MORAL AND RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION IN THE ROMAN | CATHOLIC COLLEGES.
In order to understand what kind of moral education students in Roman
Catholic colleges receive, one must only be told that from beginning to
the end they are surrounded by an atmosphere in which nothing but
Paganism is breathed. The models of eloquence which we learned by heart
were almost exclusively taken from Pagan literature. In the same manner
Pagan models of wisdom, of honor, of chastity were offered to our
admiration. Our minds were constantly fixed on the masterpieces which
Paganism has left. The doors of our understanding were left open only to
receive the rays of light which Paganism has shed on the world. Homer,
Socrates, Lycurgus, Virgil, Horace, Cicero, Tacitus, Cæsar, Xenophon,
Demosthenes; Alexander, Lucretia, Regulus, Brutus, Jupiter, Venus,
Minerva, Mars, Diana, etc., etc., crowded each other in our thoughts, to
occupy them and be their models, examples and masters for ever.
It may be said that the same Pagan writers, orators and heroes are
studied, read and admired in Protestant colleges. But there the
infallible antidote, the Bible, is given to the students. Just as
nothing remains of the darkness of night after the splendid morning sun
has arisen on the horizon, so nothing of the fallacies, superstitions
and sophisms of Paganism can trouble or obscure the mind on which that
light from heaven, the Word of God, comes every day with its millions of
shining rays. How insignificant is the poetry of Homer when compared
with the sublime songs of Moses! How pale is the eloquence of
Demosthenes, Cicero, Virgil, etc., when read after Job, David or
Solomon! How quickly tumble down the theories which those haughty
heathens of old wanted to raise over the intelligence of men when the
thundering voice from Sinai is heard; when the incomparable songs of
David, Solomon, Isaiah or Jeremiah are ravishing the soul which is
listening to their celestial strains! It is a fact that Pagan eloquence
and philosophy can be but very tasteless to men accustomed to be fed
with the bread which comes down from heaven, whose souls are filled with
the eloquence of God, and whose intelligence is fed with the philosophy
of heaven.
But, alas! for me and my fellow-students in the college of Rome! No sun
ever appeared on the horizon to dispel the night in which our
intelligence was wrapped. The dark clouds with which Paganism had
surrounded us were suffocating us, and no breath from heaven was allowed
to come and dispel them. Moses, with his incomparable legislation, David
and Solomon with their divine poems, Job with his celestial philosophy,
Jeremiah, Isaiah and Daniel with their sublime songs, Jesus Christ
himself with his soul-saving gospel, as well as his apostles Peter,
John, Jude, James and Paul—these were all put on the Index!! They had
not the liberty to speak to us, and we were forbidden, absolutely
forbidden, to read and hear them!
It is true that the Church of Rome, as an offset to that, gave us her
principles, precepts, fables and legends that we might be attached to
her, and that she might remain the mistress of our hearts. But these
doctrines, practices, principles and fables seemed to us so evidently
borrowed from Paganism—they were so cold, so naked, so stripped of all
true poetry, that if the Paganism of the ancients was not left absolute
master of our affections, it still claimed a large part of our souls. To
create in us a love for the Church of Rome, our superiors depended
greatly on the works of Chateaubriand. The “Genie du Christianisme” was
the book of books to dispel all our doubts, and attach us to the Pope’s
religion. But this author, whose style is sometimes really beautiful,
destroyed, by the weakness of his logic, the Christianity which he
wanted to build up. We could easily see that Chateaubriand was not
sincere, and his exaggerations were to many of us a sure indication that
he did not believe in what he said. The works of De Maistre, the most
impudent history-falsificator of France, were also put into our hands as
a sure guide in our philosophical and historical studies. The “Memoirs
du Comte Valmont,” with some authors of the same stamp, were much relied
on by our superiors to prove to us that the dogmas, precepts and
practices of the Roman Catholic religion were brought from heaven.
It was certainly our desire as well as our interest to believe them. But
how our faith was shaken, and how we felt troubled when Livy, Tacitus,
Cicero, Virgil, Homer, etc., gave us the evidence that the greater part
of these things had their root and their origin in Paganism.
For instance, our superiors had convinced us that scapulars, medals,
holy water, etc., would be of great service to us in battling with the
most dangerous temptations, as well as in avoiding the most common
dangers of life. Consequently we all had scapulars and medals, which we
kept with the greatest respect, and even kissed morning and evening with
affection, as if they were powerful instruments of the mercy of God to
us. How great, then, was our confusion and disappointment when we
discovered in the Greek and Latin historians that those scapulars and
medals and statuettes were nothing but a remnant of Paganism, and that
the worshippers of Jupiter, Minerva, Diana and Venus believed themselves
also free, as we did, from all calamity when they carried them in honor
of these divinities! The further we advanced in the study of Pagan
antiquity, the more we were forced to believe that our religion, instead
of being born at the foot of Calvary, was only a pale and awkward
imitation of Paganism. The modern Maximus Pontifex (the Pope of Rome),
who, as we were assured, was the successor of St. Peter, the Vicar of
Jesus Christ, resembled the “Pontifex Maximus” of the great republic and
empire of pagan Rome as two drops of water resemble each other. Had not
our Pope preserved not only the name, but also the attributes, the
pageantry, the pride, and even the garb of that high pagan priest? Was
not the worship of the saints absolutely the same as the worship of the
demigods of olden time? Was not our purgatory minutely described by
Virgil? Were not our prayers to the Virgin and to the saints repeated,
almost in the same words, by the worshippers who prostrated themselves
before the images of their gods, just as we repeated them every day
before the images which adorned our churches? Was not our holy water in
use among the idolaters, and for the same purpose for which it is used
among us?
We knew by history the year in which the magnificent temple consecrated
_to all the gods_, bearing the name of Pantheon, had been built at Rome.
We were acquainted with the names of several of the sculptors who had
carved the statues of the gods in that heathen temple, at whose feet the
idolaters bowed respectfully, and words cannot express the shame we felt
on learning that the Roman Catholics of our day, under the very eyes and
with the sanction of the Pope, still prostrated themselves before the
SAME IDOLS, in the SAME TEMPLE, and to obtain the SAME FAVORS!
When we asked each other the question, “What is the difference between
the religion of heathen Rome and that of the Rome of to-day?” more than
one student would answer: “The only difference is in the name. The
idolatrous temples are the same: the idols have not left their places.
To-day, as formerly, the same incense burns in their honor? Nations are
still prostrated at their feet to give them the same homage and to ask
of them the same favors; but instead of calling this statue Jupiter, we
call it Peter; and instead of calling that one Minerva or Venus, it is
called St. Mary. It is the old idolatry coming to us under Christian
names.”
I earnestly desired to be an honest and sincere Roman Catholic. These
impressions and thoughts distracted me greatly, inasmuch as I could find
nothing in reason to diminish their force. Unfortunately, many of the
books placed in our hands by our superiors to confirm our faith, form
our moral character, and sustain our piety and our confidence in the
dogmas of the Church of Rome, had a frightful resemblance to the
histories I had read of the gods and goddesses. The miracles attributed
to the Virgin Mary often appeared to be only a reproduction of the
tricks and deceits by which the priests of Jupiter, Venus, Minerva,
etc., used to obtain their ends and grant the requests of their
worshippers. Some of those miracles of the Virgin Mary equalled, if they
did not surpass, in absurdity and immorality, what mythology taught us
among the most hideous accounts of the heathen gods and goddesses.
I could cite hundreds of such miracles which shocked my faith and caused
me to blush in secret at the conclusion to which I was forced to come,
in comparing the worship of ancient and modern Rome. I will only quote
three of these modern miracles, which are found in one of the books the
best approved by the Pope, entitled “The Glories of Mary.”
First miracle. “The great favors bestowed by the Holy Virgin upon a nun
named Beatrix, of the Convent of Frontebraldo, show how merciful she is
to sinners. The fact is related by Cesanus, and by Father Rho. This
unfortunate nun, having been possessed by a criminal passion for a young
man, determined to leave her convent and elope with him. She was the
doorkeeper of the convent, and having placed the keys of the monastery
at the feet of a statue of the Holy Virgin, she boldly went out, then
led a life of prostitution during fifteen years in a far off place.
“One day, accidentally meeting the purveyor of her convent, and thinking
she would not be recognized by him, she asked him news of Sister
Beatrix.
“‘I know her well,’ answered this man; ‘she is a holy nun, and is
mistress of the novices.’
“At these words Beatrix was confused; but to understand what it meant,
she changed her clothing, and going to the convent, inquired after
Sister Beatrix.
“The Holy Virgin instantly appeared to her in the form of the statue at
whose feet she had placed the keys at her departure. The Divine Mother
spoke to her in this wise: ‘Know, Beatrix, that in order to preserve
your honor, I have taken your place and done your duty since you have
left your convent. My daughter, return to God and be penitent, for my
son is still waiting for you. Try, by the holiness of thy life, to
preserve the good reputation which I have earned you.’ Having thus
spoken, the Holy Virgin disappeared. Beatrix re-entered the monastery,
donned her religious dress, and, grateful for the mercies of Mary, she
led the life of a saint.” (“Glories of Mary,” chap. vi., sec. 2.)
Second miracle. Rev. Father Rierenberg relates that there existed in a
city called Aragona, a beautiful and noble girl by the name of
Alexandra, whom two young men loved passionately. One day, maddened by
the jealousy each one had of the other, they fought together, and both
were killed. Their parents were so infuriated at the young girl, the
author of these calamities, that they killed her, cut her head off, and
threw her into a well. A few days after St. Dominic, passing by the
place, was inspired to approach the well and to cry out, “Alexandra,
come here!” The head of the deceased immediately placed itself upon the
edge of the well, and entreated St. Dominic to hear its confession.
Having heard it, the Saint gave her the communion in the presence of a
great multitude of people, and then he commanded her to tell them why
she had received so great a favor.
She answered that though she was in a state of mortal sin when she was
decapitated, yet as she had a habit of reciting the holy rosary, the
Virgin had preserved her life.
The head, full of life, remained on the edge of the well two days before
the eyes of a great many people, and then the soul went to purgatory.
But fifteen days after this the soul of Alexandra appeared to St.
Dominic, bright and beautiful as a star, and told him that one of the
surest means of removing souls from purgatory was the recitation of the
rosary in their favor. (“Glories of Mary,” chap. viii., sec. 2).
Third miracle. “A servant of Mary one day went into one of her churches
to pray, without telling her husband of it. Owing to a terrible storm
she was prevented from returning home that night. Harassed by the fear
that her husband would be angry, she implored Mary’s help. But on
returning home she found her husband full of kindness. After asking her
husband a few questions on the subject, she discovered that during that
very night the Divine Mother had taken her form and features and had
taken her place in all the affairs of the household! She informed her
husband of the great miracle, and they both became very much devoted to
the Holy Virgin.” (“Glories of Mary:” Examples of Protection, 40.)
Persons who have never studied in a Roman Catholic college will hardly
believe that such fables were told us as an appeal for us to become
Christians. But, God knows, I tell the truth. Is it not a profanation of
a holy word to say that Christianity is the religion taught the students
in Rome’s colleges?
After reading the monstrous metamorphoses of the gods of Olympus, the
student feels a profound pity for the nations who have lived so long in
the darkness of Paganism. He cannot understand how so many millions of
men were, for such a long time, deceived by such cruel fables. With joy
his thoughts are turned to the God of Calvary, there to receive light
and life. He feels, as it were, a burning desire to nourish himself with
the words of life, fallen from the lips of the “great victim.” But here
comes the priest of the college, who places himself between the student
and Christ, and instead of allowing him to be nourished with the Bread
of Life he offers him fables, husks with which to appease his hunger.
Instead of allowing him to slake his thirst from the waters which flow
from the fountains of eternal life, he offers him a corrupt beverage!
God alone knows what I have suffered during my studies to find myself
absolutely deprived of the privilege of eating this bread of life—His
Holy Word.
During the last years of my studies, my superiors often confided to me
the charge of the library. Once it happened that, as the students were
taking a holiday, I remained alone in the college, and shutting myself
up in the library, I began to examine all the books. I was not a little
surprised to discover that the books which were the most proper to
instruct us stood on the catalogue of the library marked among the
forbidden books. I felt an inexpressible shame on seeing with my own
eyes that none but the most indifferent books were placed in our
hands—that we were permitted to read authors of the third rank only (if
this expression is suitable to such whose only merit consisted in
flattering the Popes, and in concealing or excusing their crimes).
Several students more advanced than myself had already made the
observation to me, but I did not believe them. Self-love gave me the
hope that I was as well educated as one could be at my age. Until then I
have spurned the idea that, with the rest of the students, I was the
victim of an incredible system of moral and intellectual blindness.
Among the forbidden books of the college I found a splendid Bible. It
seemed to be of the same edition as the one whose perusal had made hours
pass away so pleasantly when I was at home with my mother. I seized it
with the transports of a miser finding a lost treasure. I lifted it to
my lips, and kissed it respectfully. I pressed it against my heart, as
one embraces a friend from whom he has long been separated. This Bible
brought back to my memory the most delightful hours of my life. I read
its divine pages until the scholars returned.
The next day Rev. Mr. Leprohon, our director, called me to his room
during the recreation, and said: “You seem to be troubled and very sad
to-day. I noticed that you remained alone while the other scholars were
enjoying themselves so well. Have you any cause of grief? or are you
sick?”
I could not sufficiently express my love and respect for this venerable
man. He was at the same time my friend and benefactor. For four years he
and Rev. Mr. Brassard had been paying my board; for, owing to a
misunderstanding between myself and my uncle Dionne, he had ceased to
maintain me at college. By reading the Bible the previous day I had
disobeyed my benefactor, Mr Leprohon; for when he entrusted me with the
care of the library he made me promise not to read the books in the
forbidden catalogue.
It was painful to me to sadden him by acknowledging that I had broken my
word of honor, but it pained me far more to deceive him by concealing
the truth. I therefore answered him: “You are right in supposing that I
am uneasy and sad. I confess there is one thing which perplexes me
greatly among the rules that govern us. I never dared to speak to you
about it; but as you wish to know the cause of my sadness, I will tell
you. You have placed in our hands, not only to read, but to learn by
heart, books which are, as you know, partly inspired by hell, and you
forbid us to read the only book whose every word is sent from heaven!
You permit us to read books dictated by the Spirit of darkness and sin,
and you make it a crime for us to read the only book written under the
dictation of the Spirit of light and holiness. This conduct on your
part, and on the part of all the superiors of the college, disturbs and
scandalizes me! Shall I tell you, your dread of the Bible shakes my
faith, and causes me to fear that we are going astray in our Church.”
Mr. Leprohon answered me: “I have been the director of this college for
more than twenty years, and I have never heard from the lips of any of
the students such remarks and complaints as you are making to me to-day.
Have you no fear of being the victim of a deception of the devil, in
meddling with a question so strange and so new for a scholar whose only
aim should be to obey his superiors?”
“It may be,” said I, “that I am the first to speak to you in this
manner, for it is very probable that I am the only student in this
college who has read the Holy Bible in his youthful days. I have already
told you there was a Bible in my father’s house, which disappeared only
after his death, though I never could know what became of it. I can
assure you that the perusal of that admirable book has done me a good
that is still felt. It is, therefore, because I know by a personal
experience that there is no book in the world so good, and so proper to
read, that I am extremely grieved, and even scandalized, by the dread
you have of it. I acknowledge to you I spent the afternoon of yesterday
in the library reading the Bible. I found things in it which made me
weep for joy and happiness—things that did more good to my soul and
heart than all you have given me to read for six years. And I am so sad
to-day because you approve of me when I read the works of the devil, and
condemn me when I read the Word of God.”
My superior answered: “Since you have read the Bible, you must know that
there are things in it on matters of such a delicate nature that it is
improper for a young man, and more so for a young lady, to read them.”
“I understand,” answered I; “but these delicate matters, of which you do
not want God to speak a word to us, you know very well that Satan speaks
to us about them day and night. Now, when Satan speaks about and
attracts our thoughts towards an evil and criminal thing, it is always
in order that we may like it and be lost. But when the God of Purity
speaks to us of evil things (of which it is pretty much impossible for
men to be ignorant), He does it that we may hate and abhor them, and He
gives us grace to avoid them. Well, then, since you cannot prevent the
devil from whispering to us things so delicate and dangerous to seduce
us, how dare you hinder God from speaking of the same things to shield
us from their allurements? Besides, when my God desires to speak to me
Himself on any question whatever, where is your right to obstruct His
word on its way to my heart?”
Though Mr. Leprohon’s intelligence was as much wrapped up in the
darkness of the Church of Rome as it could be, his heart had remained
honest and true; and while I respected and loved him as my father,
though differing from him in opinion, I knew he loved me as if I had
been his own child. He was thunderstruck by my answer. He turned pale,
and I saw tears about to flow from his eyes. He sighed deeply, and
looked at me some time reflectingly, without answering. At last he said:
“My dear Chiniquy, your answer and your arguments have a force that
frightens me, and if I had no other but my own personal ideas to
disprove them, I acknowledge I do not know how I would do it. But I have
something better than my own weak thoughts. I have the thoughts of the
Church, and of our Holy Father the Pope. _They forbid us to put the
Bible in the hands of our students._ This should suffice to put an end
to your troubles. To obey his legitimate superiors in all things and
everywhere, is the rule a Christian scholar like you should follow; and
if you have broken it yesterday, I hope it will be the last time that
the child whom I love better than myself will cause me such pain.”
On saying this he threw his arms around me, clasped me to his heart, and
bathed my face with tears. I wept also. Yes, I wept abundantly.
But God knoweth, that though the regret of having grieved my benefactor
and father caused me to shed tears at that moment, yet I wept much more
on perceiving that I would no more be permitted to read His Holy Word.
If, therefore, I am asked what moral and religious education we received
at college, I will ask in return, What religious education can we
receive in an institution where seven years are spent without once being
permitted to read the Gospel of God? The gods of the heathen spoke to us
daily by their apostles and disciples—Homer, Virgil, Pindar, Horace! and
the God of the Christians had not permission to say a single word to us
in that college!
Our religion, therefore, could be nothing but Paganism disguised under a
Christian name. Christianity in a college or convent of Rome is such a
strange mixture of heathenism and superstition, both ridiculous and
childish, and of shocking fables, that the majority of those who have
not entirely smothered the voice of reason cannot accept it. A few do,
as I did, all in their power, and succeed to a certain extent, in
believing only what the superior tells them to believe. They close their
eyes and permit themselves to be led exactly as if they were blind, and
a friendly hand were offering to guide them. But the greater number of
students in Roman Catholic colleges cannot accept the bastard
Christianity which Rome presents to them. Of course, during their
studies they follow its rules, for the sake of peace; but they have
hardly left college before they proceed to join and increase the ranks
of the army of skeptics and infidels which overruns France, Spain, Italy
and Canada—which overruns, in fact, all the countries where Rome has the
education of the people in her hands.
I must say, though with a sad heart, that moral and religious education
in Roman Catholic colleges is worse than void, for from them has been
excluded the only true standard of morals and religion—THE WORD OF GOD!