Fifty Years in the Church of Rome

by Charles Paschal Telesphore Chiniquy

“Twenty men on horseback who want to speak to me!” I answered. “Are you dreaming?”

“I do not dream,” answered my young man; “there they are at the door, on horseback, waiting for you.”

I was soon dressed and in the presence of twenty of my best farmers, on horseback, who had formed themselves in a half-circle to receive me.

“What do you want, my friends?” I asked them.

One of them, who had studied a few years in the Seminary of Quebec, answered:

“Dear pastor, we come in the name of the whole people of Beauport to ask your pardon for having saddened your heart by not coming as we ought to your help in the superhuman efforts you make to give good schools to our children. This is the result of our ignorance. Having never gone to school ourselves, the greater part of us have never known the value of education. But the heroic sacrifices you have made lately have opened our eyes. They ought to have been opened at the sale of your first horse. But we were in need of another lesson to understand our meanness. However, the selling of the second horse has done more than anything else to awaken us from our shameful lethargy. The fear of receiving a new rebuke from us, if you made another appeal to our generosity, has forced you to make that new sacrifice. The first news came to us as a thunderbolt. But there is always some light in a thunderbolt. Through that light we have seen our profound degradation, in shutting our ears to your earnest and paternal appeals in favor of our own dear children. Be sure, dear pastor, that we are ashamed of our conduct. From this day, not only our hearts but our purses are yours, in all you want to do to secure a good education for our families. However, our principal object in coming here to-day is not to say vain words, but to do an act of reparation and justice. Our first thought, when we heard that you had sold the horse we had given you, was to present you with another. We have been prevented from doing this by the certainty that you would sell it again, either to help some poor people or to build another school house. As we cannot bear to see our pastor walking in the mud when going to the city or visiting us, we have determined to put another horse into your hands, but in such a way that you will not have the right to sell it. We ask you then, as a favor, to select the best horse here among these twenty which are before you, and to keep it as long as you remain in our midst, which we hope will be very long. It will be returned to its present possessor if you leave us; and be sure, dear pastor, that the one of us who leaves his horse in your hands will be the most happy and proudest of all.”

When speaking thus, that noble-hearted man had several times been unable to conceal the tears which were rolling down his cheeks, and more than once his trembling voice had been choked by his emotion.

I tried in vain at first to speak. My feelings of gratitude and admiration could be expressed only with my tears. It took some time before I could utter a single word. At last I said: “My dear friends, this is too much for your poor pastor. I feel overwhelmed by this grand act of kindness. I do not say that I thank you—the word thank is too small, too short and insignificant to tell you what your poor unworthy pastor feels at what his eyes see and his ears hear just now. The great and merciful God, who has put those sentiments into your hearts, alone can repay you for the joy with which you fill my soul. I would hurt your feelings, I know, by not accepting your offering. I accept it. But to punish your speaker, Mr. Parent, for his complimentary address, I will take his horse for the time I am curate of Beauport, which I hope will be till I die.” And I laid my hand on the bridle of the splendid animal.

There was then a struggle which I had not expected. Every one of the nineteen whom I left with their horses began to cry: “Oh! do not take that horse; it is not worth a penny; mine is much stronger,” said one. “Mine is much faster,” cried out another. “Mine is a safe rider,” said a third. Every one wanted me to take his horse, and tried to persuade me that it was the best of all; they really felt sorry that they were not able to change my mind.

Has any one ever felt more happy than I was in the midst of these generous friends?