Our adorable Saviour said: "What
king, going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and consulteth
whether he be able, with ten thousand, to meet him that cometh against him with
twenty thousand? (Luke xiv. 31). To follow that advice, how often had I fallen
on my knees before my God, to implore the necessary strength and wisdom to meet
that terrible enemy which was marching against me and my brethren! Often I was
so discouraged by the sense of my personal incapacity, that I came near fainting
and flying away at the sight of the power and resources of the foe! But the
dear Saviour's voice had as many times strengthened me, saying! "Fear not,
I am with thee!" He seemed at every hour to whisper in my ears, "Be
of good cheer, I have overcome the world!" (John xvi. 33). Trusting, then,
in my God, alone, for victory, I nevertheless understood that my duty was to
arm myself with the weapons which the learned and the wise men of the past ages
had prepared. I again studied the best works written on the subject of wine,
from the learned naturalist, Pliny, to the celebrated Sir Astley Cooper. I not
only compiled a multitude of scientific notes, arguments, and facts from these
books, but prepared a "Manual of Temperance," which obtained so great
a success, for such a small country as Canada, that it went through four editions
of twenty-five thousand copies in less than four years. But my best source of
information and wisdom was from letters received from Father Mathew, and my
personal interviews with him, when he visited the United States.
The first time I met him, in Boston, he told me how he regretted his having,
at first, too much relied on the excitement and enthusiasm of the multitudes.
"Those fits," he said, "pass away as quickly as the clouds of
the storm; and they, too often, leave no more traces of their passage. Persevere
in the resolution you have taken in the beginning, never to give the pledge,
except when you give a complete course of lectures on the damning effects of
intoxicating drinks. How can we expect that the people will for ever give up
beverages which they honestly, though ignorantly, believe to be beneficial and
necessary to their body? The first thing we do we must demonstrate to them that
these alcoholic drinks are absolutely destructive of their temporal, as well
as of their eternal life. So long as the priest and the people believe, as they
do today, that rum, brandy, wine, beer, and cider give strength to help man
to keep up his health in the midst of his hard labours; that they warm his blood
in winter and cool it in the summer; all our efforts, and even our successes,
will be like the bundle of straw, which makes a bright light, attracts the attention
for a moment, and leaves nothing but smoke and cinders.
"Hundreds of times I have seen my Irish countrymen honestly taking the
pledge for life; but before a week had elapsed, they had obtained a release
from their priests, under the impression that they were unable to earn their
own living and support their families, without drinking those detestable drugs.
Very few priests in Ireland have taken the pledge, and still fewer have kept
it. In New York, only two Irish priests have given up their intoxicating glass,
and the very next week I met both of them drunk! Archbishop Hughes turned my
humble efforts into ridicule, before his priests, in my own presence, and drank
a glass of brandy to my health with them at his own table to mock me. And here
in Boston the drinking habits of the bishop and his priests are such, that I
have been forced, through self-respect, to quietly withdraw from his palace
and come to this hotel. This bad conduct paralyses and kills me."
In saying these last words, that good and noble man burst into a fit of convulsive
sobs and tears; his breast was heaving under his vain efforts to suppress his
sighs. He concealed his face in his hands, and for nearly ten minutes he could
not utter a word. The spectacle of the desolation of a man whom God has raised
so high, and so much blessed, and the tears of one who had himself dried so
many tears, and brought so much joy, peace, and comfort, to so many desolate
homes, has been one of the most solemn lessons my God ever gave me. I then learned
more clearly than ever, that all the glory of the world is Vanity, and that
one of the greatest acts of folly is to rely, for happiness, on the praises
of men and the success of our own labours. For who had received more merited
praises, and who had seen his own labours more blessed by God and man, than
Father Mathew, whom all ages will call "The Apostle of Temperance of Ireland?"
My gratitude to Mr. Brassard caused me to choose his parish, near Montreal,
for the first grand battlefield of the impending struggle against the enemy
of my God and my country; and the first week of Advent determined upon for the
opening of the campaign. But the nearer the day chosen to draw the sword against
the modern Goliath, the more I felt the solemnity of my position, and the more
I needed the help of Him on whom alone we can trust for light and strength.
I had determined never to lecture on temperance in any place, without having
previously inquired, from the most reliable sources, about: (1) The number of
deaths and accidents caused by drunkenness the last fifteen or twenty years.
(2) The number of orphans and widows made by drunkenness. (3) The number of
rich families ruined, and the number of poor families made poorer by the same
cause. (4) The approximate sum of money expended by the people during the last
twenty years.
As the result of my enquiries, I learned that during that short period, that
32 men had lost their lives when drunk; and through their drunkenness 25 widows
and 73 orphans had been left in the lowest degree of poverty! 72 rich families
had been entirely ruined and turned out of their once happy homes by the demon
of intemperance, and 90 kept poor. More than three hundred thousand dollars
(300,000 dollars) had been paid in cash, without counting the loss of time,
for the intoxicating beverages drank by the people of Longueuil during the last
twenty years.
For three days, I spoke twice a day to crowded houses. My first text was: "Look
not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup:
when it moveth itself aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth
like an adder" (Prov. xxiii. 31,32).
The first day I showed how alcoholic beverages were biting like a serpent and
stinging like an adder, by destroying the lungs, the brains, and the liver,
the nerves and the muscles, the blood and the very life of man. The second day
I proved that intoxicating drinks were the most implacable and cruel enemies
of the fathers, the mothers, the children; of the young and the old; of the
rich and the poor; of the farmers, the merchants, and the mechanics; the parish
and the country. The third day I proved, clearly, that those intoxicating liquors
were the enemy of the intelligence, and the soul of man; the gospel of Christ
and of His holy Church; the enemy of all the rights of man and the laws of God.
My conclusion was, that we were all bound to raise our hands against that gigantic
and implacable foe, whose arm was raised against every one of us. I presented
the thrilling tableau of our friends, near and dear relations, and neighbours,
fallen and destroyed around us; the thousands of orphans and widows, whose fathers
and husbands had been slaughtered by strong drink. I brought before their minds
the true picture of the starving children, the destitute widows and mothers,
whose life had to be spent in tears, ignominy, desolation and unspeakable miseries,
from the daily use of strong drink. I was not half through my address when tears
flowed from every eye. The cries and sobs so much drowned my voice, that I had
several times to stop speaking for a few minutes.
Then holding the crucifix, blessed and given to me by the Pope, I showed what
Christ had suffered on the cross for sins engendered by the use of intoxicating
drinks. And I requested them to listen to the voices of the thousands of desolate
orphans, widows, wives and mothers, coming from every corner of the land; the
voices of their priests and their church; the voices of the angels, the Virgin
Mary and the saints in heaven; the voice of Jesus Christ their Saviour, calling
them to put an end to the deluge of evils and unspeakable iniquities caused
by the use of those cursed drinks; "for," said I, "those liquors
are cursed by millions of mothers and children, widows and orphans, who owe
to them a life of shame, tears, and untold desolation. They are cursed by the
Virgin Mary and the angels who are the daily witnesses of the iniquities with
which they deluge the world. They are cursed by the millions of souls which
they have plunged into eternal misery. They are cursed by Jesus Christ, from
whose hands they have wrenched untold millions of souls, for whom He died on
Calvary."
Every one of those truths, incontrovertible for Roman Catholics, were falling
with irresistible power on that multitude of people. The distress and consternation
were so profound and universal, that they reacted, at last, on the poor speaker,
who several times could not express what he himself felt except with his tears
and his sobs.
When I hoped that, by the great mercy of God, all resistances were subdued,
the obstacles removed, the intelligence enlightened, the wills conquered, I
closed the address, which had lasted more than two hours, by an ardent prayer
to God to grant us the grace to give up for ever the use of those terrible poisons,
and I requested everyone to repeat with me, in their hearts, the solemn pledge
of temperance in the following words:
"Adorable and dear Saviour, Jesus Christ, who died on the cross to take
away my sins and save my guilty soul, for Thy glory, the good of my brethren
and of my country, as well as for my own good, I promise, with Thy help, never
to drink, not to give to anybody any intoxicating beverages, except when ordered
by an honest physician."
Our merciful God had visibly blessed the work and His unprofitable servant.
The success was above our sanguine expectations. Two thousand three hundred
citizens of Longueuil enrolled under the pledge, I asked them to come to the
foot of the altar and kiss the crucifix I was holding, as the public and solemn
pledge of their engagement.
The first thing done by the majority of the intelligent farmers of Longueuil,
on the return from the church, was to break their decanters and their barrels,
and spill the last drop of the accursed drink on the ground. Seven days later,
there were eighty requests in my hands to go and show the ravages of alcoholic
liquors to man other parishes. Boucherville, Chambly, Varennes, St. Hyacinthe,
ect., Three Rivers, the great city of Montreal, Three Rivers, and St. Hyacinthe,
one after the other, raised the war cry against the usages of intoxicating drinks,
with a unanimity and determination which seemed to be more miraculous than natural.
During the four years, I gave 1,800 public addresses, in 200 parishes, with
the same fruits, and enrolled more than 200,000 people under the banners of
temperance. Everywhere, the taverns, the distilleries and breweries were shut,
and their owners forced to take other trades to make a living; not on account
of any stringent law, but by the simple fact that the whole people had ceased
drinking their beverages, after having been fully persuaded that they were injurious
to their bodies, opposed to their happiness, and ruinous to their souls.
The convictions were so unanimous and strong on that subject, that, in many
places, the last evening I spent in their midst, the merchants used to take
all their barrels or rum, beer, wine and brandy to the public squares, make
a pyramid of them, to which I was invited to set fire. The whole population,
attracted by the novelty and sublimity of that spectacle, would then fill the
air with their cries and shouts of joy. When the husbands and wives, the parents
and children of the redeemed drunkards rent the air with their cries of joy
at the destruction of their enemy, and the fire was in full blaze, one of the
merchants would give me an axe to stave in the last barrel of rum. After the
last drop was emptied, I usually stood on it to address some parting words to
the people.
Such a spectacle baffles any description. The brilliant light of the pine and
cedar trees, mixed with all kinds of inflammable materials which everyone had
been invited to bring, changed the darkest hour of that night into the brightest
of days. The flames, fed by the fiery liquid, shot forth their tongues of fire
towards heaven, as if to praise their great God, whose merciful hand had brought
the marvelous reformation we were celebrating. The thousand faces, illuminated
by the blaze, beamed with joy. The noise of the cracking barrels, mixed with
that of a raging fire; the cries and shouts of that multitude, with the singing
of the Te Deum, formed a harmony which filled every soul with sentiments of
unspeakable happiness. But where shall I find words to express my feelings,
when I had finished speaking! The mothers and wives to whom our blessed temperance
had given back a loving husband and some dear children, were crowding around
me with their families and redeemed ones, to thank me, press my hands to their
lips, and water them with their grateful tears.
The only thing which marred that joy were the exaggerated honours and unmerited
praises with which I was really overwhelmed. I was, at first, forced to received
an ovation from the curates and people of Longueuil and the surrounding parishes,
when they presented to me my portrait, painted by the artist Hamel, which filled
me with confusion, for I felt so keenly that I did not deserve such honours.
But it was still worse at the end of May, 1849. Judge Mondelet was deputed by
the bishop and the priests and the city of Montreal, accompanied by 15,000 people,
to present me with a gold medal, and a gift of four hundred dollars.
But the greatest surprise my God had in store for me, was kept for the end of
June, 1850. At that time, I was deputed by 40,000 tee-totalers, to present a
petition to the Parliament of Toronto, in order to make the rum sellers responsible
for the ravages caused to the families of the poor drunkards to whom they had
sold their poisonous drugs. The House of Commons having kindly appointed a committee
of ten members to help me to frame that bill, it was an easy matter to have
it pass through the three branches. I was present when they discussed and accepted
that bill. Napoleon was not more happy after he had won the battle of Austerlitz,
than I was when I heard that my pet bill had become law, and that hereafter,
the innocent victims of the drunken father or husband would receive an indemnity
from the landsharks who were fattening on their poverty and unspeakable miseries.
But what was my surprise and consternation, when, immediately after the passing
of that bill, the Hon. Dewitt rose and proposed that a public expression of
gratitude should be given me by Parliament, under the form of a large pecuniary
gift! His speech seemed to me filled with such exaggerated eulogiums, that I
would have been tempted to think it was mockery, had I not known that the Protestant
gentleman was one of my most sincere friends. He was followed by the Honourables
Baldwin and Lafontaine, Ministers at that time, and half a dozen other members,
who went still further into what I so justly consider the regions of exaggeration.
It seemed to me bordering on blasphemy to attribute to Chiniquy a reformation
which was so clearly the work of my merciful God. The speeches on that subject
lasted two hours, and were followed by a unanimous vote to present me with $500,
as a public testimony of the gratitude of the people for my labours in the temperance
reform of Canada. Previous to that, the Bishops of Quebec and Montreal had given
me tokens of their esteem which, though unmerited, had been better appreciated
by me.
When in May, 1850, Archbishop Turgeon, of Quebec, sent the Rev. Charles Baillargeon,
curate of Quebec, to Rome, to become his successor, he advised him to come to
Longueuil, and get a letter from me, which he might present to the Pope, with
a volume of my "Temperance Manual." I complied with his request, and
wrote to the Pope. Some months later, I received the following lines:
.
Rome, Aug. 10th, 1850.
Rev. Mr. Chiniquy,
Sir and dear friend;Monday, the 12th was the first opportunity given me to have
a private audience with the Sovereign Pontiff. I presented him your book, with
your letter, which he received, I will not say with that goodness which is so
eminently characteristic of him, but with all special marks of satisfaction
and approbation, while charging me to state to you that he accords his apostolic
benediction to you and to the holy work of temperance you preach. I consider
myself happy to have had to offer on your behalf, to the Vicar of Jesus Christ,
a book which, after it had done so much good to my countrymen, had been able
to draw from his venerable lips, such solemn words of approbation of the temperance
society and of blessings on those who are its apostles; and it is also, for
my heart, a very sweet pleasure to transmit them to you.
Your friend,
Charles Baillargeon
Priest.
A short time before I received that letter from Rome, Bishop Bourget, of Montreal, had officially given me the title of "Apostle of Temperance;" in the following document, which, on account of its importance, the readers will probably like to have in its original Latin:-
.
"IGNATIUS BOURGET,
Miseratioine Divina et St e. Sedis Apostolic e Gratia, Episcopus Marianopolitanensis,
Etc., Etc., Etc."
"Universis praesentes litteras inspecturis, notum facimus et attestamur
Venerabilem Carolum Chiniquy, Temperantiae Apostolum, Nostrae Diocoecis Sacerdotem,
Nobis optime notum esse, exploratumque habere illum vitam laudabilem et professione
Ecclesiastica consonam agere, nullisque ecclesiasticis censuris, saltem quae
ad nostram devenerunt Notitiam innodatum; qua propter, per viscera Misericordiae
Dei Nostri, obsecramus omnes et Singulos Archiepiscopos, Episcopos, coeterasque
Ecclesiae dignitates ad quos ipsum declinare contingerit, ut eum, pro Christi
Amore, benigne tractare digentur, et quando cumque ab eo fuerint requisiti,
Sacrum Missae Sacrificium ipsi celebrare, nec non alia munia Ecclesiastica,
et pietatis opera exercere permittant, paratos nos ad similia et majora exhibentes:
In quorum fidem, praesentes litteras signo sigilloque nostris, ac Secretarii
Episcopatus nostri subscriptione communitas expediri mandavimus Marianopoli,
in (Edibus Nostris Beati Jacobi, anno millesimo quinquagesimo. Die vero mensis
Junii Sexta.
IG. EPIS. MARIANOPOLITANENSIS.
"J. O. Pare, Can, Secrius."
Translation
"IGNATIUS BOURGET, By the Divine Mercy and Grace of the Holy Apostolic
See, Bishop of Montreal.
"To all who inspect the present letters, we make known and certify that
the venerable Charles Chiniquy, 'Apostle of Temperance,' Priest of our Diocese,
is very well known to us, and we regard him as proved, to lead a praiseworthy
life, and one agreeable to his ecclesiastical profession. Through the tender
mercies of our God, he is under no ecclesiastical censures, at least, which
have come to our knowledge.
"We entreat each and all, Archbishop, Bishop, and other dignitaries of
the Church, to whom it may happen that he may go, that they, for the love of
Christ, entertain him kindly and courteously, and as often as they may be asked
by him, permit him to celebrate the holy sacrifice of the mass, and exercise
other ecclesiastical privileges of piety, being ourselves ready to grant him
these and other greater privileges. In proof of this we have ordered the present
letters and to be prepared under our sign and seal, and with subscription of
our secretary, in our palace of the blessed James, in the year one thousand
eight hundred and fifty, on the sixth day of the month of June.
IGNATIUS, Bishop of Marianopolis.
"By order of the most illustrious and most Reverend Bishop of Marianopolis,
D.D.
"J. O. Pare, Canon, Secretary."
No words from my pen can give an
idea of the distress and shame I felt when these unmerited praises and public
honours began to flow upon me. For, when the siren voice of my natural pride
was near to deceive me, there was the noise of a sudden storm in my conscience,
crying with a louder voice: "Chiniquy, thou art a sinner, unworthy of such
praises and honours."
This conflict made me very miserable. I said to myself, "Are those great
successes due to my merits, my virtues and my eloquence? NO! Surely, No! They
are due to the great mercy of God for my dear country. Shall I not for ever
be put to shame if I consent to these flattering voices which come to me from
morning till night, to make me forget that to my God alone, and not to me, must
be given the praise and glory of that marvelous reform?"
These praises were coming every day, thinker and thicker, through the thousand
trumpets of the press, as well as through the addresses daily presented me from
the places which had been so thoroughly reformed. Those unmerited honours were
bestowed on me by multitudes who came in carriages and on horseback, bearing
flags, with bands of music, to receive me on the borders of their parishes where
the last parishes had just brought me with the same kind of ovations. Sometimes,
the roads were lined on both sides, by thousands and thousands of maple, pine
or spruce trees, which they had carried from distant forests, in spite of all
my protests.
How many times the curates, who were sitting by me in the best carriages, drawn
by the most splendid horses, asked me: "Why do you look so sad, when you
see all these faces beaming with joy?" I answered, "I am sad, because
these unmerited honours these good people do me, seem to be the shortest way
the devil has found to destroy me." "But the reform you have brought
about is so admirable and so complete the good which is done to the individuals,
as well as to the whole country, is so great and universal, that the people
want to show you their gratitude." "Do you know, my dear friends,"
I answered, "that that marvelous change is too great to be the work of
man? It is not evidently the work of God? To Him, and Him alone, then we ought
to give the praise and the glory."
My constant habit, after these days of ovation, was to pass a part of the night
in prayer to God, to the Virgin Mary, and to all the saints in heaven, to prevent
me from being hurt by these worldly honours. It was my custom then to read the
passion of Jesus Christ, from His triumphant entry into Jerusalem to His death
on the cross, in order to prevent this shining dust from adhering to my soul.
There was a verse of the Gospel which I used to repeat very often in the midst
of these exhibitions of the vanities of this world: "What is a man profited,
if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" (Matt. xvi. 26).
Another source of serious anxiety for me was then coming from the large sums
of money constantly flowing from the hands of my too kind and grateful reformed
countrymen into mine. It was very seldom that the public expression of gratitude
presented me in their rhetorical addresses were not accompanied by a gift of
from fifty dollars to two hundred dollars, according to the means and importance
of the place. Those sums multiplies by the 365 days of the year would have soon
made of me one of the richest men of Canada. Had I been able to trust in my
own strength against the dangers of riches, I should have been able, easily,
to accumulate a sum of at least seventy thousand dollars, with which I might
have done a great amount of good.
But I confess that, when in the presence of God, I went to the bottom of my
heart, to see if it were strong enough to carry such a glittering weight, I
found it, by far, too weak. I knew so many who, though evidently stronger than
I was, had fallen on the way and perished under too heavy burden of their treasures,
that I feared for myself at the sight of such unexpected and immense fortune.
Besides, when only eighteen years old, my venerable and dear benefactor, the
Rev. Mr. Leprohon, director of the College of Nicolet, had told me a thing I
never had forgotten: "Chiniquy," he said, "I am sure you will
be what we call a successful man in the world. You will easily make your way
among your contemporaries; and, consequently, it is probable that you will have
many opportunities of becoming rich. But when the silver and gold flow into
your hands, do not pile and keep it. For, if you set your affection on it, you
will be miserable in this world and damned in the next. You must not do like
the fattened hogs which give their grease only after their death. Give it while
you are living. Then you will not be blessed only by God and man, but you will
be blessed by your own conscience. You will live in peace and die in joy."
These solemn warnings from one of the wisest and best friends God had ever given
me, when young, has never gone out of my mind. I found them corroborated in
every page of that Bible which I loved so much, and studied every day. I found
them also written, by God, in my heart. I then, on my knees, took the resolution,
without making an absolute vow to it, to keep only what I wanted for my daily
support and give the rest to the poor, or some Christian or patriotic object.
I kept that promise. The $500 given me by Parliament did not remain three weeks
in my hands. I never put a cent in Canada in the vaults of any bank; and when
I left for Illinois, in the fall of 1851, instead of taking with me 70,000 dollars,
as it would have been very easy, had I been so minded, I had hardly 1,500 dollars
in hand, the price of a part of my library, which was too heavy to be carried
so far away.