of view, as they who call themselves monks. The Jesuits are monks, as well as those instituted by St. Francis of Assisi; both have the same very small degree of worth, and the same defects. I used to believe that the monks reckoned among their virtues kindness, gentleness, humility, and moderation; I imagined that they were full of charity towards their neighbour; and believing nothing of them but what was good, I thought when I entered into their society I should be living among saints. Who would have supposed that all their imaginary virtues should fade before my eyes, from the moment I became bound to them by vows which prevented my return? Every day the pleasant delusion became less and less, and bitter experience continually operated to undeceive me, at various periods of my sojourn among them.

I had paid strict attention to the proceedings of the Dominicans, both in Rome and Tuscany; and from what I had observed I was led to form a resolution to escape from them, and to renounce their society for ever. The request I had made to the Court of Rome from Capua, with respect to my secularization, had at first been received with dissatisfaction; but finally, on my reiterated applications, backed by a letter from Cardinal Polidori, the Pope granted my petition in the terms in which it was made, and for the reason I had stated; which was that the Order had become odious and insufferable to me.

Monsignor Acton informed me that the permission was made out, and at my disposal. He besought me, however, on the score of our old friendship, not to put it in execution, but to wait and see whether I could not find in the city of Naples a better race of monks, with whom I might associate happily, and pass my future days in tranquillity. I also received letters to the same purpose, first from Cardinal Polidori, and afterwards from Cardinal Gamberini, both friends of mine, in which they urged me to delay my projected secularization, until I had assured myself that my repugnance to remain in the Order could not be overcome. Cardinal Polidori informed me that such appeared to be the wish of the Pope, who seemed anxious, he said, that I should not act upon the permission he had granted me, till I found myself absolutely obliged to do so.

The good Acton took a great interest in my behalf on this occasion; writing to the Cardinal Archbishop of Naples and to others, and also several times to the Apostolic Nuncio, now Cardinal Ferretti, who was equally kind in endeavouring to persuade me to seek an asylum among the monks of Naples, after leaving those of Rome.

"Are you not of opinion, yourself, Monsignore," said I to him, "that these monks of Naples are birbanti, (vagabonds,) as well as those of Rome?"

"Nay, I think they are worse," replied he. "But it is precisely on that account that you ought to stay among them. If we did not do all we could to keep a few good persons among this class of gentry, we should have a community of a character qualified to inspire us with fear, and to compromise us utterly. I believe the monks of Naples are more ignorant and more turbulent than any others; and I repeat, it is for that very reason I request you to place yourself among them, where you will be most useful, both through your example and your teaching."

"But they will drive me to despair."

"In that case, then, you must leave them."

"But why, in the mean time, should I be made to endure such a tribulation?"

"To do good; to be useful to your brethren, for the glory of God——"

"Well, be it so. I will consent to make the experiment, commending myself to Him."

In the meanwhile, the Dominican monks had had recourse to all their powers of persuasion to induce me to take up my abode among them. Solicited on one side to enter the monastery of St. Dominic, and on the other that of St. Peter the Martyr, I chose the latter. The monks could hardly show me civility enough in their demonstrations of friendship and regard. They even declared me figlio di quel convento,[89] and though I declared I had no desire for any situation beyond that of Preacher or Professor among them, they forced upon me the office of Vice-Prior, and subsequently that of Prior itself; and if I had not vigorously opposed the measure, they would even have elected me their Provincial.[90]

Behold me then once more domiciled among the monks; not, however, as one of their society, nor with the intention of remaining permanently among them. They were not aware that I had the Pope's rescritto[91] in my pocket, in virtue of which I could turn my back upon them whenever I chose; and I must acknowledge, the idea that I could do so was a source of great satisfaction to me; it rendered me more tolerant, and at the same time gave me courage to do my duty: indeed, I accepted the Priorate for no other reason than to be better enabled to be of service to the community. I began with looking into the state of their finances, and with augmenting their income. But my principal endeavour was to benefit their moral and religious condition, as far as I could hope to do so among a set of people who had been educated in principles diametrically opposed both to sound morality, and pure and true religion. Nevertheless, the ascendency I acquired over their minds, and the friendship they felt for me, greatly seconded my views; to say the truth, they were far more docile than I had anticipated, and if I had been at liberty to carry out my system as I could have wished, I do not doubt that I should have formed them into a good and regular community.

But there were in other monasteries, belonging to the same Order, many despicable monks, who united in their own persons every vice that can be found in human nature. These appeared to hate the faintest trace of honesty or virtue, and were always ready to plot, to calumniate, and to stick at nothing to promote their own interest. I frequently took occasion to reprove them, and threatened, more than once, to make public their infamous proceedings, unless they thought proper to desist from their practices. But all my remonstrances were in vain, and at length I lost my patience: I fought manfully against them for a long time, but the General of the Order, Ancarani, was on their side, and lent them his powerful protection: I therefore felt that I had nothing more to do than to hold out, to the end of my year of Priorate, and then to give in my rescritto to the proper officer; which I accordingly did, in the month of August, 1839, and finally separated myself from the Order.

A new epoch in my life now commenced. I had never really been a monk, although I had lived so long among them. I therefore gladly threw off my monk's dress, and relinquished all the titles it had conferred on me, except that of Doctor of Theology, which, as one not belonging to the Order, I considered I had a perfect right to retain; it being granted to persons who had acted as Professor in certain sciences, for a determinate period, and subsequently gone through an examination; both of which I had satisfactorily done.

This degree is equally open to the laity as the clergy, on the fulfilment of the necessary stipulations; and once conferred can never be taken away; not even on account of heresy, since it is a title not granted for a man's belief, but for his ability. The obligation to teach is not made a preliminary condition, it is a subsequent duty; and the doctrine of the Roman Church is, that even if the Doctors themselves go into perdition, they still retain their degrees. I do not feel proud of the title as it was when I received it; but I confess I do as it has been, since my embracing the reformed religion. In the first instance, all my labour was in favour of Rome; now my most strenuous endeavours are in opposition to her doctrines. But even up to that time I had always regarded myself as a Doctor of the Holy Scriptures, and they, and they only, have occasioned the change in the aspect of my degree.

But how, it may here be asked, did I, on my secularization, get over the monastic vows which, it has been alleged, I took? I must inform my readers, that the Dominicans, contrary to the practice of all other monastic bodies, in their religious profession make but one single vow, which is that of obedience. My profession, therefore, was nothing more than a promise to be obedient to the Superior of the Order, and was couched in the following terms: "I, brother Giovanni Giacinto Achilli, promise obedience to God, to the most blessed Virgin Mary, to the Patriarch St. Dominic, and to you, most reverend Father General of the Order of Preachers, according to the rules of St. Augustine, and the constitution of the Order of Preachers."

Now it cannot be urged against me that I promised more than I expressed. Had I belonged to any other Order I must have vowed three things: obedience, chastity, and poverty. The Dominicans require obedience only. Some theologians pretend that in this obedience everything else is included; but this is neither legal nor philosophical. No one is obliged to do more than he has promised, even when that promise is valid and pleasing to God; which I do not consider to be the case with respect to the vows of the cloister.

But when I obtained my secularization, the Pope, who can do everything, dispensed with my vow; and consequently released me from obedience to the Order of Dominicans. The only condition was that I, as priest, should continue subject to the bishop of the place I inhabited. I do not mention this because I desire to justify myself in the sight of Rome, for I consider that the vows of the Monastic Orders are impious in themselves, as being contrary to the laws of nature, and in opposition to the eternal decree of God: I only wish to state what at that time were my relations and my ties to that Church which I have now abandoned.

My relinquishing the Dominican Order was the signal for numerous desertions. Many of my friends were not slow to follow my example; among them I may mention two celebrated men, the Rev. Father Talia and the Rev. Father Borgetti; equally respected on account of their years and their learning, as for their personal probity. Neither will I conceal the name of another, for whom I had the sincerest regard; the Rev. Giovanni Martucci, who at that period, although very young, was Professor of Natural Philosophy. These persons, disgusted, like myself, at the falsehood with which they were surrounded, no sooner saw me throw off the cloistral habit, than they, also, demanded their rescript, and quitted the Neapolitan brotherhood. The worthy old men wept for joy, that the Lord had graciously, before their death, liberated them from the society of the prevaricators.

I remember Father Talia, who was exceedingly esteemed among the clergy of Naples, expressed himself in the following terms before the Cardinal Archbishop:—

"I do not believe your Eminence will suppose that I am actuated by an overweening desire for liberty, in emancipating myself from the Order of these monks; I would rather persuade you that my doing so has been occasioned by the pure love of truth and virtue, which the monks altogether refuse either to acknowledge or to practise. Your Eminence may say that I am an old man, and as such might have been contented to finish the remainder of my days in the cloister; but I would observe that my spirit is not affected by age, and that before I terminate my earthly career, I, though old in body not in mind, would fain leave behind me to the youth of the present generation, an example of Christian courage; showing that when an institution becomes corrupt, it is one's duty to abandon it, early or late, as it may be; for as the homely proverb expresses it, 'Better late than never.'"

To this the Cardinal replied that he was willing to admit that the good Father had his own reasons for quitting the Dominican habit; that he could not suspect a man like him to be actuated by light-mindedness; and that his friendship towards him would always remain the same: insomuch that the good old man felt himself not a little comforted with these kind assurances.

The monks, however, and more particularly those to whom our desertion from the Order was a bitter reproof, were by no means humbled; on the contrary, they were exceedingly irritated at our proceedings, and set themselves to consider how they could most persecute and injure us; in which intent they were greatly encouraged by the assistance they derived from Rome; I mean from the head of the Order, which unfortunately was at that time represented by the Monk Angelo Ancarani, a man of the most dark and gloomy character that ever disgraced humanity. His history might all be told in these few words: he was, during forty-five years, an Inquisitor of the Holy Office.

We, meanwhile, united ourselves in stricter bonds of friendship; mutually aiding each other, and defending ourselves, as well as we could, from the continual attacks of our malicious adversaries, who never let a single day pass without some effort to annoy us, by their false and calumnious reports. We exhorted each other to patience and endurance. Nevertheless our dear friend Martucci, although of a pacific disposition, and always ready to forgive, could not forbear exclaiming: "Oh, these wretched monks! never was there seen a race so perverse and evil-minded as they are!" And I likewise, who had proposed to myself to endure everything with fortitude and resignation, could not at all times bridle the indignation I felt at their malicious attacks.

The most infamous slanders were preferred against the two good old men, and the excellent Martucci; for my own part I had less to complain of. It appeared that they had a dread of my numerous friends, who always stood forward in my defence. Still, in a crafty and insidious manner, as is customary with the Jesuits, they endeavoured to ensnare me to my ruin. I was informed that such was their intention; but as I am naturally averse to think evil of any one, I could not persuade myself of the truth of the allegation. Indeed, I held the monks and the priests in so little esteem, that I fancied as I never troubled my head about them, they also were very ready to forget me, altogether.

I occupied a handsome house in the Toledo; had two good servants, plenty of books, such as were necessary in my general studies, and a small circle of most excellent friends. I had in other places been annoyed by idle visits from people I cared nothing about; I determined, therefore, to make myself a more rigid monk now, in my own house, than I had ever been in the monastery. In the midst of my favourite pursuits, enwrapt in the most delightful contemplations, undisturbed by the continuous roar of the city[92] without, while within an unbroken silence prevailed—feeling that I was in the midst of the busy world, but enjoying a pleasing solitude—I was tranquil and happy: as a man who rests after a wearisome labour, or a tired warrior, who tastes the blessing of peace. I sought after, I wished for nothing more than peace, and tranquillity of conscience. And I may truly say I possessed it, since God gave it to me; but my invidious enemies sought to deprive me of it. Oh, evil minded men! cease to persecute him who is protected by the providence of God.

Affairs were in this state when I received a kind visit from my uncle, Dr. Mencarini, of Viterbo; who, as he had a great regard for me, was desirous to assure himself of my well-being, after my secession from the monks. He proposed to me that I should return with him, and settle at Viterbo, where he assured me every one, from the Bishop down to the humblest labourer, would be glad to see me; but I had left Rome with the resolution to remove myself as far as possible from its walls; and I too soon found that Naples was not sufficiently distant to ensure my deliverance from the machinations of the city that I abhorred, and which had become my most bitter enemy.

I had often revolved in my mind the idea of abandoning Naples, and even of quitting Italy altogether if an occasion should present itself. But how could I hope to bring myself to such a determination, without the severest shock to my feelings? It appeared as if nothing short of absolute necessity could impel me to desert my native country. As yet, however, this necessity had not become evident to my judgment. I imagined I could continue to enjoy my newly awakened liberty of conscience, in the secrecy of my own breast; whereas of this very liberty the natural consequences were my emancipation from the cloister, my separation from Rome, and my withdrawal from all that had hitherto formed the duties of my ecclesiastical office!

Who was there that did not know that I had altogether given up the practice of confessing, while the bishops still continued to send me their diplomas, for the performance of that ceremony? As to the mass, I scarcely ever celebrated it; and after several months' neglect I remember I said it once, from the weak and unworthy motive, I blush to acknowledge, that it might not be supposed the bishop had forbidden me to do so. My preaching, too, afforded the most convincing proof that I was no longer in agreement with Rome. How then could I continue such a system in the Roman States or at Naples? How could I hope to remain unobserved, when so many eyes of monks and of priests were upon me?

I began to see how utterly impossible it was that my reformation might, as I had fancied, take place without its being publicly known, and consequently without its drawing down upon my head all the hatred and the persecution of Rome. I have since bitterly condemned this weakness in myself, as being contrary to the Spirit that had enlightened me. To a character naturally frank and open, deceit is detestable; and I might have known that without deceit, without disguising the truth, neither by the Church nor by the government should I have been permitted to continue in the country.

Perhaps the idea of this reconciling of adverse principles, or in other words, of serving "two masters," arose in my mind from seeing that many persons without any belief whatever, without observing any of the forms of religion, were permitted to live free and unmolested, not only in Naples; but even in Rome itself. In Naples there are many priests whose conversation is that of infidels, but who nevertheless celebrate the mass, and hear confessions; and many others who, having abandoned the mass, and every ecclesiastical rite, unblushingly live with other men's wives, and openly declare their unbelief. Nobody, however, takes any notice of them; the bishop does not consider it to be his duty, since having left the work of the ministry, they are in a certain degree independent of him; and the government makes it a rule not to interfere with priests, unless they are charged with civil offences; taking no cognizance of their morality, still less of their faith. I therefore naturally concluded that I, likewise, should be allowed to live quietly at Naples, provided I conducted myself as a good citizen, and professed the faith of a Christian. The fact is, that if I had believed in nothing at all, I should have given offence to no one; if I had even adopted the language of Voltaire, I should have merely raised a laugh; but in speaking the language of the Bible, I attacked the priesthood, and incurred its hatred and its persecution.

The case, I may say, is precisely the same at Rome; where for heretics, that is to say Protestants, there is the Inquisition always ready; but as for unbelievers and atheists, so long as they are obedient to the pope, and outwardly reverential towards the Church, they are rather favourites than otherwise, and nothing stands in their way of receiving a cardinal's hat. Well may she be called by St. John, "the mother of abominations!"

It was a providential circumstance that I had occasion to leave Naples, on account of some important business which called me to Rome in the year 1841. I set off with the intention of returning at the end of a fortnight; but He who is my Master and my Guide ordered otherwise: it was according to his good pleasure that whilst I was on the point of leaving Rome to return to Naples, I was arrested by an invisible enemy, and that enemy was the Inquisition.

I look upon this event as one of the most fortunate of my life; if it had not befallen me, I should certainly have returned to Naples, to the quiet comfort of a private life and a peaceful home; enjoying a little world of my own, in the middle of a great city, and living solely for myself. But this was too mean and limited a sphere to satisfy me; I felt that I was not destined to live for myself alone, intent only on my own gratification; but to be useful to others, to contribute to the wants of a people, and to lend my aid towards the salvation of a nation. I had an important mission to accomplish; I considered it was given to me by God. Was it in the power of man to take it away?

On hearing that the Inquisition had laid hold of me, the monks of Naples began to chant their hymn of victory: "He who made war against us," said they, "is fallen; he who branded us with dishonour is fallen, to rise no more. The Inquisition will root out from the earth the very memory of his name."

Thus they rejoiced over my apprehension. Two or three of them were in correspondence with the Holy Office, through the General, Ancarani, and communicated whatever malice came into their heads concerning me. But their accusations were so palpably gross and untrue, that Ancarani himself, skilled as he was in the art of fabricating a charge for the Inquisition, could not make use of them: one of his letters, relating to this business, fell into the hands of a friend of mine; it was to a certain Father Avezzana, a Dominican, belonging to the Monastery del Vomero, at Naples. Among other passages were the following:—"I fully believe all you say, but it must be related in a different manner for the cardinals to believe it.... You should endeavour, in stating a fact, to state it so as to make it tell; to have effect: another time consult with Father de Luca and Father Travaglini."

In May, 1848, when I came through Naples, on my way from Malta to London, and stopped there a few days, another friend showed me a letter from the same Ancarani, directed to a lady, evidently one of his devotÉes, since the letter began, "Carissima Figlia in GesÙ Cristo," in which he prayed her to use her influence with the Marquess d'Andrea, Minister del Culto, to compel certain persons to depose against me; especially as to what occurred at the time of Lent, in the church of St. Giacomo, where the Marquess himself, and others of the ministry frequently came to hear me. It appeared, however, that d'Andrea did not trouble himself about the matter, if indeed the lady ever solicited him on the occasion. This letter my friend found between the leaves of a book which belonged to an ex-Dominican nun of the Montfort family.

I relate all this to show what kind of men these monks are, and how they act in concert with the Inquisition. In the conducting of my process, among the various documents relating to my cause that I was enabled to get a sight of, I saw many papers in their handwriting, and some in that of Ancarani's secretary, Father Spada, a Sicilian; who, although I do not believe him to be naturally a bad man, was capable of going to any extreme in the way of his business, even to the burning of heretics, if required by his patriarch, St. Dominic, or by any one who might be considered his representative.

Among other papers produced by the monks, I saw a letter from my uncle, Mencarini, written at Naples while he was staying in my house, addressed to the Bishop Scerra, at Rome. In this letter, which was couched in the most friendly terms, he spoke of the base and unworthy conduct of Ancarani, and several others among the brotherhood; all of whom he designated as instruments of the Inquisition: and he advised the Bishop, as Secretary to the Congregation of Discipline, to put a stop to such proceedings, lest I should be so far irritated by them as to make disclosures that might cover them with confusion. I believe this letter had been intercepted at the office, and had so fallen into the hands of Ancarani, who had it copied by his secretary; for I cannot suppose that the Bishop, who was so friendly towards my uncle and myself, would have had the weakness to send it—being strictly confidential—to be copied for the use of the Inquisition. If that were the case I should be obliged to class him with Ancarani himself, and with others, who, for right or wrong, have sold themselves to the Inquisition.

Another circumstance is worth relating. The two principal agents in my accusation were Ancarani and Cardinal Lambruschini.

"We ought to burn this heretic alive;" said Ancarani, at one of the sittings of the Inquisition: at another he was a little more moderate, and only suggested my being sent to the galleys for life. The Cardinal asserted that I was not only a heretic, but a conspirator as well. In a meeting of cardinals at the Holy Office, this dreamer assured their eminences and the pope, that he could bring proof that I was a heretic in religion, a Freemason, a Carbonaro, a member of a secret society, and I know not what besides.

Several of the cardinals who were personally acquainted with me, opposed his remarks; but he was obstinate in his assertions, declaring that he had papers in his possession, and expected others from Naples, which would prove the truth of what he advanced. It appears, he was furnished with the fabricated documents of the monks instigated by Ancarani, and expected to receive more of the same description. But above all he hoped to gain possession of my private papers; for which object he had directed the papal nuncio at Naples to make a diligent search in my own house, and to forward all that he could lay his hands upon to Rome.

The nuncio could not refuse the Secretary of State's order, but he was obliged to act through the agency of the police, which was refused, when it was understood I was in the hands of the Inquisition; for the Neapolitans have the greatest horror of that establishment, and, to their honour, would never allow of it among themselves; rising up in open revolt every time the pope or the bishops endeavoured to introduce it. It is an interesting fact, that the minister of police refused the pope's nuncio permission to break into my private dwelling, and possess himself of my papers. I have been assured that he said to the nuncio, "I have no charge to prefer against Signor Achilli; he has lived in Naples quietly, and in obedience to the laws, and has gained great credit as a preacher. The police has no reason to suspect him of belonging to any secret society."

Cardinal Lambruschini made but a sorry figure before the Inquisition after this event; I fancy he was not very ready to come forward any more with his papers and precious documents.

I have frequently had occasion to observe how remarkably all those who at that juncture sought to oppress and calumniate me, have come to shame and confusion, without any effort on my part towards hostility or revenge. God himself has defeated and humbled them, and covered them with infamy in the sight of mankind. Ancarani died loaded with execrations. Lambruschini is still, for his greater punishment, among the living. Many others from Naples, and other parts, who persecuted me, have been signally visited with the chastisement of the Almighty. To Him be all honour, glory, and praise. Amen.

[89] "An adopted son of the monastery." A great mark of esteem and favour among the Dominicans, including many separate privileges.