University of Virginia Library

Chapter XXXVIII.

ERECTION OF THE COLUMN OF TEMPERANCE—SCHOOL BUILDINGS—ADDRESSES—A
NOBLE AND TOUCHING ACT OF THE
PEOPLE OF BEAUPORT.

THE battle fought and gained at the grand dinner of the
Quebec Seminary by the society of temperance had been
decisive.

The triumph was as complete as it was glorious. Hereafter
her march to the conquest of Canada was to be a triumph. Her
blessed banners were soon to be planted over all the cities, towns
and villages of my dear country.

To commemorate the expression of their joy and gratitude to
God to the remotest generations, the people of Beauport erected
the beautiful Column of Temperance, which is still seen halfway
between Quebec and the Montmorency Falls. The Bishop
de Nancy, my Lord Forbin Janson, blessed that first monument
of temperance, September 7th, 1841, in the midst of an immense
multitude of people.

The parishes of St. Peter, St. John, St. Famille (Orleans
Island), with St. Michel were the first after Lange Gardien,
Chateau Richer, St. Anne and St. Joachin, to request me to
preach on temperance.

Soon after, the whole population of St. Roch, Quebec, took
the pledge with a wonderful unanimity, and kept it long with
marvellous fidelity. In order to show to the whole country
their feelings of gratitude, they presented me with a fine picture
of the Column of Temperance and a complimentary address,
written and delivered by one of the most promising young men
of Quebec, Mr. John Cauchon, who was raised some years later
to the dignity of a Cabinet Minister, and who has been the
worthy lieutenant-governor of Manitoba.

That address was soon followed by another from the citizens
of Quebec and Beauport, presented along with my portrait, by
Mr. Joseph Parent, then editor of the Canadien, and afterwards
Provincial Secretary of Canada.

What a strange being man is! How fickle are his judgments!
In 1842, they had no words sufficiently flattering to
praise the very man in the face of whom they were spitting in
1838, for doing the very same thing! Was I better for establishing
the society of temperance in 1842 than I was in establishing
it in 1838? No! And was I worse when, in 1838, bishops,
priests and people were abusing, slandering and giving me bad
names for raising the banners of temperance over my country,
than I was in continuing to lift it up in 1842? No?

The sudden and complete change of the judgment of men in
such a short period of time had the good and providential effect
of filling my mind with the most supreme indifference, not to
say contempt, for what men thought or said of me.

Yea! this sudden passage from condemnation to that of
praise, when I was doing the very same work, had the good
effect to cure me of that natural pride which one is apt to feel
when publicly applauded by men.

It is to that knowledge, acquired when young, that I owe
the preservation of my dignity as man and priest, when all my
bishops and their priests were arrayed against me at the dining
table of the Seminary of Quebec. It is that knowledge, also,
that taught me not to forget that I was nothing but a worm of
the dust and an unprofitable servant of God, when the same
men overwhelmed me with their unmerited praises.

Let not my readers think, however, that I was absolutely
indifferent to this change of public feeling; for no words can
tell the joy I felt at the assurance which these public manifestations
afforded me that the cause of temperance was to triumph
everywhere in my country.

Let me here tell a fact too honorable to the people of Beauport
to be omitted. As soon as the demon of intemperance was
driven from my parish, I felt that my first duty was to give my
attention to education, which had been so shamefully neglected

by my predecessors that there was not a single school in the
parish worthy of that name. I proposed my plan to the people,
asked their co-operation and set to work without delay.

I began by erecting the fine stone school house near the
church, on the site of the old parsonage. The old walls were
pulled down, and on the old foundation a good structure was
soon erected with the free collections raised in the village. But
the work was hardly half finished when I found myself without
a cent to carry it on. I saw at once that, having no idea of the
value of education, the people would murmur at my asking any
more money. I therefore sold my horse, a fine animal given
me by a rich uncle, and with the money finished the building.

My people felt humiliated and pained at seeing their pastor
obliged to walk when going to Quebec or visiting the sick.
They said to each other; "Is it not a burning shame for us to
have forced our young curate to sell his fine horse to build our
school houses, when it would have been so easy to do that work
ourselves? Let us repair our faults."

On my return from establishing the society of temperance in
St. John, two weeks later, my servant man said to me:

"Please, Mr. le Cure, come to the stable and see a very
curious thing."

"What curious thing can there be?" I answered.

"Well, sir, please come and you will see."

What was both my surprise and pleasure to find one of the
most splendid Canadian horses there, as mine! For my servant
said to me: "During your absence the people have raised five
hundred dollars and bought this fine horse for you. They say
they do not want any longer to see their curate walking in the
mud. When they drove the horse here, that I might present
him to you as a surprise on your arrival, I heard them saying
that, with the temperance society, you have saved them more
than five hundred dollars every week in money, time and health,
and that it was only an act of justice to give you the savings of
a week."

The only way of expressing my gratitude to my noble
people was to redouble my exertions in securing the benfits of

a good education to their children. I soon proposed to the
people to build another snhool house two miles distant from the
first.

But I was not long without seeing that this new enterprise
was to be still more uphill work than the first one among the
people, of whom hardly one in fifty could sign his name.

"Have not our fathers done well without those costly schools?"
said many. "What is the use of spending so much money for
a thing that does not add a day to our existence, nor an atom to
our comfort?"

I soon felt confronted by such a deadly indifference, not to
say opposition, on the part of my best farmers, that I feared for
a few days lest I had really gone too far. The last cent of my
own revenues was not only given, but a little personal debt
created to meet the payments, and a round sum of $500 had to
be found to finish the work. I visited the richest man of Beauport
to ask him to come to my rescue. Forty years before he
had come to Beauport barefooted, without a cent, to work. He
had employed his first earned dollars in purchasing some rum,
with which he had doubled his money in two hours; and had
continued to double his money, at that rate, in the same way,
till he was worth nearly $200,000.

He had then stopped selling rum, to invest his money in city
properties. He answered me: "My dear curate, I would have
no objections to give you the $500 you want, if I had not met
the Grand Vicar Demars yesterday, who warned me, as an old
friend, against what he calls your dangerous and exaggerated
views in reference to the education of the people. He advised
me, for your own good, and the good of the people, to do all in
my power to induce you to desist from your plan of covering
our parishes with schools."

"Will you allow me," I answered, "to mention our conversation
to Mr. Demars, and tell him what you have just said about
his advising you to oppose me in my efforts to promote the interests
of education?"

"Yes, sir, by all means," answered Mr. Des Roussell. "I
allow you to repeat to the venerable superior of the Seminary of

Quebec what he said to me yesterday; it was not a secret, for
there were several other farmers of Beauport to whom he said
the very same thing. If you ignore that the priests of Quebec
are opposed to your plans of educating our children you must be
the only one who does not know it, for it is a public fact. Your
difficulties in raising the funds you want come only from the
opposition of the rest of the clergy to you in this matter; we
have plenty of money in Beauport to-day, and we would feel
happy to help you. But you understand that our good-will is
somewhat cooled by the opposition of men whom we are accustomed
to respect."

I replied: "Do you not remember, my dear Mr. Des Roussell,
that those very same priests opposed me in the same way
in my very first efforts to establish the temperance society in
your midst?"

"Yes, sir," he answered with a smile, "we remember it well,
but you have converted them to your views now."

"Well, my dear sir, I hope we shall convert them also in
this question of education."

The very next morning, I was knocking at the door of the
Rev. Grand Vicar Demars, after I had tied my splendid horse
in the courtyard of the Seminary of Quebec. I was received
with the utmost marks of courtesy. Without losing any time,
I repeated to the old superior what Mr. Des Roussell had told
me of his opposition to my educational plans, and respectfully
asked him if it were true.

The poor Grand Vicar seemed as if thunder-struck by my
abrupt, though polite question. He tried, at first, to explain
what he had said, by taking a long circuit, but I mercilessly
brought him to the point at issue, and forced him to say, "Yes, I
said it."

I then rejoined and said: "Mr. Grand Vicar, I am only a
child before you, when comparing my age with yours; however,
I have the honor to be the curate of Beauport. It is in that
capacity that I respectfully ask you by what right you oppose
my plans for educating our children?"

"I hope, Mr. Chiniquy," he answered, "that you do not mean

to say that I am the enemy of education; for I would answer
you that this is the first house of education on this continent, and
that I was at its head before you were born. I hope that I have
the right to believe and say that the old Superior of the Seminary
of Quebec understands as well as the young curate of Beauport
the advantage of a good education. But I will repeat to you
what I said to Mr. Des Roussell, that it is a great mistake to
introduce such a general system of education as you want to do
in Beauport. Let every parish have its well educated notary,
doctor, merchants, and a few others to do the public business;
that is enough. Our parishes of Canada are models of peace
and harmony under the direction of their good curates, but they
will become unmanageable the very day your system of education
spreads abroad; for then all the bad propensities of the
heart will be developed with an irresistible force. Besides, you
know that since the conquest of Canada by Protestant England,
the Protestants are waiting for their opportunity to spread the
Bible among our people. The only barrier we can oppose to
that danger is to have in the future, as in the past, only a very
limited number of our people who can read or write. For as
soon as the common people are able to read, they will, like Adam
and Eve, taste the forbideen fruit; they will read the Bible, turn
Protestant, and be lost for time and eternity."

In my answer, among other things, I said: "Go into the
country, look at the farm which is well cultivated, ploughed with
attention and skill, richly manured, and sown with good seed, is
it not infinitely more pleasant and beautiful to live on such a farm
than on one which is neglected, unskilfully managed and covered
with noxious weeds? Well, the difference between a well-educated
and an uneducated people is still greater in my mind.

"I know that the priests of Canada, in general, have your
views, and it is for that reason that the parish of Beauport, with
its immense revenues, has been left without a school worthy the
name, from its foundation till my going there. But my views
are absolutely different; and as for your fear of the Bible, I
confess we are antipodes to each other. I consider that one of
the greatest blessings God has bestowed upon me, is that I have

read the Bible when I was on my mother's knees. I do not even
conceal from you that one of my objects in giving a good
education to every boy and girl of Beauport, is to put the gospel
of Christ in their hands as soon as they are able to read it."

At the end of our conversation, which was very excited on
both sides, though kept in the bounds of politeness during nearly
two hours, I said: "Mr. Grand Vicar, I did not come here to
convert you to my views—this would have been impertinence on
my part; nor can you convert me to yours, if you are trying it,
for you know I have the bad reputation of being a hard case. I
came to ask you, as a favor, to let me work according to my
conscience in a parish which is mine and not yours. Do not
interfere any more in my affairs between me and my parishioners
than you would like me to interfere in the management of
your seminary. As you would not like me to critize you before
your pupils and turn you into ridicule, please cease adding to my
difficulties among my people, by continuing in the future what
you have done in the past.

"You know, Mr. Grand Vicar, that I have always respected
you as my father; you have many times been my adviser, my
confessor and my friend; I hope you will grant me the favor I
ask from you in the name of our common Saviour. It is for
the spiritual and temporal good of the people and pastor of
Beauport that I make this prayer."

The old priest was a kind-hearted man. These last words
melted his heart. He promised what I wanted, and we parted
from each other on better terms than I had expected at first.

When crossing the courtyard of the seminary, I saw the
Archbishop Signaie, who, coming from taking a ride, had stopped
to look at my horse and admire it. When near him, I said:
"My lord, this is a bishop's horse, and ought to be in your
hands."

"It is what I was saying to my secretary," replied the bishop.
"How long is it since you got it?"

"Only a few days ago, my lord."

"Have you any intention of selling it?"

"I would, if it would please my bishop," I replied.

"What is the price?" asked the bishop.

"Those who gave it to me paid $500 for it," I replied.

"Oh! oh! that is too dear," rejoined the bishop; "with five
hundred dollars we can get five good horses. Two hundred
would be enough."

"Your lordship is joking. Were I as rich as I am poor, one
thousand dollars would not take that noble animal from my
hands, except to have it put in the carosse of my bishop."

"Go and make a check for two hundred dollars to the order
of Mr. Chiniquy," said the bishop to his sub-secretary, Mr.
Belisle.

When the secretary had gone to make the check, the bishop
being alone with me, took from his portfeuille three bank bills
of one hundred dollars each, and put them into my hands, saying:
"This will make up your $500, when my secretary gives
you the check. But please say nothing to anybody, not even to
my secretary. I do not like to have my private affairs talked of
around the corners of the streets. That horse is the most
splendid I ever saw, and I am much obliged to you for having
sold it to me."

I was also very glad to have $500 in hand. For with $300
I could finish my school house, and there was $200 more to
begin another, three miles distant.

Just two weeks later, when I was dressing myself at sunrise,
my servant came to my room and said: "There are twenty
men on horseback who want to speak to you."

"Twenty men on horseback who want to speak to me!" I
answered. "Are you dreaming?"

"I do not dream," answered my young man; "there they
are at the door, on horseback, waiting for you."

I was soon dressed and in the presence of twenty of my best
farmers, on horseback, who had formed themselves in a half-circle
to receive me.

"What do you want, my friends?" I asked them.

One of them, who had studied a few years in the Seminary
of Quebec, answered:

"Dear pastor, we come in the name of the whole people of

Beauport to ask your pardon for having saddened your heart by
not coming as we ought to your help in the superhuman efforts
you make to give good schools to our children. This is the
result of our ignorance. Having never gone to school ourselves,
the greater part of us have never known the value of education.
But the heroic sacrifices you have made lately have
opened our eyes. They ought to have been opened at the sale
of your first horse. But we were in need of another lesson to
understand our meanness. However, the selling of the second
horse has done more than anything else to awaken us from our
shameful lethargy. The fear of receiving a new rebuke from
us, if you made another appeal to our generosity, has forced
you to make that new sacrifice. The first news came to us as a
thunderbolt. But there is always some light in a thunderbolt.
Through that light we have seen our profound degradation, in
shutting our ears to your earnest and paternal appeals in favor
of our own dear children. Be sure, dear pastor, that we are
ashamed of our conduct. From this day, not only our hearts
but our purses are yours, in all you want to do to secure
a good education for our families. However, our principal
object in coming here to-day is not to say vain words, but
to do an act of reparation and justice. Our first thought, when
we heard that you had sold the horse we had given you, was
to present you with another. We have been prevented from doing
this by the certainty that you would sell it again, either to
help some poor people or to build another school house. As
we cannot bear to see our pastor walking in the mud when
going to the city or visiting us, we have determined to put
another horse into your hands, but in such a way that you will
not have the right to sell it. We ask you then, as a favor, to
select the best horse here among these twenty which are before
you, and to keep it as long as you remain in our midst, which
we hope will be very long. It will be returned to its present
possessor if you leave us; and be sure, dear pastor, that the one
of us who leaves his horse in your hands will be the most happy
and proudest of all."

When speaking thus, that noble-hearted man had several

times been unable to conceal the tears which were rolling down
his cheeks, and more than once his trembling voice had been
choked by his emotion.

I tried in vain at first to speak. My feelings of gratitude
and admiration could be expressed only with my tears. It took
some time before I could utter a single word. At last I said:
"My dear friends, this is too much for your poor pastor. I
feel overwhelmed by this grand act of kindness. I do not say
that I thank you—the word thank is too small, too short and
insignificant to tell you what your poor unworthy pastor feels
at what his eyes see and his ears hear just now. The great and
merciful God, who has put those sentiments into your hearts,
alone can repay you for the joy with which you fill my soul. I
would hurt your feelings, I know, by not accepting your offering.
I accept it. But to punish your speaker, Mr. Parent, for
his complimentary address, I will take his horse for the time I
am curate of Beauport, which I hope will be till I die." And I
laid my hand on the bridle of the splendid animal.

There was then a struggle which I had not expected. Every
one of the nineteen whom I left with their horses began to cry:
"Oh! do not take that horse; it is not worth a penny; mine is
much stronger," said one. "Mine is much faster," cried out
another. "Mine is a safe rider," said a third. Every one wanted
me to take his horse, and tried to persuade me that it was the
best of all; they really felt sorry that they were not able to
change my mind.

Has any one ever felt more happy than I was in the midst
of these generous friends?

The memory of that happy hour will never pass away from
my mind.