University of Virginia Library

Chapter LII.

ON the 20th of May, 1852, I received the following letter
from Bishop Vandeveld:

My Dear Mr. Chiniquy:—The Rev. Mr. Courjeault is just returned
from Bourbonnais, where he ought never to have gone back. He has told
me of his complete failure and ignominious exit. I bitterly regret having
allowed him to go there again. But he had so persuaded me that his
criminal conduct with his servant girl was ignored by the people, that I had
yielded to his request.

I feel that this new attempt, on his part, to impose himself on that
honest people, has added to the enormity of his first scandal. I advise him
now to go back to France, where he can more easily conceal his shame than
in America. But one of the darkest features of that disgusting affair is that
I am obliged to pay the $500 which the girl asked, in order to prevent Mr.
Courjeault from being dragged before the civil tribunal and sent to jail.

The malice of that priest against you has received its just reward. But
my fear is that you have another implacable enemy here in Mr. Lebel,
whose power to do evil is greater than Mr. Courjeault's.

Before you began your great work of directing the flood of Roman
Catholic emigration towards this country, to secure it to our holy church,
he was in favor of that glorious scheme, but his jealousy against you has
suddenly changed his mind.

He has, lately, addressed a letter to the Canadian press, every word of
which is an unmitigated falsehood. Of course, the Bishop of Montreal,
who is more than ever opposed to our colonization plan, has published that
lying letter in his journal; more than that, he has reproduced the testimony
of a perjured man, who swears that many of the people of Illinois are bitten
and killed by the rattlesnakes, and those who escape are taxed six cents for
each pane of glass of their windows.

Will you be discouraged by this opposition? I hope not. This opposition
is the greatest evidence we could have that our scheme is from God,
and that He will support you. I am tempted to interdict Mr. Lebel, and
send him back to Canada, for writing things which he so well knows to be
false. The want of a French-speaking priest for your countrymen of Chicago
is the only thing which has prevented me from withdrawing his faculties.

But I have warned him that if he writes any more against the truth,
I will punish him as he deserves.

For you, my dear sir, I will address to you the very words which God
Himself addressed to His servant, Joshua: "Be strong, and of good courage;
for unto this people shalt thou divide, for an inheritance, the land which I
swear unto their fathers to give them" (Joshua 1: 6).

I agree with what you wrote me in your last letter, that the charge I
have given you of Bourbonnais, pro tempore, will seriously interfere with
your other numberless duties towards your dear emigrants. But there is no
help; the only thing I can promise, is to relieve you as soon as possible. I
have no other priest to whom I can trust the interesting mission of Bourbonnais.
For Father Huick is too old and infirm for such a work. It is
evidently the will of God that you should extend your labors over the first
limits you had fixed. Be faithful to the end, and the Lord will be with you,
and support you throughout all your labors and tribulations.

During the next six months, more than 500 families from
France, Belgium and Canada came and gave to our colony a
life, power and prosperity impossible for me to depict. The joy
I felt at this unforeseen success was much diminished, however,
by the sudden news that Mr. Courjeault had come back from
France, where he spent only one month.

Not daring to visit Bourbonnais again, he was lurking on the
frontiers of Indiana, only a few miles distant, evidently with
some sinister intention.

Driven to a state of madness by his jealousy and hatred, that
unfortunate man addressed to me, on the 23d of January, 1853,
the most abusive letter I ever received, and ended it by telling
me that the fine (though unfinished) church of Bourbonnais,
which he had built, was to be burned, and that my life would be
in danger if I remained at the head of that mission.

I immediately sent that letter to the bishop, asking his advice.
In his answer he told me that he thought that Mr. Courjeault
was wicked enough to fulfill his threats. He added: "Though
I have not yet clear evidence of it, it is my fear that Mr. Lebel
is united with Mr. Courjeault in the diabolical plot of burning
your church of Bourbonnais. Several people have reported to

me that he says that your presence there will be the ruin of that
people, and the destruction of their church. Oh! to what extremities
bad priests can go, when once they have given themselves
to their unbridled passions! The first thing I would advise
you, my dear Mr. Chiniquy, in the presence of such a terrible
calamity, is to insure that church without delay. I have
tried to do it here, but they have refused, under the pretext that
it is an unfinished, frame building, and there are too many
dangers of fire when people are still working at it.

"My impression is that Mr. Lebel is on intimate terms with
some insurance gentlemen, and has frightened them by speaking
of that rumor of danger, of which he is probably the father,
with that miserable Courjeault. Perhaps you may have a better
chance, by addressing yourself to some insurance company which
you might find at Joliet or at Springfield."

After vain efforts to insure the church, I wrote to the bishop:
"The only way to escape the impending danger is to finish the
church at once, and insure it after. I have just made a collection
of $400 among the people of Bourbonnais, to which I added
$300 from my own private resources, and will go to work immediately
if your lordship has no objections."

Having got the approbation of my superior, on the 1st of
March I began to put the last hand to that building.

We worked almost day and night, till the 1st of May, when
it was all finished. I dare affirm, that for a country place, that
church was unsurpassed in beauty. The inside frame-work was
all made of the splendid black oak of Bourbonnais, polished and
varnished by most skillful men, and it looked like a mirror.
Very seldom have I seen anything more grand and beautiful than
the altar, made also of that precious black oak. It was late at
night when, with my fellow-laborers, covered with dust and
sweat, we could say with joy the solemn words, "It is finished!"
Afterwards we sung the Te Deum.

Had I had any opportunity, at that late hour, it was my
thought and desire to insure it. But I was forced to postpone
this till the next Monday.

The next day (the first Sabbath of May, 1853), the sun

seemed to come out from the horizon and rise above our heads
with more than usual magnificence.

The air was calm and pure, and the numberless spring
flowers of our gardens mingling their perfumes with the fragrant
leaves of the splendid forest at the front of the village,
the balmy atmosphere, the songs of the birds, seemed to tell
us that this Sabbath day was to be the most happy one for me
and my dear people of Bourbonnais. The church had never
been so crowded. The hymns we sung had never been so
melodious, and the words of gratitude which I addressed to my
God, when I thanked him for the church he had given us, in
which to adore and bless him, had never been so sincere and
earnest: never had our tears of joy flowed so profusely as on that
splendid and never-to-be-forgotten Sabbath.

Alas! who would suspect that, six hours later, the same
people, gathered around the smoking ruins of their church,
would rend the air with their cries of desolation! Such, however,
was the case.

While taking my dinner, after the public service, two little
boys, who had remained in the church to wait for the hour of
the Catechism, ran to the parsonage, crying: "Fire! Fire!!
Fire!!!"

Bare-headed, and half-paralyzed with the idea that my
church was on fire, I went out to see the awful reality. A girdle
of smoke and fire was already issuing from almost every part,
between the top of the wooden walls and the roof.

I had rushed to the church with a pail of water in my hand.
But it was too late to make any use of it; the flames were
already running and leaping with a fearful rapidity over the
fresh varnish, like a long train of powder. In less than two
hours all was finished again.

No doubt could remain in our minds. This was the work of
an incendiary, for there was no fire in the church after the
service. Many strangers who had come from a distance, had
gone through the whole nave and the upper galleries, to have a
better sight of the whole building, and two of them had been
seen by the little boys, remaining ten or fifteen minutes alone:

they had gone back to some of the houses of the village without
being remarked by anybody, for it was dinner time, and
there was nobody to watch them.

Though stunned by that awful calamity, the noble-hearted
people of Bourbonnais did not lose their minds. Seeing that they
were all gathered around the smoking ruins, at about six P. M., I
addressed to them a few words to support their courage. I told
them that it was only in the midst of great trials and difficulties
that men could show their noblest qualities, and their true manhood;
that if we were true men, instead of losing our time in
shedding tears and rending the air with our cries of desolation,
we would immediately put our hands to the work, and begin
the very next day to raise up, not a frame building, which the
flames could turn into ashes in a few minutes, and which the
storm could blow down over our heads, but a stone church,
which would stand before God and man as an imperishable
monument of their faith, indomitable courage and liberality.
We immediately started a subscription, to erect, without delay,
a stone church. In less than one hour, $4,000 in money, and
more than $5,000 in time, timber and stone and other material,
were subscribed, every cent of which has been faithfully given
for the erection of that fine stone church of Bourbonnais.

The next Thursday, Bishop Vandeveld came from Chicago
to confer with me about what could be done to repair that terrible
loss, and to inquire confidentially of me as to the author of
that fire. All the facts we gathered pointed to the same direction.
It was evident that the miserable Courjeault, with Lebel,
the French Canadian priest of Chicago, had done that evil work
through their emissaries. No doubt of this remained in my mind
when I learned that soon after, Mr. Courjeault had thrown himself
into one of those dark dungeons called a monastery of La
Trappe, which Satan has built on earth as a preparation for the
dark hereafter of the wicked.

The unexpected visit of the bishop, had, at first, rejoiced me,
by the hope that he would bring me words of encouragement.

But what was my disappointment, when he said to me:

"My dear Mr. Chiniquy, I must reveal to you a thing that I

have not yet made known to anyone. It is confidential, and I
request you not to say a word before it is accomplished. I can
not remain any longer Bishop of Illinois! No! I cannot any
longer assume the responsibilities of such a high position, because
it is beyond my power to fulfill my duties and do what the church
requires of me. The conduct of the priests of this diocese is
such, that, should I follow the regulations of the canon, I would
be forced to interdict all my priests with the exception of you
and two or three others.

"They are all either notorious drunkards, or given to public
or secret concubinage; several of them have children by their
own nieces, and two by their own sisters. I do not think that
ten of them believe in God. Religion is nothing to them but a
well-paying comedy. Where can I find a remedy for such a
general evil? Can I punish one of them and leave the others
free in their abominable doings, when they are almost all equally
guilty? Would not the general interdiction of these priests be
the death blow to our church in Illinois? Besides, how can I
punish them, when I know that many of them are ready to
poison me the very moment I raise a finger against them. I
suppose that you do not ignore the fact that my poor predecessor
was poisoned by one of those priests who had seduced several
nuns, when he was in the very act of investigating the matter.

"I intend to go to Rome, as soon as I receive my permit
from the pope, to renounce at his feet the Bishopric of Chicago,
which I will not keep on any consideration.

"If the pope does not give me another diocese, with a better
set of priests, I prefer to spend the rest of my life at the head
of a small congregation, where I shall not have, on my
shoulders, the awful responsibility which is killing me here.
The last horrible deeds of Courjeault and Lebel, of which you
are the victim to-day, has filled the bitter cup which God has
put to my lips to drink. It is overflowing. I cannot any longer
endure it."

When speaking so, the bishop's face was bathed with tears.
It was very late—too late, indeed, to make the remonstrances
which came to my mind, in order to change his resolutions.

I determined to wait till the next morning, when I should
have plenty of time, I hoped, to expel his dark thoughts, and
give him more courage. Besides, I was, myself, so discouraged
by those awful disclosures, that I was in need of mental as well
as bodily rest. But, alas! the next day was to be one of the
darkest of my priestly life!

When the hour for breakfast came the next morning, I went
to awaken the bishop. What was my dismay, when I found
him drunk!

Before going to bed, he had secretly asked my housekeeper
to give him the bottle of wine which I used to celebrate mass.
It was a large bottle, containing nearly a quart of wine, which
would last me at least six months. The whole of which he had
drank during the night!

I had been told that Bishop Vandeveld (as well as the greater
number of the Bishops of the United States) was a drunkard,
but I had never believed it. He always drank very moderately,
before me, any time I sat at his table, or he at mine. It appears
that it was at night, when nobody could see him, that he gave
himself up to that detestable habit. His room was filled with
the odor of what he had vomited, after drinking such an enormous
quantity of wine. He left the room, only at noon, after
the fumes of the wine had almost entirely disappeared, and requested
the housekeeper to cleanse it herself, without letting
the servants know anything of the occurrence of the
night.

But words would fail to express my consternation and the
discouragement I felt. I had formed such a good and exalted
opinion of that man! I had found in him such noble qualities!
His intelligence was so bright, his learning so extensive, his heart
so large, his plans so grand, his piety so sincere, his charity so
worthy of a Bishop of Christ!

It was so pleasant for me to know, till then, that I was
honored with the full confidence of a bishop who, it seemed to
me, had not a superior in our church!

The destruction of my dear church by the hands of incendiaries
was surely a great calamity for me; but the fall of my

bishop, from the high position he had in my heart and mind, was
still greater.

I had the means, in hand, to rebuild that church; but my
confidence in my bishop was irremediably, and forever lost!
Never had a son loved his father more sincerely, than I had
loved him; and never had any priest felt a more sincere respect
for his bishop, than I for him! Oh! what a terrible wound was
made in my heart that day! what tortures I felt!

But how many times, since, I have blessed my God for these
wounds! Without them, I should never have known, that
instead of being in the bosom of the Immaculate Church of
Christ, I was the slave of that great Babylon, which poisons the
nations with the wine of her abominations.

My love and respect for Bishop Vandeveld, were very
strong chains, by which I was bound to the feet of the idols of
Rome. I will earnestly bless God for having himself broken
these chains, on that day of supreme desolation.

The remaining part of the day, as well as the hour of the
next morning which the bishop spent in my house, I remained
almost mute in his presence. He was not less embarrassed when
he asked me my view about his project of leaving the diocese.
I answered him, in a few words, that I could not disapprove the
purpose; for I would, myself, prefer to live in a dark forest, in
the midst of wild animals, than among drunken, atheist priests
and bishops.

Some months later, I learned, without regret, that the Pope
had accepted his resignation of the Bishopric of Chicago, and
appointed him Bishop of Natchez, in Louisiana. His successor
to the Bishopric of Chicago, was Rev. O'Regan.

One of the very first things which this new bishop did, was
to bring Bishop Vandeveld before the criminal tribunals, as a
thief, accusing him of having stolen $100,000 from the Bishopric
of Chicago, and carrying them away with him. There is no
need to say, that this action caused a terrible scandal. Not only
in Illinois, but through all the United States, both priests and laymen
had to blush, and cast down their eyes before the world. The
two bishops, employing the best lawyers to fight each other,

came very near proving to the world that both of them were
equally swindlers and thieves; when the Pope forced them both
to stop their contestation, and bring the affair before his tribunal,
at Rome. There, it was decided that the $100,000, which had
really been taken from Chicago to the Natchez diocese, should
be equally divided between the two bishops.

How many times did I feel my soul brought to the dust, in
the midst of those horrible scandals! How many sleepless nights
have I spent, when a voice, which I could not silence, seemed
crying to me, louder than thunder:

"What are you doing here, extending the power of a church,
which is a den of thieves, drunkards, and impure atheists? A
church, governed by men whom you know to be godless, swindlers,
and vile comedians? Do you not see that you do not follow
the Word of God, but the lying traditions of men, when you
consent to bow your knees before such men? Is it not blasphemy
to call such men the ambassadors, and the disciples of the humble,
pure, holy, peaceful, and divine Jesus? Come out of that church!
Break the fetters, by which you are bound, as a vile slave, to
the feet of such men! Take the Gospel for thine only guide,
and Christ for thine only Ruler!"

I was in desolation, at finding that my faith in my church
was, in spite of myself, shaken by these scandals. With burning
tears rolling down my cheeks, and with a broken, and humiliated
heart, I fell, one night, on my knees, and asked my God
to have mercy upon me, by strengthening my faith and preserving
it from ruin. But it seemed that neither my tears nor my
cries were of any avail, and I remained the whole night, as a
ship struck by a hurricane, drifting on an unknown sea, without
a compass or a rudder.

I was not aware of it then, but I learned it after, that the
divine and sure Pilot was directing my course towards the port
of salvation!

The next day, I had a happy diversion, in the arrival of fifty
new emigrants, who knocked at my door, asking my advice about
the best place to select for their future home.

It seemed to me, though pretty long after that, that my duty

was to go and pay my respects to my new bishop, and open to
him my heart as to my best friend, and the guide whom God
Himself had chosen to heal the wounds of my soul, by pouring
the oil and wine of charity into them.

I will never forget the day (the 11th day of December, 1854)
when I saw Bishop O'Ragan, for the first time, nor the painful
impressions I received from that first interview.

He was of medium stature, with a repugnant face, and his
head always in motion: all its motions seemed the expression of
insolence, contempt, tyranny, and pride; there was absolutely
nothing pleasant, either in his words, or in his manners. I fell
on my knees to ask his benediction, when I had given him my
name and kissed his hand, which seemed as cold as that of a
corpse.

"Ah! ah! you are Father Chiniquy," he said, "I am glad to
see you, though you have deferred your visit a long time; please
sit down, I want some explanation from you about a certain very
strange document, which I have just read to-day;" and he
went, at the double quick, to his room to get the document.
There were two Irish priests in the room, who came a few minutes
before me. When we were alone, one of them said: "We
had hoped that we would gain by changing Bishop Vadeveld,
for this one. But my fear is that we have only passed from
Charybdis to Scylla," and they laughed outright. But I could
not laugh. I was more inclined to weep. After less than ten
minutes of absence, the bishop returned, holding in his hand a
paper, which I understood, at once, to be the deed of the eleven
acres of land, which I had bought, and on which I had built my
chapel of St. Anne.

"Do you known this paper?" he asked me in an angry
manner.

"Yes, my lord, I know it," I answered.

"But, then," he quickly replied, "you must know that that
title is a nullity; a fraud, which you ought never to have signed."

"Your venerable and worthy predecessor has accepted it," I
answered, "and what might have been incorrect has been made
valid, I hope, by his acceptation."

"I do not care a straw about what my predecessor has done,"
he abruptly answered, "he is not here to defend himself; neither
are we here to discuss his merits or demerits. We have not to
deal with my lord Vandeveld, but with a document which is a
nullity, a deception, which must be thrown into the fire; you
must give me another title of that property!"

And saying this, he flung my deed on the floor. I calmly
picked it up, and said:

"I exceedingly regret, my lord, that my first interview with
your lordship should be the occasion of such an unexpected act.
But I hope this will not destroy the paternal sentiments which
God must have put into the heart of my bishop, for the last
and least of his priests. I see that your lordship is very busy;
I do not want to trespass on your valuable time; I take this
rejected document with me, to make another one, which I
hope will be more agreable to your views;" and I then took my
departure.

I leave the reader to imagine the sentiments which filled my
mind when coming back to my colony.

I did not dare to say a word to my people about our bishop.
When questioned by them, I gave the most evasive answers I
could. But I felt as the mariner feels when he hears the rumbling
thunder approaching. Though the sea is calm as the oil of
a lamp, he knows the storm is coming, he trims his sails, and
prepares for the impending hurricane.

It seemed that my most pressing duty, after my first interview,
was to bring my heart nearer to my God than ever; to read
and study my Bible with more attention, and to get my people
to take more than ever the Word of God as their daily bread,
I began, also, to speak more openly of our Christian rights, as
well as of our duties, as these are set forth in the Gospel of
Christ.

Some time, before this, feeling more than ever that I could
not do justice to my colony, by keeping any longer the charge
of Bourbonnais, I had respectfully sent my resignation to the
bishop, which had been accepted. A priest had been called by
him to take my place there. But he too was, ere long, guilty of

a public scandal with his servant girl. The principal citizens of
Bourbonnais protested against his presence in their midst, and
soon forced the bishop to dismiss him. His successor was the
miserable priest, Lebel, who had been turned out of Chicago for
a ciminal offence with his own niece, and was now to be the
curate of Bourbonnais. But his drunkenness and other public
vices, caused him to be interdicted, and expelled from that place,
in the month of September, 1855. About the same time, a priest,
who had been expelled from Belgium, for a great scandal, was
sent to Kankakee, as the curate of the French Canadians of that
interesting young city. After his expulsion from Belgium, he
had come to Chicago, where, under another name, he had made
a fortune, and for five or six years kept a house of prostitution.
Becoming tired of that occupation, he offered $5,000 to the
bishop, if he would accept him as one of his priests, and give
him a parish. Bishop O'Ragan being in need of money, accepted
the gift, and fulfilled the condition by sending him as
missionary to Kankakee.

As soon as he had taken possession of that interesting mission,
he came with Mr. Lebel to pay me a visit. I received them as
politely as possible, though they were both half drunk when
they arrived. After dinner, they went to shoot prairie chickens,
and got so drunk that one of them, Mr. Lebel, lost his boots in
a slough, and came back to my house barefooted, without noticing
his loss. I had to help them get their carriage, and the next day I
wrote them, forbidding them to ever set a foot in my house
again.

But what was my surprise and sadness, not long before these
two infamous priests were ignominiously turned out by their
people, to receive a letter from my bishop, which ended in these
words:

"I am sorry to hear that you refuse to live on good terms
with your two neighboring brother priests. This ought not to
be, and I hope to hear soon, that you have reconciled yourself
with them, in a friendly way, as you ought to have done long
ago."

I answered him:

"It is my interest, as well as my duty, to obey my bishop
I know it. But as long as my bishop gives me for neighbors,
priests, one of whom has lived publicly with his own niece, as his
wife, and the other who has kept a house of prostitution in Chicago,
I respectfully ask my bishop to be excused for not visiting
them."

The bishop felt insulted by my letter, and was furious against
me. It came to be a public fact that he had said before many
people: "I would give anything to the one who would help me
to get rid of that unmanageable Chiniquy."

Among those who heard the bishop, was a land speculator,
a real land-shark, against whom a bill for perjury had
been found by the jury of Iroquois county, the 27th of April,
1854. That man was very angry against me for protecting my
poor countrymen against his too sharp speculations. He said to
the bishop, "if you pay the expenses of the suit, I pledge myself
to have Chiniquy put in gaol." The bishop had publicly
answered him:

"No sum of money will be too great to be delivered from a
priest, who alone gives me more trouble than the rest of my
clergy."

To comply with the desires of the bishop, this speculator
dragged me before the criminal court of Kankakee, on the 16th
day of May, 1855, but he lost his action, and was condemned to
pay the cost.

It was my impression that the bishop, having so often expressed
in public his bad feelings against me, would not visit my
colony. But, I was mistaken, on the 11th of June, taking the
Rev. Mr. Lebel and Carthuval for his companions, he came to
St. Anne to administer the sacrament of confirmation.

As the infamous conduct of those two priests was known to
every one of my people, I felt a supreme disgust at their arrival,
and came very near forbidding them to sit at my table. Having,
however, asked the bishop to give me half-an-hour of private
interview, I respectfully, but energetically protested against the
presence of these two degraded men in my house.

He coldly answered me:

"Mr. Chiniquy, you forget that I am the Bishop of Illinos,
and that you are a simple priest, whom I can interdict and remove
from here when I like. I do not come here to receive your
lessons, but to intimate to you my orders. You seem to torget
that charity is above all others the virtue which must adorn the
soul of a good priest. Your great zeal is nothing before God,
and it is less than nothing before me, so long as you have not
charity. It is my business, and not yours, to know what priests
I must employ or reject. Your business is to respect them, and
forget their past errors, the very day I see fit to receive them
among my priests."

"My lord," I answered, "allow me respectfully to tell you,
that though you are a bishop, and I am a simple priest, the Gospel
of Christ, which we have to preach, tells us to avoid the
company of publicly vicious and profligate men. My conscience
tells me that through respect for myself, and my people, and
through respect for the Gospel I preach, I must avoid the company
of men, one of whom has lived with his niece as his wife,
and the other has, till very lately, been guilty of keeping a house
of prostitution in Chicago. Your lordship may ignore these
things, and, in consequence of that, may give his confidence to
these men; but nothing is more apt to destroy the faith of our
French Canadian people, than to see such men in you company
when you come to administer the sacrament of confirmation.
It is through respect for your lordship, that I take the liberty of
speaking thus."

He angrily answered me:

"I see, now, the truthfulness of what people say about you.
It is to the Gospel you constantly appeal on everything. The
Gospel! The Gospel! is surely a holy book; but remember
that it is the church which must guide you. Christ has said:
`Hear my church.' I am here the interpreter, ambassador—the
representative of the church—when you disobey me, it is the
church you disobey."

"Now, my lord, that I have fiulfilled what I consider a conscientious
duty, I promise, that through respect for your lordship,
and to keep myself in the bonds of peace with my bishop,

I, to-day, will deal with these two priests, as if they were worthy
of the honorable position you give them."

"All right! all right!" replied the bishop. "But it must be
near the hour for dinner."

"Yes, my lord, I have just heard the bell calling us to the
dining-room."

After the blessing of the table by the bishop he looked at
the Rev. Carthuval, who was sitting just before him, and said:

"What is the matter with you, Mr. Carthuval, you do not
look well?"

"No, my lord," he answered, "I am not well, I want to go
to bed."

He was correct, he was not well, for he was drunk.

During the public services, he had left the chapel to come
down to ask for a bottle of the wine I kept to celebrate mass.
The housekeeper, thinking he wanted the wine in the chapel,
handed him the bottle, which he drank in her presence, in less
than five minutes. After which he went up the chapel to help
the bishop in administering the confirmation to the 150 people
whom I had prepared for the reception of that rite.

As soon as dinner was finished, the bishop requested me to
go and take a walk with him. After giving me some compliments,
on the beauty of the site I had chosen for my first village
and chapel, he saw at a short distance, a stone building, which
was raised only a little above the windows, and directing his
steps towards it, he stopped only twenty or thirty feet distant
and asked me:

"Whose house is this?"

"It is mine, my lord."

"It is yours!" he replied, "and to whom does that fine garden
belong?"

"It is mine, also, my lord."

"Well! Well!" he rejoined. "Where did you get the
money to purchase that fine piece of land, and build that house?"

"I got the money where every honest man gets what he
possesses, in my hard labor, and in the sweat of my brow," I
replied.

"I want that house and that piece of land!" rejoined the
bishop, with an imperative voice.

"So do I," I replied.

"You must give me that house, with the land on which it is
built," said the bishop.

"I can not give them as long as I am in need of them, my
lord," I replied.

"I see that you are a bad priest, as I have often been told,
since you disobey your bishop," he rejoined with an angry
manner!

I replied: "I do not see why I am a bad priest, because I
keep what my God has given me."

"Are you ignorant of the fact that you have no right to possess
any property," he answered.

"Yes! my lord, I am ignorant of any law in our holy church
that deprives me of any such rights. If, however, your lordship
can show me any such law, I will give you the title of that
property just now."

"If there is not such a law," he replied, stamping on the
ground with his feet, "I will get one passed."

"My lord," I replied, "You are a great bishop. You have
great power in the church, but allow me to tell you that you
are not great enough to have such a law passed, in our holy
church!"

"You are an insolent priest," he answered with an accent of
terrible anger, "and I will make you repent for your insolence."

He then turned his face towards the chapel, without waiting
for my answer, and ordered the horses put in the carriage, that
he might leave in the shortest possible time.

A quarter of an hour later, he had left St. Anne, where he
was never to come again.

The visit of that mitred thief, with his two profligate priests,
though very short, did much by the mercy of God, to prepare
our minds to understand that Rome is the great harlot of the
Bible, which seduces and intoxicates the nations with the wine
of her prostitution.