CHAPTER 23
I had not been more than three weeks the administrator of the
parish of Charlesbourgh, when the terrible words, "The cholera morbus is in
Quebec!" sent a thrill of terror from one end to the other of Canada.
The cities of Quebec and Montreal, with many surrounding country places, had
been decimated in 1832 by the same terrible scourge. Thousands upon thousands
had fallen its victims; families in every rank of society had disappeared; for
the most skilful physicians of both Europe and America had been unable to stop
its march and ravages. But the year 1833 had passed without hearing almost of a
single case of that fatal disease: we had all the hope that the justice of God
was satisfied, and that He would no more visit us with that horrible plague. In
this, however, we were to be sadly disappointed.
Charlesbourgh is a kind of suburb of Quebec, the greatest part of its
inhabitants had to go within its walls to sell their goods several times every
week. It was evident that we were to be among the first visited by that
messenger of a just, but angry God. I will never forget the hour after I had
heard: "The cholera is in Quebec!" It was, indeed, a most solemn hour
to me. At a glance, I measured the bottomless abyss which was dug under my feet.
We had no physicians, and there was no possibility of having any one for they
were to have more work than they could do in Quebec. I saw that I would have to
be both the body and soulphysician of the numberless victims of this terrible
disease.
The tortures of the dying, the cries of the widows and of the orphans, the
almost unbearable stench of the houses attacked by the scourge, the desolation
and the paralyzing fears of the whole people, the fatherless and motherless
orphans by whom I was to be surrounded, the starving poor for whom I would have
to provide food and clothing when every kind of work and industry was stopped;
but above all, the crowds of penitents whom the terrors of an impending death
would drag to my feet to make their confessions, that I might forgive their
sins, passed through my mind as so many spectres. I fell on my knees, with a
heart beating with emotions that no pen can describe, and prostrating myself
before my too justly angry God, I cried for mercy: with torrents of tears I
asked Him to take away my life as a sacrifice for my people, but to spare them:
raising my eyes towards a beautiful statue of Mary, whom I believed to be then
the Mother of God, I supplicated her to appease the wrath of her Son.
I was still on my knees, when several knocks at the door told me that some one
wanted to speak to me a young woman was there, bathed in tears and pale as
death, who said to me: "My father has just returned from Quebec, and is
dying from the cholera please come quick to hear his confession before he
expires!"
No tongue will ever be able to tell half of the horrors which strike the eyes
and the mind the first time one enters the house of a man struggling in the
agonies of death from cholera. The other diseases seem to attack only one part
of the body at once, but the cholera is like a furious tiger whose sharp teeth
and nails tear his victim from head to feet without sparing any part. The hands
and the feet, the legs and the arms, stomach, the breast and the bowels are at
once tortured. I had never seen anything so terrible as the fixed eyes of that
first victim whom I had to prepare for death. He was already almost as cold as a
piece of ice. He was vomiting and ejecting an incredible quantity of a watery
and blackish matter, which filled the house with an unbearable smell. With a
feeble voice he requested me to hear the confession of his sins, and I ordered
the family to withdraw and leave me alone, that they might not hear the sad
story of his transgressions. But he had not said five words before he cried out:
"Oh my God! what horrible cramps in my leg! For God's sake, rub it."
And when I had given up hearing his confession to rub the leg, he cried again:
"Oh!what horrible cramps in my arms! in my feet! in my shoulders! in my
stomach!" And to the utmost of my capacity and my strength, I rubbed his
arms, his feet, his shoulders, his breast, till I felt so exhausted and covered
with perspiration, that I feared I should faint. During that time the fetid
matter ejected from his stomach, besmeared me almost from head to foot. I called
for help, and two strong men continued with me to rub the poor dying man.
It seemed evident that he could not live very long: his sufferings looked so
terrible and unbearable! I administered him the sacrament of extreme unction.
But I did not leave the house after that ceremony as it is the custom of the
priests. It was the first time that I had met face to face with that giant which
had covered so many nations with desolation and ruin, caused so many torrents of
tears to flow. I had heard so much of him! I knew that, till then, nothing had
been able to stop his forward march! He had scornfully gone through the
obstacles which the most powerful nations had placed before him to retard his
progress. He had mocked the art and science of the most skilful physicians all
over the world! In a single step he had gone from Moscow to Paris! and in
another month he had crossed the bottomless seas which the hands of the Almighty
have spread between Europe and America! That king of terrors, after piling in
their graves, by millions, the rich and the poor, the old and the young, whom he
had met on his march through Asia, Africa, Europe, and America, was now before
me! Nay, he was torturing, before my eyes, the first victim he had chosen among
my people! But the more I felt powerless in the presence of that mighty giant,
the more I wanted to see him face to face. I had a secret pleasure, a holy
pride, in daring him. I wanted to tell him: "I do not fear you! You
mercilessly attack my people, but with the help of God, in the strength of the
One who died on Calvary for me, and who told me that nothing is more sweet and
glorious than to give my life for my friends, I will meet and fight you
everywhere when you attack any one of those sheep who are dearer to me than my
own life!"
Standing by the bedside of the dying man whilst I rubbed his limbs to alleviate
his tortures, I exhorted him to repent. But I closely watched that hand-to-hand
battle that merciless and unequal struggle between the giant and his poor
victim. His agony was long and terrible, for he was a man of great bodily
strength. But after several hours of the most frightful pains, he quietly
breathed his last. The house was crowded with the neighbours and relations, who,
forgetful of the danger of catching the disease, had come to see him. We all
knelt and prayed for the departed soul, after which I gave them a few words
about the necessity of giving up their sins and keeping themselves ready to die
and go at the Master's call.
I then left that desolated house with feelings of distress which no pen can
portray. When I got back to the parsonage, after praying and weeping alone in my
chamber, I took a bath, and washed myself with vinegar and a mixture of camphor,
as a preventive against the epidemic. The rest of the day, till ten at night,
was spent in hearing the confessions of a great number of people whom the fear
of death had dragged around my confessional box that I might forgive their sins.
This hearing of confession was interrupted only at ten o'clock at night, when I
was called to the cemetery to bury the first victim of the cholera in
Charlesbourgh. A great number of people had accompanied the corpse to his last
resting-place: the night was beautiful, the atmosphere balmy, and the moon and
stars had never appeared to me so bright. The stillness of the night was broken
only by the sobs of the relations and friends of the deceased. It was one of the
best opportunities God had ever given me of exhorting the people to repentance.
I took for my text: "Therefore, be ye also ready; for in such an hour as ye
think not, the Son of Man cometh." The spectacle of that grave, filled by a
man who, twenty-four hours before, was full of health and life in the midst of
his happy family, was speaking more eloquently than the words of my lips, to
show that we must be always ready. And never any people entered the threshold of
their homes with more solemn thoughts than those to whom I spoke, that night, in
the midst of the graveyard.
The history of that day is the history of the forty days which followed for not
a single one of them passed without my being called to visit a victim of the
cholera more than one hundred people were attacked by the terrible disease,
nearly forty of whom died!
I cannot sufficiently thank my merciful God for having protected me in such a
marvelous way that I had not a single hour of disease during those two months of
hard labours and sore trials. I had to visit the sick not only as a priest, but
as physician also; for seeing, at first, the absolute impossibility of
persuading any physician from Quebec to give up their rich city patients for our
more humble farmers, I felt it was my duty to make myself as expert as I could
in the art of helping the victims of that cruel and loathsome disease: I studied
the best authors on that subject, consulted the most skilful physicians, got a
little pharmacy which would have done honour to an old physician, and I gave my
care and my medicine gratis. Very soon the good people of Charlesbourgh put as
much, if not more confidence, in my medical care, as in any other of the best
physicians of the country. More than once I had to rub the limbs of so many
patients in the same day, that the skin of my hands was taken away, and several
times the blood came out from the wounds. Dr. Painchaud, one of the ablest
physicians of Quebec, who was my personal friend, told me after, that it was a
most extraordinary thing that I had not fallen a victim to that disease.
I would never have mentioned what I did, in those never-to-be-forgotten days of
the cholera of 1834, when one of the most horrible epidemics which the world has
ever seen spread desolation and death almost all over Canada, if I had been
alone to work as I did; but I am happy and proud to say that, without a single
exception, the French Canadian priests, whose parishes were attacked by that
pestilence, did the same. I could name hundreds of them who, during several
months, also, day after day and night after night, bravely met and fought the
enemy, and fearlessly presented their breast to its blows. I could even name
scores of them who heroically fell and died when facing the foe on that
battlefield!
We must be honest and true towards the Roman Catholic priests of Canada. Few
men, if even any, have shown more courage and self-denial in the hour of danger
than they did. I have seen them at work during the two memorable years of 1832
and 1834, with a courage and self-denial worthy of the admiration of heaven and
earth. Though they know well that the most horrible tortures and death might be
the price of their devotedness, I have not known a single one of them who ever
shrank before the danger. At the first appeal, in the midst of the darkest and
stormiest nights, as well as in the light of the brightest days, they were
always ready to leave their warm and comfortable beds to run to the rescue of
the sick and dying.
But, shall we conclude from that, as the priests of Rome want us to do, that
their religion is the true and divine religion of Christ? Must we believe that
because the priests are brave, admirably brave, and die the death of heroes on
the battlefields, they are the true, the only priests of Christ, the successors
of the apostles the ministers of the religion out of which there is no
salvation? No!
Was it because his religion was the divine and only true one that the
millionaire, Stephen Gerard, when in 1793 Philadelphia was decimated by a most
frightful epidemic, went from house to house, visiting the sick, serving,
washing them with his own hands, and even helping to put them into their
coffins? I ask it again, is it because his religion was the divine religion of
Jesus that that remarkable man, during several months, lived among the dying and
the dead, to help them, when his immense fortune allowed him to put a whole
world between him and the danger? No; for every one knows that Stephen Gerard
was a deist, who did not believe in Christ.
Was it because they followed the true religion that, in the last war between
Russia and Turkey, a whole regiment of Turks heroically ran to a sure death to
obey the order of their general, who commanded them to change bayonets on a
Russian battery, which was pouring upon them a real hail of bullets and
canister? No! surely no!
These Turks were brave, fearless, heroic soldiers, but nothing more. So the
priests of the Pope, who expose themselves in the hour of danger, are brave,
fearless, heroic solders of the Pope but they are nothing more.
Was it because they were good Christians that the soldiers of a French regiment,
at Austerlitz, consented to be slaughtered to the last, at the head of a bridge
where Napoleon had ordered them to remain, with these celebrated words:
"Soldiers! stand there and fight to the last; you will all be killed, but
you will save the army, and we will gain the day!"
Those soldiers were admirably well disciplined they loved their flag more than
their lives they knew only one thing in the world: "Obey the command of
Napoleon!" They fought like giants, and died like heroes. So the priests
are a well disciplined band of soldiers; they are trained to love their church
more than their own life; they also know only one thing: "Obey your
superior, the Pope!" they fight the battle of their church like giants, and
they die like heroes!
Who has not read the history of the renowned French man-of-war, the "Tonnant?"
When she had lost her masts, and was so crippled by the redhot shot of the
English fleet that there was no possibility of escape, what did the soldiers and
mariners of that ship answer to the cries of "Surrender!" which came
from the English admiral? "We die, but do not surrender!"
They all went to the bottom of the sea, and perished rather than see their proud
banners fall into the hands of the foe!
It is because those French warriors were good Christians that they preferred to
die rather than give up their flag? No! But they knew that the eyes of their
country, the eyes of the whole world were upon them. Life became to them a
trifle: it became nothing when placed in the balance against what they
considered their honour, and the honour of their fair and noble country; nay,
life became an undesirable thing, when it was weighted against the glory of
dying at the post of duty and honour.
So it is with the priest of Rome. He knows that the eyes of his people, and of
his superiors the eyes of his whole church are upon him. He knows that if he
shrinks in the hour of danger, he will for ever lose their confidence and their
esteem; that he will lose his position and live the life of a degraded man!
Death seems preferable to such a life.
Yes! let the people of Canada read the history of "La Nouvelle
France," and they will cease from presenting to us the courage of their
priests as an indication of the divinity of their religion. For there they will
see that the worshipers of the wooden gods of the forests have equaled, if not
surpassed, in courage and self-denial in the face of death, the courage and
self-denial of the priests of the wafer god of Rome.
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CHAPTER 24 Back
to Top
In the beginning of September, 1834, the Bishop Synaie gave me
the enviable position of one of the vicars of St. Roch, Quebec, where the Rev.
Mr. Tetu had been curate for about a year. He was one of the seventeen children
of Mr. Francis Tetu, one of the most respectable and wealthy farmers of St.
Thomas. Such was the amiability of character of my new curate, that I never saw
him in bad humour a single time during the four years that it was my fortune to
work under him in that parish. And although in my daily intercourse with him I
sometimes unintentionally sorely tried his patience, I never heard an unkind
word proceed from his lips.
He was a fine looking man, tall and well built, large forehead, blue eyes, a
remarkably fine nose and rosy lips, only a little to feminine. His skin was very
white for a man, but his fine short whiskers, which he knew so well how to trim,
gave his whole mien a manly and pleasant appearance.
He was the finest penman I ever saw; and by far the most skilful skater of the
country. Nothing could surpass the agility and perfection with which he used to
write his name on the ice with his skates. He was also fond of fast horses, and
knew, to perfection, how to handle the most unmanageable steeds of Quebec. He
really looked like Phaeton when, in a light and beautiful buggy, he held the
reins of the fiery coursers which the rich bourgeois of the city like to trust
to him once or twice a week, that he might take a ride with one of his vicars to
the surrounding country. Mr. Tetu was also fond of fine cigars and choice
chewing tobacco. Like the late Pope Pius IX., he also constantly used the snuff
box. He would have been a pretty good preacher, had he not been born with a
natural horror of books. I very seldom saw in his hands any other books than his
breviary, and some treatises on the catechism: a book in his hands had almost
the effect of opium on one's brains, it put him to sleep. One day, when I had
finished reading a volume of Tertullian, he felt much interested in what I said
of the eloquence and learning of that celebrated Father of the Church, and
expressed a desire to read it. I smilingly asked him if he were more than usual
in need of sleep. He seriously answered me that he really wanted to read that
work, and that he wished to begin its study just then. I lent him the volume,
and he went immediately to his room in order to enrich his mind with the
treasures of eloquence and wisdom of that celebrated writer of the primitive
church. Half an hour after, suspecting what would occur, I went down to his
room, and noiselessly opening the door, I found my dear Mr. Tetu sleeping on his
soft sofa, and snoring to his heart's content, while Tertullian was lying on the
floor! I ran to the rooms of the other vicars, and told them: "Come and see
how our good curate is studying Tertullian!"
There is no need to say that we had a hearty laugh at his expense.
Unfortunately, the noise we made awoke him, and we then asked him: "What do
you think of Tertullian?"
He rubbed his eyes, and answered, "Well, well! what is the matter? Are you
not four very wicked men to laugh at the human frailties of your curate?"
We for a while called him Father Tertullian.
Another day he requested me to give him some English lessons. For, though my
knowledge of English was then very limited, I was the only one of five priests
who understood and could speak a few words in that language. I answered him that
it would be as pleasant as it was easy for me to teach the little I knew of it,
and I advised him to subscribe for the "Quebec Gazette," that I might
profit by the interesting matter which that paper used to give to its readers;
and at the same time I should teach him to read and understand its contents.
The third time that I went to his room to give him his lesson, he gravely asked
me: "Have you ever seen `General Cargo?'"
I was at first puzzled by that question, and answered him: "I never heard
that there was any military officer by the name of `General Cargo.' How do you
know that there is such a general in the world?"
He quickly answered: "There is surely a `General Cargo' somewhere in
England or America, and he must be very rich; for see the large number of ships
which bear his name, and have entered the port of Quebec, these last few
days!"
Seeing the strange mistake, and finding his ignorance so wonderful, I burst into
a fit of uncontrollable laughter. I could not answer a word, but cried at the
top of my voice: "General Cargo! General Cargo!"
The poor curate, stunned by my laughing, looked at me in amazement. But, unable
to understand its cause, he asked me: "Why do you laugh?" But the more
stupefied he was, the more I laughed, unable to say anything but "General
Cargo! General Cargo!"
The three other vicars, hearing the noise, hastily came from their rooms to
learn its cause, and get a good laugh also. But I was so completely beside
myself with laughing, that I could not answer their questions in any other way
than by crying, "General Cargo! General Cargo!"
The puzzled curate tried then to give them some explanation of that mystery,
saying with the greatest naivete: "I cannot see why our little Father
Chiniquy is laughing so convulsively. I put to him a very simple question, when
he entered my room to give me my English lesson. I simply asked him if he had
ever seen `General Cargo,' who has sent so many ships to our port these last few
days, and added that that general must be very rich, since he has so many ships
on he sea!" The three vicars saw the point, and without being able to
answer him a word, they burst into such fits of laughter, that the poor curate
felt more than ever puzzled.
"Are you crazy?" he said. "What makes you laugh so when I put to
you such a simple question? Do you not know anything about that `General Cargo,'
who surely must live somewhere, and be very rich, since he sends so many vessels
to our port that they fill nearly two columns of the `Quebec Gazette'?"
These remarks of the poor curate brought such a new storm of irrepressible
laughter from us all as we never experienced in our whole lives. It took us some
time to sufficiently master our feelings to tell him that "General
Cargo" was not the name of any individual, but only the technical words to
say that the ships were laden with general goods.
The next morning, the young and jovial vicars gave the story to their friends,
and the people of Quebec had a hearty laugh at the expense of our friend. From
that time we called our good curate by the name of "General Cargo,' and he
was so good-natured that he joined with us in joking at his own expense. It
would require too much space were I to publish all the comic blunders of that
good man, and so I shall give only one more.
On one of the coldest days of January, 1835, a merchant of seal skins came to
the parsonage with some of the best specimens of his merchandise, that we might
buy them to make overcoats, for in those days the overcoats of buffalo or
raccoon skins were not yet thought of. Our richest men used to have beaver
overcoats, but the rest of the people had to be contented with Canada seal
skins; a beaver overcoat could not be had for less than 200 dollars.
Mr. Tetu was anxious to buy the skins; his only difficulty was the high price
asked by the merchant. For nearly an hour he had turned over and over again the
beautiful skins, and has spent all his eloquence on trying to bring down their
price, when the sexton arrived, and told him, respectfully, "Mr. le Cure,
there are a couple of people waiting for you with a child to be baptized."
"Very well," said the curate, "I will go immediately;" and
addressed the merchant, he said,"Please wait a moment; I will not be long
absent."
In two minutes after the curate had donned the surplice, and was going at full
speed through the prayers and ceremonies of baptism. For, to be fair and true
towards Mr. Tetu (and I might say the same thing of the greatest part of the
priests I have known), it must be acknowledged that he was very exact in all his
ministerial duties; yet he was, in this case, going through them by steam, if
not by electricity. He was soon at the end. But, after the sacrament was
administered, we were enjoined, then, to repeat an exhortation to the godfathers
and godmothers, from the ritual which we all knew by heart, and which began with
these words: "Godfathers and Godmothers: You have brought a sinner to the
church, but you will take back a saint!"
As the vestry was full of people who had come to confess, Mr. Tetu thought that
it was his duty to speak with more emphasis than usual, in order to have his
instructions heard and felt by everyone, but instead of saying, "Godfather
and Godmother, You have brought a sinner to the church, you will take back a
saint!" he, with great force and unction said: "Godfather and
Godmother, You have brought a sinner to the church, you will take back a seal
skin!"
No words can describe the uncontrollable burst and roar of laughter among the
crowd, when they heard that the baptized child was just changed into a
"seal skin." Unable to contain themselves, or do any serious thing,
they left the vestry to go home and laugh to their heart's content.
But the most comic part of this blunder was the sang froid and the calmness with
which Mr. Tetu, turning towards me, asked: "Will you be kind enough to tell
me the cause of that indecent and universal laughing in the midst of such a
solemn action as the baptism of this child?"
I tried to tell him his blunder, but for some time it was impossible to express
myself. My laughing propensities were so much excited, and the convulsive
laughter of the whole multitude made such a noise, that he would not have heard
me had I been able to answer him. It was only when the greatest part of the
crowd had left that I could reveal to Mr. Tetu that he had changed the baptized
baby into a "seal skin!" He heartily laughed at his own blunder, and
calmly went back to buy his seal skins. The next day the story went from house
to house in Quebec, and caused everywhere such a laugh as they had not had since
the birth of "General Cargo."
That priest was a good type of the greatest part of the priests of Canada. Fine
fellows social and jovial gentlemen as fond of smoking their cigars as of
chewing their tobacco and using their snuff; fond of fast horses; repeating the
prayers of their breviary and going through the performance of their ministerial
duties with as much speed as possible. With a good number of books in their
libraries, but knowing nothing of them but the titles. Possessing the Bible, but
ignorant of its contents, believing that they had the light, when they were in
awful darkness; preaching the most monstrous doctrines as the gospel of truth;
considering themselves the only true Christians in the world, when they
worshipped the most contemptible idols made with hands. Absolutely ignorant of
the Word of God, while they proclaimed and believed themselves to be the lights
of the world. Unfortunate, blind men, leading the blind into the ditch!
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CHAPTER 25 Back
to Top
In one of the pleasant hours which we used invariably to pass
after dinner, in the comfortable parlour of our parsonage, one of the vicars,
Mr. Louis Parent, said to the Rev. Mr. Tetu, "I have handed this morning
more than one hundred dollars to the bishop, as the price of the masses which my
pious penitents have requested me to celebrate, the greatest part of them for
the souls in purgatory. Every week I have to do the same thing, just as each of
you, and every one of the hundreds of priests in Canada have to do. Now I would
like to know how the bishops can dispose of all these masses, and what they do
with the large sums of money which go into their hands from every part of the
country to have masses said. This question vexes me, and I would like to know
your mind about it."
The good curate answered in a joking manner, as usual: "If the masses paid
into our hands, which go to the bishop, are all celebrated, purgatory must be
emptied twice a day. For I have calculated that the sums given for those masses
in Canada cannot be less than 4,000 dollars every day, and, as there are three
times as many Catholics in the United States as here, and as those Irish
Catholics are more devoted to the souls in purgatory than the Canadians, there
is no exaggeration in saying that they give as much as our people; 16,000
dollars at least will thus be given every day in these two countries to throw
cold water on the burning flames of that fiery prison. Now these 16,000 dollars
given every day, multiplied by the 365 days of the year, make the handsome sum
of 5,840,000 dollars paid for that object in low masses every year. But, as we
all know, that more than twice as much is paid for high masses than for the low,
it is evident that more than 10,000,000 dollars are expended to help the souls
of purgatory end their tortures every twelve months, in North America alone. If
those millions of dollars do not benefit the good souls in purgatory, they at
all events are of some benefit to our pious bishops and holy popes, in whose
hands the greatest part must remain till the day of judgment. For there is not a
sufficient number of priests in the world to say all the masses which are paid
for by the people. I do not know any more than you do about what the bishops do
with those millions of dollars; they keep that among their secret good works.
But it is evident there is a serious mystery here. I do not mean to say that the
Yankee and the Canadian bishops swallow those huge piles of dollars as sweet
oranges; or that they are a band of big swindlers, who employ smaller ones,
called Revs. Tetu, Bailargeon, Chiniquy, Parent, ect., to fill their treasures.
But, if you want to know my mind on that delicate subject, I will tell you that
the least we think and speak of it the better it is for us. Every time my
thoughts turn to those streams of money which day and night flow from the small
purses of our pious and unsuspecting people into our hands, and from ours into
those of the bishops, I feel as if I were choking. If I am at the table I can
neither eat nor drink, and if in my bed at night, I cannot sleep. But as I like
to eat, drink, and sleep, I reject those thoughts as much as possible, and I
advise you to do the same thing."
The other vicars seemed inclined, with Mr. Parent, to accept that conclusion;
but, as I had not said a single word, they requested me to give them my views on
that vexatious subject, which I did in the following brief words:-
"There are many things in our holy church which look like dark spots; but I
hope that this is due only to our ignorance. No doubt these very things would
look as white as snow, were we to see and know them just as they are. Our holy
bishops, with the majority of the Catholic priests of the United States and
Canada, cannot be that band of thieves and swindlers whose phantoms chill the
blood of our worthy curate. So long as we do not know what the bishops do with
those numberless masses paid into their hands, I prefer to believe that they act
as honest men."
I had hardly said these few words, when I was called to visit a sick
parishioner, and the conversation was ended.
Eight days later, I was alone in my room, reading the "L'Ami de la Religion
et du Roi," a paper which I received from Paris, edited by Picot. My
curiosity was not a little excited, when I read, at the head of a page, in large
letters: "Admirable Piety of the French Canadian People." The reading
of that page made me shed tears of shame, and shook my faith to its foundation.
Unable to contain myself, I ran to the rooms of the curate and the vicars, and
said to them: "A few days ago we tried, but in vain, to find what becomes
of the large sums of money which pass from the people, through our hands, into
those of the bishop, to say masses; but here is the answer, I have the key to
that mystery, which is worthy of the darkest ages of the Church. I wish I were
dead, rather than see with my own eyes such abominations." We then read
that long chapter, the substance of which was that the venerable bishops of
Quebec had sent not less than one hundred thousand francs, at different times,
to the priests of Paris, that they might say four hundred thousand masses at
five cents each! Here we had the sad evidence that our bishops had taken four
hundred thousand francs from our poor people, under the pretext of saving the
souls from purgatory! That article fell upon us as a thunderbolt. For a long
time we looked at each other without being able to utter a single word; our
tongues were as paralyzed by our shame: we felt as vile criminals when detected
on the spot.
At last, Baillargeon, addressing the curate, said: "Is it possible that our
bishops are swindlers, and we, their tools to defraud our people? What would
that people say, if they knew that not only we do not say the masses for which
they constantly fill our hands with their hard-earned money, but that we send
those masses to be said in Paris for five cents! What will our good people think
of us all when they know that our bishop pockets twenty cents out of every mass
they ask us to celebrate according to their wishes."
The curate answered: "it is very lucky that the people do not know that
sharp operation of our bishops, for they would surely throw us all into the
river. Let us keep that shameful trade as secret as possible. For what is the
crime of simony if this be not an instance of it?"
I replied: "How can you hope to keep that traffic of the body and blood of
Christ a secret, when not less than 40,000 copies of this paper are circulated
in France, and more than 100 copies come to the Untied States and Canada! The
danger is greater than you suspect; it is even at our doors. It is not on
account of such public and undeniable crimes and vile tricks of the clergy of
France, that the French people in general, not only have lost almost every
vestige of religion, but, not half a century ago, condemned all the bishops and
priests of France to death as public malefactors?
"But that sharp mercantile operation of our bishops takes a still darker
colour, when we consider that those `five-cent masses' which are said in Paris
are not worth a cent. For who among us is ignorant of the fact that the greatest
part of the priests of Paris are infidels, and that many of them live publicly
with concubines? Would our people put their money in our hands if we were honest
enough to tell them that their masses would be said for five cents in Paris by
such priests? Do we not deceive them when we accept their money, under the well
understood condition that we shall offer the holy sacrifice according to their
wishes? But, instead of that, we get it sent to France, to be disposed of in
such a criminal way. But, if you allow me to speak a little more, I have another
strange fact to consider with you, which is closely connected with this
simoniacal operation?"
"Yes! speak, speak!" answered all four priests.
I then resumed: "Do you remember how you were enticed into the `Three
Masses Society'? Who among us had the idea that the new obligations we were then
assuming were such that the greatest part of the year would be spent in saying
masses for the priests, and that it would thus become impossible to satisfy the
pious demands of the people who support us? We already belonged to the societies
of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of St. Michael, which raised to five the number
of masses we had to celebrate for the dead priests. Dazzled by the idea that we
would have two thousand masses said for us at our death, we bit at the bait
presented to us by the bishop as hungry fishes, without suspecting the hook. The
result is that we have had to say 165 masses for the 33 priests who died during
the past year, which means that each of us has to pay forty-one dollars to the
bishop for masses which he has had said in Paris for eight dollars. Each mass
which we celebrate for a dead priest here, is a mass which the more priests he
enrolls in his society of `Three Masses,' the more twenty cents he pockets from
us and from our pious people. Hence his admirable zeal to enroll every one of
us. It is not the value of the money which our bishop so skillfully got from our
hands which I consider, but I feel desolate when I see that by these societies
we become the accomplices of his simoniacal trade. For, being forced the
greatest part of the year to celebrate the holy sacrifice for the benefit of the
dead priests, we cannot celebrate the masses for which we are daily paid by the
people, and are therefore forced to transfer them into the hands of the bishop,
who sends them to Paris, after spiriting away twenty cents from each of them.
However, why should we lament over the past? It is no more within our reach.
There is no remedy for it. Let us then learn from the past errors how to be wise
in the future."
Mr. Tetu answered: "You have shown us our error. Now, can you indicate any
remedy?"
"I cannot say that the remedy we have in hand is one of those patented
medicines which will cure all the diseases of our sickly church in Canada, but I
hope it will help to bring a speedy convalescence. That remedy is to abolish the
society of `Three Masses,' and to establish another of `One Mass,' which will be
said at the death of every priest. In that way it is true that instead of 2,000
masses, we shall have only 1,200 at our death. But if 1,200 masses do not open
to us the gates of heaven, it is because we shall be in hell. By that reduction
we shall be enabled to say more masses at the request of our people, and shall
diminish the number of five cent masses said by the priests of Paris at the
request of our bishop. If you take my advice, we will immediately name the Rev.
Mr. Tetu president of the new society, Mr. Parent will be its treasurer, and I
consent to act as your secretary, if you like it. When our society is organized,
we will send our resignations to the president of the other society, and we
shall immediately address a circular to all the priests, to give them the reason
for the change, and respectfully ask them to unite with us in this new society,
in order to diminish the number of masses which are celebrated by the five cents
priests of Paris."
Within two hours the new society was fully organized, the reasons of its
formation written in a book, and our names were sent to the bishop, with a
respectful letter informing him that we were no more members of the `Three
Masses Society.' That letter was signed, C. Chiniquy, Secretary. Three hours
later, I received the following note from the bishop's palace:
.
"My Lord Bishop of Quebec wants to see you
immediately upon important affairs. Do not fail to come without delay.
Truly yours,
"Charles F. Cazeault, Secy."
I showed the missive to the curate and the vicars, and told them: "A big
storm is raging on the mountain; this is the first peal of thunder the
atmosphere looks dark and heavy. Pray for me that I may speak and act as an
honest and fearless priest, when in the presence of the bishop."
In the first parlour of the bishop I met my personal friend, Secretary Cazeault.
He said to me: "My dear Chiniquy, you are sailing on a rough sea you must
be a lucky mariner if you escape the wreck. The bishop is very angry at you; but
be not discouraged, for the right is on your side." He then kindly opened
the door of the bishop's parlour, and said:
"My lord, Mr. Chiniquy is here, waiting for your orders."
"Let him come, sir," answered the bishop.
I entered and threw myself at his feet, as it is the usage of the priests. But,
stepping backward, he told me in a most excited manner: "I have no
benediction for you till you give me a satisfactory explanation of your strange
conduct."
I arose to my feet and said: "My lord, what do you want from me?"
"I want you, sir, to explain to me the meaning of this letter signed by you
as secretary of a new-born society called, `One Mass Society.'" At the same
time he showed me my letter.
I answered him: "My lord the letter is in good French your lordship must
have understood it well. I cannot see how any explanation on my part could make
it clearer."
"What I want to know from you, is what you mean, and what is your object in
leaving the old and respectable `Three Mass Society'? Is it not composed of your
bishops and of all the priests of Canada? Did you not find yourself in
sufficiently good company? Do you object to the prayers said for the souls in
purgatory?"
I replied: "My lord, I will answer by revealing to your lordship a fact
which was not sufficiently attracted your attention. The great number of masses
which we have to say for the souls of the dead priests makes it impossible for
us to say the masses for which the people pay into our hands; and then instead
of having these holy sacrifices offered by the good priests of Canada, your
lordship has recourse to the priests of France, where you get them said for five
cents. We see two great evils in this: First, our masses are said by priests in
whom we have not the least confidence; and though the masses they say are very
cheap, they are too dearly purchased; for between you and me, we can say that,
with very few exceptions, the masses said by the priests of France, particularly
of Paris, are not worth one cent. The second evil is still greater, for in our
eyes, it is one of the greatest crimes which our holy church has always
condemned, the crime of simony."
"Do you mean to say," indignantly replied the bishop, "that I am
guilty of the crime of simony?"
"Yes! my lord; it is just what I mean to say, and I do not see how your
lordship does not understand that the trade in masses by which you gain 400,000
francs on a spiritual merchandise, which you get for 100,000, is not
simony."
"You insult me! You are the most impudent man I ever saw. If you do retract
what you have said, I will suspend and excommunicate you!"
"My suspension and my excommunication will not make the position of your
lordship much better. For the people will know that you have excommunicated me
because I protested against your trade in masses. They will know that you pocket
twenty cents on every mass, and that you get them said for five cents in Paris
by priests, the greatest part of whom live with concubines, and you will see
that there will be only one voice in Canada to bless me for my protest and to
condemn you for your simoniacal trade on such a sacred thing as the holy and
tremendous sacrifice of the body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus
Christ."
I uttered these words with such perfect calmness that the bishop saw that I had
not the least fear of his thunders. He began to pace the room, and he heaped on
my devoted head all the epithets by which I could learn that I was an insolent,
rebellious and dangerous priest.
"It is evident to me," he said, "that you aim to be a reformer, a
Luther, au petit pied, in Canada. But you will never be anything else than a
monkey!"
I saw that my bishop was beside himself, and that my perfect calmness added to
his irritation. I answered him: "If Luther had never done anything worse
than I do today, he ought to be blessed by God and man. I respectfully request
your lordship to be calm. The subject on which I speak to you is more serious
than you think. Your lordship, by asking twenty-five cents for a mass which can
be said for five cents, does a thing which you would condemn if it were done by
another man. You are digging under your own feet, and under the feet of your
priests the same abyss in which the Church of France nearly perished, not half a
century ago. You are destroying with your own hands every vestige of religion in
the hearts of the people, who will sooner or later know it. I am your best
friend, your most respectful priest, when I fearlessly tell you this truth
before it is too late. Your lordship knows that he has not a priest who loves
and cherishes him more than I do God knows, it is because I love and respect
you, as my own father, that I profoundly deplore the illusions which prevent you
from seeing the terrible consequences that will follow, if our pious people
learn that you abuse their ignorance and their good faith, by making them pay
twenty-five cents for a thing which costs only five. Woe to your lordship! Woe
to me, woe to our holy church, the day that our people know that in our holy
religion the blood of Christ is turned into merchandise to fill the treasury of
the bishops and popes!"
It was evident that these last words, said with the most perfect
self-possession, had not all been lost. The bishop had become calmer. He
answered me: "You are young and without experience; your imagination is
easily fed with phantoms; when you know a little more, you will change your mind
and will have more respect for your superiors. I hope your present error is only
a momentary one. I could punish you for this freedom with which you have dared
to speak to your bishop, but I prefer to warn you to be more respectful and
obedient in future. Though I deplore for your sake, that you have requested me
to take away your name from the `Three Mass Society' you and the four simpletons
who have committed the same act of folly, are the only losers in the matter.
Instead of two thousand masses said for the deliverance of your souls from the
flames of Purgatory, you will have only twelve hundred. But, be sure of it,
there is too much wisdom and true piety in my clergy to follow your example. You
will be left alone, and I fear, covered with ridicule. For they will call you
the `little reformer.'"
I answered the bishop: "I am young, it is true, but the truths I have said
to your lordship are as old as the Gospel. I have such confidence in the
infinite merits of the holy sacrifice of the mass, that I sincerely believe,
that twelve hundred masses said by good priests, are enough to cleanse my soul
and extinguish the flames of purgatory. But, besides, I prefer twelve hundred
masses said by one hundred sincere Canadian priests, to a million said by the
five cent priests of Paris."
These last words, spoken with a tone half serious, half jocose, brought a change
on the face of my bishop. I thought it was a good moment to get my benediction
and take leave of him. I took my hat, knelt at his feet, obtained his blessing,
and left.
CHAPTER 26 Back to Top
The hour of my absence had been one of anxiety for the curate
and the vicars. But my prompt return filled them with joy.
"What news?" they all exclaimed.
"Good news," I answered; "the battle has been fierce but short.
We have gained the day;; and if we are only true to ourselves, another great
victory is in store for us. The bishop is so sure that we are the only ones who
think of that reform, that he will not move a finger to prevent the other
priests from following us. This security will make our success infallible. But
we must not lose a moment. Let us address our circular to every priest in
Canada."
One hour later there were more than twenty writers at work, and before
twenty-four hours, more than three hundred letters were carried to all the
priests, giving them the reasons why we should try, by all fair means, to put an
end to the shameful simoniacal trade in masses which was going on between Canada
and France.
The week was scarcely ended, when letters came from almost all curates and
vicars to the bishop, respectfully requesting him to withdraw his name from
"The Society of the Three Masses." Only fifty refused to comply with
our request.
Our victory was more complete than we had expected. But the Bishop of Quebec,
hoping to regain his lost ground, immediately wrote to the Bishop of Montreal,
my Lord Telemesse, to come to his help and show us the enormity of the crime we
had committed, in rebelling against the will of our ecclesiastical superiors.
A few days later, to my great dismay, I received a short and very cold note from
the bishop's secretary, telling me that their lordships, the Bishops of Montreal
and Quebec, wanted to see me at the palace, without delay. I had never seen the
Bishop of Montreal, and my surprise and disappointment were great in finding
myself in the presence of a man, my idea of whom was of gigantic proportions,
when in reality, he was very small. But I felt exceedingly well pleased by the
admirable mixture of firmness, intelligence, and honesty of his whole demeanor.
His eyes were piercing as the eagle's; but when fixed on me, I saw in them the
marks of a noble and honest heart.
The motions of his head were rapid, his sentences short, and he seemed to know
only one line, the straight one, when approaching a subject or dealing with a
man. He had the merited reputation of being one of the most learned and eloquent
men of Canada. The Bishop of Quebec had remained on his sofa, and left the
Bishop of Montreal to receive me. I fell at his feet and asked his blessing,
which he gave me in the most cordial way. Then, putting his hand upon my
shoulder, he said, in a Quaker style: "Is it possible that thou art
Chiniquy that young priest who makes so much noise? How can such a small man
make so much noise?"
There being a smile on his countenance as he uttered these words, I saw at once
that there was no anger or bad feeling in his heart; I replied: "My lord;
do you not know that the most precious pearls and perfumes are put up in the
smallest vases?"
The bishop saw that this was a compliment to his address; he smilingly replied:
"Well, well, if thou art a noisy priest, thou art not a fool. But, tell me,
why dost thou want to destroy our `Three Mass Society' and establish that new
one on its ruins, in spite of thy superiors?"
"My lord, my answer will be as respectful, short, and plain as possible. I
have left the `Three Mass Society' because it was my right to do it, without
anybody's permission. I hope our venerable Canadian bishops do not wish to be
served by slaves!"
"I do not say," replied the bishop, "that you wert bound in
conscience to remain in the `Three Mass Society;' but, can I know why thou hast
left such a respectable association, at the head of which thou seest thy bishops
and the most venerable priests in Canada?"
"I will again be plain in my answer, my lord. If your lordship wants to go
to hell with your venerable priests by spiriting away twenty cents from every
one of our honest and pious penitents, for masses which you get said for five,
by bad priests in Paris, I will not follow you. Moreover, if your lordship wants
to be thrown into the river by the furious people, when they know how long and
how cunningly we have cheated them, with our simoniacal trade in masses, I do
not want to follow you into the cold stream."
"Well! well, answered the bishop, "let us drop that matter for
ever."
He uttered this short sentence with such an evidence of sincerity and honesty,
that I saw he really meant it. He had, at a glance, seen that his ground was
untenable, in the presence of priests who knew their rights, and had a mind to
stand by them.
My joy was great indeed at such a prompt and complete victory. I fell again at
the bishop's feet, and asked his benediction before taking leave of him I then
left to go and tell the curates and vicars the happy issue of our interview with
the bishop of Montreal.
From that time till now, at the death of every priest, the Clerical Press never
failed mentioning whether the deceased priest belonged to the "Three"
or "One Mass Society."
We had, to some extent, diminished the simoniacal and infamous trade in masses;
but unfortunately we had not destroyed it; and I know that today it has revived.
Since I left the Church of Rome, the Bishops of Quebec have raised the
"Three Mass Society" from its grave.
It is a public fact, that no priest will dare deny, that the trade in masses is
still conducted on a large scale with France. There are in Paris and other large
cities in that country, public agencies to carry on that shameful traffic. It
is, generally, in the hands of booksellers or merchants of church ornaments.
Every year their houses send a large number of prospectuses through France and
Belgium and other catholic countries, in which they say that, in order to help
the priests, who having received money for their masses, don't know where to
have them said; they offer a premium of twenty-five or thirty per cent to those
who will send them the surplus of the money they have in hand, to offer the Holy
Sacrifice of the Mass.
The priests who have such surplus, tempted by that premium, which is usually
paid with a watch or a chain, or a chalice, disgorge a part, or the whole of the
large sums they possess, into the hands of the pious merchants, who take this
money and use it as they please.
But they never pay the masses in money, they give only merchandise. For
instance, that priest will receive a watch, if he promises to celebrate one or
two hundred masses, or a chalice to celebrate three or four hundred masses. I
have, here in my hand, several of the contracts or promissory notes sent by
those merchants of masses to the priests. The public will, no doubt, read the
following documents with interest. They were handed me by a priest lately
converted from the Church of Rome:
.
RUE DE REIMES - PARIS
Ant. Levesques, editor of the works of Mr. Dufriche - Desgenettes.
Cure of Notre Dame des Victories.
Delivered to the Rev. Mr. Camerle, curate of Ansibeau (Basses Alpes). Paris,
October 12, 1874.
10 metres of Satin Cloth at 22 francs.................... 220.
8" of Merino, all wool.................................. 123.
Month of May............................................. 2.
History of Mary Christina................................ 1.40
Life of St. Stanislas Koska.............................. 2.
Meditations of the Soul.................................. 4.
Jesus Christ, the Light of the World..................... 2.
Packing and Freight...................................... 9.30
Total......................................................... 363.70
Mr. Curate; We have the honour of informing you that the packages containing the
articles you have ordered on the 4th of October, were shipped on the 12th of
October, to Digne, where we respectfully request you to go and ask for them. For
the payment of these articles, we request you to say the following masses:
58 ad intentionem of the giver, for the discharge of Rev. Mr. Montet.
58 ad intentionem of the givers, for the discharge of Rev. Mr. Hoeg.
100 - 188 for the dead, for the discharge of Rev. Mr. Wod.
Mr. Curate: Will you be kind enough to say or have said all those masses in the
shortest time possible, and answer these Revd. gentlemen, if they make any
inquiries about the acquittal of those masses.
Respectfully yours,
(Signed) Ant. Levesques.
Paris, November 11th, 1874.
Rev. Mr. Camerle; We have the honour of addressing you the invoice of what we
forwarded to you on the 12th of October. On account we have put to your credit
188 masses. We respectfully request you to get said the following intentions:
73 for the dead, to the acquittal of Rev. Mr. Watters,
70 pro defuncto, For the discharge of
20 ad intentionem donatis, Rev. Mr. C.
13 ad intentionem donatis, ____ 176
Mr. Curate; Be kind enough to say these masses, or have them said as soon as
possible, and answer the reverend gentleman who may inquire from you about their
acquittal. The 188 masses mentioned in our letter of the 3rd inst., added to the
176 here mentioned, make 364 francs, the value of the goods sent you. We thought
you would like to have the pamphlets of propaganda we address you.
Respectfully your,
(signed) Ant. Levesques.
Hence, it is that priests, in France and elsewhere, have gold
watches, rich house furniture, and interesting books, purchased with the money
paid by our poor deluded Canadian Catholics to their priests, for masses which
are turned into mercantile commodities in other places. It would be difficult to
say who makes the best bargain between those merchants of masses, the priests to
whom they are sold, or those from whom they are bought at a discount of
twenty-five to thirty per cent.
The only evident thing is the cruel deception practiced on the credulity and
ignorance of the Roman Catholics by their priests and bishops. Today, the houses
of Dr. Anthony Levesques in Paris are the most accredied in France. In 1874, the
house of Mesme was doing an immense business with its stock of masses, but in an
evil day, the government suspected that the number of masses paid into their
hands, exceeded the number of those celebrated through their hired priests. The
suspicions soon turned into certainty when the books were examined. It was then
found that an incredible number of masses, which were to empty the large room of
purgatory, never reached their destination, but only filled the purse of the
Parisian mass merchant; and so the unlucky Mesme was unceremoniously sent to the
penitentiary to meditate on the infinite merits of the Holy Sacrifice of the
Mass, which had been engulfed in his treasures.
But these facts are not known by the poor Roman Catholics of Canada, who are
fleeced more and more by their priests, under the pretext of saving souls from
purgatory.
A new element of success in the large swindling operations of the Canadian
priests has lately been discovered. It is well known that in the greater part of
the United States, the poor deluded Irish pay one dollar to their priest,
instead of a shilling, for a low mass. Those priests whose conscience are
sufficiently elastic (as is often the case), keep the money without ever
thinking of having the masses said, and soon get rich. But there are some whose
natural honesty shrinks from the idea of stealing; but unable to celebrate all
the masses paid for and requested at their hands, they send the dollars to some
of their clerical friends in Canada, who, of course, prefer these one dollar
masses to the twentyfive cent ones paid by the French Canadians. However, they
keep that secret and continue to fill their treasury.
There are, however, many priests in Canada who think it less evil to keep those
large sums of money in their own hands, than to give them to the bishops to
traffic with the merchants of Paris. At the end of one of the ecclesiastical
retreats in the seminary of St. Sulpice in 1850, Bishop Bourget told us that one
of the priests who had lately died, had requested him, in the name of Jesus
Christ, to ask every priest to take a share in the four thousand dollars which
he had received for masses he never said. We refused to grant him that favour,
and those four thousand dollars received by that priest, like the millions put
into the hands of other priests and the bishops, turned to be nothing less than
an infamous swindling operation under the mask of religion.
To understand what the priests of Rome are, let the readers note what is said in
the Roman Catholic Bible, of the priest of Babylon: -
"And King Astyges was gathered to his fathers, and Cyrus, of Persia,
received his kingdom, and Daniel conversed with the king, and was honoured above
all his friends. Now the Babylonians had an idol, called Bel, and there were
spent upon him, every day, twelve measures of fine flour, and forty sheep and
six vessels of wine. And the king worshipped it and went daily to adore: but
Daniel worshipped his own God, and the king said unto him: `Why dost thou not
worship Bel?' who answered and said: `Because I may not worship idols made with
hands, but the living God, who hath created the heavens and the earth, and hath
sovereignty over all flesh.' Then the king said: `Thinkest thou not that Bel is
a living God! Seest thou not how much he eateth and drinketh every day?'
"Then Daniel smiled and said: `Oh, king! be not deceived; for this is but
clay within and brass without, and did never eat or drink anything.'
"So that king was wroth, and called for his priests and said: `If ye tell
me not who this is that devoureth these expenses, ye shall die; but if ye can
certify me that Bel devoureth them, then Daniel shall die, for he has spoken
blasphemy against Bel.' And Daniel said unto the king; `Let it be according to
thy word."
"Now the priests of Bel were three score and ten, besides their wives and
children.
"And the king went with Daniel to the temple of Bel so Bel's priests said:
`Lo! we got out, but thou, O king, set on the meat, and make ready the wine, and
shut the door fast, and seal it with thine own signet; and to-morrow when thou
comest in, if thou findest not that Bel had eaten up all, we will suffer death;
or else, Daniel, that speaketh falsely against Bel, shall die and they little
regarded it, for under the table they had made a privy entrance, whereby they
entered continually and consumed those things.'
"So when they were gone forth, the king set meats before Bel.
"Now Daniel had commanded his servants to bring ashes, and those they
strewed throughout all the temple, in the presence of the king alone: then went
they out, and shut the door, and sealed it with the king's signet, and so
departed.
"Now in the night came the priests, with their wives and children, as they
were wont to do, and did eat and drink up all.
"In the morning betimes the king arose, and Daniel with him.
"And the king said, `Daniel, are the seals whole?' And he said, `Yea, O
king, they be whole.' And as soon as they had opened the door, the king looked
upon the table, and cried with a loud voice: `Great art thou, O Bel! and with
thee there is no deceit at all.' Then laughed Daniel, and held the king that he
should not go in, and said: `Behold now the pavement, and mark well whose
footsteps are these.' And the king said: `I see the footprints of men, women,
and children.' And then the king was angry, and took the priests, with their
wives and children, who showed him the privy doors, where they came in and
consumed such things as were on the tables.
"Therefore the king slew them, and delivered Bel into Daniel's power, who
destroyed him and his temple."
Who does not pity the king of Babylon, who, when looking at his clay and brass
god, exclaimed: "Great art thou, O Bel, and with thee there is no
deceit!"
But, is the deception practiced by the priests of the Pope on their poor,
deluded dupes, less cruel and infamous? Where is the difference between that
Babylonian god, made with brass and baked clay, and the god of the Roman
Catholics, made with a handful of wheat and flour, baked between two hot
polished irons?
How skilful were the priests in keeping the secret of what became of the rich
daily offerings brought to the hungry god! Who could suspect that there was a
secret trap through which they came with their wives and children to eat the
rich offerings?
So, today, among the simple and blind Roman Catholics, who could suppose that
the immense sums of money given every day to the priests to glorify God, purify
the souls of men, and bring all kinds of blessings upon the donors, were, on the
contrary, turned into the most ignominious and swindling operation the world has
ever seen?
Though the brass god of Babylon was a contemptible idol, is not the wafer god of
Rome still more so? Though the priests of Bel were skilful deceivers, are they
not surpassed in the art of deception by the priests of Rome! Do not these carry
on their operations on a much larger scale than the former?
But, as there is always a day of retribution for the great iniquities of this
world, when all things will be revealed; and just as the cunning of the priests
of Babylon could not save them, when God sent His prophet to take away the mask,
behind which they deceived their people, so let the priests of Rome know that
God will, sooner or later, send His prophet, who will tear off the mask, behind
which they deceive the world. Their big, awkward, and flat feet will be seen and
exposed, and the very people whom they keep prostrated before their idols,
crying: "O God! with Thee there is no deceit of all!" will become the
instruments of the justice of God in the great day of retribution.