SIMONY—STRANGE AND SACRILEGIOUS TRAFFIC IN THE SO-CALLED BODY AND BLOOD
OF CHRIST—ENORMOUS SUMS OF MONEY MADE BY THE SALE OF MASSES—THE
SOCIETY OF THREE MASSES ABOLISHED AND THE SOCIETY OF ONE MASS
ESTABLISHED.
In one of the pleasant hours which we used invariably to pass after
dinner, in the comfortable parlor of our parsonage, one of the vicars,
Mr. Louis Parent, said to the Rev. Mr. Tetu: “I have handed this morning
more than one hundred dollars to the bishop, as the price of the masses
which my pious penitents have requested me to celebrate, the greatest
part of them for the souls in purgatory. Every week I have to do the
same thing, just as each of you, and every one of the hundreds of
priests in Canada have to do. Now, I would like to know how the bishops
can dispose of all these masses, and what they do with the large sums of
money which go into their hands from every part of the country to have
masses said. This question vexes me, and I would like to know your mind
about it.”
The good curate answered in a joking manner, as usual: “If the masses
paid into our hands, which go to the bishop, are all celebrated,
purgatory must be emptied twice a day. For I have calculated that the
sums given for those masses in Canada cannot be less than $4,000 every
day, and, as there are three times as many Catholics in the United
States as here, and as those Irish Catholics are more devoted to the
souls in purgatory than the Canadians, there is no exaggeration in
saying that they give as much as our people; $16,000 at least will thus
be given every day in these two countries to throw cold water on the
burning flames of that fiery prison. Now, these $16,000 given every day,
multiplied by the 365 days of the year, make the handsome sum of
$5,840,000 paid for that object in low masses, every year. But, as we
all know, that more than twice as much is paid for high masses than for
the low, it is evident that more than $10,000,000 are expended to help
the souls of purgatory end their tortures every twelve months, in North
America alone. If those millions of dollars do not benefit the good
souls in purgatory, they at all events are of some benefit to our pious
bishops and holy popes, in whose hands the greatest part must remain
till the day of judgment. For there is not a sufficient number of
priests in the world to say all the masses which are paid for by the
people. I do not know any more than you do about what the bishops do
with those millions of dollars; they keep that among their secret good
works. But it is evident there is a serious mystery here. I do not mean
to say that the Yankee and the Canadian bishops swallow those huge piles
of dollars as sweet oranges; or that they are a band of big swindlers,
who employ smaller ones, called Revs. Tetu, Baillargeon, Chiniquy,
Parent, etc., to fill their treasuries. But, if you want to know my mind
on that delicate subject, I will tell you that the least we think and
speak of it, the better it is for us. Every time my thoughts turn to
those streams of money which day and night flow from the small purses of
our pious and unsuspecting people into our hands, and from ours into
those of the bishops, I feel as if I were choking. If I am at the table
I can neither eat nor drink, and if in my bed at night, I cannot sleep.
But as I like to eat, drink and sleep, I reject those thoughts as much
as possible, and I advise you to do the same thing.”
The other vicars seemed inclined, with Mr. Parent, to accept that
conclusion; but, as I had not said a single word, they requested me to
give them my views on that vexatious subject, which I did in the
following brief words:
“There are many things in our holy church which look like dark spots;
but I hope that this is due only to our ignorance. No doubt these very
things would look as white as snow, were we to see and know them just as
they are. Our holy bishops, with the majority of the Catholic priests of
the United States and Canada, cannot be that band of thieves and
swindlers whose phantoms chill the blood of our worthy curate. So long
as we do not know what the bishops do with those numberless masses paid
into their hands, I prefer to believe that they act as honest men.”
I had hardly said these few words, when I was called to visit a sick
parishioner, and the conversation was ended.
Eight days later, I was alone in my room, reading the “L’ami de la
Religion et du Roi,” a paper which I received from Paris, edited by
Picot. My curiosity was not a little excited, when I read, at the head
of a page, in large letters: “Admirable Piety of the French Canadian
People.” The reading of that page made me shed tears of shame, and shook
my faith to its foundation. Unable to contain myself, I ran to the rooms
of the curate and the vicars, and said to them: “A few days ago we
tried, but in vain, to find what becomes of the large sums of money
which pass from the people, through our hands, into those of the bishop,
to say masses; but here is the answer, I have the key to that mystery,
which is worthy of the darkest ages of the Church. I wish I were dead,
rather than see with my own eyes such abominations.” We then read that
long chapter, the substance of which was that the venerable bishops of
Quebec had sent not less than one hundred thousand francs, at different
times, to the priests of Paris, that they might say four hundred
thousand masses at five cents each! Here we had the sad evidence that
our bishops had taken four hundred thousand francs from our poor people,
under the pretext of saving the souls from purgatory! That article fell
upon us as a thunderbolt. For a long time we looked at each other
without being able to utter a single word; our tongues were as paralyzed
by our shame; we felt as vile criminals when detected on the spot.
At last, Baillargeon, addressing the curate, said: “Is it possible that
our bishops are swindlers, and we, their tools to defraud our people?
What would that people say, if they knew that not only we do not say the
masses for which they constantly fill our hands with their hard-earned
money, but that we send those masses to be said in Paris for five cents!
What will our good people think of us all when they know that our bishop
pockets twenty cents out of each mass they ask us to celebrate according
to their wishes.”
The curate answered: “It is very lucky that the people do not know that
sharp operation of our bishops, for they would surely throw us all into
the river. Let us keep that shameful trade as secret as possible. For
what is the crime of simony if this be not an instance of it?”
I replied: “How can you hope to keep that traffic of the body and blood
of Christ a secret, when not less than 40,000 copies of this paper are
circulated in France, and more than 100 copies come to the United States
and Canada? The danger is greater than you suspect; it is even at our
doors. Is it not on account of such public and undeniable crimes and
vile tricks of the clergy of France that the French people in general,
not only have lost almost every vestige of religion, but, not half a
century ago, condemned all the priests and bishops of France to death as
public malefactors?
“But that sharp mercantile operation of our bishops takes a still darker
color, when we consider that those ‘five-cent masses’ which are said in
Paris are not worth a cent. For who among us is ignorant of the fact
that the greatest part of the priests of Paris are infidels, and that
many of them live publicly with concubines? Would our people put their
money in our hands if we were honest enough to tell them that their
masses would be said for five cents in Paris by such priests? Do we not
deceive them when we accept their money, under the well understood
condition that we shall offer the holy sacrifice according to their
wishes? But, instead of that, we get it sent to France, to be disposed
of in such a criminal way. But, if you allow me to speak a little more,
I have another strange fact to consider with you, which is closely
connected with this simonical operation.”
“Yes! speak, speak!” answered all four priests.
I then resumed: “Do you remember how you were enticed into the ‘Three
Masses Society?’ Who among us had the idea that the new obligations we
were then assuming were such that the greatest part of the year would be
spent in saying masses for the priests, and that it would thus become
impossible to satisfy the pious demands of the people who support us? We
already belonged to the societies of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of St.
Michael, which raised to five the number of masses we had to celebrate
for the dead priests. Dazzled by the idea that we would have two
thousand masses said for us at our death, we bit at the bait presented
to us by the bishop as hungry fishes, without suspecting the hook. The
result is that we have had to say 165 masses for the 33 priests who died
during the past year, which means that each of us has to pay $41.00 to
the bishop for masses which he has had said in Paris for $8.00. Each
mass which we celebrate for a dead priest here, is a mass which the
bishop sends to Paris, on which he gains twenty cents. Then the more
priests he enrolls in his society of ‘Three Masses,’ the more twenty
cents he pockets from us and from our pious people. Hence his admirable
zeal to enroll every one of us. It is not the value of the money which
our bishop so skilfully got from our hands which I consider, but I feel
desolate when I see that by these societies we become the accomplices of
his simonical trade. For, being forced the greatest part of the year to
celebrate the holy sacrifice for the benefit of the dead priests, we
cannot celebrate the masses for which we are daily paid by the people,
and are therefore forced to transfer them into the hands of the bishop,
who sends them to Paris, after spiriting away twenty cents from each of
them. However, why should we lament over the past? It is no more within
our reach. There is no remedy for it. Let us then learn from the past
errors how to be wise in the future.”
Mr. Tetu answered: “You have shown us our error. Now, can you indicate
any remedy?”
“I cannot say that the remedy we have in hand is one of those patented
medicines which will cure all the diseases of our sickly church in
Canada, but I hope it will help to bring a speedy convalescence. That
remedy is to abolish the society of ‘Three Masses,’ and to establish
another of ‘One Mass,’ which will be said at the death of every priest.
In that way it is true that instead of 2,000 masses, we shall have only
1,200 at our death. But if 1,200 masses do not open to us the gates of
heaven, it is because we shall be in hell. By that reduction we shall be
enabled to say more masses at the request of our people, and shall
diminish the number of five-cent masses said by the priests of Paris at
the request of our bishop. If you take my advice, we will immediately
name the Rev. Mr. Tetu president of the new society, Mr. Parent will be
its treasurer, and I consent to act as your secretary, if you like it.
When our society is organized, we will send our resignations to the
president of the other society, and we shall immediately address a
circular to all the priests, to give them the reason for the change, and
respectfully ask them to unite with us in this new society, in order to
diminish the number of masses which are celebrated by the five-cent
priests of Paris.”
Within two hours the new society was fully organized, the reasons of its
formation written in a book, and our names were sent to the bishop, with
a respectful letter informing him that we were no more members of the
‘Three Masses Society.’ That letter was signed, “C. Chiniquy,
Secretary.” Three hours later, I received the following note from the
bishop’s palace:
“My Lord Bishop of Quebec wants to see you immediately upon important
affairs. Do not fail to come without delay. Truly yours,
“CHARLES F. CAZEAULT, Sec’y.”
I showed the missive to the curate and the vicars, and told them: “A big
storm is raging on the mountain; this is the first peal of thunder—the
atmosphere looks dark and heavy. Pray for me that I may speak and act as
an honest and fearless priest, when in the presence of the bishop.”
In the first parlor of the bishop’s palace I met my personal friend,
Secretary Cazeault. He said to me: “My dear Chiniquy, you are sailing on
a rough sea—you must be a lucky mariner if you escape the wreck. The
bishop is very angry at you; but be not discouraged, for the right is on
your side.” He then kindly opened the door of the bishop’s parlor, and
said: “My lord, Mr. Chiniquy is here, waiting for your orders.”
“Let him come, sir,” answered the bishop.
I entered and threw myself at his feet, as it is the usage of the
priests. But, stepping backward, he told me in a most excited manner: “I
have no benediction for you till you give me a satisfactory explanation
of your strange conduct.”
I arose to my feet and said: “My lord, what do you want from me?”
“I want you, sir, to explain to me the meaning of this letter signed by
you as secretary of a new-born society called, ‘One Mass Society.’” At
the same time he showed me my letter.
I answered him: “My lord, the letter is in good French—your lordship
must have understood it well. I cannot see how any explanation on my
part could make it clearer.”
“What I want to know from you, is what you mean, and what is your object
in leaving the old and respectable ‘Three Masses Society?’ Is it not
composed of your bishops and of all the priests of Canada? Did you not
find yourself in sufficiently good company? Do you object to the prayers
said for the souls in purgatory?”
I replied: “My lord, I will answer by revealing to your lordship a fact
which has not sufficiently attracted your attention. The great number of
masses which we have to say for the souls of the dead priests makes it
impossible for us to say the masses for which the people pay into our
hands; we are, then, forced to transfer this money into your hands; and
then instead of having these holy sacrifices offered by the good priests
of Canada, your lordship has recourse to the priests of France, where
you get them said for five cents. We see two great evils in this:
First—Our masses are said by priests in whom we have not the least
confidence; and though the masses they say are very cheap, they are too
dearly purchased; for between you and me, we can say that, with very few
exceptions, the masses said by the priests of France, particularly of
Paris, are not worth one cent. The second evil is still greater, for in
our eyes, it is one of the greatest crimes which our holy church has
always condemned, the crime of simony.”
“Do you mean to say,” indignantly replied the bishop, “that I am guilty
of the crime of simony?”
“Yes! my lord; it is just what I mean to say, and I do not see how your
lordship does not understand that the trade in masses by which you gain
400,000 francs on a spiritual merchandise, which you get for 100,000, is
not simony.”
“You insult me! You are the most impudent man I ever saw. If you do not
retract what you have said, I will suspend and excommunicate you!”
“My suspension and my excommunication will not make the position of your
lordship much better. For the people will know that you have
excommunicated me because I protested against your trade in masses. They
will know that you pocket twenty cents on every mass, and that you get
them said for five cents in Paris by priests, the greatest part of whom
live with concubines, and you will see that there will be only one voice
in Canada to bless me for my protest and to condemn you for your
simoniacal trade on such a sacred thing as the holy and tremendous
sacrifice of the body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ.”
I uttered these words with such perfect calmness that the bishop saw
that I had not the least fear of his thunders. He began to pace the
room, and he heaped on my devoted head all the epithets by which I could
learn that I was an insolent, rebellious and dangerous priest.
“It is evident to me,” said he, “that you aim to be a reformer, a
Luther, _au petit pied_, in Canada. But you will never be anything else
than a monkey!”
I saw that my bishop was beside himself, and that my perfect calmness
added to his irritation. I answered him: “If Luther had never done
anything worse than I do to-day, he ought to be blessed by God and man.
I respectfully request your lordship to be calm. The subject on which I
speak to you is more serious than you think. Your lordship, by asking
twenty-five cents for a mass which can be said for five cents, does a
thing which you would condemn if it were done by another man. You are
digging under your own feet, and under the feet of your priests the same
abyss in which the Church of France nearly perished, not half a century
ago. You are destroying with your own hands every vestige of religion in
the hearts of the people, who will sooner or later know it. I am your
best friend, your most respectful priest, when I fearlessly tell you
this truth before it is too late. Your lordship knows that he has not a
priest who loves and cherishes him more than I do—God knows, it is
because I love and respect you, as my own father, that I profoundly
deplore the illusions which prevent you from seeing the terrible
consequences that will follow, if our pious people learn that you abuse
their ignorance and their good faith, by making them pay twenty-five
cents for a thing which costs only five. Woe to your lordship! Woe to
me, woe to our holy church, the day that our people know that in our
holy religion the blood of Christ is turned into merchandise to fill the
treasury of the bishops and pope!”
It was evident that these last words, said with most perfect
self-possession, had not all been lost. The bishop had become calmer. He
answered me: “You are young and without experience: your imagination is
easily fed with phantoms. When you know a little more, you will change
your mind and will have more respect for your superiors. I hope your
present error is only a momentary one. I could punish you for this
freedom with which you have dared to speak to your bishop, but I prefer
to warn you to be more respectful and obedient in future. Though I
deplore for your sake that you have requested me to take away your name
from the ‘Three Masses Society,’ you and the four simpletons who have
committed the same act of folly are the only losers in the matter.
Instead of two thousand masses said for the deliverance of your souls
from the flames of purgatory, you will have only twelve hundred. But, be
sure of it, there is too much wisdom and true piety in my clergy to
follow your example. You will be left alone, and, I fear, covered with
ridicule. For they will call you the ‘little reformer.’”
I answered the bishop: “I am young, it is true, but the truths I have
said to your lordship are as old as the gospel. I have such confidence
in the infinite merits of the holy sacrifice of the mass, that I
sincerely believe that twelve hundred masses said by good priests are
enough to cleanse my soul and extinguish the flames of purgatory. But,
besides, I prefer twelve hundred masses said by one hundred sincere
Canadian priests, to a million said by the five-cent priests of Paris.”
These last words, spoken with a tone half serious, half jocose, brought
a change on the face of my bishop. I thought it was a good moment to get
my benediction and take leave of him. I took my hat, knelt at his feet,
obtained his blessing and left.