Hundreds of times I had seen the streets which led from St. Roch to the upper town of Quebec almost impassable, when the drunkards of Beauport were leaving the market to go home.
How many times I heard them fill the air with their cries and blasphemies; and saw the streets reddened with their blood, when fighting with one another, like mad dogs.
The Rev. Mr. Begin, who was their cure since 1825, had accepted the moral principles of the great Roman Catholic “Theologia Liguori,” which says, “that a man is not guilty of the sin of drunkenness, so long as he can distinguish between a small pin and a load of hay.” Of course the people would not find themselves guilty of sin so long as their eyes could make that distinction.
After weeping to my heart’s content at the reading of the letter from my bishop, which had come to me as a thunderbolt, my first thought was that my misfortune, though very great, was not irretrievable. I knew that there were many priests who were as anxious to become curates of Beauport as I was opposed to it.
My hope was that the bishop would be touched by my tears, if not convinced by my arguments, and that he would not persist in putting on my shoulders a burden which they could not carry.
I immediately went to the palace, and did all in my power to persuade his lordship to select another priest for Beaufort.
He listened to my arguments with a good deal of patience and kindness, and answered:
“My dear Mr. Chiniquy, you forget too often that ‘implicit and perfect obedience’ to his superiors is the virtue of a good priest? You have given me a great deal of trouble and disappointment by refusing to relieve the good Bishop Provencher of his too heavy burden. It was at my suggestion, you know very well, that he had selected you to be his co-worker along the coasts of the Pacific, by consenting to become the first Bishop of Oregon. Your obstinate resistance to your superiors in that circumstance, and in several other cases, is one of your weak points. If you continue to follow your own mind rather than obey those whom God has chosen to guide you, I really fear for your future. I have already too often yielded to your rebellious character. Through respect to myself, and for your own good, to-day I must force you to obey me. You have spoken of the drunkenness of the people of Beauport, as one of the reasons why I should not put you at the head of that parish; but this is just one of the reasons why I have chosen you. You are the only priest I know, in my diocese, able to struggle against the long-rooted and detestable evil, with a hope of success.
“‘Quod scriptum scriptum est.’ Your name is entered in our official registers as the curate of Beauport; it will remain there till I find better reasons than those you have given me to change my mind. After all, you cannot complain; Beauport is not only the most beautiful parsonage in Canada, but it is one of the most splendid spots in the world. In your beautiful parsonage, at the door of the old capital of Canada, you will have the privileges of the city, and the enjoyments of some of the most splendid scenery of this continent. If you are not satisfied with me to-day, I do not know what I can do to please you.”
Though far from being reconciled to my new position, I saw there was no help; I had to obey. As my predecessor, Mr. Begin, was to sell all his house furniture, before taking charge of his far distant parish, La Riviere Ouelle, he kindly invited me to go and buy, on long credit, what I wished for my own use, which I did.