I showed the missive to the curate and the vicars, and told
them: "A big storm is raging on the mountain; this is the first
peal of thunder—the atmosphere looks dark and heavy. Pray
for me that I may speak and act as an honest and fearless priest,
when in the presence of the bishop."
In the first parlor of the bishop's palace I met my personal
friend, Secretary Cazeault. He said to me: "My dear Chiniquy,
you are sailing on a rough sea—you must be a lucky mariner if
you escape the wreck. The bishop is very angry at you; but be
not discouraged, for the right is on your side." He then kindly
opened the door of the bishop's parlor, and said: "My lord,
Mr. Chiniquy is here, waiting for your orders."
"Let him come, sir," answered the bishop.
I entered and threw myself at his feet, as it is the usage of
the priests. But, stepping backward, he told me in a most
excited manner: "I have no benediction for you till you give me
a satisfactory explanation of your strange conduct."
I arose to my feet and said: "My lord, what do you want
from me?"
"I want you, sir, to explain to me the meaning of this letter
signed by you as secretary of a new-born society called, `One
Mass Society.' " At the same time he showed me my letter.
I answered him: "My lord, the letter is in good French—
your lordship must have understood it well. I cannot see how
any explanation on my part could make it clearer."
"What I want to know from you, is what you mean, and
what is your object in leaving the old and respectable `Three
Masses Society?' Is it not composed of your bishops and of all
the priests of Canada? Did you not find yourself in sufficiently
good company? Do you object to the prayers said for the souls
in purgatory?"
I replied: "My lord, I will answer by revealing to your
lordship a fact which has not sufficiently attracted your attention.
The great number of masses which we have to say for the souls
of the dead priests makes it impossible for us to say the masses
for which the people pay into our hands; we are, then, forced
to transfer this money into your hands; and then instead of
having these holy sacrifices offered by the good priests of Canada,
your lordship has recourse to the priests of France, where
you get them said for five cents. We see two great evils in this:
First—Our masses are said by priests in whom we have not the
least confidence; and though the masses they say are very cheap,
they are too dearly purchased; for between you and me, we can
say that, with very few exceptions, the masses said by the priests
of France, particularly of Paris, are not worth one cent. The
second evil is still greater, for in our eyes, it is one of the greatest
crimes which our holy church has always condemned, the
crime of simony."
"Do you mean to say," indignantly replied the bishop, "that
I am guilty of the crime of simony?"
"Yes! my lord; it is just what I mean to say, and I do not
see how your lordship does not understand that the trade in
masses by which you gain 400,000 francs on a spiritual merchandise,
which you get for 100,000, is not simony."
"You insult me! You are the most impudent man I ever
saw. If you do not retract what you have said, I will suspend
and excommunicate you!"
"My suspension and my excommunication will not make the
position of your lordship much better. For the people will
know that you have excommunicated me because I protested
against your trade in masses. They will know that you pocket
twenty cents on every mass, and that you get them said for five
cents in Paris by priests, the greatest part of whom live with
concubines, and you will see that there will be only one voice in
Canada to bless me for my protest and to condemn you for your
simoniacal trade on such a sacred thing as the holy and tremendous
sacrifice of the body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus
Christ."
I uttered these words with such perfect calmness that the
bishop saw that I had not the least fear of his thunders. He
began to pace the room, and he heaped on my devoted head all
the epithets by which I could learn that I was an insolent, rebelious
and dangerous priest.
"It is evident to me," said he, "that you aim to be a reformer,
a Luther, au petit pied, in Canada. But you will never be anything
else than a monkey!"
I saw that my bishop was beside himself, and that my perfect
calmness added to his irritation. I answered him: "If
Luther had never done anything worse than I do to-day, he
ought to be blessed by God and man. I respectfully request
your lordship to be calm. The subject on which I speak to you
is more serious than you think. Your lordship, by asking
twenty-five cents for a mass which can be said for five cents,
does a thing which you would condemn if it were done by
another man. You are digging under your own feet, and under
the feet of your priests the same abyss in which the Church of
France nearly perished, not half a century ago. You are
destroying with your own hands every vestige of religion in the
hearts of the people, who will sooner or later know it. I am
your best friend, your most respectful priest, when I fearlessly
tell you this truth before it is too late. Your lordship knows
that he has not a priest who loves and cherishes him more than I
do—God knows, it is because I love and respect you, as my own
father, that I profoundly deplore the illusions which prevent
you from seeing the terrible consequences that will follow, if our
pious people learn that you abuse their ignorance and their good
faith, by making them pay twenty-five cents for a thing which
costs only five. Woe to your lordship! Woe to me, woe to
our holy church, the day that our people know that in our holy
religion the blood of Christ is turned into merchandise to fill the
treasury of the bishops and pope!"
It was evident that these last words, said with most perfect
self-possession, had not all been lost. The bishop had become
calmer. He answered me: "You are young and without experience:
your imagination is easily fed with phantoms. When
you know a little more, you will change your mind and will have
more respect for your superiors. I hope your present error is
only a momentary one. I could punish you for this freedom
with which you have dared to speak to your bishop, but I prefer
to warn you to be more respectful and obedient in future.
Though I deplore for your sake that you have requested me to
take away your name from the `Three Masses Society,' you and
the four simpletons who have committed the same act of folly
are the only losers in the matter. Instead of two thousand
masses said for the deliverance of your souls from the flames of
purgatory, you will have only twelve hundred. But, be sure of
it, there is too much wisdom and true piety in my clergy to follow
your example. You will be left alone, and, I fear, covered with
ridicule. For they will call you the `little reformer.' "
I answered the bishop: "I am young, it is true, but the
truths I have said to your lordship are as old as the gospel. I
have such confidence in the infinite merits of the holy sacrifice
of the mass, that I sincerely believe that twelve hundred masses
said by good priests are enough to cleanse my soul and extinguish
the flames of purgatory. But, besides, I prefer twelve
hundred masses said by one hundred sincere Canadian priests, to
a million said by the five-cent priests of Paris."
These last words, spoken with a tone half serious, half jocose,
brought a change on the face of my bishop. I thought it was
a good moment to get my benediction and take leave of him. I
took my hat, knelt at his feet, obtained his blessing and left.
