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.
FOOTNOTES:
[35] L'Esame ad gradus. _The Dominicans so call the examination for the
degree of Doctor of Theology._
[36] Alluding to the ceremony in the creation of a cardinal, in which
the pope first shuts the cardinal's mouth and then opens it.
[37] Teoli: Life of Vincenzo Perreri. Rome, 1825; Naples, 1837.
[38] The translator of these pages was residing at Rome at the period
of this man's apprehension, and was credibly informed that the
statement of the cruelties; and atrocities he had practised towards a
boy, an orphan nephew, were so appalling, as to draw tears from the
eyes of Gregory XVI., then reigning Pontiff.