The journey from Detroit to Chicago,
in the month of June, 1851, was not so pleasant as it is today. 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 place
were almost impassable. In many places loose planks had been thrown across them
to prevent people from sinking in the mud and quicksands.
The first sight of Chicago, was then far from giving an idea of what that city
has become in 1884. Though it had rapidly increased 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. today, 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 diningroom,
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. 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 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 inquest, 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
eyes 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, ect. 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 favoured 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 that 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 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 of 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 readers 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 by 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 ground for thy sake;" "thorns
also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee" (Gen. iii. 17, 18).
You see around you the most luxuriant verdure; flowers of every kind, and magnificent
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 labours changed into the most
smiling and happy position.
Perhaps I will be accused then 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 neighbours. 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 is 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 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 beneficial 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 sooner 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 toward 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 on those of
their neighbours, you will find the best machinery to cut their crops, to thresh
their grain. They enjoy the just reputation of having the best horses of the
country, and very few can beat them for the number and quality of their cattle.
Now, what can be the prospect of a young man in Canada, if he has not more than
two hundred dollars? A whole life of hard labour 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 of Canada.
As the land he will take in Illinois is entirely prepared for the plough, 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, ash, ect. 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 the 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 its 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
has 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 not be 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 the French forefathers. Go to
Illinois, and the many names of Bourbonnais, Joliet, Dubuque, Le Salle, St.
Charles, St. Mary, ect., 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 in his, 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 Bishop Bourget, of Montreal, 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 broken 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 will leave your country,
to give help and comfort to our natural enemies."
Surprised by this unexpected burst of bad feeling, I kept my sang froid, and
answered: "My lord, your lordship has surely misunderstood me, if you have
found in my letter my 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 directed
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 noblehearted 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 not a secret to me. Unfortunately the lowminded men who surround and
counsel 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 besides 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 dishonour 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 everyone 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 today 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 tribulation. But be of good cheer, I have overcome the world' (John
xvi. 33). I am more determined than ever to put my trust in God, and to 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 labours 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 temptations
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 the man should be alone; I will make an help meet
for him' (Gen. ii. 18)., said our Creator in the earthly paradise. 'Nevertheless,
to avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have
her own husband' (1 Cor. vii. 2), 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 replies: "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 you 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 a 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, for 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 his conscience in everything, I also feel obligated 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 favour I ask from you just now is, that this
conversation may be kept secret."
I answered: "It is still more to my interest than your 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 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 honourable 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 today. 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, today, 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, for ever, 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 so 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 as 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
honour I am fighting and suffering. He will surely protect me from those sacrilegious
traders in souls."