“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!