The chapter opens with an overview of the seminary’s organizational structure. Although the bishop is technically the supreme authority, his presence is sporadic, limited to occasional sermons, major feast celebrations in the cathedral, and occasional visits to the students. The real day‑to‑day ruler is the rector, described as a short, gold‑glasses‑wearing man named Valeškevičius. He lives adjacent to the seminarians’ dormitory, monitors their behavior, and must be consulted for any important matters such as leaving the seminary, receiving visitors, or obtaining permissions. Valeškevičius despises modern Lithuanian spelling, condemns the “new” alphabet, and never speaks to the seminarians in Lithuanian, though he is considered a “good but strict” superior; his harsh cough and abrupt door‑knocking frighten the novices.

The next senior official is Inspector Mazurkovskis, a stout, bald Polish officer who moves silently through the corridors, promoting Polish customs and urging the seminarians to learn Polish so they can be assigned to Lithuanian parishes while Poles go to Polish ones. His presence intensifies the ongoing struggle within the diocese over the right to use the Lithuanian language in church services, stirring patriotic feelings among the students but also causing demoralization and conspiratorial behavior.

Spiritual fathers rotate frequently and are the only senior clerics the seminarians must obey without pretense; they hear confessions and give sermons, but they do not intervene in administrative matters. The chapter notes that the spiritual father must be Lithuanian to understand the confessions, and Liudas later remembers these fathers as gentle, naive, and slightly otherworldly.

The dean (the most senior among the students) reports weekly to the rector, assigns first‑year seminarians to rooms and roommates, and oversees the “transliokatos” – bi‑annual room allocations that cause competition between Lithuanian and Polish students. The ceremony master coordinates all liturgical ceremonies, directing deacons, sub‑deacons, the cerimonialist, the sacristan (kodyluotojas), and two acolytes (always first‑year seminarians). The novices often struggle with handling large candles, leading to accidents that sometimes result in officials being expelled from the altar.

Additional roles mentioned include the choir director (a talented singer who teaches music and leads the choir), the organist (who learned to play the organ), and the pharmacist (who assists sick comrades). The second‑year seminarians rotate duties with the sempiternal campanologist (who signals the daily schedule). The foremost mentor for first‑year students is the “formarijus,” a senior seminarian living in the smallest dormitory (“the labyrinth”) who teaches them proper conduct, reads the regulation handbook, instructs them in the liturgy, and watches for moral or spiritual infractions. He reports his observations to the rector every Saturday.

Daily life for novices includes cleaning dust from benches, serving the spiritual father during Mass, washing their own rooms, carrying meals from the kitchen to the refectory, and ensuring silence during readings of the Holy Scriptures (morning), theological texts (midday), and Petro Skarga’s “Lives of the Saints” (evening). Some novices also open doors for professors. The rigorous schedule, combined with strict punctuality, fosters both “hardening” of character and a tendency toward hypocrisy.

Academically, the first‑year curriculum focuses on learning Polish (used for all official matters), Latin (slowly mastered after two years), theology, philosophy, and a modest amount of Lithuanian language and general history. The seminary does not grant a full secondary education; graduates without further qualifications often become pharmacist’s assistants, while those who complete the preliminary course may advance to the third year. Some seminarians pursue additional languages (German, French) or music (violin, harmonium) at the expense of their health.

Finally, Liudas reflects, years later, on these formative years, recalling his willingness to endure menial tasks, his adaptation to the strict schedule, and his mixed feelings toward the seminary’s environment—a place that cultivated both vice and disciplined will.