On the 15th of February, the roar of cannons, the ringing of the cathedral and the parish-church bells, announced to the people that they had a new bishop,—a representative of the new law, of liberty, justice, and equality. The arrival at the highest ecclesiastical function of a congruist curé who had not been preceptor or confessor to princes, a man without noble birth or fortune to recommend him, was a spectacle proper to excite the enthusiasm of the nascent democracy.
The bishop elect was, however, as yet without canonical confirmation and episcopal consecration.
His institution ought to have been asked of the Archbishop of Rouen, his metropolitan, but the Cardinal de la Rochefoucauld was out of his see, having refused the oath, and was not yet replaced.
This situation could not be prolonged. The presence of the constitutional bishop in Évreux became daily more necessary. The directory of the department of Eure addressed to Lindet an invitation to come and take possession of his diocese as soon as possible, and requested him to demand institution at the hands of any bishops of his choice.
Thomas Lindet hastened to obey. He was consecrated on the 6th of March, 1791, in the chapel of the Oratoire, at Paris, along with the Bishops of Beauvais, Châteauroux, and Moulins, by Gobel, Bishop of Lydda, and the Bishops of Quimper and Dax, who had subscribed to the constitution. A few days after he joined in consecrating the Bishop of the Seine-Inférieure, in the cathedral of Rouen, and was himself afterwards confirmed by the new metropolitan.
On Sunday, March 27, Thomas Lindet was solemnly installed in the beautiful cathedral of Évreux, before a vast congregation. After vespers a Te Deum was sung as an act of thanksgiving for the convalescence of the king, and the same day he despatched a circular round the diocese, to announce his intention of making a pastoral visitation.
He left the cathedral, when the service was concluded, by the private door into the palace gardens. It was the same door through which he had passed the night that he had been locked in the minster.
But his mind did not revert to the past: it was occupied with the future. He had taken his place at the helm of the vessel, and he foresaw breakers ahead, and felt that the gale was rising from every point of the compass. He was not sanguine. On the contrary, he was dispirited; his elevation to the episcopal throne did not jump with his wishes, for Lindet was not personally ambitious.
He was resolved to do his best, to work the diocese thoroughly, and to set an example of simplicity of life and devotion to the causes nearest his heart—Liberty and Catholicism. But, at the same time, he owned to himself, that if he found resistance among the clergy and laity, his heart might fail him. He was impetuous, but he had not the gift of patient endurance. That he would find some opposition to his claims was certain, but it could be overcome by conciliatory conduct and by diligent discharge of his duties, unless—and there rose before him a prospect which made him quake—unless the pope should pronounce against the Constitutional Church.
As this prospect arose to dismay him, he encountered the ex-bishop, De Narbonne-Lara. Both were in episcopal purple, with pectoral cross and cape; Lindet wore as well a lace surplice.