FATHER CHINIQUY ON PURGATORY.
ABOUT two years ago, when Mr. Chiniquy visited Australia, he delivered a series of lectures in the city of Adelaide. These were reported at length in the Christian Colonist from which we extract the following from his closing address as affording an inside view of some of the Catholic ceremonies:559 "The subject of the lecture was 'Purgatory,' and in dealing with it the Rev. Mr. Chiniquy stated that the doctrine of purgatorial punishment taught by the church of Rome is one of the most tremendous impostures that the world has ever known. Purgatory is believed to be a place where the soul suffers the same torment and indescribable anguish as is endured in hell, the only difference between the two places being that in hell the sufferings are eternal, while in purgatory they are to last for thousands or millions of years, but not for ever. To the common people under the dominion of Rome, purgatory is a sea of fire, desolation, and misery; but to the priests, the bishops, and the Pope it was a sea of gold and silver; for when the Church invented purgatory she shrewdly made up her mind to give the priest power to take souls out of it if the friends of the deceased paid them sufficient money. One beauty about the doctrine is that the priests and bishops cannot tell when souls are released from purgatory, so that the people are kept continually paying. He did not hesitate to say that to release souls from purgatory more money is paid every day to the priests of Rome than is paid into all the banks of England and France. "He stated that every year on the 2d of November a service was held called the 'Festivities of the Dead.' Its purpose was to pray for the souls in purgatory, and extract money from the people. On these occasions the churches were always filled, and some one with a good voice was brought by the priest to sing a plaintive song, representing the wailing of the souls in purgatory. (Here he sang a verse of the song in French.) He said if it were well sung in English, there would not be a dry eye in the audience. After this song was sung, the priests appealed to the people. They made a mother appeal to her children, a father to his boys, a brother to his brothers, and a sister to her sisters. They said, 'Don't you hear the souls saying come to our help? We burn in these flames. Make haste. Make haste! MAKE HASTE!' (Which meant make haste to give your money to the priests.) By this time the people would all be crying and wailing, and then the priests would go through the church to collect the money, and if there was a dollar there they got it. "The doctrine of purgatory made the priests as cruel as tigers. He had a dreadful experience in connection with this matter which had done him good. His father died when he was very young, and left his property heavily mortgaged, so that everything had to be sold to pay the creditors, and his young mother was reduced to the necessity of working with her needle. They were very poor, and often a few potatoes and a little milk was all the food they had. One day the priest came to see them. He was glad to see the priest, for he thought he would help them. But he said, 'Madame Chiniquy, you owe me ten pounds for the masses which I have said for the soul of your husband.' It was in vain his mother protested that she had nothing. The priest said she could not love her husband if she were not willing to pay for the repose of his soul. At this his mother wept. His first thought was to take a sword which hung on the wall, and kill the priest who made his mother weep, but seeing this to be beyond his strength, he mingled his tears with those of his mother, while the priest stood looking on with dry eyes. "In a little paddock before the house there fed a cow, which had been given to him when it was a calf, and which he had reared, and whose milk was now almost their only means of sustenance. At length his mother said, pointing to the cow, 'Mr. Cure, take that cow, and let me discharge in that way the debt which I owe you.' The priest was satisfied, and immediately went and drove the cow to his own house. He (Pastor Chiniquy) said to his mother, 'Why have you done this? You have given the priest the cow, and now we must starve.' 'Forgive me this wrong, my child,' said his mother; 'I did not believe the priest would be so cruel as to take the cow. But some day, my son, you may be a priest. Promise me that you will never take the money of the poor.' He promised, and when afterwards he became a priest, he never took money from the people for the prayers which he offered for the souls of their dead. For this reason he was much idolized by his people. The other priests, however, were jealous and did not like his practice, and complained to the bishop who threatened to excommunicate him if he did not promise to take the money from the people. He told the bishop his story, but he still insisted that he should take the money from the people for the souls in purgatory. He at length made the promise, and after that he took the money, but would often contrive to give it back again. "He himself was honest and believed in purgatory, but he had discovered that not one in twenty of the priests believed either in that doctrine or in any other; they were infidels. It was in this way that his eyes were opened. On one occasion when engaged in revival services, he was returning to the parsonage with the priest of the parish, who was an old man, when they were accosted by a poor man, so emaciated that he was nothing but skin and bones; he was also clothed in rags. He asked the priest to say a high mass for the soul of his wife, recently dead. The priest replied that he would do so, but must have five dollars. The man said he had not a cent in the world, and asked if the priest could not say the mass on credit. But the priest replied, 'No money, no prayers.' He (Pastor Chiniquy) had the impulse to give the man the five dollars, or offer to say the prayers for nothing, but he was a coward and had not the courage; he never thought of that hour without regret and shame. He would gladly, if he could, wash out that hour with his blood. "The man then asked that five low masses be said for the soul of his wife. For this the priest said he must have five shillings, but the man pleaded that it was difficult for him to pay five shillings as five dollars. The priest said, 'When I last passed your house I saw there a little pig. Give me that and I will say the masses.' 'Mr. Cure,' said the man, 'I am fatting that pig. It is all I and my children have to look forward to for bread in the winter.' That night he (Pastor Chiniquy) could not sleep with the vexation he felt at having failed to play the man. He saw, too, with pain that there was an abomination in his beloved Church. The next morning he preached and spent several hours hearing the confessions of the people, and when the dinner hour came he was hungry. The old priest was rich, and kept a good table, and there were eight or nine other priests present. When the covers were removed, a pig was revealed, done to a beautiful golden brown, and so fragrant that the thought of it still made his mouth water. The old priest was a skillful carver, and cutting off a choice piece he placed it upon his (Pastor Chiniquy's) plate. As he was lifting the first piece to his lips, the scene of the previous day recurred to his memory. He said to the priest, 'Is this the pig of the poor man we saw yesterday?' The priest, with a jolly laugh, replied that it was, and added, 'If we cannot take the poor souls out of purgatory, at least we will have eaten a good pig.' The laugh that went round the table at this remark opened his (Pastor Chiniquy's) eyes—he saw that the priests did not believe in purgatory. His manhood and courage returned, and flinging his plate to the other side of the table, he cried, 'I will never eat the bread of the poor.' The priests felt the rebuke, and the rest of the meal was passed in silence. It was not, however, till he studied the holy fathers, that his eyes were fully opened to the terrible imposture of purgatory."