"I certainly remember that dinner, and the conversation I then held with Cardinal Cappellari, now Pope Gregory. He spoke very forcibly concerning truth, and his words will ever remain engraven on my memory; he extolled it as superior to everything, declared that it was God himself, that all truth proceeded from Him, and that all who obeyed the truth were the sons of God. He spoke of Jesus, the Christ, as the visible form of Truth, who being fully imbued with it, as St. John says, showed to the world that in Him, the Word, the Logos, the Divine Wisdom, was incarnate. He reminded me, that in His death, Christ bore witness to the truth; and we cannot better follow Him, and become like unto Him, than by a veneration for, and a strict obedience to the truth. And here, placing his hand on my shoulder, he added, 'My dear friend, ever advocate the truth; live for it, combat for it, even die for it, and God will be your reward.' This holy advice I listened to as if it came from an angel; at that moment I really believed him to be inspired. I remember also another remark he made. Cardinal Castiglioni had exhorted me to read Pallavicino's History of the Council of Trent; to which I replied, that I had already given it a perusal, as well as that by Friar Sarpi. 'Well then,' exclaimed the good old man, 'read Pallavicino again,'—and he thundered his words out so loudly, that some present thought he was angry with me. 'What's the matter with Castiglioni? asked Cappellari. 'He wishes me,' I replied, 'to read over and over again the History of the Council of Trent by Pallavicino.' 'He is so passionately fond of that history, that he advises every body to read it,' observed Cappellari; 'for my own part, I should like to see a third writer on the subject, who would give us the true account of that Council. But this work, which ought to be written in Rome, and from the archives of the Vatican, could never be published there.' 'Then,' observed I, 'the truth must not be spoken in Rome!' to which Cardinal Cappellari replied with a smile and a sigh."
Olivieri listened to me with profound attention, then wrung my hand, and recommended me anew to pay my respects to the pope.
There was at this time living in Rome a very respectable man, a certain Father Parchetti. He was well known to a great many people, but had few friends. His universal talent in all kinds of literature had gained him considerable reputation; he was of a liberal and kindly disposition, a keen investigator in all matters of science, and was more worthy of honours than he was ambitious in looking after them; he had, in fact, never received any promotion, simply because he despised it. Strict in his own habits of life, he was indulgent towards others: kind and charitable to the poor, and easy of access to all who were not themselves proud or overbearing. He was a great talker, and was sometimes sarcastic and even satirical in his speech, which arose from a naturally ardent temperament.
To the monk Cappellari he had been a friend, but to Pope Gregory he was an enemy. We had been acquainted with each other from my earliest youth; I never, however, talked about our friendship before other people, as he was in disgrace with the Court, and consequently his associates would have shared in the contempt bestowed upon him by their party. I had not at that time sufficient firmness to go against the tide, and boldly declare my opinion in his favour; but still I had a great regard for him, on account of his sincerity and truth; and I discovered in him so many estimable qualities, that I overlooked his trifling defects. He had frequently given me his counsel and advice. I had consulted him with respect to my scruples of conscience; I had laid before him my new theological views, and he had considerably enlightened me on the subject, and confirmed me more and more in my new opinions. I had recourse to him whenever I required advice. He first taught me what Rome really was—Rome, as influenced by priests and monks, by prelates and cardinals. Whoever wanted information respecting the papal court, applied to Father Parchetti, who knew the secret history of every one connected with it, and was perfectly well informed in the history of the Romish Church; his experience was of seventy years' standing, in the course of which time he had become well acquainted with everything that had happened in Rome, and every exact detail as to place, time, and person.
"Well," said I to him one day, "I am going to leave Rome. I thank you for your good advice as to keeping clear from the snares of office, and shunning ambition in my views. See how well I have eschewed everything of the kind! I am going to Naples, on the plea of having to preach at Capua during the ensuing Lent. I shall be heartily glad to leave this place; I most thoroughly detest it, or, rather, the people who govern in it, and sincerely hope never to return to it. I shall find some good reason or other to remain in Naples, when Lent is over; at any rate, I can petition for my secularization,[55] I shall then be at liberty; and in the quiet of private life, occupied entirely with my studies, I may hope to obtain tranquillity and peace."
"No, my friend," replied Parchetti, "do not hope for peace in Italy, under any circumstances. It is not enough that you keep quiet. You know full well, that among other evils to which those gentry who call themselves our masters are subject, is that of envy. Do you imagine they would let you rest? And suppose you quit the brotherhood of the monks, you would still be among the priests. Well, then, there is the bishop, and his vicars, and others of their set, who would load you with calumnies, and persecute you in a far greater degree than you have had to endure hitherto, and which your present strength would by no means enable you to support. Here there is no middle path; we must be either bigots or hypocrites, as they are, or become subject to their hatred and their malediction, and exposed to every danger and every evil, through their instrumentality. They have adopted as their motto, 'He who is not with us is against us;' and consequently, they reckon every one as their enemy who removes himself ever so little from their prejudices, their customs, and their society. He, moreover, who refuses to bend the knee before the idol of the Vatican, is, as you very well know, looked upon as a heretic: here, it is not God in whom we are to believe, but the pope. C—— and T—— are a couple of atheists; nevertheless, they were both made cardinals. But if you and I were to declare that we believed in the Bible, and in the Bible alone, we should be speedily handed over to the Inquisition, and there condemned as heretics—if, indeed they would do us so much honour; for they begin to be sensible that the term heretic is no longer one of so great reproach as formerly; but still, not to allow us to escape, they would give out that we were condemned for some offence or other against the civil laws, such as theft, adultery, and the like. There is poor Capistrano condemned to perpetual imprisonment in the dungeons of the Inquisition; I once asked one of the officials of the Holy Office what he had to say against such a respectable old man; 'He is a great scoundrel,' was the reply; and on my inquiring why he bestowed on him that epithet, 'Why,' rejoined he, 'because he is guilty of a great many crimes.' 'How?' I exclaimed; 'has he then robbed, borne false witness, or committed murder? But what an abominable thing it is to attribute crimes to so good a man as Capistrano! I will tell you what you yourselves are guilty of, and for which he has justly reproved you—the crime of Herod, who condemned John to death!' Now, listen to me, my dear friend: as long as you remain among either friars or priests, you will never enjoy a moment's tranquillity; but you cannot get out of their way whilst you stay in Italy. The first conclusion therefore is, that in this country you will never be at peace, since both friars and priests will unite to persecute you."
"And what, I pray you, is the second conclusion?"
"The second is, that as long as you continue in the priestly office you never can hope for rest in this country. It is not enough that you cease to be a friar, you must also cease to be a priest: both are equally bad; there is no choice between them; they uphold the same system, and the system itself is bad. You must renounce it altogether, if you would be at peace. But a great difficulty stands in the way; a great obstacle is to be overcome before this can be done; and it is this very obstacle that has hitherto prevented me, also, from shaking off this terrible slavery, which I have a hundred times desired to do. The difficulty I allude to is one which deprives an Italian of all courage; it is, that of being obliged to quit his native country; and for evermore to lose the idea of returning to it. Geneva, they say, is a fine city; and I have heard that in London, too, one may hope to find the means of subsistence. But another Italy we can never hope to see; and nothing, I fear, could compensate for its loss. I speak in a worldly point of view. Certainly, such a step requires courage. I can easily conceive that the first step is the grand difficulty; and, after all, a great deal is in our own imagination: but we Italians, like all southern nations, are swayed more by our imagination than by our senses; our understanding, indeed, may be said to feed upon it. Now, if you have more courage than, I confess, I possess, and can decide on taking the grand leap that will place you beyond Italy, I feel assured you will at length find peace, and become happy."
"This project of yours," I replied, "is the true, the only one; I have frequently entertained the same idea. But, as you observe, it presents a difficulty that appears insurmountable; to quit one's native country, to leave one's relatives behind us, to lose all one's property and one's means of subsistence, to reduce oneself to indigence, and undergo privations always more or less humiliating, is a sacrifice, my dear Parchetti, that a man is not always prepared or willing to make. There must be some great motive, or, to speak more correctly, some sudden impulse from above, similar to that which arrested Saul on his way to Damascus, to impel a man to do that concerning which he was before uncertain and irresolute. Perhaps the day may come when I shall myself be thus influenced; but at present I must proceed gradually, till I acquire greater experience; and I shall always submit to the will of God. As we are on this subject, however, tell me, Father Parchetti, and tell me sincerely for our old friendship's sake, what is your opinion of the Protestants? I speak of those of Geneva and London."
"You have chosen rather a dangerous subject to discuss in Rome; but, however, as we are alone, and no one can overhear us, I will speak out; and may it be for the glory of God and the advancement of truth! This is not the first time I have touched upon the argument between Protestantism and Romanism; and you know how excited I get on that topic, and how apt I am to forget the place I am in, and to whom I may be addressing myself. It has happened more than once that I have inveighed against the Holy Office in the presence of some of its officials, and have, in various public places, spoken pretty freely about Rome, likening her to Babylon, and Geneva to a second Jerusalem. It was fortunate for me that the Inquisition did not get hold of it. Since, however, I have up to the present day escaped being burnt alive, and since the ears of the public have become accustomed to my remarks, I do not imagine they will molest me, now that I am old. In fact, they content themselves with vilifying me in their own way; they call me a madman, a foul-mouthed fellow, who speaks ill of every body, and so on. And in this manner they repay me for the attacks I make upon them, which I do not cease from doing in the cause of truth.