"Jesus Only."
When Father Chiniquy reached his much-loved people, after he had left the Church of Rome, it was on a Sabbath morning, and they were assembled for worship. The bishop had telegraphed to them to turn away their priest, but when they saw him, they received him joyfully, and crowded round him to know what the bishop had really said. Entering the chapel, he told his large congregation how and why he was a priest no longer, assuring them that he would leave them, but not until they bade him depart. All were deeply affected, but no one spoke, and when he again appealed to them to bravely rise and tell him to go away, he saw their countenances beam with love and joy more eloquent than words; and when he offered to remain with them—the free Christian minister of a Christian people, united by the love of God and His Word—they all arose in token of their approval, and a thousand people left the Church of Rome on that eventful day. And still the movement spread, till nearly all who had loved and followed him as he had gradually taught them the truths of the Gospel, followed him seeking the full light and liberty of God's Word, leading him, and all who heard of it, to exclaim, "This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes."
As might have been expected, they did not see everything at once. There was a splendid group of statues, representing the Virgin Mary learning to read at the feet of her mother, and before these statues both priest and people had often prayed. Chiniquy longed to remove them, with the pictures and crosses which hung on the walls of the chapel, but was afraid to do it too quickly. One Sunday, however, after preaching from the text, "Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image," he remained behind to pray, and, looking up at the images, he said, "My good ladies, you must come down from that high position. God Almighty alone is worshipped here now. Your reign has come to an end." A thin, strong, silken cord secured them on their pedestals. He cut the cord, and, as he expected, the very next Sunday, when the people knelt to pray, the images gave a couple of jerks, and then fell down, and were smashed to fragments on the floor, the people laughing, and saying to one another, "How foolish to pray to these idols to protect us, when they cannot take care of themselves!" The other images, crosses, and pictures were soon cleared away.
The most of the people soon learned to reject purgatory, but some still clung to their old belief, and Chiniquy would not too suddenly disturb it. When "All Souls' Day" came round, and collections were usually made for those in purgatory, two boxes were provided—a white one to receive contributions for the widows and the fatherless children, and a black one for offerings for the dead. But those who put money into the black one were asked kindly to say how their gifts could be conveyed to their dead friends, as in every case he had yet heard of, the priests had kept them for their own bread and butter. A general smile followed that announcement, and thirty-five dollars were put into the white box for the living, and nothing at all into the black one for the dead.
So, one by one, all the false doctrines of Rome were renounced, and a few months after, six thousand were banded together under the name of "Christian Catholics."
Rome, however, would not thus easily lose so many of its children, and another bishop thought he would try to win them back again. He appointed a day to visit them, with a number of priests, and found a strong, large platform prepared for his reception, and a great number of people assembled together to see and hear. As he approached, the American flag was hoisted over the chapel, and the people shouted, "Hurrah for the flag of the free and the brave!" This alarmed the priestly visitors, but Chiniquy hastened to assure them that they would not be injured, but they, on the contrary, would be received in the most courteous way.
The bishop then alighted from his carriage, the priests gathered round him, and his grand vicar told the people to kneel down and receive their bishop's benediction. No one moved. He repeated his request still more loudly, when some one answered, "Do you not know, sir, that we no longer bend the knee to any man? It is only before God we kneel"; and all the people said, "Amen."
Forbidding their own beloved Pastor Chiniquy to speak, the bishop then tremblingly addressed the crowd. He was evidently staggered by the people's courage. Having abused the "wicked, rebellious priest" who had led them away from Rome, he concluded by begging them to return to their holy Mother Church, and asked who would guide them in the ways of God if they forsook the Church of their fathers? After a solemn silence, an old farmer, raising his Bible over his head, exclaimed, "This Bible is all we want to guide us in the ways of God. We do not want anything but the pure Word of God to teach us what we must do to be saved. As for you, sir, you had better go away, and never come here any more."
The bishop having failed to gain the people, tried to forcibly prevent Chiniquy from speaking. This was too much for the congregation, and it was only for his sake, and at his urgent request, that they allowed the unwelcome visitors to depart unmolested. They retired, defeated and annoyed, and the bishop soon afterwards became a lunatic.
Thus God preserved His servant and His people in the hour of trial, and though many other difficulties arose, His Word continued to accomplish His purposes of love and grace; and like another Luther, Pastor Chiniquy, though often in peril and doomed to death, has lived on to a ripe old age, covered and shielded by the shadow of the Almighty. There may we also live and rest.—Jottings on "The Life and Work of Father Chiniquy," by Cousin Susan.