Mr. Desaulnier rejoined: “I accept it also, for I did not come here to insult my best friend, but to save him.”
These kind words of my guests added to the joy I experienced at their coming. I told them:
“If you are here to obey the voice of your conscience and the dictates of your common sense, there is a glorious task before you. You will soon find that the people and priest of St. Anne, have also done nothing, but listened to the voice of their honest conscience, and followed the laws of common sense in their conduct towards the bishop. But,” I added, “this is not the time to explain my position, but the time to wash your dusty faces and refresh yourselves. Here are your rooms, make yourselves at home.”
After supper, which had been spent in the most pleasant way, and without any allusion to our troubles, they handed me the letters addressed to me by the bishops of Montreal, London and Toronto, to induce me to submit to my superior, and offer me the assurance of their most sincere friendship and devotedness, if I would obey.
Mr. Desaulnier then said: “Now, my dear Chiniquy, we have been sent here by the people and bishops of Canada to take you away from the bottomless abyss into which you have fallen with your people. We have only one day and two nights to spend here, we must lose no time, but begin at once, to fulfill our solemn mission.”
I answered: “If I have fallen into a bottomless abyss as you say, and that you will draw me out of it, not only God and men will bless you; but I will also forever bless you for your charity. The first thing, however, you have to do here, is to see if I am really fallen, with my people, into that bottomless abyss of which you speak.”
“But are you not excommunicated,” quickly rejoined Mr. Desaulnier, “and, notwithstanding that excommunication, have you not continued to say your mass, preach and hear the confessions of your people? Are you not then fallen into that state of irregularity and schism which separate you entirely from the church, and to which the Pope alone can restore you?”
“No, my dear Desaulnier,” I answered, “I am no more excommunicated than you are. For the simple reason that an act of excommunication which is not signed and certified, is a public nullity, unworthy of any attention. Here is the act of the so-called excommunication, which makes so much noise in the world! Examine it yourself; look if it is signed by the bishop, or any one else you know; consider with attention if it is certified by anybody.” And I handed him the document.
After he had examined it, and turned it every way, for more than half an hour, with Mr. Brassard, without saying a word, he at last broke the silence, and said:
“If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I could never have believed that a bishop can play such a sacrilegious comedy in the face of the world. You have, several times, published it in the press, but I confess that your best friends, and I among the rest, did not believe you. It could not enter our minds that a bishop should be so devoid, I do not say of every principle of religion, but of the most common honesty, as to have proclaimed before the whole world that you were excommunicated, when he had to offer us only that ridiculous piece of rag, to support his assertion. But, in the name of common sense, why is it that he has not signed his sentence of excommunication, or got it signed and countersigned by some authorized people, when it is so evident that he wanted to excommunicate you?”