University of Virginia Library

Chapter XLIX.

THE PLOT TO DESTROY ME—THE INTERDICT—THE RETREAT
AT THE JESUITS' COLLEGE—THE LOST GIRL, EMPLOYED
BY THE BISHOP, RETRACTS—THE BISHOP CONFOUNDED,
SEES HIS INJUSTICE, MAKES AMENDS—TESTIMONIAL LETTERS—THE
CHALICE—THE BENEDICTION BEFORE I LEAVE
CANADA.

THE first week of September, 1851, I was hearing confessions
in one of the churches of Montreal, when a fine-looking
girl came to confess sins, whose depravity surpassed anything I
had ever heard. Though I forbade her twice to do it, she gave
me the names of several priests who were the accomplices of
her orgies. The details of her iniquities were told with such
cynical impudence that the idea struck me, at once, that she was
sent by some one to ruin me. I abruptly stopped her disgusting
stories by saying: "The way you confess your sins, is a sure
indication that you do not come here to reconcile yourself to God,
but to ruin me. By the grace of God, you will fail. I forbid
you to come any more to my confessional. If I see you again
among my penitents, I will order the beadle to turn you out of
the church."

I instantly shut the door of the small aperture through which
she was speaking to me.

She answered something which I could not understand. But
the tone of her voice, the shaking of her hands and head, with
her manner of walking, when she left the confessional, indicated
that she was beside herself with rage, as she went to speak a
few words to a carter who was in the church preparing himself
to confess.

The next evening, I said to Rev. Mr. Brassard that I
suspected that a girl was sent to my confessional to ruin me.

He answered: "Did I not warn you sometime ago that
there was a plot to destroy you? I have not the least doubt but
that that girl was hired to begin that diabolical work. You
have no idea of my anxiety about you. For I know your
enemies will not shrink from any iniquity to destroy your good
name, and prevent you from directing the tide of emigration
from Canada to the valley of the Mississippi."

I replied "that I could not partake of his fears; that God
knew my innocence and the purity of my motives; He would
defend and protect me."

"My dear Chiniquy," replied Mr. Brassard, "I know your
enemies. They are not numerous, but they are implacable, and
their power for mischief knows no limits. Surely, God can save
you from their hands; but I cannot share your security for the
future. Your answer to the bishop, in reference to Mrs. Chenier,
when you refused to send her to the nunnery, that he might inherit
her fortune, has, forever, alienated him from you. Bishop
Bourget has the merited reputation of being the most revengeful
man in Canada. He will avail himself of the least opportunity
to strike you without mercy."

I answered: "Though there should be a thousand Bishops
Bourget to plot against me, I will not fear them, so long as I am
in the right, as I am to-day."

As the clock struck twelve, I bade him good night, and ten
minutes later I was sound asleep.

The following days I went to deliver a course of lectures on
temperance to several parishes south of Laprairie, till the 28th
of September, after which I came back from St. Constant to rest,
for a few days, and prepare to start for Chicago.

On my arrival, I found on my table a short letter from Bishop
Bourget, telling me that, for a criminal action, which he did not
want to mention, committed with a person he would not name,
he had withdrawn all my priestly powers and interdicted me.

I handed the letter to Mr. Brassard and said: "Is not this
the fulfillment of your prophecies? What do you think of a
bishop who interdicts a priest without giving him a single fact,
and without even allowing him to know his accusers?"

"It is just what I expected from the implacable vengeance
of the Bishop of Montreal. He will never give you the reasons
of your interdict, for he knows well you are innocent, and he
will never confront you with your accusers; for it would be too
easy for you to confound them."

"But is not this against all the laws of God and man? Is it
not against the laws of the church?" I replied.

"Of course it is," he answered; "but do you not know that,
on this continent of America, the bishops have, long ago, thrown
overboard all the laws of God and man, and all the laws of the
church, to rule and enslave the priests?"

I replied: "If it be so, are not Protestants correct when
they say that our church has rejected the Word of God, to follow
the traditions of man? What can we answer them when
they tell us that our church has no right to be called the Church
of God? Would the Son of God have given up his life on the
cross to save men, that they might be the property of a few lawess
tyrants, who should have the right to take away their honor
and life?"

"I am not ready to answer those puzzling questions," he
answered, "but this is the fact. Though it is absolutely against
all the laws of the church to condemn a priest without showing
him his guilt, and confronting him with his accusers, our modern
bishops, every week, condemn some of their priests without
specifying any fact, or even giving them the names of their
accusers."

"Mind what I tell you," I replied. "I will not allow the
bishop to deal with me in that way. If he dares to trample the
laws of the gospel under his feet to accomplish my ruin, and
satisfy his vengeance, I will teach him a lesson that he will never
forget. Thanks be to God, it is not the gory cross of the bloody
Inquisition, but the emblem of the British Lion which I see there
floating on the tower, to protect our honor and life in Canada.
I am innocent; God knows it. My trust is in Him; He will not
forsake me. I will go immediately to the bishop. If he never
knew what power there is in an honest priest, he will learn it
to-day."

Two hours later, I was knocking at the bishop's door. He
received me with icy politeness.

"My lord," I said, "you already know why I am in your
presence. Here is a letter from you, accusing me of a crime
which is not specified, under the testimony of accusers whom
you refuse to name! And before hearing me, and confronting
me with my accusers, you punish me as guilty! You not only
take away my honor, with that unjust sentence, but my life! I
come in the name of God, and of His Son, Jesus Christ, to respectfully
ask you to tell me the crime of which I am accused,
that I may show you my innocence. I want to be confronted
with my accusers, that I may confound them."

The bishop was, at first, evidently embarrassed by my presence;
his lips were pale and trembling, but his eyes were dry and
red, like the tiger's eyes in the presence of his prey. He
answered:

"I cannot grant your request, sir."

Opening, then, my New Testament, I read:

"Receive no accusation against a priest, except under two or
three witnesses" (1st Tim. v: 19). I added: "It was after I
had heard this voice of God, and of His holy church, that I consented
to be a priest. I hope it is not the intention of your lordship
to put aside this Word of God and of His church. It is
not your intention to break that solemn covenant made by Christ,
with His priests, and sealed with His blood?"

With an air of contempt and tyrannical authority, which I
had never suspected to be possible in a bishop, he answered:

"I have no lesson of Scripture or canonical law to receive
from you, sir, and no answer to give to your impertinent questions.
You are interdicted! I have nothing to do with you."

These words, uttered by the man whom I was accustomed to
consider as my superior, had a strange effect upon me. I felt as
if awakening from a long and painful dream.

For the first time, I understood the sad prophecies of the Rev.
Mr. Brassard, and I realized the horror of my position. My
ruin was accomplished. Though I knew that that high dignitary
was a monster of hypocrisy, injustice and tyranny, he had, among

the masses, the reputation of a saint. His unjust sentence would
be considered as just and equitable by the multitude over whom
he was reigning supremely. At a nod of his head, the people
would fall at his feet and obey his commands to crush me. All
ears would be shut, and all hearts hardened against me. In that
fatal hour, for the first time in my life, my moral strength and
courage failed me. I felt as if I had just fallen into a bottomless
abyss, out of which it was impossible to escape. What
would my innocence, known only to God, avail me, when the
whole world would believe me guilty? No words can give an
idea of the mental torture of that horrible hour.

For more than a quarter of an hour not a word was exchanged
between the bishop and me. He seemed very busy writing letters,
while I was resting my head between my hands, and shedding
torrents of tears. At last, I fell on my knees, took the
hands of the bishop in mine, and, with a voice half choked with
sighs, I said: "My lord, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,
and in the presence of God, I swear that I have done nothing
which could bring such a sentence against me. I again implore
your lordship to confront me with my accusers, that I may show
you my innocence."

With a savage insolence, the bishop withdrew his hands, as
if I had contaminated them, and said, after rising from his chair:

"You are guilty; go out of my presence."

A thousand times since, I have thanked my God that I had
no dagger with me, for I would have plunged it into his heart.
But, strange to say, the diabolical malice and dishonesty of that
depraved man, suddenly brought back my former self-respect
and courage. I at once took the stern resolution to face the
storm. I felt, in my soul, that giant strength which, often, God
Himself implants in the breast of the oppressed when he is in
the presence of his merciless tyrants. It seemed that a flash of
lightning had passed through my soul, after having written in
letters of fire on the walls of the palace: "Mystery of iniquity."

Relying entirely on the God of truth and justice, who knew
my innocence and the great perversity of my oppressor. I left
the room, without saying a word, and hastened back to Longueuil,

to acquaint the Rev. Mr. Brassard with my firm resolution to
fight the bishop to the end. He burst into tears when I told
him what had occurred in the bishop's palace.

"Though innocent, you are condemned," he said. "The
infallible proof of your innocence, is the cruel refusal of allowing
you to be confronted with your accusers. Were you guilty,
they would be too glad to show it, by confounding you before
those witnesses. But the perversity of your accusers is so well-known
that they are ashamed of giving their names. The bishop
prefers to crush you under the weight of his unmerited reputation
for justice and holiness; for very few know him as we do.
My fear is that he will succeed in destroying you. Though innocent,
you are condemned and lost. You will never be able to
contend against such a mighty adversary."

"My dear Mr. Brassard, you are mistaken," I replied. "I
never was so sure of coming out victorious from a conflict as today.
The monstrous iniquity of the bishop carries its antidote
with itself. It was not a dream I saw when he so ignominiously
turned me out of his room. A flash of lightning passed before
my eyes and wrote, as if on the walls of the palace, `Mystery of
iniquity!' When Canada, the whole of Christendom, shall
know the infamous conduct of that dignitary; when they shall
see the `mystery of iniquity,' which I shall stamp upon his
forehead, there will be only one cry of indignation against him!
Oh! if I can only find out the names of my accusers! How I
will force that mighty tyrant to withraw that sentence, at double
quick

"I am determined to show, not only to Canada, but to the
whole world, that this infamous plot is but the work of the vile
male and female slaves by whom the bishop is surrounded.

"My first thought was to start immediately for Chicago,
where Bishop Vandeveld expected me.

"But I am resolved not to go until I have forced my merciless
oppressor to withdraw his unjust sentence. I will, immediately,
go to the Jesuit College, where I propose spending
the next eight days in prayer and retreat.

"The Jesuits are the ablest men under heaven to detect the

most hidden things. I hope they will help me to unearth that
dark mystery of iniquity, and expose it to the world."

"I am glad to see that you do not fear the terrible storm
which is upon you, and that your sails are so well trimmed,"
answered Mr. Brassard. "You do well in putting your trust in
God, first, and in the Jesuits afterwards. The fearless way in
which you intend to meet the attacks of your merciless enemies,
will give you an easy victory. My hope is that the Jesuits will
help you to find out the names of your false accusers, and that
you will make use of them to hurl back in the face of the bishop
the shame and dishonor he had prepared for you."

At six P. M., in a modest, well-lighted and ventilated room of
the Jesuit College, I was alone with the venerable Mr. Schneider,
its director.

I told him how the Bishop of Montreal, four years before,
after giving up his prejudices against me, when I had left the
oblate, had earnestly supported me in my labors. I acquainted
him also with the sudden change of those good feelings into the
most uncontrollable hatred, from the day I had refused to force
Mrs. Chenier to become a nun, that he might secure her fortune.
I told him also how those bad feelings had found new food in
my plan of consecrating the rest of my life to direct the tide of
the French Catholic emigration towards the Mississippi valley.
I exposed to him my suspicions about that miserable girl I had
turned out from my confessional. "I have a double object in
view," I added:

"The first, is to spend the last eight days of my residence in
Canada in prayer. But my second is, to ask the help of your
charity, wisdom and experience in forcing the bishop to withdraw
his unjust sentence against me. I am determined, if he does
not withdraw it, to denounce him before the whole country,
and to challenge him, publicly, to confront me with my accusers."

"If you do that," answered Mr. Schneider, "I fear lest you
not only do an irreparable damage to the Bishop of Montreal,
but to our holy church also."

I replied: "Our holy church would indeed suffer an irreparable

damage, if she sanctioned the infamous conduct of the bishop;
but this is impossible."

"You are correct," rejoined the Jesuit. "Our holy church
cannot sanction such criminal conduct. She has, hundreds of
times, condemned those tyrannical and unjust actions, in other
bishops. Such want of common honesty and justice will be condemned
everywhere, as soon as it is known. The first thing we
have to do, is to find out the names of your accusers. I have
not the least doubt that they are the blind instruments of Machiavelist
plots against you. But those plots have only to be
brought to light, to vanish away. My impression is, that the
miserable girl you have so abruptly and so wisely turned out of
your confessional, knows more than the bishop wants us to find
out, about the plots. It is a pity you did not ask her name and
residence. At all events, you may rely on my efforts to persuade
our bishop that his personal interest, as well as the interest of
our holy religion, is, that he should speedily withdraw that sentence,
which is a nullity by itself. It will not be difficult for me
to show him that he has fallen into the very pit he has dug under
your feet. He has taken a position against you which is absolutely
untenable. Before your retreat is at an end, no doubt
he will be too happy to make his peace with you. Only trust in
God, and in the blessed Virgin Mary, and you have nothing to
fear from the conflict. Our bishop has put himself above all the
laws of man and God, to condemn the priest he had himself officially
named: `the Apostle of Temperance of Canada.' There
is not a single man, in the church, who will allow him to stand
on that ground. The 200,000 soldiers you have enrolled under
the holy banners of temperance, will force him to retract his too
hasty and unjust sentence."

It would be too long to repeat here all the encouraging
words which that wise Jesuit uttered.

Father Schneider was a European priest, who was in Montreal
only since 1849. He had won my confidence, the very first time
I met him, and I had chosen him, at once, for my confessor and
adviser. The third day of my retreat, Father Schneider came to
my room earlier than usual, and said:

"I have worked hard the last two days, to find out the name
and residence of the carter to whom that miserable girl spoke in
the church, after you had turned her out of your confessional,
and I have it. If you have no objection I will send for him.
He may know that girl and induce her to come here."

"By all means, dear father," I answered, "do it without losing
a moment."

Two hours later, the carter was with me. I recognized him
as one of those dear countrymen whom our society of temperance
had transformed into a new man. I asked him if he remembered
the name of the girl who, a few days before, had
spoken to him in the church, after going out of my confessional.

"Yes sir! I know her well. She has a very bad name,
though she belongs to a respectable family."

I added: "Do you think you could induce her to come here,
by telling her that a priest, in the Jesuit College, wants to see
her? But do not give her my name."

He answered: "Nothing is more easy. She will be here in
a couple of hours, if I find her at home."

At three P. M., the carter was again knocking at my door, and
said, with a low voice:

"The girl you want is in the parlor; she has no idea you are
here, for she told me that you were now preaching in St. Constant.
She seems to be very angry against you, and bitterly
complains against your want of courtesy, the very first time she
went to confess to you."

"Is it possible that she told you that?" I replied.

"Yes sir! She told me that to explain her terrible excitement
when coming out of your confessional, the other day; she
then requested me to drive her home. She was really beside herself,
and swore that she would make you pay for your harsh words
and rude manner towards her. You will do well to be on your
guard with her. She is one of the most depraved girls of
Montreal, and has a most dangerous tongue, though to the
shame of our holy religion, she is daily seen in the bishop's
palace."

I immediately went to Father Schneider, and said: "My

dear father, by the mercy of God, the girl we want to see is in
the parlor. By what I have just heard from the carter who
drove her, I have not the least doubt but that she is the one employed
by the bishop to slander me, and get a pretext for what
he has done. Please come with me to witness my innocence.
But, take your gospel, ink, paper and pen with you."

"All right," answered the wise Jesuit.

Two minutes later we were in her presence.

It is impossible to describe her dismay, when she saw me.
She came near fainting. I feared she should not be able to utter
a word.

I spoke to her very kindly, and ran to get a glass of cold
water, which did her good.

When she recovered, I said to her, with a tone of mixed authority
and kind firmness: "You are here in the presence of
God and two of his priests. That great God will hear every
word which will fall from your lips. You must speak the truth.
You have denounced me to the bishop as guilty of some great
iniquity. You are the cause of my being interdicted. You, alone,
can repair the injury you have done me. That injury is very
great; but it can be easily repaired by you. In the presence of
that venerable priest, say whether or not, I am guilty of the
crime you have brought to my charge!"

At these words, the unfortunate girl burst into tears. She
hid her face in her handkerchief, and with a voice half-suffocated
with sighs, she said:

"No sir! You are not guilty."

I added: "Confess another thing. Is it not a fact that you
had come to my confessional more with the intention of tempting
me to sin, than to reconcile yourself to God?"

"Yes sir!" she added, "this was my wicked intention.

"Continue to tell the truth, and our great and merciful God
will forgive you. Is it not to revenge yourself for my rebuking
you, that you have brought the false accusations to the bishop in
order that he might interdict me?"

"Yes sir! that is the only reason I had for accusing you."

After Father Schneider had made four copies of those

declarations, signed by him as witness, and after she had sworn
on the gospel, I forgave her the injury she had done me, I gave
her some good advice and dismissed her.

"Is it not evident," I said to Father Schneider, "that our
merciful God never forsakes those who trust in him?"

"Yes, I never saw the interposition of God so marvellously
manifested as in this perfect deliverance from the hands of your
enemies. But, please tell me why you requested me to make
four copies of her sworn declaration of your innocence; was not
one sufficient?" asked Mr. Schneider.

I answered: "One of those copies was for the bishop; another
will remain in your hands, Mr. Brassard will have one,
and I need one for myself. For the dishonesty of the bishop is
so evident to me, now, that I think him able to destroy the copy
I will send him, with the hope, after its destruction, of keeping
me at his feet. If he does that new act of iniquity, I will confound
him with the three other authentic copies which will remain.
Besides, this unfortunate girl may die sooner than we expect.
In that case, I would find myself again with the bishop's
knife on my throat, if I had no other retractation to the perjured
declaration which he has persuaded her to give him."

"You are right," replied Father Schneider, "now the only
thing for you to do is to send that retractation to the bishop, with
a firm and polite request to retract his unjust sentence against
you. Let me do the rest with him. The battle is over. It has
been fierce, but short. However, thanks be to God, you have a
most complete victory over your unjust aggressors. The bishop
will do all in his power, no doubt, to make you forget this darkest
page of his life."

The shrewd Jesuit was correct, in his previsions. Never did
any bishop receive me with so many marks, not only with kindness,
but I dare say of respect, than Bishop Bourget, when, after
my retreat, I went to take leave of him, before my departure
from Canada to the United States.

"I trust, my lord," I said, "that, to-day, I can hope to
possess the confidence and friendly feelings of your lordship?"

"Certainly, my dear Mr. Chiniquy, certainly; you possess

my full confidence and friendship. I dare say more; you possess
my most sincere gratitude, for what yon have done in my
diocese."

I answered: "I am much obliged to your lordship for this
expression of your kind feelings. But, now, I have two new favors
to ask from your lordship. The first, is a written document expressive
of those kind feelings.

"The second, is a chalice from your hands to offer the holy
sacrifice of mass the rest of my life."

"I will grant your request with the utmost pleasure," answered
the bishop; and without losing a moment, he wrote the
following letter, which I reproduce here, on account of its importance.

TRANSLATION.

Sir:—You request me to give you permission to leave my diocese in order
to go and offer your services to the Bishop of Chicago. As you still belong
to the Diocese of Quebec, I think you ought to address yourself to my lord
of Quebec, to get the extract you want. As for me, I cannot but thank you
for what you have done in our midst; and in my gratitude towards you, I
wish you the most abundant blessing from heaven. Every day of my life,
I will remember you. You will always be in my heart, and I hope that on
some future day, the providence of God will give me some opportunity of
showing you all the feelings of gratitude I feel towards you.

Though that letter was a most perfect recantation of all he
had said and done against me, and was of immense value to me
in such circumstances, the bishop added to its importance by the
exceedingly kind manner in which he handed it to me.

As he was going into another room he said:

"I will give you the silver chalice you want, to offer the
holy sacrifice of mass the rest of your days."

But, he came back and said:

"My secretary is absent, and has the key of the trunk which
contains those vases."

"It makes no difference, my lord," I replied, "please order

your secretary to put that chalice in the hands of Rev. Mr. Brassard,
who will forward it, with a box of books which he has to
send me to Chicago, next week."

The bishop very kindly promised to do so; and he fulfilled
his promise. The next day, the precious gift was put in the
hands of Mr. Brassard, in presence of several priests.

It was sent, the following week, to Chicago, where I got it,
and that fine silver chalice is still in my possession.

I then fell on my knees, and said:

"My lord, I am just leaving Canada for the Far West, please
give me your benediction."

He blessed me and pressed me to his heart with a tenderness
of a father, saying:

"May God Almighty bless you, wherever you go and in
everything you do, till the end of your life."