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.
FOOTNOTES:
[89] "An adopted son of the monastery." A great mark of esteem and
favour among the Dominicans, including many separate privileges.
[90] The head of all the religious houses of the same order in the
province.
[91] An answer to a petition.
[92] Every one who has been at Naples knows how incessant is the noise
and bustle of the Toledo.