It was a fine spring day the day I decided to leave the monastery. I had weighed up the consequences. Breaking my perpetual vows would mean my excommunication from the Church. My parents, whom I had not seen since that day, now long ago, when they had taken me to the railway station, would be unbearably disappointed. Yet I refused to weaken. I went to the monastery chapel for the last time, and knelt in front of the statue of the Holy Mary to beg her forgiveness. For three solid hours I prayed, my tears flowing freely. My face became puffed and red.
As dawn began to break, I left the chapel and walked along the corridor to my room. The bell had sounded and the dormitories were alive with noise. My seventy-year-old magister was walking towards me. He touched my arm, looked into my eyes, saw my red puffed-up face and in those brief seconds I knew he could read my mind.
‘May God be with you, my son, whatever you may have decided to do. I will pray for you.’
He released my arm and I was alone, on what would be my last day in the monastery. I dressed at 3 o’clock the next morning, having sat up half the night planning my escape. I thought two hours would give plenty of time to be far away from the monastery gates. The walls were two metres high, with sharp pieces of broken glass cemented into the top. This was not so much to keep the monks in as to keep trespassers from stealing the fruit and vegetables from the monastery gardens. Wearing my monk’s clothing (my civilian clothing had long since gone), I donned my long heavy coat and crept out of the dormitory. In the garden behind the greenhouses the monks stored the ladders which were used during the late summer to collect the fruit from the trees. I used one of these to scale the wall.
Being unfamiliar with the surrounding countryside, I decided that the best plan would be to stick to the railway, which ran from Lwów in the south through Pinsk to Wilno in the north. The cattle trucks were standing in the sidings waiting to be picked up by the goods train that morning. Taking off my monastery gown, my white stiff collar and my broad belt, I hid them underneath the hay in one of the wagons facing south. Putting on my long heavy coat once more, I picked my way across the railway lines to the wagons waiting to go north. Now the deed was done, I panicked. Would my clothes be discovered before the train started its journey? Would they see through my false trail? Had my disappearance been discovered? Were they already searching for me?
I squeezed myself between the bales of hay. It was dawn; soon the engine would arrive, couple up and take me to Wilno to a new life. I now had time to think about my situation. Though every station was a station further away from the Jesuits, I had no clear idea of my destination. I could not go home since the monks would get in touch with my parents as soon as I was reported missing. I had no clothes, no money, no food. Perhaps anyone else in this situation would have given in, and returned with their tail between their legs, asking for forgiveness. But I was determined not to go back. I had made the break. The life of a nomad was more desirable than the life of a monk.
I remembered that I had an uncle in Stolpce, a town on the Polish-Russian border on the River Nemen. He was a sergeant in the army and had strongly objected to my joining the Jesuits, asking my father to consider sending me into the army instead. The train was heading roughly in the right direction. Now, with added enthusiasm, I ventured out of my hiding place each time the train slowed down, hoping to catch a glimpse of the approaching station so as to work out my position. But the darkness and the gentle rocking of the wagon made me lose all sense of direction and time. Eventually the train pulled into Baranovichi. I knew that Stolpce was about 40 miles to the east and this was the best place to leave the train. I waited until it began to pick up speed after leaving the station, and then jumped. My usually springy legs gave way on impact and I rolled over and over down the embankment. For what seemed like hours I lay still, gasping for breath.
The air smelt of pine forests. I stood up to absorb the panoramic view spread out before me. The land was covered with forest as far as the eye could see. The sun was now high in the sky and I was free. This was my true way of life. Nature had called me back to her bosom. I began my journey in an easterly direction along a rutted and stony forest track. Since I had only possessed open-toed sandals in the monastery, my feet were not shod for walking any distance. Soon I was glad to see a peasant cart coming towards me bringing a family returning to Baronovichi from some local market place. This reminded me of happy childhood days and tears welled in my eyes. I beckoned to the family and asked if I was on the right track for Stolpce but they swore at me, made the sign of the cross and hurried away, Looking down at myself, I understood why they had been afraid. My long coat covered in straw (it was May and the temperature was high), the cuts on my feet, and my unkempt hair must have conveyed an impression of wildness and vagrancy.
By early evening I began to feel despondent. I was tired, hungry (I had not eaten for 24 hours) and my encounter with the family of peasants had deterred me from calling at the small farms nestling on the edge of the forest. My coat was heavy but much more respectable than the underpants and vest I wore underneath. Suddenly I heard the sound of flowing water, music to my ears. In front of me was a rickety wooden bridge over a stream of crystal-clear water. Like a man possessed I flung myself into the coolness, dousing my hair and face, soaking my blistered feet and quenching my thirst. Sourbelly grew on the banks of the stream and I ate lustily, remembering the days I had run home complaining of stomach ache after eating too much of it. My hunger disappeared and I began to relax. Before fatigue overcame me I tried to pray. I promised to atone for my sins if only I was allowed to survive this ordeal. Before I fell asleep a desperate feeling of loneliness flowed over me. What could I say to my uncle, assuming he still lived in Stolpce? How could I face my mother and father? Could I approach the Jesuits to beg their forgiveness and seek official release from my vows? If they refused I would suffer excommunication and become an outcast. I would have no right to work, no right to marry and above all no right to be buried in consecrated ground.
When dawn came I drank more of the cool water and continued on my way. I walked for miles, knowing that if I stopped I would collapse at the side of the road. Eventually another cart came into view, this time approaching me from the rear. Stepping into the ditch to let it pass, I was surprised to see two soldiers. They reined the horses to a halt and looked me up and down in distaste. Thinking I was a beggar, they jumped off the cart and began to ridicule me. In desperation I mentioned my Uncle Ludwik, asking how many more miles to Stolpce. The baiting stopped. They were unsure of themselves, not knowing what to make of me. They began to ask questions – where had I come from, where was my uncle stationed, why was I dressed like a vagrant? I answered them honestly. They looked at one another. They were heading for Stolpce which was about 10 kilometres away and, if I was who I said I was, they would take me to my uncle.
Conversation was non-stop. The soldiers were curious about the Jesuits and my bid for freedom. Questions came thick and fast. Time passed quickly and soon the forests gave way to fields and farms and I could see houses and a church in the distance. I had arrived in Stolpce. I recognised my uncle’s house as I drew up in the narrow street. My companions were still unsure of me; after all, if I was a vagrant and not the person I claimed to be, they would get into serious trouble for picking up a stranger in the forest. I suggested that I stay in the cart until my uncle was found.
It was with bated breath that I waited for him to appear. I was unsure of his reaction to seeing his nephew looking like a pauper. My fears were groundless. Rushing towards me, he hugged me to his chest, and quickly made preparations for me to wash, to receive some proper clothes and to be given a good meal in his house. In the evening I told my uncle and aunt the whole story. He was amazed at my adventures but he agreed with my reasons for leaving the monastery, reminding me that he had opposed my father’s decision to persuade me to become a Jesuit. Despite my anxiety, he postponed all decisions until the morning. Before going to bed I hugged him and thanked him for taking me into his house and caring for me.
It was mid-morning before I woke. My uncle had not gone to his duties and was waiting for me when I finally rose. We discussed my problem for over an hour, trying to work out the best solution. Finally he suggested that I write to the Jesuits explaining my reasons for absconding, humbling myself and begging their forgiveness. I should request them to rescind my perpetual vows and plead with them not to have me excommunicated. I should explain that I had not been mature enough to take my vows when I did and I had only done so because I had no wish to embarrass my parents by changing my mind at the last minute, after they had put so much effort and time into sending me to the monastery.
His second suggestion was that I write a long letter to my parents informing them that I was safe and begging their forgiveness. I should acknowledge that I had let them down and that I was ashamed, but nothing on earth would persuade me to return to the monastery life.
The letter I received from my parents filled me with elation. They were relieved that I was safe. They expressed no anger and urged me to return to Rudnik. However, I decided to stay with my uncle until the reply from the monastery arrived, which took well over a month.
The reason for the delay was that the General of the Jesuits, Father Ledochowski, resided in Rome and had to be informed by letter of my behaviour. A council was held and my problems were discussed. They offered to absolve me from my perpetual vows and to take away the threat of excommunication. But first I had to present myself before a panel of Elders who would see me in neighbouring Grodno. This suited me since I felt it would be safer than going back to the monastery.
My legs were trembling as I entered the building owned by the monks, which closely resembled the monastery on the River Pina. The delegation from the Scholasticat had been held up en route and eventually arrived weary from their long journey. They were not amused. Why had I absconded? Was it not obvious that my unreasonable behaviour would cause a scandal? Why had I not approached someone to discuss my problems? The grilling continued for a long time. I was told there were precedents for monks to be released from their vows, but I would have to confess before the ceremony of absolution could be performed. To this I readily agreed and was taken to a small chapel in the grounds where I confessed. My soul purified, I was taken back to the delegation whereupon the absolution was performed. A weight fell from my heart. At last I was free!
I now found it very difficult to look at a member of the opposite sex without exploding with sexual desire, so, for many months, I continued to observe the ‘modesty of my eyes’. My parents were anxious for me to return home and so it was with mixed feelings that I packed my few belongings (almost all gifts of my aunt and uncle) and embarked on my long journey home. But going back in time is never a good idea and after the initial happiness of actually seeing me safe and well, my parents returned to their daily tasks as if nothing had happened. However, I felt uncomfortable. People gave me furtive glances as they passed me in the street and our parish priest was very cool, not looking me in the eye when we happened to meet. Most of my old friends were respectably married with families of their own. I began to feel like a social outcast. I was reluctant to become totally dependent on my father, so I decided to find work in Kraków until I was called up for compulsory army service. I found a job as a gardener and then as a waiter in a large restaurant. I gradually responded to normal life. Suddenly I realised that the ‘modesty of my eyes’ was becoming a thing of the past.