University of Virginia Library

Chapter LXVI.

THE SOLEMN RESPONSIBILITIES OF MY NEW POSITION—WE
GIVE UP THE NAME OF ROMAN CATHOLIC TO CALL OURSELVES
CHRISTIAN CATHOLICS—DISMAY OF THE ROMAN
CATHOLIC BISHOPS—MY LORD DUGGAN, COADJUTOR OF ST.
LOUIS, HURRIED TO CHICAGO—HE COMES TO ST. ANNE TO
PERSUADE THE PEOPLE TO SUBMIT TO HIS AUTHORITY—HE
IS IGNOMINIOUSLY TURNED OUT AND RUNS AWAY IN THE
MIDST OF THE CRIES OF THE PEOPLE.

WHERE shall I find words to express the sentiments of surprise,
admiration and joy I felt when, after divine service,
alone in my humble study, I considered, in the presence of God,
what His mighty hand had just wrought under my eyes. The
people who surrounded the Saviour when he cried to Lazarus to
come forth, were not more amazed at seeing the dead coming out
of his grave than I was when I had seen not one, but more than a
thousand, of my countrymen so suddenly and unexpectedly coming
out from the grave of the degrading slavery in which they
were born and brought up. No, the heart of Moses was not
filled with more joy than mine, when on the shores of the Red
Sea, he sang his sublime hymns:

"I will sing unto the Lord: for He hath triumphed gloriously.
The horse and his rider, hath he thrown into the sea. The
Lord is my strength and song, and he is become my salvation.
He is my God and I will prepare him an habitation: My fathers'
God and I will exalt him."—Ex. 15: 1, 2.

My joy was, however, suddenly changed into confusion,
when I considered the unworthiness of the instrument which
God had chosen to do that work. I felt this was only the beginning
of the most remarkable religious reform which had ever
occurred on this continent of America, and I was dismayed at

the thought of such a task! I saw, at a glance, that I was called
to guide my people into regions entirely new and unexplored.
The terrible difficulties which Luther, Calvin and Knox had met,
at almost every step, were to meet me! Though giants, they
had, at many times, been brought low and almost discouraged in
their new positions. What would become of me, seeing that I
was so deficient in knowledge, wisdom and experience!

Many times, during the first night, after the deliverance of
my people from the bondage of the Pope, I said to my God in
tears:

"Why hast not thou chosen a more worthy instrument of
thy mercies towards my brethren?" I would have shrank before
the task, had not God said to me in his Word: `For ye see
your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the
flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called; but God
hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise.
And God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound
the things which are mighty, and base things of the world and
things which are despised, hath God chosen; yea, the things
which are not, to bring to naught the things which are, that no
flesh should glory in his presence."—1 Cor. 1: 26-30.

These words calmed my fears and gave me new courage.
Next morning, I said to myself: "Is it not God alone, who has
done the great things of yesterday? Why should I not rely
upon him for the things which remain to be done?

"I am weak, it is true, but he is strong and mighty. I am
unwise, but he is the God of light and wisdom: I am sinful, but
he is the God of holiness: He wants the world to know that He
is the worker."

It would make the most interesting book, were I to tell all
the marvellous episodes of the new battle my dear contrymen
and I had to fight against Rome, in those stormy but blessed
days. Let me ask my readers to come with me to that Roman
Catholic family and see the surprise and desolation of the wife
and children when the father returned from public service and
said: "My dear wife and children, I have, forever, left the
Church of Rome, and hope that you will do the same. The

ignominious chains by which we were tied, as the slaves of the
bishops and of the Pope, are broken. Christ Jesus alone will
reign over us now. His Holy Word alone will rule and guide
us. Salvation is a gift. I have accepted it and am happy in its
possession."

In another house, the husband had not been able to come to
church, but the wife and children had. It was now the wife
who announced to her husband that she had, forever, renounced
the usurped authority of the bishops and the Pope: and that it
was her firm resolution to obey no other master than Christ, and
accept no other religion than the one taught in the Gospel.

At first, this was considered only as a joke; but as soon as
it was realized to be a fact, there were, in many places, confusion,
tears, angry words and bitter discussions. But the God of truth,
light and salvation was there; and as it was His work, the storms
were soon calmed, the tears dried, and peace restored.

A week had scarcely passed, when the Gospel cause had
achieved one of the most glorious victories over its implacable
enemy, the Pope. In a few days, 405 out of 500 families which
were around me in St. Anne, had not only accepted the Gospel
of Christ, as their only authority in religion; but had publicly
given up the name of Roman Catholics, to call themselves
Christian Catholics.

A few months later, a Romish priest, legally questioned on
the subject, by the Judge of Kankakee, had to swear that only
fifteen families had remained Roman Catholics in St. Anne.

A most admirable feature of this religious movement, was
the strong determination of those who had never been taught to
read, to lose no time in acquiring the privilege of reading for
themselves the Divine Gospel which had made them free from
the bondage of man. Half of the people had never been taught
to read while in Canada; but as their children were attending
the schools we had established in different parts of the colony,
every house, as well as our chapel, on Sabbath days, was soon
turned into a school house, where our school boys and girls were
the teachers, and the fathers and mothers, the pupils. In a short
time, there were but few, except those who refused to leave

leave Rome, who could not read for themselves the Holy
Word of God.

But, however great the victory we had gained over the Pope,
it was not yet complete. It was true that the enemy had received
a deadly wound. The beast, with the seven heads, had
its principal one severed. The usurped authority of the bishops
had been destroyed, and the people had determined to accept
none, but the authority of Christ. But many false notions, drank
with the milk of their mothers, had been retained. Many errors
and superstitions still remained in their minds, as a mist after the
rising of the sun, to prevent them from seeing clearly the saving
light of the Gospel.

It was my duty to destroy those superstitions, and root out
these noxious weeds. But, I knew the formidable difficulties the
reformers of the 15th century had met, the deplorable divisions
which had spread among them, and the scandals which had so
seriously retarded and compromised the reformation.

I cried to God for wisdom and strength. Never had I understood
so clearly, as I did at that most solemn and difficult
epoch of my life, the truth that prayer is to the troubled mind
what oil is to the raging waves of the sea.

My people and I, as are all Roman Catholics, were much
given to the worship of images and statues. There were fourteen
beautiful pictures hung on the walls of our chapel called:
"The Way of the Cross," on which the circumstances of the
passion of Jesus Christ were represented, each surmounted with
a cross. One of our favorite devotional exercises, was to kneel,
three or four times a week, before them, prostrate ourselves and
say, with a loud voice: "Oh! holy cross we adore thee."

We used to address our most fervent prayers to them, as if
they could hear us, asking them to change our hearts and purify
our souls! Our blind devotions were so sincere that we used to
bow our heads to the ground before them. I may say the same
of a beautiful statue, or rather idol, of the Virgin Mary, represented
as a child learning to read at the feet of her mother, St.
Anne.

The group was a masterpiece of art, sent to me by some

rich friends from Montreal, not long after I had left that city to
form the colony of St. Anne, in 1852. We had frequently addressed
our most fervent prayers to those statues, but after the
blessed pentecost on which we had broken the yoke of the Pope,
I never entered my church without blushing at the sight of those
idols on the altar.

I would have given much to have the pictures, crosses and
images removed, but dare not lay hands suddenly on them. I
was afraid, lest I should do harm to some of my people who, it
seemed to me, were yet too weak in their religious views to bear
it. I was just then reading how Knox and Calvin had made
bonfires of all those relics of old Paganism, and I wished I could
do the same; but I felt like Jacob, who could not follow the
rapid march of his brother, Esau, towards the land of Seir.
"The children were tender and the flocks and herds were
young. If men had overdriven them one day, all the flocks
would have died."—Gen. 33: 13.

Our merciful God saw the perplexity in which I was, and
taught me how to get rid of those idols without harming the weak.

One Sabbath, on which I preached on the 2nd Commandment:
"Thou shalt not make unto thyself any graven image,"
etc., I remained in the chapel to pray after the people had left.
I looked up to the group of statues on the altar, and said to them:
"My good ladies, you must come down from that high position.
God Almighty alone is worshipped here now; if you could walk
out of this place, I would politely invite you to do it. But you
are nothing but mute, deaf, blind and motionless idols. You
have eyes, but you cannot see; ears, but you cannot hear; feet,
but you cannot walk. What will I do with you now? Your
reign has come to an end."

It suddenly came to my mind that when I had put these
statues on their high pedestal, I had tied them with a very
slender, but strong silk cord, to prevent them from falling. I
said to myself: "If I were to cut that string, the idols would
surely fall, the first day the people would shake the floor when
entering or going out." Their fall and destruction would then
scandalize no one. I took my knife and scaled the altar,

cut the string, and said: "Now, my good ladies, take care of
yourself, especially when the chapel is shaken by the wind, or
the coming in of the people."

I never witnessed a more hearty laugh than, at the beginning
of the religious services, on the next Sabbath. The chapel,
being shaken by the action of the whole people who fell on their
knees to pray, the two idols, deprived of their silk support, after
a couple of jerks which, in former days, we might have taken
for a friendly greeting, fell down with a loud crash, and broke
into fragments. Old and young, strong and weak, and even
babes in the faith, after laughing to their heart's content, at the
sad end of their idols, said to each other: "How foolish and
blind were we, to put our trust in and pray to these idols, that
they might protect us when they cannot take care of themselves!"

The last vestige of idol worship among our dear converts,
disappeared for ever with the dust and broken fragments of
these poor helpless statues. The very next day, the people themselves
took away all the images before which they had so often
abjectly prostrated themselves, and destroyed them.

From the beginning of this movement, it had been my plan
to let the people draw their own conclusions as much as possible
from their own study of the Holy Scriptures. I used to direct
their steps, in such a way that they might understand that I was
myself led with them by the mighty and merciful arm of God,
in our new ways.

It was also evident to me that, from the beginning, the great
majority, after searching the Scriptures with prayerful attention,
had found out that Purgatory was a diabolical invention used by
the priests of Rome, to enrich themselves, at the expense of their
poor blind slaves. But I was also convinced that quite a number
were not yet altogether free from that imposture.

I did not know how to attack and destroy that error without
wounding and injuring some of the weak children of the Gospel.
After much praying, I thought that the best way to clear the
clouds which were still hovering around the feeblest intelligences,
was to have recourse to the following device:

The All-Souls Day (1st Nov.) had come, when it was the
usage to take up collections for the sake of having prayers and
masses said for the souls in purgatory. I then said to the people,
from the pulpit: "You have been used from your infancy, to
collect money, to-day, in order to have prayers said for the souls
in purgatory. Since we have left the Church of Rome, for the
Church of Christ, we have spent many pleasant hours together
in reading and meditating upon the Gospel. You know that
we have not found in it a single word about purgatory.
From the beginning to the end of that divine book, we
have learned that it was only through the blood of the Lamb,
shed on the cross, that our guilty souls could be purified from
their sins. I know, however, that a few of you have retained
something of the views taught to you, when in the Church of
Rome, concerning purgatory. I do not want to trouble them
by useless discussions on the subject, or by refusing the money
they want to give for the souls of their dear departed parents
and friends. The only thing I want to do is this: You used to
have a small box passed to you to receive that money. To-day,
instead of one box, two boxes will be passed, one white, the
other black. Those who, like myself, do not belive in purgatory,
will put their donations in the white box, and the money
will be given to the poor widows and orphans of the parish, to
help them to get food and clothing for next winter. Those of
you who still believe in purgatory, will put their money into the
black box, for the benefit of the dead. The only favor I ask of
them is, that they should tell me how to convey their donations
to their departed friends. I tell you frankly that the money
you give to the priests, never goes to the benefit of the souls of
purgatory. The priests, everywhere, keep that money for their
own bread and butter.'

My remarks were followed by a general smile, Thirty-five
dollars were put in the white box for the orphans and widows,
and not a cent fell into the box for the souls of purgatory.

From that day, by the great mercy of God, our dear converts
were perfectly rid of the ridiculous and sacrilegious belief
in purgatory. That is the way I have dealt with all the errors

and idolatries of Rome. We had two public meetings every
week, when our chapel was as well filled as on Sabbath. After
the religious exercises, every one had the liberty to question me
and argue on the various subjects announced at the last meeting.

The doctrines of auricular confession, prayers in an unknown
language, the mass, holy water and indulgences were calmly examined,
discussed and thrown overboard, one after the other, in
a very short time. The good done in those public discussions
was incalculable. Our dear converts not only learned the great
truths of Christianity, but they learned also how to defend and
preach them to their relations, friends and neighbors. Many
would come from long distances to see for themselves that strange
religious movement which was making so much noise all over
the country. It is needless to say that few of them went back
without having received some rays of the saving light which the
Sun of Righteousness was so abundantly pouring upon me and
my dear brethren of St. Anne.

Three months after our exit from the land of bondage, we
were not less than six thousand French Canadians marching
towards the promised land.

How can I express the joy of my soul, when, under cover of
the darkness of night, I was silently pacing the streets of our
town, I heard, from almost every house, sounds of reading the
Holy Scriptures, or the melodies of our delightful French
hymns! How many times did I then, uniting my feeble voice
with that old prophet, say in the rapture of my joy: "Bless the
Lord, O! my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy
name."

But it was necessary that such a great and blessed work
should be tried. Gold cannot be purified without going through
the fire.

On the 27th of July, a devoted priest, through my friend,
Mr. Dunn, of Chicago, sent me the following copy of a letter,
written by the Roman Catholic Bishop of Illinois, my lord
Duggan, to several of his co-bishops:

"The schism of the apostate, Chiniquy, is spreading with an
incredible and most irresistible velocity. I am told that he has

not less than ten thousand followers from his countrymen.
Though I hope that this number is an exaggeration, it shows
that the evil is great; and that we must not lose any time in trying
to open the eyes of the deluded people he is leading to perdition.
I intend (D. V.) to visit the very citadel of that
deplorable schism, next Tuesday, the 3rd of August. As
I speak French almost as well as English, I will address the
deluded people of St. Anne in their own language. My intention
is to unmask Chiniquy, and show what kind of a man he is.
Then I will show the people the folly of believing that they
can read and interpret the Scriptures by their own private
judgment. After which, I will easily show them that out of the
Church of Rome, there is no salvation. Pray to the blessed
Virgin Mary, that she may help me reclaim that poor deceived
people."

Having read that letter to the people on the first Sabbath of
August, I said:

"We know man only after he has been tried. So we
know the faith of a Christian ouly after it has been through the
fire of tribulations. I thank God that next Tuesday will be the
day chosen by Him to show the world that you are worthy
of being in the front rank of the great army Jesus Christ is
gathering to fight his implacable enemy, the Pope, on this continent.

Let every one of you come and hear what the bishop has to
say. Not only those who are in good health, must come; but
even the sick must be brought and hear and judge for themselves.
If the bishop fulfills his promise to show you that I am a depraved
and wicked man, you must turn me out. You must
give up or burn your Bibles, at his bidding, if he proves that
you have neither the right to read, nor the intelligence to understand
them; and if he shows you that, out of the Church of
Rome, there is no salvation, you must, without an hour's delay,
return to that church and submit yourselves to the Pope's
bishops. But if he fails (as he surely will do), you know what
you have to do. Next Tuesday will be a most glorious day for
us all. A great and decisive battle will be fought here, such as

this continent has never witnessed, between the great principles
of Christian truth and liberty, and the principles of lies and
tyranny of the Pope. I have only one word more to say: From
this moment to the solemn hour of the conflict, let us humbly,
but fervently ask our great God, through His beloved and
eternal Son, to look down upon us in his mercy, enlighten and
strengthen us, that we may be true to Him, to ourselves and to
His Gospel; and then the angels of heaven will unite with all the
elects of God on earth to bless you for the great and glorious
victory you will win."

Never had the sun shone more brightly on our beautiful hill
than on the 3rd of August, 1858. The hearts had never felt so
happy, and the faces had never been so perfectly the mirrors of
joyful minds, as on that day, among the multitudes which began
to gather from every corner of the colony, a little after 12
o'clock, noon.

Seeing that our chapel, though very large, would not be
able to contain half the audience, we had raised a large and solid
platform, ten feet high, in the middle of the public square, in
front of the chapel. We covered it with carpets and put a sofa,
with a good number of chairs, for the bishop, his long suite of
priests, and one for myself, and a large table for the different
books of references I wanted to have at hand, to answer the
bishop.

At about 2 o'clock P. M., we perceived his carriage, followed
by several others filled with priests. He was dressed in his
white surplices, and his official "bonnet quarre" on his head,
evidently to more surely command the respect and awe of the
multitude.

I had requested the people to keep silence and show him all
the respect and courtesy due a gentleman who was visiting them
for the first time.

As soon as his carriage was near the chapel, I gave a signal,
and up went the American flag to the top of a mast put on the
sacred edifice. It was to warn the ambassador of the Pope that
he was not treading the land of the holy inquisition and slavery,
but the land of Freedom and Liberty. The bishop understood it

For, raising his head to see that splendid flag of stripes and
stars, waving to the breeze, he became pale as death. And his
uneasiness did not abate, when the thousands around him rent
the air with the cry: "Hurrah! for the flag of the free and the
brave!" The bishop and his preists thought this was the signal
I had given to slaughter them; for they had been told several
times, that I and my people were so depraved and wicked that
their lives were in great danger among us. Several priests who
had not much relish for the crown of martyrdom, jumped from
their carriages and ran away, to the great amusement of the
crowd. Perceiving the marks of the most extreme terror on the
face of the bishop, I ran to tell him that there was not the least
danger, and assured him of the pleasure we had to see him in
our midst.

I offered my hand to help him down from his carriage, but
he refused it. After some minutes of trembling and hesitation,
he whispered a few words in the ear of his grand vicar, Mailloux,
who was well known by my people, and of whom I have
already spoken. I knew that it was by his advice that the bishop
was among us, and it was by his instigation that Bishop Smith
had refused the submission we had given him.

Rising slowly, he said with a loud voice: "My dear French
Canadian countrymen: Here is your holy bishop. Kneel down
and he will give you his benediction."

But to the great disgust of the poor grand vicar, this so well
laid plan for beginning the battle, failed entirely. Not a single
one of that immense multitude cared for the benediction. Nobody
knelt.

Thinking that he had not spoken loud enough, he raised his
voice to the highest pitch, and cried:

"My dear fellow countrymen: This is your holy bishop.
He comes to visit you. Kneel down and he will give you his
benediction."

But nobody knelt, and what was worse, a voice from the
crowd answered:

"Do you not know, sir, that here, we no longer bend the
knee before any man? It is only before God we kneel."

The whole people cried: "Amen!" to that noble answer. I
could not restrain a tear of joy from falling down my cheeks,
when I saw how this first effort of the ambassador of the Pope
to entrap my people, had signally failed. But, though I thanked
God from the bottom of my heart for this first success He had
given to his soldiers, I knew the battle was far from being
over.

I implored him to abide with us, to be our wisdom and our
strength to the end. I looked at the bishop, and seeing his
countenance as distressed as before, I offered him my hand
again, but he refused it the second time with supreme disdain:
However, he accepted the invitation I gave him to come to the
platform.

When half way up the stairs, he turned, and seeing me following
him, he put forth his hand to prevent me from ascending
any further, and said:

"I do not want you on this platform. Go down and let my
priests alone accompany me."

I answered him: "It may be that you do not want me there.
But I want to be at your side, to answer you. Remember that
you are not on your own ground here; but on mine!"

He then, silently and slowly, walked up. When on the platform,
I offered him a good arm chair, which he refused, and sat
on one of his own choice, with his priests around him. I then
addressed him as follows:

"My lord, the people and pastor of St. Anne are exceedingly
pleased to see you in their midst. We promise to listen attentively
to what you have to say, on condition that we have the
privilege of answering you."

He answered, angrily: "I do not want you to say a word,
here."

Then, stepping to the front, he began his address in French,
with a trembling voice. But it was a miserable failure from
beginning to end. In vain did he try to prove that out of the
Church of Rome, there is no salvation. He failed still more
miserably to prove that the people have neither the right to read
the Scriptures, nor the intelligence to understand them. He said

such ridiculous things on that point, that the people went into fits
of laughter, and some said:

"That is not true. You do not know what you are talking
about. The Bible says the very contrary."

But I stopped them by reminding them of the promise they
had made of not interrupting him.

A little before closing his address, he turned to me and said:

"You are a wicked, rebel priest against your holy church.
Go from here into a monastery to do penance for your sins. You
say that you have never been excommunicated in a legal way!
Well, you will not say that any longer, for I excommunicate you
now before this whole people."

I interrupted him and said: "You forget that you have no
right to excommunicate a man who has publicly left your church
long ago."

He seemed to realize that he had made a fool of himself in
uttering such a sentence, and stopped speaking, for a moment.
Then, recalling his lost courage, he took a new and impressive
manner of speaking. He told the people how their friends,
their relatives, their very dear mothers and fathers, in Canada,
were weeping over their apostacy. He spoke for a time, with
great earnestness, of the desolation of all those who loved them,
at the news of their defection from their holy mother church.

Then, resuming, he said:

"My dear friends: Please tell me what will be your guide
in the ways of God, after you have left the holy church of your
fathers, the church of your country; who will lead you in the
ways of God?"

Those words, which had been uttered with great emphasis
and earnestness, were followed by a most complete and solemn
silence. Was that silence the result of a profound impression made
on the crowd, or was it the silence which always precedes the
storm? I could not say.

But I must confess that, though I had not lost confidence in
God, I was not without anxiety. Though silent and ardent
prayers were going to the mercy-seat, from my heart, I felt that
that poor heart was troubled and anxious, as it had never been

before. I could have easily answered the bishop and confounded
him, in a few words; but I thought that it was much better
to let the answer and rebuke come from the people.

The bishop, hoping that the long and strange silence was a
proof that he had successfully touched the sensitive chords of the
hearts, and that he was to win the day, exclaimed a second time
with still more power and earnestness:

"My dear French Canadian friends: I ask you, in the name
of Jesus Christ, your Saviour and mine, in the name of your
desolated mothers, fathers and friends, who are weeping along
the banks of your beautiful St. Lawrence River. I ask it in the
name of your beloved Canada! Answer me! now that you refuse
to obey the holy Church of Rome, who will guide you in
the ways of salvation?"

Another solemn silence followed that impassionate and earnest
appeal. But this silence was not to be long. When I had
invited the people to come and hear the bishop, I requested them
to bring their Bibles. Suddenly, we heard the voice of an old
farmer, who, raising his Bible over his head, with his two hands,
said:

"This Bible is all we want to guide us in the ways of God.
We do not want anything but the pure Word of God to teach
us what we must do to be saved. As for you, sir, you had better
go away and never come here any more."

And more than 5,000 voices said: "Amen!" to that simple
and yet sublime answer. The whole crowd filled the air with
cries: "The Bible! the Holy Bible, the Holy Word of God is
our only guide in the ways of eternal life! Go away, sir, and
never come again!"

These words, time and again repeated by the thousands of
people who surrounded the platform, fell upon the poor bishop's
ears as formidable claps of thunder. They were ringing as
his death knell in his ears. The battle was over, and he had
lost it.

Bathed in his tears, suffocated by his sobs, he sat, or to speak
more correctly, he fell into the arm chair, and I feared, at first,
lest he should faint. When I saw that he was recovering, and

strong enough to hear what I had to say, I stepped to the front
of the platform. But I had scarcely said two words, when I felt
as if the claws of a tiger were on my shoulders. I turned and
found that it was the clenched fingers of the bishop, who was
shaking me, while he was saying with a furious voice:

"No! no! not a word from you."

As I was about to show him that I had a right to refute what
he had said, my eyes fell on a scene which baffles all description.
Those only who have seen the raging waves of the sea, suddenly
raised by the hurricane, can have an idea of it. The people
had seen the violent hand of the bishop raised against me,
they had heard his insolent and furious words forbidding me to
say a single word in answer; and a universal cry of indignation
was heard:

"The infamous wretch! Down with him! He wants to
enslave us again! he denies us the right of free speech! he refuses
to hear what our pastor has to reply! Down with him!"

At the same time, a rush was made by many toward the
platform, to scale it, and others were at work to tear it down.
That whole multitude, absolutely blinded by their uncontrollable
rage, were as a drunken man who does not know what he does.
I had read that such things had occurred before, but I hope I
shall never see it again. I rushed to the head of the stairs and,
with great difficulty, repulsed those who were trying to lay their
hands on the bishop. In vain, I raised my voice to calm them,
and make them realize the crime they wanted to commit. No
voice could be heard in the midst of such terrible confusion. It
was very providential that we had built the scaffold with
strong materials, so that it could resist the first attempt to
break it.

Happily, we had in our midst a very intelligent young man,
called Bechard, who was held in great esteem and respect. His
influence, I venture to say, was irresistible over the people. I
called him to the platform, and requested him, in the name of
God, to appease the blind fury of that multitude. Strange to
say, his presence, and a sign from his hand, acted like magic.

"Let us hear what Bechard has to say," whispered every one

to his neighbor, and suddenly, the most profound calm succeeded
the most awful noise and confusion I had ever witnessed. In a
few appropriate and eloquent words, that young gentleman,
showed the people that, far from being angry, they ought to be
glad at the exhibition of the tyranny and cowardice of the
bishop. Had he not confessed the wickedness of his address
when he refused to hear the answer? Had he not confessed that
he was the vilest and most impudent of tyrants, when he had
come into their very midst to deny them the sacred right of
speech and reply? Had he not proved, before God and man,
that they had done well to reject, forever, the authority of the
Bishop of Rome, when he was giving them such an unanswerable
proof that that authority meant the most unbounded tyranny
on his part, and the most degraded and ignominious moral degradation
on the part of his blind slaves."

Seeing that they were anxious to hear me; I then told them:

"Instead of being angry, you ought to bless God for what
you have heard and seen from the Bishop of Chicago. You
have heard: and you are witnesses that he has not given us a
single argument to show that we were wrong, when we give up
the words of the Pope to follow the Words of Christ. Was he
not right when he told you that there was no need, on my part,
to answer him! Do you not agree that there was nothing to
answer, nothing to refute in his long address! Has not our merciful
God brought that bishop into your midst, to-day, to show
you the truthfulness of what I have so often told you, that there
was nothing manly, nothing honest, or true in him? Have you
heard from his lips a single word which could have come from
the lips of Christ? A word which could have come from that
great God who so loved the world that he sent his eternal Son
to save it, on the simple condition that we should repent, love
and trust in Him. Was there a single sentence in all you have
heard which would remind you that salvation through Christ
was a gift? that eternal life was a free gift offered to all those
who accepted him as their true and only Saviour? Have you
heard anything from him to make you regret that you are no
longer his obedient and abject slaves?"

"No! no!" they replied.

"Then, instead of being angry with that man, you ought to
thank him and let him go in peace," I added.

"Yes! yes!" replied the people, "but on condition that he
shall never come again."

Then Mons. Bechard stepped to the front, raised his hat, and
cried with his powerful, melodious voice:

"People of St. Anne! you have just gained the most glorious
victory which has ever been won by a people against their
tyrants. Hurrah for St. Anne, the grave of the tyranny of the
Bishops of Rome in America!"

That whole multitude, filled with joy, rent the air with the
cry: "Hurrah for St. Anne, the grave of the tyranny of the
Bishops of Rome in America!"

I then turned towards the poor bishop and his priests, whose
distress and fear were beyond description, and told them:

"You see that the people forgive you the indignity of your
conduct, by not allowing me to answer you; but I counsel you
not to repeat that insult here. Please take the advice they gave
you; go away as quickly as possible. I will go with you to your
carriage, through the crowd, and I pledge myself that you will
be safe, provided you do not insult them again."

Opening their ranks, the crowd made a passage, through
which I led the bishop and his long suite of priests, to their carriages.

This was done in a most profound silence. Only a few
women whispering to the prelate, as he was hurrying by:

"Away with you, and never come here again. Henceforward
we follow nothing but Christ."

Crushed by waves of humiliation, such as no bishop had ever
met with on this continent, the weight of the ignominy which
he had reaped in our midst completely overpowered his mind,
and ruined him. He left us to wander every day nearer the regions
of lunacy. That bishop, whose beginning had been so
brilliant, after his shameful defeat at St. Anne, on the 3rd of
August, 1858, was soon to end his broken career in the lunatic
asylum at St. Louis, where he is still confined to-day.