I ACCEPT THE HOSPITALITY OF THE REV. MR. BRASSARD, OF LONGUEUIL—I GIVE
MY REASONS FOR LEAVING THE OBLATES TO BISHOP BOURGET—HE PRESENTS ME
WITH A MEDALLION, PORTRAIT OF THE POPE AND A SPLENDID CRUCIFIX BLESSED
BY HIS HOLINESS FOR ME, AND ACCEPTS MY SERVICES IN THE CAUSE OF
TEMPERANCE IN THE DIOCESE OF MONTREAL.
The eleven months spent in the monastery of the oblates of Mary
Immaculate, were among the greatest favors God has granted me. What I
had read of the monastic orders, and what my honest, though deluded
imagination had painted of the holiness, purity and happiness of the
monastic life, could not be blotted out of my mind, except by a kind of
miraculous interposition. No testimony whatever could have convinced me
that the monastic institutions were not one of the most blessed of the
gospel. Their existence, in the bosom of the Church of Rome, was, for
me, an infallible token of her divine institution, and one of the
strongest proofs that those heretics were entirely separated from
Christ. Without religious orders, the Protestant denominations were to
me, as dead and decayed branches cut from the true vine, which are
doomed to perish.
But, just as the eyes of Thomas were opened, and his intelligence was
convinced of the divinity of Christ, only after he had seen the wounds
in his hands and side, so I could never have believed that the monastic
institutions were of heathen and diabolical origin, if my God had not
forced me to see with my own eyes, and to touch with my fingers, their
unspeakable corruptions.
Though I remained for some time longer, a sincere Catholic priest, I
dare say that God himself had just broken the strongest tie of my
affections and respect for that church.
It is true that several pillars remained, on which my robust faith in
the holiness and apostolicity of the church rested for a few years
longer, but I must here confess, to the glory of God, that the most
solid of those pillars had forever crumbled to pieces, when in the
monastery of Longueuil.
Long before my leaving the oblates, many influential priests of the
district of Montreal, had told me that my only chance of success, if I
wanted to continue my crusade against the demon of drunkenness, was to
work alone.
“Those monks are pretty good speakers on temperance,” they unanimously
said, “but they are nothing else than a band of comedians. After
delivering their eloquent tirades against the use of intoxicating
drinks, to the people, the first thing they do is to ask for a bottle of
wine, which soon disappears! What fruit can we expect from the preaching
of men who do not believe a word of what they say, and who are the
first, among themselves, to turn their own arguments into ridicule? It
is very different with you; you believe what you say; you are consistent
with yourself; your hearers feel it; your profound, scientific and
Christian conviction pass into them with an irresistible power.
“God visibly blesses your work with a marvellous success! Come to us,”
said the curates, “not as sent by the superior of the oblates, but as
sent by God himself, to regenerate Canada. Present yourself as a French
Canadian priest; a child of the people. That people will hear you with
more pleasure, and follow your advice with more perseverance.
“Let them know and feel that Canadian blood runs in your veins; that a
Canadian heart beats in your breast; continue to be in the future, what
you have been in the past. Let the sentiments of the true patriot be
united with those of a Catholic priest; and when you address the people
of Canada, the citadels of Satan will crumble everywhere before you in
the district of Montreal, as they have done in that of Quebec.”
At the head of the French Canadian curates, who thus spoke, was my
venerable personal friend and benefactor, the Rev. Mr. Brassard, curate
of Longueuil. He had not only been one of my most devoted friends and
teachers, when I was studying m the college of Nicolet, but had helped
me, with his own money, to go through the last four years of my studies,
when I was too poor to meet my collegiate expenses. No one had thought
more highly than he of the oblates of Mary Immaculate, when they first
settled in Canada. But their monastery was too near the parsonage for
their own benefit. His sharp eyes, high intelligence and integrity of
character, soon detected that there was more false varnish than pure
gold, on their glittering escutcheon. Several love scrapes between some
of the oblates and the pretty young ladies of his parish, and the long
hours of night spent by Father Allard with the nuns, established in his
village, under the pretext of teaching them grammar and arithmetic, had
filled him with disgust. But what had absolutely destroyed his
confidence, was the discovery of a long suspected iniquity, which at
first seemed incredible to him. Father Guigues, the superior, after his
nomination, but before his installation to the Bishopric of Ottawa, had
been closely watched, and at last discovered opening the letters of Mr.
Brassard, which, many times, had passed from the post office through his
hands. That criminal action came very near being brought before the
legal courts by Mr. Brassard; this was avoided only by Father Guigues
acknowledging his guilt, asking pardon in the most humiliating way,
before me and several other witnesses.
Long before I left the oblates, Mr. Brassard had said to me: “The
oblates are not the men you think them to be. I have been sorely
disappointed in them, and your disappointment will be no less than mine,
when your eyes are opened. I know that you will not remain long in their
midst. I offer you, in advance, the hospitality of my parsonage, when
your conscience calls you out of their monastery!”
I availed myself of this kind invitation on the evening of the 1st of
November, 1847.
The next week was spent in preparing the memoir which I intended to
present to my Lord Bourget, Bishop of Montreal, as an explanation of my
leaving the oblates. I knew that he was disappointed and displeased with
the step I had taken.
The curate of Chambly, Rev. Mr. Mignault, having gone to the bishop, to
express his joy that I had left the monks, in order to serve again the
church, in the ranks of secular clergy, had been very badly received.
The bishop had answered him: “Mr. Chiniquy may leave the oblates if he
likes; but he will be disappointed if he expects to work in my diocese.
I do not want his services.”
This did not surprise me. I knew that those monks had been imported by
him from France, and that they were pets of his.
When I entered their monastery, just eleven months before, he was just
starting for Rome, and expressed to me the pleasure he felt that I was
to join them.
My reasons, however, were so good, and the memoir I was preparing was so
full of undoubted facts and unanswerable arguments, that I was pretty
sure, not only to appease the wrath of my bishop, but to gain his esteem
more firmly than before. I was not disappointed in my expectation.
A few days later, I called upon his lordship, and was received very
coldly. He said: “I cannot conceal from you my surprise and pain, at the
rash step you have just taken. What a shame, for all your friends to see
your want of consistency and perseverance! Had you remained among those
good monks, your moral strength could have been increased more than
ten-fold. But you have stultified yourself in the eyes of the people, as
well as in mine; you have lost the confidence of your best friends, by
leaving, without good reasons, the company of such holy men. Some bad
rumors are already afloat against you, which give us to understand that
you are an unmanageable man, a selfish priest, whom the superiors have
been forced to turn out as a black sheep, whose presence could not be
any longer tolerated inside the peaceful walls of that holy monastery.”
Those words were uttered with an expression of bad feeling which told me
that I had not heard the tenth part of what he had in his heart.
However, as I came into his presence, prepared to hear all kinds of bad
reports, angry reproaches, and humiliating insinuations, I remained
perfectly calm. I had, in in advance, resolved to hear all his
unfriendly, insulting remarks, just as if they were addressed to another
person, a perfect stranger to me. The last three days had been spent in
prayers to obtain that favor. My God had evidently heard me; for the
storm passed over me, without exciting the least unpleasant feelings in
my soul.
I answered: “My lord: Allow me to tell you that, in taking the solemn
step of leaving the monastery of Longueuil, I was not afraid of what the
world would say or think of me. My only desire is to save my soul, and
give the rest of my life to my country and my God, in a more efficacious
way than I have yet done. The rumors which seem to trouble your lordship
about my supposed expulsion from the oblates, do not affect me in the
least, for they are without the least foundation. From the first to the
last day of my stay in that monastery, all the inmates, from the
superior, to the last one, have overwhelmed me with the most sincere
marks of kindness, and even of respect. If you had seen the tears which
were shed by the brothers, when I bade them adieu, you would have
understood that I never had more devoted and sincere friends than the
members of that religious community. Please read this important
document, and you will see that I have kept my good name during my stay
in that monastery.” I handed him the following testimonial letter which
the superior had given me when I left:
“I, the undersigned, superior of the noviciate of the oblates of Mary
Immaculate, at Longueuil, do certify that the conduct of Mr. Chiniquy,
when in our monastery, has been worthy of the sacred character which he
possesses, and after this year of solitude, he does not less deserve the
confidence of his brethren in the holy ministry than before. We wish,
moreover, to give our testimony of his persevering zeal in the cause of
temperance. We think that nothing was more of a nature to give a
character of stability to that admirable reform, and to secure its
perfect success, than the profound reflections and studies of Mr.
Chiniquy, when in the solitude of Longueuil, on the importance of that
work.
T. F. ALLARD,
_Superior of the Noviciate O. M. I._”
It was really most pleasant for me to see that every line of that
document, read by the bishop, was blotting out some of the stern and
unfriendly lines which were on his face, when speaking to me. Nothing
was more amiable than his manners, when he handed it back to me, saying:
“I thank God to see that you are still as worthy of my esteem and
confidence as when you entered that monastery. But would you be kind
enough to give me the real reasons why you have so abruptly separated
from the oblates?”
“Yes, my lord, I will give them to you: but your lordship knows that
there are things of such a delicate nature, that the lips of man shiver
and rebel when required to utter them. Such are some of the deplorable
things which I have to mention to your lordship. I have put those
reasons in these pages, which I respectfully request your lordship to
read,” and I handed him the _Memoir_, about thirty pages long, which I
had prepared.
The bishop read, very carefully, five or six pages, and said: “Are you
positive as to the exactness of what you write here?”
“Yes, my lord! They are as true and real as I am here.”
The bishop turned pale, and remained a few minutes silent, biting his
lips, and after a deep sigh, said: “Is it your intention to reveal those
sad mysteries to the world, or can we hope that you will keep that
secret?”
“My lord,” I answered, “if your lordship and the oblates deal with me,
as I hope they will do, as with an honorable Catholic priest; if I am
kept in the position which an honest priest has a right to fill in the
Church, I consider myself bound, in conscience and honor, to keep those
things secret. But, if from any abuse, persecutions emanating from the
oblates, or any other party, I am obliged to give to the world the true
reasons of my leaving that monastic order, your lordship understands
that, in self-defence, I will be forced to make these revelations!”
“But the oblates cannot say a word, or do anything wrong against you,”
promptly answered the bishop, “after the honorable testimony they have
given you.”
“It is true, my lord, that I have no reason to fear anything from the
oblates!” I answered; “but those religious men are not the only ones who
might force me to defend myself. You know another who has my future
destinies in his hands. You know that my future course will be shaped on
his own toward me.”
With amiable smile, the bishop answered:
“I understand you. But I pledge myself that you have nothing to fear
from that quarter. Though I frankly tell you that I would have preferred
seeing you work as a member of that monastic institution, it may be that
it is more according to the will of God, that you should go among the
people, as sent by God, rather than by a superior, who might be your
inferior in the eyes of many, in that glorious temperance of which you
are evidently the blessed apostle in Canada. I am glad to tell you that
I have spoken of you to his holiness, and he requested me to give you a
precious medal, which bears his most perfect features, with a splendid
crucifix. His holiness has graciously attached 300 days indulgences for
every one who will take the pledge of temperance in kissing the feet of
that crucifix. Wait a moment,” added the bishop, “I will go and get them
and present them to you.”
When the bishop returned, holding in his hands those two infallible
tokens of the kind sentiments of the Pope towards me, I fell on my knees
to receive them and press them both to my lips with the utmost respect.
My feelings of joy and gratitude, in that happy hour, cannot be
expressed. I remained mute, for some time with surprise and admiration,
when holding those precious things which were coming to me, as I then
sincerely believed, from the very successor of Peter, and the true Vicar
of Christ himself. When handing me those sacred gifts, the bishop
addressed me the kindest words which a bishop can utter to his priest,
or a father to his beloved son. He granted me the power to preach and
hear confessions all over his diocese, and he dismissed me only after
having put his hand on my head and asked God to pour upon me His most
abundant benedictions everywhere I should go to work in the holy cause
of temperance in Canada.