MY VISIT TO CHICAGO IN 1851—BISHOP VANDEVELD—HIS PREDECESSOR
POISONED—MAGNIFICENT PRAIRIES OF THE WEST—RETURN TO CANADA—BAD
FEELINGS OF BISHOP BOURGET—I DECLINE SENDING A RICH WOMAN TO THE
NUNNERY TO ENRICH THE BISHOP—A PLOT TO DESTROY ME.
The journey from Detroit to Chicago, in the month of June, 1851, was not
so pleasant as it is to-day. The Michigan Central Railroad was completed
then only to New Buffalo. We took the steamer there and crossed Lake
Michigan to Chicago, where we arrived the next morning, after nearly
perishing in a terrible storm. On the 15th of June, I first landed, with
the greatest difficulty, on a badly wrecked wharf, at the mouth of the
river. Some of the streets I had to cross in order to reach the bishop’s
palace were almost impassable. In many places loose planks had been
thrown across them to prevent people from miring in the mud and
quicksands.
The first sight of Chicago was then far from giving an idea of what that
city has become in 1886. Though it had rapidly increased in the last ten
years, its population was then not much more than 30,000. The only line
of railroad finished was from Chicago to Aurora, about forty miles.
The whole population of the State of Illinois was then not much beyond
200,000. To-day, Chicago alone numbers more than 500,000 souls within
her limits. Probably more grain, lumber, beef and pork are now bought
and sold in a single day in Chicago than were then in a whole year.
When I entered the miserable house called the “bishop’s palace,” I could
hardly believe my eyes. The planks of the lower floor, in the
dining-room, were floating, and it required a great deal of ingenuity to
keep my feet dry while dining with him for the first time. But the
Christian kindness and courtesy of the bishop, made me more happy in his
poor house than I felt, later, in the white marble palace built by his
haughty successor, C. O’Regan.
There were then in Chicago about 200 French Canadian families, under the
pastorate of the Rev. M. A. Lebel, who, like myself, was born in
Kamouraska. The drunkenness and other immoralities of the clergy,
pictured to me by that priest, surpassed all I had ever heard or known.
After getting my promise that I would never reveal the fact before his
death, he assured me that the last bishop had been poisoned by one of
his grand vicars in the following way. He said, the grand vicar, being
father confessor of the nuns of Loretto, had fallen in love with one of
the so-called virgins, who died a few days after becoming the mother of
a still-born child.
This fact having transpired, and threatening to give a great deal of
scandal, the bishop thought it was his duty to make an inquiry and
punish his priest, if he should be found guilty. But the grand vicar,
seeing that his crime was to be easily detected, found that the shortest
way to escape exposure was to put an end to the inquest by murdering the
poor bishop. A poison very difficult to detect was administered, and the
death of the prelate soon followed, without exciting any surprise in the
community.
Horrified by the long and minute details of that mystery of iniquity, I
came very near returning to Canada, immediately, without going any
further. But after more mature consideration, it seemed to me that these
awful iniquities on the part of the priests of Illinois was just the
reason why I should not shut my ears to the voice of God, if it were His
will that I should come to take care of the precious souls He would
trust to me. I spent a week in Chicago, lecturing on temperance every
evening, and listening during the days to the grand plans the bishop was
maturing, in order to make our Church of Rome the mistress and ruler of
the magnificent valley of the Mississippi, which included the States of
Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, Mississippi, etc. He clearly
demonstrated to me, that once mistress of the incalculable treasures of
those rich lands, through the millions of her obedient children, our
church would easily command the respect and the submission of the less
favored states of the east.
My zeal for my church was so sincere that I would have given, with
pleasure, every drop of my blood, in order to secure to her such a
future of power and greatness. I felt really happy and thankful to God
that He should have chosen me to help the pope and the bishops realize
such a noble and magnificent project.
Leaving Chicago, it took me nearly three days to cross the vast
prairies, which were then a perfect wilderness, between Chicago and
Bourbonnais, where I spent three weeks in preaching and exploring the
country extending from the Kankakee river to the south-west towards the
Mississippi.
It was only then that I plainly understood the greatness of the plans of
the bishop, and that I determined to sacrifice the exalted position God
had given me in Canada to guide the steps of the Roman Catholic
emigrants from France, Belgium and Canada towards the regions of the
west, in order to extend the power and influence of my church all over
the United States.
On my return to Chicago, in the second week of July, all was arranged
with the bishop for my coming back in the autumn, to help him to
accomplish his gigantic plans.
However, it was understood between us that my leaving Canada for the
United States would be kept a secret till the last hour, on account of
the stern opposition I expected from my bishop.
The last thing to be done, on my return to Canada, in order to prepare
the emigrants to go to Illinois, rather than any other part of the
United States, was to tell them through the press the unrivaled
advantages which God had prepared for them in the west. I did so by a
letter, which was published not only by the press of Canada, but also in
many papers of France and Belgium. The importance of that letter is such
that I hope my reader will bear with me in reproducing the following
extracts from it.
MONTREAL, CANADA EAST.
August 13th, 1851.
It is impossible to give our friends, by narration, an idea of what we
feel, when we cross for the first time the immense prairies of Illinois.
It is a spectacle which must be seen to be well understood.
As you advance in the midst of these boundless deserts, where your eyes
perceive nothing but lands of inexhaustible richness, remaining in the
most desolating solitude, you feel something which you cannot express by
any words.
Is your soul filled with joy, or your heart broken with sadness? You
cannot say. You lift up your eyes to heaven, and the voice of your soul
is chanting a hymn of gratitude. Tears of joy are trickling down your
cheeks, and you bless God, whose curse seems not to have fallen on the
land where you stand: “Cursed is the earth in thy work; thorns and
thistles shall it bring forth to thee.”
You see around you the most luxuriant verdure; flowers of every kind,
and magnificence above description.
But, if in the silence of meditation, you look with new attention on
those prairies, so rich, so magnificent, you feel an inexpressible
sentiment of sadness, and addressing yourself to the blessed land, you
say: “Why art thou so solitary? Why is the wild game alone here to
glorify my God?”
And if you continue to advance through those immense prairies, which,
like a boundless ocean, are spreading their rolling waves before you,
and seem to long after the presence of man, to cover themselves with
incalculable treasures, you remember your friends in Canada, and more
particularly those among them who, crushed down by misery, are watering
with the sweat of their brow a sterile and desolated soil, you say:
“Ah! if such and such of my friends were here, how soon they would see
their hard and ungrateful labors changed into the most smiling and happy
position.”
Perhaps I will be accused here, of trying to depopulate my country, and
drive my countrymen from Canada to the United States.
No! no. I never had so perverse a design. Here is my mind about the
subject of emigration, and I see no reason to be ashamed of it, or to
conceal it.
It is a fact that a great number (and much greater than generally
believed) of French Canadians are yearly emigrating from Canada, and
nobody regrets it more than I do; but as long as those who govern Canada
will not pay more attention to that evil, it will be an incurable one,
and every year Canada will lose thousands and thousands of its strongest
arms and noblest hearts, to benefit our happy neighbors.
With many others, I had the hope that the eloquent voice of the poor
settlers of our eastern townships would be heard, and that the
government would help them; but that hope has gone like a dream, and we
have now every reason to fear that our unfortunate settlers of the east
will be left to themselves.
The greatest part of them, for the want of roads to the markets of
Quebec and Montreal, and still more by the tyranny of their cruel
landlords, will soon be obliged to bid an eternal adieu to their
country, and with an enraged heart against their haughty oppressors,
they will seek in the exile to a strange land the protection they could
not find in their own country.
Yes! If our Canadian government continues a little longer to show the
same incomprehensible and stupid apathy for the welfare of its own
subjects, emigration will increase every year from Canada to swell the
ranks of the American people.
Since we cannot stop that emigration, is it not our first duty to direct
it in such a way that it will be to the poor emigrants as little injury
as possible?
Let us do everything to hinder them from going to the large cities of
the United States.
Drowned in the mixed population of American cities, our unfortunate
emigrating countrymen would be too much exposed to losing their morality
and their faith.
Surely there is not another country under the heavens where space,
bread, and liberty are so universally assured to every member of the
community, as the United States. But it is not in the great cities of
the United States that our poor countrymen will soonest find these three
gifts. The French Canadian who will stop in the large cities, will not,
with a very few exceptions, raise himself above the unenviable position
of a poor journeyman.
But those among them who will direct their steps towards the rich and
extensive prairies of Bourbonnais, will certainly find a better lot.
Many in Canada would believe that I am exaggerating, were I to publish
how happy, prosperous and respectable is the French Canadian population
of Bourbonnais.
The French Canadians of Bourbonnais have had the intelligence to follow
the good example of the industrious American farmers in the manner of
cultivating the lands.
On their farms as well as those of their neighbors, you will find the
best machinery to cut their crops, to thresh their grain.
They enjoy the just reputation of having the best horses in the country,
and very few can beat them for the number and quality of their cattle.
Now, what can be the prospects of a young man in Canada, if he has not
more than $200? A whole life of hard labor and continued privation is
his too certain lot. But, let that young man go directly to Bourbonnais,
and if he is industrious, sober and religious, before a couple of years
he will see nothing to envy in the most happy farmer in Canada.
As the land he will take in Illinois, is entirely prepared for the plow,
he has no trees to cut or eradicate, no stones to move, no ditch to dig,
his only work is to fence and break his land and sow it, and the very
first year the value of the crop will be sufficient to pay for his farm.
Holy Providence has prepared everything for the benefit of the happy
farmers of Illinois.
That fertile country is well watered by a multitude of rivers and large
creeks, whose borders are generally covered with the most rich and
extensive groves of timber of the best quality, as black oak, maple,
white oak, burr oak, etc.
The seeds of the beautiful acacia (locust), after five or six years,
will give you a splendid tree.
The greatest variety of fruits are growing naturally in almost every
part of Illinois; coal mines have been discovered in the very heart of
the country, more than sufficient for the wants of the people. Before
long, a railroad from Chicago to Bourbonnais will bring our happy
countrymen to the most extensive market, the Queen city of the
west—Chicago.
I will then say to my young countrymen who intend emigrating from
Canada: “My friend, exile is one of the greatest calamities that can
befall a man.
“Young Canadian, remain in thy country, keep thy heart to love it, thy
intelligence to adorn it, and thine arms to protect it.
“Young and dear countrymen, remain in thy beautiful country; there is
nothing more grand and sublime in the world than the waters of the St.
Lawrence. It is on those deep and majestic waters that, before long,
Europe and America will meet and bind themselves to each other by the
blessed bonds of an eternal peace; it is on its shores that they will
exchange their incalculable treasures. Remain in the country of thy
birth, my dear son. Let the sweat of thy brow continue to fertilize it,
and let the perfume of thy virtues bring the blessing of God upon it.
“But, my dear son, if thou hast no more room in the valley of the St.
Lawrence, and if, by the want of protection from the Government, thou
canst not go to the forest without running the danger of losing thy life
in a pond, or being crushed under the feet of an English or Scotch
tyrant, I am not the man to invite thee to exhaust thy best days for the
benefit of the insolent strangers, who are the lords of the eastern
lands. I will sooner tell thee, ‘go my child,’ there are many extensive
places still vacant on the earth, and God is everywhere. That Great God
calleth thee to another land, submit thyself to His Divine Will.
“But, before you bid a final adieu to thy country, engrave on thy heart
and keep as a holy deposit, the love of thy holy religion, of thy
beautiful language and of the dear and unfortunate country of thy birth.
“On thy way to the land of exile, stop as little as possible in the
great cities, for fear of the many snares thy eternal enemy has prepared
for thy perdition.
“But go straight to Bourbonnais. There you will find many of thy
brothers, who have erected the cross of Christ; join thyself to them,
thou shalt be strong of their strength; go and help them to conquer to
the Gospel of Jesus those rich countries, which shall, very soon, weigh
more than is generally believed, in the balance of the nations.
“Yes, go straight to Illinois. Thou shalt be not entirely in a strange
and alien country. Holy Providence has chosen thy fathers to find that
rich country, and to reveal to the world its admirable resources.
“More than once, that land of Illinois has been sanctified by the blood
of thy ancestors.
“In Illinois, thou shalt not make a step without finding indestructible
proof of the perseverance, genius, bravery and piety of thy French
forefathers.
“Go to Illinois, and the many names of Bourbonnais, Joliet, Dubuque, La
Salle, St. Charles, St. Mary, etc., that you will meet everywhere, will
tell you more than my words, that that country is nothing but the rich
inheritance which your fathers have found for the benefit of their
grandchildren.”
C. CHINIQUY.
I would never have published this letter, if I had foreseen its effects
on the farmers of Canada. In a few days after its appearance, their
farms fell to half their value. Every one, in some parishes, wanted to
sell their lands and emigrate to the west. It was only for want of
purchasers that we did not see an emigration which would have surely
ruined Canada. I was frightened by its immediate effect on the public
mind. However, while some were praising me to the skies, for having
published it, others were cursing me, and calling me a traitor. The very
day after its publication, I was in Quebec, where the bishops of Canada
were met in council. The first one I met, was my Lord De Charbonel,
Bishop of Toronto. After having blessed me, he pressed my hand and said:
“I have just read your admirable letter. It is one of the most beautiful
and eloquently written articles I ever read. The Spirit of God has
surely inspired every one of its sentences. I have, just now, forwarded
six copies of it to different journals of France and Belgium, where they
will be republished and do an incalculable amount of good, by directing
the French-speaking Catholic emigrants towards a country where they will
run no risk of losing their faith, with the assurance of securing a
future of unbounded prosperity for their families. Your name will be put
among the names of the greatest benefactors of humanity.”
Though these compliments seemed to me much exaggerated and unmerited, I
cannot deny that they pleased me, by adding to my hopes and convictions
that great good would surely come from the plan I had of gathering all
the Roman Catholic emigrants on the same spot, to form such large and
strong congregations; that they would have nothing to fear from
heretics. I thanked the bishop for his kind and friendly words, and left
him to go and present my respectful salutations to my Bishop of
Montreal, my Lord Bourget, and give him a short sketch of my voyage to
the far west. I found him alone in his room, in the very act of reading
my letter. A lioness, who had just lost her whelps, would not have
looked upon me with more angry and threatening eyes than that bishop
did.
“Is it possible,” he said, “Mr. Chiniquy, that your hand has written and
signed such a perfidious document? How could you so cruelly pierce the
bosom of your own country, after her dealing so nobly with you? Do you
not see that your treasonable letter will give such an impetus to
emigration that our most thriving parishes will soon be turned into
solitude? Though you do not say it, we feel at every line of that
letter, that you also will leave your country, to give help and comfort
to our natural enemies.”
Surprised by this unexpected burst of bad feelings, I kept my _sang
froid_, and answered:
“My lord, your lordship has surely misunderstood me, if you have found
in my letter any treasonable plan to ruin our country. Please read it
again, and you will see that every line has been inspired by the purest
motives of patriotism, and the highest views of religion. How is it
possible that the worthy Bishop of Toronto should have told me that the
Spirit of God Himself had dictated every line of that letter, when my
good bishop’s opinion is so completely opposite?”
The abrupt answer the bishop gave to these remarks, clearly indicated
that my absence would be more welcome than my presence. I left him,
after asking his blessing, which he gave me in the coldest manner
possible.
On the 25th of August, I was back at Longueuil, from my voyage to
Quebec, which I had extended as far as Kamouraska, to see again the
noble-hearted parishioners, whose unanimity in taking the pledge of
temperance, and admirable fidelity in keeping it then, had filled my
heart with such joy.
I related my last interview with Bishop Bourget to my faithful friend
Mr. Brassard. He answered me:
“The present bad feelings of the Bishop of Montreal against you, are no
secret to me. Unfortunately the low-minded men who surround and council
him, are as unable as the bishop himself, to understand your exalted
views in directing the steps of the Roman Catholics towards the splendid
valley of the Mississippi. They are beside themselves, because they see
that you will easily succeed in forming a grand colony of
French-speaking people in Illinois. Now, I am sure of what I say, though
I am not free to tell you how it came to my knowledge; there is a plot
somewhere to dishonor and destroy you, at once. Those who are at the
head of that plot, hope that if they can succeed in destroying your
popularity, nobody will be tempted to follow you to Illinois. For,
though you have concealed it as well as you could, it is evident to
every one now, that you are the man selected by the bishops of the west
to direct the uncertain steps of the poor emigrants towards those rich
lands.”
“Do you mean, my dear Mr. Brassard,” I replied, “that there are priests
around the Bishop of Montreal, cruel and vile enough to forge calumnies
against me, and spread them before the country in such a way that I
shall be unable to refute them.”
“It is just what I mean,” answered Mr. Brassard. “Mind what I tell you;
the bishop has made use of you to reform his diocese. He likes you for
that work. But your popularity is too great, to-day, for your enemies;
they want to get rid of you, and no means will be too vile or criminal
to accomplish your destruction, if they can attain their object.”
“But, my dear Mr. Brassard, can you give me any details of the plots
which are in store against me?” I asked.
“No! I cannot, for I know them not. But be on your guard; for your few,
but powerful enemies, are jubilant. They speak of the absolute impotency
to which you will soon be reduced; if you accomplish what they so
maliciously and falsely call your treacherous objects.”
I answered; “Our Saviour has said to all His disciples; ‘In the world,
ye shall have tribulations. But be of good cheer, I have overcome the
world.’ I am more determined than ever, to put my trust in God and fear
no man.”
Two hours after this conversation, I received the following from the
Rev. M. Pare, secretary to the Bishop:
TO THE REV. MR. CHINIQUY,
Apostle of Temperance.
MY DEAR SIR:—My lord Bishop of Montreal would like to see you upon some
important business. Please come at your earliest convenience.
Yours truly,
JOS. PARE, Secretary.
The next morning I was alone with Monseigneur Bourget, who received me
very kindly. He seemed at first to have entirely banished the bad
feelings he had shown in our last interview at Quebec. After making some
friendly remarks on my continual labors and success in the cause of
temperance, he stopped for a moment, and seemed embarrassed how to
resume the conversation. At last he said:
“Are you not the father confessor of Mrs. Chenier?”
“Yes! my lord. I have been her confessor since I lived in Longueuil.”
“Very well, very well,” he rejoined, “I suppose that you know that her
only child is a nun, in the Congregation Convent.”
“Yes! my lord, I know it,” I replied.
“Could you not induce Mrs Chenier to become a nun also?” asked the
bishop.
“I never thought of that, my lord,” I answered, “and I do not see why I
should advise her to exchange her beautiful cottage, washed by the fresh
and pure waters of the St. Lawrence, where she looks so happy and
cheerful, for the gloomy walls of the nunnery.”
“But she is still young and beautiful; she may be deceived by temptation
when she is there, in that beautiful house, surrounded by all the
enjoyments of her fortune,” replied the bishop.
“I understand your lordship. Yes, Mrs Chenier has the reputation of
being rich; though I know nothing of her fortune, she has kept well the
charms and freshness of her youth. However, I think that the best remedy
against the temptations you seem to dread so much for her, is to advise
her to marry. A good Christian husband seems to me a much better remedy
against the dangers, to which your lordship alludes, than the cheerless
walls of a nunnery.”
“You speak just as a Protestant,” rejoined the bishop, with an evident
nervous irritation. “We remark that, though you hear the confessions of
a great number of young ladies, there is not a single one of them who
has ever become a nun. You seem to ignore, that the vow of chastity is
the shortest way to a life of holiness in this world and happiness in
the next.”
“I am sorry to differ from your lordship, in that matter,” I replied.
“But I cannot help it, the remedy you have found against sin is quite
modern. The old remedy offered by our God Himself, is very different and
much better, I think.
“‘It is not good that man shall remain alone, I will make a help-mate
for him,’ said our Creator in the earthly paradise. ‘And to avoid
fornication, let every man have his wife, and let every woman have her
husband,’ said the same God, through His apostle Paul.
“I know too well how the great majority of nuns keep their vows of
chastity, to believe that the modern remedy against the temptations you
mention, is an improvement on the old one found and given by our God!” I
answered.
With an angry look, the bishop replied:
“This is Protestantism, Mr. Chiniquy. This is sheer Protestantism.”
“I respectfully ask your pardon for differing from your lordship. This
is not Protestantism. It is simply and absolutely the ‘pure word of
God.’ But, my lord, God knows that it is my sincere desire, as it is my
interest and my duty, to do all in my power to deserve your esteem. I do
not want to vex nor disobey you. Please give me a good reason why I
should advise Mrs. Chenier to enter a monastery, and I will comply with
your request the very first time she comes to confess.”
Resuming his most amiable manner, the bishop answered me:
“My first reason is, the spiritual good which she would receive from her
vows of perpetual chastity and poverty in nunnery. The second reason is,
that the lady is rich; and we are in need of money. We would soon
possess her whole fortune; for her only child is already in the
Congregation Convent.”
“My dear bishop,” I replied, “you already know what I think of your
first reason. After having investigated that fact, not in the Protestant
books, but from the lips of the nuns themselves, as well as from their
father confessors, I am fully convinced that the real virtue of purity
is much better kept in the homes of our Christian mothers, married
sisters, and female friends, than in the secret rooms, not to say
prisons, where the poor nuns are enchained by the heavy fetters assumed
by their vows, which the great majority curse when they cannot break
them.
“And for the second reason, your lordship gives me to induce Mrs.
Chenier becoming a nun, I am again sorry to say, that I cannot
conscientiously accept it. I have not consecrated myself to the
priesthood to deprive respectable families of their legal inheritance in
order to enrich myself, or anybody else. I know she has poor relations
who need her fortune after her death.”
“Do you pretend to say that your bishop is a thief?” angrily rejoined
the bishop.
“No, my lord! By no means. No doubt, from your high standpoint of view,
your lordship may see things in a very different aspect, from what I see
them, in the low position I occupy in the church. But, as your lordship
is bound to follow the dictates of your conscience in everything, I also
feel obliged to give heed to the voice of mine.”
This painful conversation had already lasted too long. I was anxious to
see the end of it; for I could easily read in the face of my superior
that every word I uttered was sealing my doom. I rose up to take leave
of him, and said: “My lord, I beg your pardon for disappointing your
lordship.”
He coldly answered me:
“It is not the first time, though I would it were the last, that you
show such a want of respect and submission to the will of your
superiors. But, as I feel it is a conscientious affair on your part, I
have no ill-will against you, and I am happy to tell you that I
entertain for you all my past esteem. The only favor I ask from you,
just now, is that this conversation may be kept secret.”
I answered: “It is still more to my interest than yours to keep this
unfortunate affair a secret between us. I hope that neither your
lordship, nor the Great God, who alone has heard us, will ever make it
an imperious duty for me to mention it.”
“What good news do you bring me from the bishop’s palace?” asked my
venerable friend, Mr. Brassard, when I returned, late in the afternoon.
“I would have very spicy, though unpalatable news to give you, had not
the bishop asked me to keep what has been said between us a secret.”
Mr. Brassard laughed outright, at my answer, and replied:
“A secret! a secret! Ah! but it is a gazette secret; for the bishop has
bothered me, as well as many others, with that matter, frequently, since
your return from Illinois. Several times he has asked us to persuade you
to advise your devoted penitent, Mrs. Chenier, to become a nun. I knew
he invited you to his palace, yesterday, for that object.”
“The eyes and the heart of our poor bishop,” continued Mr. Brassard,
“are too firmly fixed on the fortune of that lady. Hence, his zeal about
the salvation of her soul, through the monastic life. In vain I tried to
dissuade the bishop from speaking to you on that subject, on account of
your prejudices against our good nuns. He would not listen to me. No
doubt you have realized my worst anticipations; you have, with your
usual stubbornness, refused to yield to his demands. I fear you have
added to his bad feelings, and consummated your disgrace.”
“What a deceitful man that bishop is,” I answered indignantly. “He has
given me to understand that this was a most sacred secret between him
and me; when I see, by what you say, that it is nothing else than a
farcical secret, known by the hundreds who have heard of it.
“But please, my dear Mr. Brassard, tell me, is it not a burning shame
that our nunneries are changed into real traps, to steal cheat and ruin
so many unsuspecting families? I have no words to express my disgust and
indignation, when I see that all those great demonstrations and eloquent
tirades about the perfection and holiness of the nuns, on the part of
our spiritual rulers, are nothing else, in reality, than a veil to
conceal their stealing operations. Do you not feel that those poor nuns
are the victims of the most stupendous system of swindling the world has
ever seen?
“I know that there are some honorable exceptions. For instance, the
nunnery you have founded here, is an exception. You have not built it to
enrich yourself, as you have spent your last cent in its erection. But
you and I are only simpletons, who have, till now, ignored the terrible
secrets which put that machine of the nunneries and monkeries in motion.
I am more than ever disgusted and terrified, not only by the unspeakable
corruptions, but also by the stupendous system of swindling which is
their foundation stone. If the cities of Quebec and Montreal could know
what I know of the incalculable sums of money secretly stolen through
the confessional to aid our bishops in building the famous cathedrals
and splendid palaces, or to cover themselves with robes of silk, satin,
silver and gold; to live more luxurious than the Pashas of Turkey, they
would set fire to all those palatial buildings; they would hang the
confessors who have thrown the poor nuns into these dungeons, under the
pretext of saving their souls, when the real motive was to lay hands on
their inheritance and raise their colossal fortunes. The bishop has
opened before me a most deplorable and shameful page of the history of
our church. It makes me understand many facts which were a mystery to me
till to-day. Now I understand the terrible wrath of the English people
in the days of old, and of the French people more recently, when they so
violently wrenched from the hands of the clergy the enormous wealth they
had accumulated during the dark ages. I have condemned those great
nations till now. But, to-day, I absolve them. I am sure that those men,
though blind and cruel in their vengeance, were the ministers of the
justice of God. The God of heaven could not, forever, tolerate a
sacrilegious system of swindling, as I know, now, to be in operation
from one end to the other, not only of Canada, but of the whole world,
under the mask of religion. I know that the bishop and his flatterers
will hate and persecute me for my stern opposition to his rapacity. But
I do feel happy and proud of his hatred. The God of truth and justice,
the God of the gospel, will be on my side, when they attack me. I do not
fear them; let them come. That bishop surely did not know me, when he
thought that I would consent to be the instrument of his hypocrisy, and
that, under the false pretext of a delusive perfection, I would throw
that lady into a dungeon for her life, that he might become rich with
her inheritance.”
Mr. Brassard answered me: “I cannot blame you for your disobeying the
bishop, in this instance. I foretold him what has occurred; for I knew
what you think of the nuns. Though I do not go as far as you in that, I
cannot absolutely shut my eyes to the facts which stare us in the face.
Those monkish communities have, in every age, been the principal cause
of the calamities which have befallen the church. For their love of
riches, their pride and laziness, with their other scandals, have always
been the same.
“Had I been able to foresee what has occurred inside the walls of the
nunnery I built up here, I never would have erected it. However, now
that I have built it, it is the child of my old age; I feel bound to
support it to the end. This does not prevent me from being afflicted
when I see the facility with which our poor nuns yield to the criminal
desires of their too weak confessors. Who could have thought, for
instance, that that lean and ugly superior of the oblates, Father
Allard, could have fallen in love with his young nuns, and that so many
would have lost their hearts on his account. Have you heard how the
young men of our village, indignant at his spending the greater part of
the night with the nuns, have whipped him, when he was crossing the
bridge, not long before his leaving Longueuil for Africa? It is evident
that our bishop multiplies too fast those religious houses.
“My fear is that they will, sooner than we expect, bring upon our Church
of Canada the same cataclysms which have so often desolated her in
England, France, Germany and even in Italy.”
The clock struck twelve just when this last sentence fell from the lips
of Mr. Brassard. It was quite time to take some rest. When leaving me
for his sleeping room, he said: “My dear Chiniquy, gird your loins well,
sharpen your sword for the impending conflict. My fear is that the
bishop and his advisers will never forget your wrenching from their
hands the booty they were coveting so long.
“They will never forgive the spirit of independence with which you have
rebuked them.
“In fact, the conflict is already begun; may God protect you against the
open blows, and the secret machinations they have in store for you.”
I answered him: “I do not fear them. I put my trust in God. It is for
His honor I am fighting and suffering. He will surely protect me from
those sacrilegious traders in souls.”