University of Virginia Library

Chapter XLV.

MY SERMON ON THE VIRGIN MARY—COMPLIMENTS OF BISHOP
PRINCE—STORMY NIGHT—MY FIRST SERIOUS. DOUBTS
ABOUT THE CHURCH OF ROME—PAINFUL DISCUSSION WITH
THE BISHOP—THE HOLY FATHERS OPPOSED TO THE MODERN
WORSHIP OF THE VIRGIN—THE BRANCHES OF THE
VINE.

THE 15th of August, 1850, I preached in the Cathedral of
Montreal, on the blessed Virgin Mary's power in heaven,
when interceding for sinners. I was sincerely devoted to the
Virgin Mary. Nothing seemed to me more natural than to
pray to her, and rely on her protection. The object of my sermon
was to show that Jesus Christ cannot refuse any of the
petitions presented to him by his mother; that she has always
obtained the favors she asked her Son, Jesus, to grant to her
devotees. Of course, my address was more sentimental than
scriptural, as it is the style among the priests of Rome. But I
was honest; and I sincerely believed what I said.

"Who among you, my dear brethren," I said to the people,
"will refuse any of the reasonable requests of a beloved mother?
Who will break and sadden her loving heart when, with supplicating
voice and tears, she presents to you a petition which it is
in your power, nay, to your interests, to grant? For my own
part, were my beloved mother still living, I would prefer to have
my right hand crushed and burned into cinders, to have my
tongue cut, than to say, No! to my mother, asking me any favor
which it was in my power to bestow.

"These are the sentiments which the God of Sinai wanted
to engrave in the very hearts of humanity, when giving his laws
to Moses, in the midst of lightning and thunders, and these are
the sentiments which the God of the Gospel wanted to impress

on our souls by the shedding of his blood on Calvary. These
sentiments of filial respect and obedience to our mothers,
Christ Jesus, the Son of God and Son of Mary, practiced to
perfection. Although God and man, he was still in perfect submission
to the will of his mother, of which he makes a law to
each of us.

"The Gospel says, in reference to his parents, Joseph and
Mary, `He was subject unto them.' (Luke 2:51.) What a
grand and shining revelation we have in these few short words:
`Jesus was subject unto Mary!' Is it not written in the same
Gospel, that `Jesus is the same to-day, as he was yesterday, and
will be forever?' He has not changed. He is still the Son of
Mary, as he was when only twelve years old.

"This is why our holy Church, which is the pillar and foundation
of Truth, invites you and me, to-day, to put an unbounded
confidence in her intercession. Remembering that Jesus has
always granted the petitions presented to him by his divine
mother, let us put our petitions in her hands, if we want to receive
the favors we are in need of.

"The second reason why we must all go to Mary, for the
favors we want from heaven, is that we are sinners—rebels in
the sight of God. Jesus Christ is our Saviour. Yes! but he is
also our God, infinitely just, infinitely holy. He hates our sins
with an infinite hatred. He abhors our rebellions with an infinite,
a godly hatred. If we had loved and served him faithfully
we might go to him, not only with the hope, but with the assurance
of being welcomed. But we have forgotten and offended
Him; we have trampled His laws under our feet; we have joined
with those who nailed Him on the cross, pierced his heart with
the lance, and shed His blood to the last drop. We belong to
the crowd which mocked at His tortures, and insulted Him at
His death. How can we dare to look at Him and meet His
eyes? Must we not tremble in his presence? Must we not fear
before that Lion of the tribe of Judah whom we have wounded
and nailed to the cross?

"Where is the rebel who does not shiver, when he is dragged
to the feet of the mighty Prince against whom he has drawn the

sword? What will he do if he wants to obtain pardon? Will
he go himself and speak to that offended Majesty? No! But
he looks around the throne to see if he can find some one of the
great officers and friends, or some powerful and influential person,
through whose intercession he can obtain pardon. If he
finds any such, he goes immediately to him, puts his petitions
into their hands, and they go to the foot of the throne to plead
for the rebel, and the favor which would have been indignantly
refused to the guilty subject, had he dared to speak himself, is
granted, when it is asked by a faithful officer, a kind friend, a
dear sister or a beloved mother.

"This is why our holy church, speaking through her infallible
supreme pontiff, the Vicar of Christ, Gregory XVI., has told us, in
the most solemn manner, that `Mary is the only hope of sinners.'

Winding up my arguments, I added: "We are those insolent,
ungrateful rebels. Jesus is the King of Kings against whom
we have, a thousand times, risen in rebellion. He has a thousand
good reasons to refuse our petitions, if we are impudent enough
to speak to Him ourselves. But look at the right hand of the
offended King, and behold his dear and divine mother. She is
your mother also. For it is to every one of us, as well as to
John, that Christ said on the cross, speaking of Mary, `Behold
your Mother.'

"Jesus has never refused any favor asked by that Queen of
Heaven. He cannot rebuke His Mother. Let us go to her; let
us ask her to be our advocate and plead our cause, and she will
do it. Let us suppliantly request her to ask for our pardon, and
she will get it."

I then sincerely took these glittering sophisms for the true
religion of Christ, as all the priests and people of Rome are
bound to take them to-day, and presented them with all the
earnestness of an honest though deluded mind.

My sermon had made a visible and deep impression. Bishop
Prince, coadjutor of my Lord Bourget, who was among my
hearers, thanked and congratulated me for the good effect it
would have on the people, and I sincerely thought I had said
what was true and right before God.

But when night came, before going to bed, I took my Bible
as usual, knelt down before God, in the neat little room I occupied
in the bishop's palace, and read the twelfth chapter of
Matthew, with a praying heart and a sincere desire to understand
it, and be benefitted thereby. Strange to say! when I reached
the 40th verse, I felt a mysterious awe, as if I had entered for
the first time, into a new and most holy land. Though I had
read that verse, and the following, many times, they came to my
mind with a freshness and newness as if I had never seen them
before. There was a lull in my mind for a few moments. Slowly,
and with breathless attention, supreme veneration and respect, I
read the history of that visit of Mary to the sacred spot where
Jesus, my Saviour, was standing in the midst of the crowd, feeding
his happy hearers with the bread of life.

When I contemplated that blessed Mary, whom I loved, as
so tenderly approaching the house where she was to meet her
divine Son, who had been so long absent from her, my heart
suddenly throbbed in sympathy with hers. I felt as if sharing
her unspeakable joy at every step which brought her nearer to
her adorable and beloved son. What tears had she not shed
when Jesus had left her alone, in her poor, now, and cheerless
home, that He might preach the gospel in the distant places,
where his Father had sent Him! With Jesus in her humble
home, was she not more happy than the greatest queen on her
throne! Did she not possess a treasure more precious than all
the world! How sweet to her ears were the words she had
heard from His lips!

How lovely the face of the most beautiful among the sons of
men! How happy she must have felt when she heard that he
was, now, near enough to allow her to go and see Him! How
quick were her steps! How cheerful and interesting the meeting!
How the beloved Saviour will repay by His respectful
and divine love to his mother, the trouble and the fatigue of her
long journey! My heart beat with joy at the privilege of witnessing
that interview, and of hearing the respectful words Jesus
would address to His mother!

With heart and soul throbbing with these feelings, I slowly read.

"While he talked to the people, behold His mother and His
brethren, stood without desiring to speak with Him.

"Then one said unto Him: Behold, thy mother and thy
brethren stand without desiring to speak with thee.

"But he answered, and said unto him that told Him: Who
is my mother? Who are my brethren?

"And he stretched forth His hands towards His disciples, and
said: Behold my mother and brethren!

"For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in
Heaven, the same is my brother, sister and mother."

I had hardly finished reading the last verse, when big drops
of sweat began to flow from my face, my heart beat with a tremendous
speed, and I came near fainting; I sat in my large armchair,
expecting every minute to fall on the floor. Those alone
who have stood several hours at the fall of the marvellous Niagara,
heard the thundering noise of its waters, and felt the shaking
of the rocks under their feet, can have any idea of what I felt in
that hour of agony.

A voice, the voice of my conscience, whose thunders were
like the voice of a thousand Niagaras, was telling me: "Do you
not see that you have preached a sacrilegious lie, this morning,
when, from the pulpit, you said to your ignorant and deluded
people, that Jesus always granted the petitions of His mother,
Mary? Are you not ashamed to deceive yourself, and deceive
your poor countrymen with such silly falsehoods?"

Reader, read again these words! and understand that, far from
granting all the petitions of Mary, Jesus has always, except when
a child, said "No!" to her requests. He has always rebuked
her, when she asked him anything in public! Here she comes
to ask Him a favor before the whole people. It is the easiest, the
most natural favor that a mother ever asked of her son. It is a
favor that a son has never refused to a mother. He answers by
a rebuke, a public and solemn rebuke! Is it through want of
love and respect for Mary that He gave her that rebuke? No!
Never a son loved and respected a mother as He did. But it
was a solemn protest against the blasphemous worship of Mary,
as practiced in the Church of Rome.

I felt, at once, so bewildered and confounded, by the voice,
which was shaking my very bones, that I thought it was the
devil's voice; and, for a moment, I feared less I was possessed of
a demon.

"My God," I cried, "have mercy on me! Come to my help!
Save me from my enemy's hands!"

As quick as lightning, the answer came: "It is not Satan's
voice you hear. It is I, thy Saviour and thy God, who speaks
to thee. Read what Mark, Luke, and John tell you about the
way I received her petitions, from the very day I began to work,
and speak publicly as the Son of God, and the Saviour of the
world."

These cries of my awakening intelligence were sounding in
my ears for more than one hour, before I consented to obey them.
At last, with a trembling hand, and a distressed mind, I took my
Bible and read in St. Mark, chapter iii: verses 31, 32, 33, 34
and 35: "There came then his brethren and his mother, and
standing without, sent unto him, and calling him. And the
multitude sat about him and they said unto him: Behold thy
mother and thy brethren without, sending for thee. And he
answered them, saying: who is my mother and my brethren?

"And he looked round about on them which sat about him,
and said: Behold my mother and my brethren. For whosoever
shall do the will of God, the same is my brother, my sister, and
my mother."

The reading of these words acted upon me as the shock of a
sword going through and through the body of one who had
already been mortally wounded. I felt absolutely confounded.
The voice continued to sound in my ears: "Do you not see you
have presented a blasphemous lie, every time you said that Jesus
always granted the petitions of his mother?"

I remained again, a considerable time, bewildered, not knowing
how to fight down thoughts which were so mercilessly shaking
my faith, and demolishing the respect I had kept, till then,
for my church. After more than half an hour of vain struggle
to silence these thoughts, it came to my mind that St. Luke had
narrated this interview of Mary and Jesus in a very different

way. I opened the holy book again to read the eighth chapter.
But how shall I find words to express my distress when I saw that
the rebuke of Jesus Christ was expressed in a still sterner way by
St. Luke than by the two other evangelists!

"Then came to him his mother and brethren, and could not
come at him for the press.

"And it was told him: Thy mother and thy brethren stand
without, desiring to see thee.

"And he answered, and said unto them: my mother and brethren
are those who will hear the word of God and do it." (Luke
viii: 19, 20, 21.)

It then seemed to me as if those three Evangelists said to
me: "How dare you preach, with your apostate and lying
church, that Jesus has always granted all the petitions of Mary,
when we were ordered by God to write and proclaim that all
the public petitions she had presented to him, when working as
the Son of God, and the Saviour of the world, had been answered
by a public rebuke?"

What could I answer? How could I stand the rebuke of
these three Evangelists? Trembling from head to foot, I fell
upon my knees, crying to the Virgin Mary to come to my help
and pray that I might not succumb to this temptation, and lose
my faith and confidence in her. But the more I prayed, the
louder the voice seemed to say: "How dare you preach that Jesus
has always granted the petitions of Mary, when we tell you the
contrary by the order of God himself?"

My desolation became such, that a cold sweat covered my
whole frame again; my head was aching, and I think I would
have fainted had I not been released by a torrent of tears. In
my distress, I cried: "Oh! my God! my God! look down upon
me in thy mercy; strengthen my faith in thy Holy Church!
Grant me to follow her voice and obey her commands with more
and more fidelity; she is thy beloved church. She cannot err.
She cannot be an apostate church." But in vain I wept and
cried for help. My whole being was filled with dismay and
terror from the voices of the three witnesses, who were crying
louder and louder.

"How dare you preach that Christ has always granted the
petitions of Mary, when the gospels, written under the inspiration
of the Holy Ghost, tell you so clearly the contrary?"

When I had, in vain, wept, prayed, cried, and struggled from
ten at night till three in the morning; the miraculous change of
water into wine, by Christ, at the request of his mother, suddenly
came to my mind. I felt a momentary relief from my terrible
distress, by the hope that I could prove to myself that, in this
case the Saviour had obeyed the demands of his holy mother. I
eagerly opened my Bible again and read:

"And the third day there was a marriage in Cana, of Galileee,
and the mother of Jesus was there.

"And both Jesus was called, and his disciples, to the marriage.
And when they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus said unto
him, they have no wine. Jesus saith unto her: Woman, what
have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come.

"His mother saith unto the servants: whatsoever he saith unto
you, do it." (John ii: 2.)

Till that hour, I had always accepted that text in the sense
given in the Church of Rome, as proving that the very first
miracle of Jesus Christ was wrought at the request of his mother.
And I was preparing myself to answer the three mysterious
witnesses: "Here is the proof that you are three devils, and not
three evangelists, when you tell me that Jesus has never granted
the petitions of his mother, except when a child. Here is the
glorious title of Mary to my confidence in her intercession; here
is the seal of her irresistible superhuman power over her divine
son; here is the undeniable evidence that Jesus cannot refuse
anything asked by his divine mother!" But when, armed with
these explanations of the church, I was preparing to meet what
Matthew, St. Mark, and St. Luke had just told me, a sudden distressing
thought came to my mind; and this thought was as if
I heard the three witnesses saying: "How can you be so blind
as not to see that instead of being a favor granted to Mary, this
first miracle is the first opportunity chosen by Christ to protest
against her intercession. It is a solemn warning to Mary never
to ask anything from him, and to us, never to put any confidence

in her requests. Here, Mary, evidently full of compassion for
those poor people, who had not the means to provide the wine,
for the guests who had come with Jesus, wants her Son to give
them the wine they wanted. How does Christ answer her
requests? He answers it by a rebuke, a most solemn rebuke.
Instead of saying: "Yes, mother, I will do as you wish," he
says, "Woman, what have I to do with thee?" which clearly means
"Woman, thou hast nothing to do in this matter. I do not want
you to speak to me of the bridegroom's distress. It was my desire
to come to their help and show my divine power. I do not
want you to put yourself between the wants of humanity and
me. I do not want the world to believe that you had any right,
any power or influence over me, or more compassion on the
miseries of man than I have. Is it not to me, and me alone, the lost
children of Adam must look to be saved? Woman, what have
I to do with thee in my great work of saving this perishing
world? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I know what I have to
do to fulfill, not your will, but my Father's will!"

This is what Jesus meant by the solemn rebuke given to
Mary. He wanted to banish all idea of her ever becoming an
intercessor between man and Christ. He wanted to protest
against the doctrine of the Church of Rome, that it is through
Mary that He will bestow His favor, to His disciples, and Mary
understood it well when she said, "Whatsoever He saith unto
you, do it." Never come to me, but go to Him. "For there is no
other name given among men, whereby we must be saved."

Every one of these thoughts passed over my distressed soul
like a hurricane. Every sentence was like a flash of lightning
in a dark night. I was like the poor dismantled ship suddenly
overtaken by the tempest in the midst of the ocean.

Till the dawn of day, I felt powerless against the efforts of
God to pull down and demolish the huge fortress of sophisms,
falsehoods, idolatries, which Rome had built around my soul.
What a fearful thing it is to fight against the Lord!

During the long hours of that night, my God was contending
with me, and I was struggling against Him. But though
brought down to the dust: I was not conquered. My understanding

was very nearly convinced; but my rebellious and proud
will was not yet ready to yield.

The chains by which I was tied to the feet of the idols of
Rome, though rudely shaken, were not yet broken. However,
to say the truth, my views about the worship of Mary had received
a severe shock, and were much modified. That night
had been sleepless; and in the morning my eyes were red, and
my face swollen with my tears.

When, at breakfast, Bishop Prince, who was sitting by me,
asked: "Are you sick? Your eyes are as if you had wept all
night?"

"Your lordship is not mistaken, I have wept the whole
night!" I answered.

"Wept all the night!" replied the bishop. "Might I know
the cause of your sorrow?"

"Yes, my lord. You can, you must know it. But please
come to your room. What I have to say is of such a private
and delicate nature, that I want to be alone with your lordship,
when opening my mind to the cause of my tears."

Bishop Prince, then coadjutor of Bishop Bourget and late
bishop of St. Hyacinthe, where he became insane in 1858 and
died in 1860, had been my personal friend from the time I entered
the college at Nicolet, where he was professor of Rhetoric.
He very often came to confession to me, and had taken a lively
interest in my labors on temperance.

When alone with him, I said: "My lord, I thank you for
your kindness in allowing me to unburden my heart to you. I
have passed the most horrible night of my life. Temptations
against our holy religion such as I never had before, have assailed
me all night. Your lordship remembers the kind words
you addressed to me, yesterday, about the sermon I preached.
But, last night, very different things came to my mind, which
have changed the joys of yesterday into the most unspeakable
desolation. You congratulated me, yesterday, on the manner I
had proved that Jesus had always granted the request of His
mother, and that He cannot refuse any of her petitions. The
whole night it has been told to me that this was a blasphemous

lie, and from the Holy Scriptures themselves, I have been nearly
convinced that you and I, nay, that our holy church, are preaching
a blasphemous falsehood every time we proclaim the doctrines
of the worship of Mary as the gospel truth."

The poor bishop, thunderstruck by this simple and honest
declaration, quickly answered: "I hope you have not yielded
to these temptations, and that you will not become a Protestant
as so many of your enemies whisper to each other."

"It is my hope, my lord, that our merciful God will keep
me, to the end of my life, a dutiful and faithful priest of our
holy church. However, I cannot conceal from your lordship
that my faith was terribly shaken, last night.

"As a bishop, your portion of light and wisdom must be
greater than mine. I hope you will grant me some of the lights
which still brightly shine before your eyes: I have never been
so much in need of the counsels of your piety and the help of
your spiritual knowledge as to-day. Please help me to come out
from the intellectual slough in which I spent the night.

"Your lordship has congratulated me for having said that
Jesus Christ has always granted the petitions of Mary. Please
tell me how you reconcile that proposition with this text," and I
handed him the gospel of Matthew: pointing to the last five
verses of the twelfth chapter, I requested him to read them aloud."

He read them and said: "Now what do you want from
me?"

"My lord, I want respectfully to ask you how can we say
that Jesus has always granted the requests of His mother, when
this evangelist tells us that He never granted her petitions, when
acting in His capacity of Saviour of the world.

"Must we not fear that we proclaim a blasphemous falsehood
when we support a proposition directly opposed to the
gospel?"

The poor bishop seemed absolutely confounded by this simple
and honest question. I also felt confused and sorry for his
humiliation. Beginning a phrase, he would give it up; trying
arguments, he could not push to their conclusion. It seemed to
me that he had never read that text, or if he had read it, he, like

myself and the rest of the priests of Rome, had never noted
that they entirely demolish the stupendous impostures of the
church in reference to the worship of Mary.

In order to help him out of the inextricable difficulties into
which I had once pushed pushed him, I said: "My lord, will you
allow me to put a few more questions to you?"

"With pleasure," he answered.

Well! my lord, who came to this world to save you and me?
Is it Jesus or Mary?"

"It is Jesus," answered the bishop.

"Who was called, and is, in reality, the sinner's best friend?
Was it Jesus or Mary?"

The bishop answered: "It was Jesus."

"Now please allow me a few more questions."

"When Jesus and Mary were on earth, whose heart was most
devoted to sinners? Who loved them with a more efficacious
and saving love; was it Jesus or Mary?"

"Jesus, being God, His love was evidently more efficacious
and saving than Mary's," answered the bishop.

"In the days of Jesus and Mary, to whom did Jesus invite
sinners to go for their salvation; was it to himself or Mary?"
I asked again.

The bishop answered: "Jesus has said to all sinners, `Come
unto me.' He never said come or go to Mary."

"Have we any examples, in the Scriptures, of sinners, who,
fearing to be rebuked by Jesus, have gone to Mary and obtained
access to him through her, and been saved through her intercessions?"

"I do not remember of any such sases," replied the bishop.

I then asked: "To whom did the penitent thief, on the cross,
address himself to be saved; was it to Jesus or to Mary?"

"It was to Jesus," replied the bishop.

"Did that penitent thief do well to address himself to Jesus
on the cross, rather than to Mary who was at His feet?" said I.

"Surely he did better," answered the bishop.

"Now, my lord, allow me only one question more. You
told me that Jesus loved sinners, when on earth, infinitely more

than Mary; that he was infinitely more their true friend than she
was; that he infinitely took more interest in their salvation, than
Mary; that it was infinitely better for sinners to go to Jesus than
to Mary, to be saved; will you please tell me if you think that
Jesus has lost, in heaven, since he is sitting at the right hand of
his Father, any of his divine and infinite superiority of love and
mercy over Mary for sinners: and can you show me that what
Jesus has lost has been gained by Mary?"

"I do not think that Christ has lost any of his love, and
power to save us, now that he is in heaven," answered the bishop.

"Now, my lord, if Jesus is still my best friend; my most
powerful, merciful and loving friend, why should I not go
directly to him? Why should we, for a moment, go to any one
who is infinitely inferior, in power, love and mercy, for our
salvation?"

The bishop was stunned by my questions.

He stammered some unintelligible answer, excused himself
for not being able to remain any longer, on account of some
pressing business; and extending his hand to me before leaving
he said: "You will find an answer to your questions and difficulties
in the Holy Fathers."

"Can you lend me the Holy Fathers, my lord?"

He replied: "No sir, I have them not."

This last answer from my bishop, shook my faith to its foundation,
and left my mind in a state of great distress. With the
sincere hope of finding in the Holy Fathers, some explanations
which would dispel my painful doubts, I immediately went to
Mr. Fabre, the great bookseller of Montreal, who got me, from
France, the splendid edition of the Holy Fathers, by Migne. I
studied with the utmost attention, every page where I might
find what they taught of the worship of Mary, and the doctrines
that Jesus had never refused any of her prayers.

What was my desolation, my shame and my surprise, to find
that the Holy Fathers of the first six centuries had never advocated
the worship of Mary, and that the many eloquent pages on the
power of Mary in heaven, and her love for sinners, found in
every page of my theologians, and other ascetic books I had

read till then, were but impudent lies; additions interpolated in
their works a hundred years after their death.

When discovering these forgeries, under the name of the
Holy Fathers, of which my church was guilty, how many times,
in the silence of my long nights of study and prayerful meditations,
did I hear a voice telling me: "Come out of Babylon."

But where could I go? Out of the Church of Rome, where
could I find that salvation which was to be found only within
her walls? I said to myself, "Surely there are some errors in
my dear church."

"The dust of ages may have fallen on the precious gold of
her treasures, but will I not find still more damnable errors
among those hundreds of Protestant churches, which, under the
name of Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, &c.,
&c., are divided and sub-divided into scores of contemptible sects
anathematizing and denouncing each other before the world?"

My ideas of the great family of evangelical churches, comprised
under the broad name of Protestantism, were so exaggerated
then, that it was absolutely impossible for me to find in them
that unity which I considered the essentials of the church of
Christ.

The hour was not yet come, but it was coming fast, when
my dear Saviour would make me understand his sublime words:
"I am the vine and ye are the branches."

It was some time later, when under the beautiful vine I had
planted in my own garden, and which I had cultivated with
mine own hands, I saw that there was not a single branch like
another in that prolific vine.

Some branches were very big, some very thin, some very
long, some very short, some going up, some going down, some
straight as an arrow, some crooked as a flash of lightning, some
turning to the west, some to the east, some to the north, and
others to the south.

But, although the branches were so different from each other
in so many things, they all gave me excellent fruit, so long as
they remained united to the vine.