During the first few days after entering the seminary, I saw depicted
in the countenances of my companions in misfortune, consternation,
or timidity, the deepest grief, or a sort of desperate resignation,
according to their several dispositions; the first evening, for example,
of six acquaintances and friends, who were consigned to the same cell,
none uttered a single word--all the six were so amazed, that they strove
to forget their speechless misery in sleep. Forty young men, in the
bloom and strength of manhood, glided silently about like mummies. We
looked on one another in gloomy, speechless sorrow, and each one sought
in the countenance of his friend, to ascertain the state of feeling in
his heart. We all endeavoured to attain that heroism, which can resolve
at once to sacrifice the heavenly dreams of youth, its hopes, its
wishes, and its freedom,--in order, as they told us, that we might the
more successfully promote the temporal and eternal well-being of
our fellow-men;--as if it were possible for _him_ to raise men to
independence and to self-respect, who cannot boast of their existence
in his own bosom. That, however, which most excited my indignation and
horror, was the ghastly stagnation, which seen from one side exhibited
depression,--from the other, levity, discontent, or cowardice. The young
man of four and twenty had closed accounts with himself and all mankind,
the dearest ties were broken which bound him to his fellow-men. The
glowing and joyful fire of youth, which seeks to achieve for itself
a bright futurity, was extinguished; and egotism poured the freezing
poison of suspicion, envy, and self-interest, into the warm and
youthful veins. We felt as if we were all enveloped for eternity in one
impenetrable shroud, and as if doleful spirits were singing to us burial
songs throughout the gloomy night. The despotism of the Roman hierarchy
glared at me like an awful monster--a monster which digs graves for
the burial of living youth--graves which engulf the freedom and the
happiness of nations. The young man who wishes to become a teacher of
the people, must witness his open and upright manliness ruined; he must
blindly obey, and submit himself to the most degrading oppression, for
the _first_ injunction laid on him is _unconditional obedience_. He sees
that the arrangements and decrees of the hierarchy are contrived
for the degradation, not the improvement of his country, and that he
himself, as the servant of a foreign power, is expected to assist in the
oppression of the land which gave him birth. He is also doomed to bear
the weight of infamy which accompanies every state of slavery, and
the disgrace which now attaches to the entire priesthood, from the
immorality of many among them, whose celibacy is a false profession.
Can glittering coin, wrung from starving poverty and pious fanaticism,
or wines and dainty viands, make amends? Yes, if he prefer the life of
a gluttonous animal to that of a man. What _can_ sustain him? The hope
alone that he may one day aid in breaking the chains which, bind his
native country! That thought it was which animated _me_, and kept me
upright under the pressure of my fearful servitude. But must not the
nature and the disposition suffer from the depression, and will the
moral vigour take no scathe? Ah! What if one were to give way to the
pressure--to settle down into a hypocrite--to become an object of
contempt to one's self and the rest of mankind. All these doubts and
apprehensions forced themselves _even at the first_ before my mind,
and filled my spirit with ineffable sadness,--and they were and are
justified--but too well justified.
Then the time was skilfully divided between attendance at ceremonies,
and the repetition of lip-prayers, for from five to six hours daily
(including the breviary prayers.*) Five hours of prayer daily, and such
prayer! for young men of twenty-four years, designed to be the salt of
the earth! Rome uses devotion as a means of enslaving men. I tried by
every means to escape from the debasing feeling, from the reproach of
conscience _that I had done nothing._** After the breviary prayers were
concluded, there were only about three hours left daily for private
study; and the spiritual work was to be performed in the midst of twenty
youths who had no farther examination for office to undergo, and
who besides were otherwise _finished!_ It was with horror that I
contemplated the possibility that my moral strength might be weakened by
the influence of idleness and dissimulation. My case was therefore often
desperate, and many a time in fever heat have I outwatched the night,
and prayed in spirit "If it be possible, let the bitter cup pass from
me." I was forced to drink it; but a gleam of prophetic brightness
lighted me through the night, and showed me in my dreams the day of my
emancipation. Miserably diseased in mind and disposition, I left the
seminary in 1840.
* The time was divided in the following manner:--Morning,--
From 5 1/2 to 6, matins; from 6 to 7, breviary; 7 to 7 1/2,
mass; from 7 1/2 to 8, breakfast; from 8 to 10, lectures;
from 10 to 10 3/4, free; from 10 3/4 to 11 1/2, study;
from 11 1/2 to 12, breviary. Afternoon,--Before and after
dinner, prayers in the chapel--altogether about 3/4 of an
hour; then 1/4 or 1/2 an hour breviary; from 2 to 4,
lectures; from 4 to 4 3/4, free; from 4 3/4 to 7, study.
After supper, about 1/2 an hour of prayer in the chapel and
an hour breviary. The prayers are Latin, and always the same;
a larger number on Sundays and feast days. It is the duty
of every ecclesiastic to pray through the breviary once each
day; the vicars go through these prayers for the canons as
a sort of feudal service. The pupils are allowed, twice a
week, to cross the threshold of the institution for a few
hours only. No speaking is allowed during meals. The
treatment is degrading. Two rooms for study are allotted to
each twenty individuals. The sleeping places, without
stoves, are arranged for three, six, eight, and fifteen.
The largest was called _The Menagerie_.
** One of the Prebendaries themselves, at the time of our
departure, called the Seminary "a little hell."