Fifty Years in the Church of Rome

by Charles Paschal Telesphore Chiniquy

Though my intelligence often revolted against the fables with which I was nurtured, I yet forced myself to accept them as gospel truths; and though I often rebelled against the ridiculous sophisms which were babbled to me as the only principles of truth and Christian philosophy, yet as often did I impose silence on my reason, and force it to submit to the falsehoods which I was obliged to take for God’s truth! But, as I have just confessed it, notwithstanding my good will to submit to my superiors, there were times of terrible struggle in my soul, when all the powers of my mind seemed to revolt against the degrading fetters which I was forced to forge for myself.

I shall never forget the day when, in the following terms, I expressed to my Professor in Philosophy, the Rev. Charles Harper, doubts which I had conceived concerning the absolute necessity of the inferior to submit his reason to his superior. “When I shall have completely bound myself to obey my superior, if he abuses his authority over me to deceive me by false doctrines, or if he commands me to do things which I consider wrong and dishonest, shall I not be lost if I obey him?”

He answered: “You will never have to give an account to God for the actions that you do by the order of your legitimate superiors. If they were to deceive you, being themselves deceived, they alone would be responsible for the error which you would have committed. Your sin would not be imputed to you as long as you follow the golden rule which is the base of all Christian philosophy and perfection—humility and obedience!”

Little satisfied with that answer, when the lesson was over I expressed my reluctance to accept such principles to several of my fellow students. Among them was Joseph Turcot, who died some years ago when, I think, he was Minister of Public Works in Canada. He answered me: “The more I study what they call their principles of Christian philosophy and logic, the more I think that they intend to make asses of every one of us!”

On the following day I opened my heart to the venerable man who was our principal—the Rev. Mr. Leprohon. I used to venerate him as a saint and love him as a father. I frankly told him that I felt very reluctant in submitting myself to the crude principles which seemed to lead us into the most abject slavery, the slavery of our reason and intelligence. I wrote down his answer, which I give here:

“My dear Chiniquy, how did Adam and Eve lose themselves in the Garden of Eden, and how did they bring upon us all the deluge of evils by which we are overwhelmed? Is it not because they raised their miserable reason above that of God? They had the promise of eternal life if they had submitted their reason to that of their Supreme Master. They were lost on account of their rebelling against the authority, the reason of God. Thus it is to-day. All the evils, the errors, the crimes by which the world is overflooded come from the same revolt of the human will and reason against the will and reason of God. God reigns yet over a part of the world, the world of the elect, through the Pope, who controls the teachings of our infallible and holy Church. In submitting ourselves to God, who speaks to us through the Pope, we are saved. We walk in the paths of truth and holiness. But we would err, and infallibly perish, as soon as we put our reason above that of our superior, the Pope, speaking to us in person, or through some of our superiors who have received from him the authority to guide us.”

“But,” said I, “if my reason tells me that the Pope, or some of those other superiors who are put by him over me, are mistaken, and that they command me something wrong, would I not be guilty before God if I obey them?”

“You suppose a thing utterly impossible,” answered Mr. Leprohon, “for the Pope and the bishops who are united to him have the promise of never failing in the faith. They cannot lead you into any errors, nor command you anything against the law of God. But supposing for a moment that they would commit any error, and that they would compel you to believe or do something contrary to the teachings of the gospel, God would not ask of you any account of an error committed when you are obeying your legitimate superior.”

I had to content myself with that answer, which I put down word for word in my note book. But in spite of my respectful silence, the Rev. Mr. Leprohon saw that I was yet uneasy and sad. In order to convince me of the orthodoxy of his doctrines, he instantly put into my hands the two works of De Maistre, “Le Pape” and “Les Soirees de St. Petersburg,” where I found the same doctrines supported. My superior was honest in his convictions. He sincerely believed in the sound philosophy and Christianity of his principles, for he found them in these books approved by the “infallible Popes.”

I will mention another occurrence to show the inconceivable intellectual degradation to which we had been dragged at the end of seven years of collegiate studies. About the year 1829 the curate of St. Anne de la Parade wrote to our principal, Rev. Mr. Leprohon, to ask the assistance of the prayers of all the students of the College of Nicolet in order to obtain the discontinuance of the following calamity: “For more than three weeks one of the most respectable farmers was in danger of losing all his horses from the effects of a sorcery! From morning to night, and during most of the night, repeated blows of whips and sticks were heard falling upon these poor horses, which were trembling, foaming and struggling! We can see nothing! The hand of the wizard remains invisible. Pray for us, that we may discover the monster, and that he may be punished as he deserves.”