"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.