I had not forgotten the advice given me by Archbishop Kenrick, of St. Louis, April 9, 1856, to address my complaints to the Pope himself. But the terrible difficulties and trials which had constantly followed each other, had made it impossible to follow that advice. The betrayal of Mons. Desaulnier and the defection of Mons. Brassard, however, had so strangely complicated my position, that I felt the only way to escape the wreck which threatened myself and my colony, and to save the holy cause God had entrusted me, was to strike such a blow to our haughty persecutor that he could not survive it. I determined to send to the Pope all the public accusations which had been legally proved and published against the bishop, with the copy of the numerous and infamous suits which he had sustained before the civil courts, and had almost invariably lost, with the sentences of the judges who had condemned him. This took me nearly two months of the hardest labors of my life. I had gathered all those documents, which covered more than 200 pages of foolscap. I mailed them to Pope Pius IX., accompanied by only the following words: “Holy Father, for the sake of your precious lambs which are slaughtered and devoured in this vast diocese by a ravening wolf, Bishop O’Regan, and in the name of our Saviour Jesus Christ, I implore your Holiness to see if what is contained in these documents is correct or not. If everything is found correct, for the sake of the blood shed on Calvary, to save our immortal souls, please take away from our midst, the unworthy bishop whose daily scandals can no longer be tolerated by a Christian people.”

In order to prevent the Pope’s servants from throwing my letter with those documents into their waste paper baskets, I sent a copy of them all to Napoleon III., Emperor of France, respectfully requesting him to see, through his ambassador at Washington, and his consul at Chicago, whether these papers contained the truth or not. I told him how his countrymen were trampled under the feet of Bishop O’Regan, and how they were ruined and spoiled to the benefit of the Irish people; how the churches built by the money of the French were openly stolen, and transferred to the emigrants from Ireland. Napoleon had just sent an army to punish the Emperor of China on account of some injustice done to a Frenchman. I told him “the injustice done to that Frenchman in the Chinese Empire is nothing to what is done here every day, not against one, but hundreds of your majesty’s countrymen. A word from the Emperor of France to His Holiness will do here what your armies have done in China: force the unjust and merciless oppressor of the French of Illinois to do them justice.”

I ended my letter by saying:

“My grandfather, though born in Spain, married a French lady, and became, by choice and adoption, a French citizen. He became a captain in the French navy, and for gallant service, was awarded lands in Canada, which by the fate of war fell into the hands of Great Britain. Upon retiring from the service of France he settled upon his estates in Canada, where my father and myself were born. I am thus, with other Canadians who have come to this country, a British subject by birth, an American citizen by adoption, but French still in blood and Roman Catholic in religion. I, therefore, on the part of a noble French people, humbly ask your majesty to aid us by interceding with his holiness, Pope Pius IX., to have these outrages and wrongs righted.”

The success of this bold step was more prompt and complete than I had expected. The Emperor was, then, all powerful at Rome. He had not only brought the Pope from Civita Vecchia to Rome, after taking that city from the hands of the Italian Republicans, a few years before, but he was still the very guardian and protector of the Pope.

A few months later, when in Chicago, the Grand Vicar Dunn showed me a letter from Bishop O’Regan, who had been ordered to go to Rome and give an account of his administration in which he had said: “One of the strangest things which has occurred to me in Rome, is that the influence of the Emperor Napoleon is against me here. I can not understand what right he he has to meddle in the affairs of my diocese.”

I had learned since, that it was really through the advice of Napoleon that Cardinal Bidini, who had been previously sent to the United States to inquire about the scandal given by Bishop O’Regan, gave his opinion in our favor. The cardinal, having consulted the bishops of the United States, who unanimously denounced O’Regan as unfit and unworthy of such a high position, immediately ordered him to go to Rome, where the Pope unceremoniously transferred him from the bishopric of Chicago to a diocese extinct more than 1,200 years ago, called “Dora.” This was as good as a bishopric in the moon. He consoled himself in his misfortune by drawing the hundreds of thousands of dollars of stolen money he had sent at different times, to be deposited in the banks of Paris, and went to Ireland, where he established a bank, and died in 1865.

On the 11th of March, 1858, at about 10 o’clock p. m., I was not a little pleased and surprised to hear the voice of my devoted friend, Rev. Mr. Dunn, grand vicar of Chicago, asking my hospitality for the night. His first words were:

“My visit here must be absolutely incognito. In ordering me to come and see you, the bishop of Dubuque, who is just named administrator of Chicago, advised me to come as secretly as possible. He said: 'Your triumph at Rome is perfect. You have gained the greatest victory a priest ever won over his unjust bishop; but you must thank the Emperor Napoleon for it. It is to his advice which, under the present circumstances, is equal to an order, that you owe the protection of the Cardinal Bidini. His report to the Pope is, that all the documents you sent to Rome were correct. The inquiry of the cardinal has brought facts to the knowledge of the Pope, still more compromising than what you have written against him. Several bishops of the United States have unanimously denounced Bishop O’Regan as a most depraved man, entirely unworthy of his position, and have advised the pope to take him away and choose another bishop for Chicago. It is acknowledged, at Rome, that all the sentences pronounced by that bishop against you, are unjust and null. Our good administrator has been advised to put an end, at once, to all the troubles of your colony, by treating you as a good and faithful priest.’

“I come here, not only to congratulate you on your victory, but also to thank you, in my name, and in the name of the church, for having saved our diocese from such a plague; for Bishop O’Regan is a real plague. A few more years of such administration would have destroyed our holy religion in Illinois. However, as you handled the poor bishop pretty roughly, it is suspected, at a distance, that you and your people are more Protestants than Catholics. We know better here; for, from the beginning, it was evident that the act of excommunication, posted at the door of your chapel by three priests too drunk to know what they were about, is a nullity, having never been signed by the bishop. It was a shameful and sacrilegious comedy. But, in many distant places, that excommunication was accepted as valid, and you are considered by many, as a real schismatic. Bishop Smith has thought it advisable to ask you to give him a written and canonical act of submission, which he will publish to show the world that you are still a good Roman Catholic priest.”

I thanked the grand vicar for his kind words, and the good news he was giving me, and I asked him to help me to thank God for having so visibly protected and guided me through all these terrible difficulties. We both knelt and repeated the sublime words of gratitude and joy of the old prophet: “Bless the Lord, oh! my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name,” etc. (Ps. ciii.) I then said that I had no objection to give the renewed act of my faith and submission to the church, that it might be published. I took a piece of paper, and with emotions of joy and gratitude to God, which it would be impossible to express, I slowly prepared to write. But as I was considering what form I should give to that document, a sudden, strange thought struck my mind: “Is this not the golden opportunity to put an end to the terrible temptations which have shaken my faith and distressed me for so many years, I said to myself:

“Is not this a providential opportunity to silence those mysterious voices which are troubling me almost every hour? That, in the church of Rome, we do not follow the Word of God, but the lying traditions of men?”

I determined then to frame my act of submission in such a way that I would silence those voices, and be, more than ever, sure that my faith, the faith of my dear church, which had just given me such a glorious victory at Rome, was based upon the Holy Word of God, on the divine doctrines of the gospel. I then wrote down, in my own name and in the name of my people:

“My lord Bishop Smith, bishop of Dubuque and administrator of the diocese of Chicago:—We want to live and die in the holy Catholic, apostolic and Roman church, out of which there is no salvation, and to prove this to your lordship, we promise to obey the authority of the church according to the word and commandments of God as we find them expressed in the gospel of Christ.

I handed this writing to Mr. Dunn, and said:

“What do you think of this act of submission?” He quickly read it and answered:

“It is just what we want from you.”

“All right,” I rejoined. “But I fear the bishop will not accept it. Do you not see that I have put a condition to our submission? I say that we will submit ourselves to the bishop’s authority, but only according to the Word of God and the gospel of Christ.”

“Is not that good?” quickly replied Mr. Dunn.

“Yes, my dear, Mr. Dunn, this is good, very good indeed,” I answered, “But my fear is that it is too good for the bishop and the Pope!”

“What do you mean?” he replied.

“I mean that though this act of submission is very good, I fear lest the Pope and the bishop reject it.”

“Please explain yourself more clearly,” answered the grand vicar. “I do not understand the reason for such a fear.”

“My dear Mr. Dunn,” I continued, “I must confess to you here, a thing which is known only to God. I must show you a bleeding wound which is in my soul for many years: A wound which has never been healed by any of the remedies I have applied to it. It is a wound which I never dared to show to any man, except to my confessor, though it has often made me suffer almost the tortures of hell. You know well that there is not a living priest who has studied the Holy Scriptures and the Holy Fathers, with more attention and earnestness, these last few years, than I have. It was not only to strengthen my own faith, but also, the faith of our people, and to be able to fight the battles of our church against her enemies, that I spent so many hours of my days and nights in those studies.

“But, though I am confounded and ashamed to confess it to you, I must do it. The more I have studied and compared the Holy Scriptures and the Holy Fathers with the teachings of our church, the more my faith has been shaken, and the more I have been tempted to think, in spite of myself, that our church has, long ago, given up the Word of God and the Holy Fathers, in order to walk in the muddy and crooked ways of human and false traditions. Yes! the more I study, the more I am troubled by the strange and mysterious voices which haunt me day and night, saying:

“Do you not see that in your Church of Rome, you do not follow the Word of God, but the lying traditions of men?”

“What is more strange and painful is that, the more I pray to God to silence these voices, the louder they repeat the same distressing things. It is to put an end to those awful temptations that I have written this conditional submission. I want to prove to myself that I will obey the Word of God and the gospel of Christ, in our church, and I shall be happy all the rest of my life, if the bishops accept this submission. But I fear it will be rejected.” Mr. Dunn promptly replied:

“You are mistaken, my dear Mr. Chiniquy. I am sure that our bishop will accept this document as canonical, and sufficient to show your orthodoxy to the world.”

“If it be so,” I replied, “I will be a most happy man.” It was agreed that on the 25th of March, I would go with him to Dubuque, to present my act of submission to the administrator of the diocese, after the people had signed it. Accordingly, at 7 p. m. on that day, we both took the train at Chicago for Dubuque, where we arrived next morning. At 11 a. m., I went to the palace of the bishop, who received me with marks of the utmost cordiality and affection. I presented him our written act of submission with a trembling hand, fearing he would reject it. He read it twice, and throwing his arms around me, he pressed me to his heart. I felt his tears of joy mixed with mine, rolling down my cheeks, as he said:

“How happy I am to see that submission! How happy the Pope and all the bishops of the United States will be to hear of it, for I will not conceal it from you; we feared that both you and your people would separate from the church by refusing to submit to her authority.”

I answered that I was not less happy to see an end to those painful difficulties, and I promised him that, with the help of God, our holy church would not have a more faithful priest than myself.

While engaged in that pleasant conversation, the dinner hour came. He gave me the place of honor on his right, before the two grand vicars, and nothing could be more pleasant than the time we spent around the table, which was served with a good and well prepared, though frugal meal. I was happy to see that the bishop, with his priests, were teetotalers. No wine nor beer to tempt the weak. Before the dinner was over, the bishop said to Mr. Dunn:

“You will accompany Mr. Chiniquy to St. Anne, in order to announce, in my name, to the people, the restoration of peace, next Sabbath. No doubt it will be joyful news to the colony of Father Chiniquy.

“After so many years of hard fighting, the pastor and the people of St. Anne will enjoy the days of peace and rest which are now secured to them.”

Then, addressing himself to me, the bishop said:

“The only condition of that peace is that you will spend fifteen days in retreat and meditation in one of the religious houses you will choose yourself. I think that, after so much noise and exciting controversies, it will do you good to pass those days in meditation and prayer, in some of our beautiful and peaceful solitudes.

I answered him: “If your lordship had not offered me the favor of those days of perfect and Christian rest, I would have asked you to grant it. I consider it as a crowning of all your acts of kindness to offer me those few days of calm and meditation, after the terrible storms of those last three years. If your lordship has no objection to my choice, I will go to the beautiful solitude where M. Saurin has built the celebrated Monastery, College and University of St. Joseph, Indiana. I hope that nothing will prevent my being there next Monday. After going, next Sabbath, in the company of Grand Vicar Dunn, to proclaim the restoration of the blessed peace to my people of St. Anne.”

“You cannot make a better choice,” answered the bishop.

“But, my lord,” I rejoined, “I hope your lordship will have no objection to give me a written assurance of the perfect restoration of that long-sought peace. There are people who, I know, will not believe me, when I tell them how quickly and nobly your lordship has put an end to all those deplorable difficulties. I want to show them that I stand, to-day, in the same relation with my superiors and the church in which I stood previous to these unfortunate strifes.”

“Certainly,” said the bishop, “you are in need of such a document from your bishop, and you shall have it. I will write it at once.”

But, he had not yet written two lines, when Mr. Dunn looked at his watch and said: “We have not a minute to lose, if we want to be in time for the Chicago train.”

I then said to the bishop: “Please, my lord, address me that important document to Chicago, where I will get it at the postoffice, on my way to the University of St. Joseph, next Monday; your lordship will have plenty of time to write it, this afternoon.”

The bishop, having consented, I hastily took leave of him, with Mr. Dunn, after having received his benediction.

On our way back to St. Anne, the next day, we stopped at Bourbonnaise to see the grand vicar Mailloux, one of the priests who had been sent by the bishops of Canada to help my lord O’Regan to crush me. We found him as he was going to his dining room to take his dinner. He was visibly humiliated by the complete defeat of Bishop O’Regan, at Rome.

After Mr, Dunn told him that he was sent to proclaim peace to the people of St. Anne, he coldly asked the written proof of such strange news.

Mr. Dunn answered him: “Do you think, sir, that I would be mean enough to tell you a lie?”

“I do not say that you are telling me a lie,” replied Mr. Mailloux, “I believe what you say. But, I want to know the condition of that unexpected peace. Has Mr. Chiniquy made his submission to the church?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, “here is a copy of my act of submission.”

He read it, and coldly said: “This is not an act of submission to the church, but only to the authority of the Gospel, which is a very different thing. This document can be presented by a Protestant; but, it cannot be offered by a Catholic priest to his bishop. I cannot understand how our bishop did not see that at once.”

Mr. Dunn answered him: “My dear grand vicar Mailloux, I have often been told that it does not do to be more loyal than the king. My hope was that you would rejoice with us at the news of the peace. I am sorry to see that I was mistaken. However, I must tell you that if you want to fight, you will have nobody to fight against; for Father Chiniquy was, yesterday, accepted as a regular priest of our holy church by the administrator. This ought to satisfy you.”

I listened to the unpleasant conversation of those two grand vicars, with painful feelings, without saying a word. For, I was troubled by those mysterious voices which were reiterating in my mind the cry: “Do you not see that in the Church of Rome, you do not follow the Word of God, but only the lying traditions of men?”

I felt much relieved, when I left the house of that so badly disposed confrere, to come to St. Anne, where the people had gathered on the public square, to receive us, and rend the air with their cries of joy at the happy news of peace.

The next day, 27th of March, was Palm Sunday, one of the grand festivities of the Church of Rome; there was an immense concourse of people, attracted not only by the religious solemnity of the feast; but also by the desire to see and hear the deputy sent by their bishop to proclaim peace. He did it in a most elegant English address, which I translated into French. He presented me a blessed palm, and I offered him another loaded with beautiful flowers, in the presence of the people, as a public sign of the concord which was restored between my colony and the authorities of the church.

That my Christian readers may understand my blindness, and the mercies of God towards me, I must confess here, to my shame, that I was glad to have made my peace with those sinful men, which was not peace with my God. But, that great God had looked down upon me in mercy. He was soon to break that peace with the great apostate church, which is poisoning the world with the wine of her enchantments, that I might walk in the light of the Gospel and possess that peace and joy which passeth all understanding.