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THE BULLETIN OF THE CATHOLIC LAYMEN’S ASSOCIATION OF GEORGIA
In reference to Mile. d’Albert, his erstwhile bethro-
tned, he writes, “The angel who was the instrument
of my conversion has shown me the way I had to
follow; and to justify myself for not having done so
earlier, I can only say that I did not believe myself
worthy of that grace.” The English were at that
time intercepting the mails bound for France, so he
wrote on the back of one of these letters, “0 Eng
lishmen, let this letter pass; it is from a man who
has suffered much in your cause.” What he meant
by this last expression it is difficult to ascertain.
The fact is, ever since that terrible night of
Christmas Eve, the awful consequences of his act
had preyed upon his soul. It is true that he did not
actually give the signal for the explosion; but the
plan was to a large extent his own. The bleeding
and mangled bodies of the dead and dying, his
friends condemned to the guillotine, the wrecked
homes,—and above all, the little girl blown to
pieces—all this continually haunted his thoughts;
and it is not surprising that he is described as hav
ing a “hunted and far-away look” while he was in
Savannah.
He Enters St. Mary’s.
At length, in the year 1806, he left for Baltimore;
and after presenting himself to the Sulpicians and
through them obtaining several interviews with
Bishop Carroll, he at length persuaded them to
write to his uncle in Paris, who wrote the full story
of the part his young nephew had played in the
conspiracy, but urging his penitence and desire to
atone for the past, and all this was kept secret by
them. In 1807 he was admitted to St. Mary’s Sem
inary in Baltimore, where, after five years of study
he was at length ordained to the priesthood in 1812.
His first assignment was to Charleston; but his
career there was far from pleasant. The congrega
tion was torn by dissensions, and the former pastor,
Simon Felix Gallagher, assisted by Rev. Robert
Browne from Augusta (both afterwards pastors in
Savannah), persuaded the vestry not to accept an
other French priest. The Bishop urged him to in
sist upon his rights, and Browne went to Rome in
order to get the authorities there to remove him.
The result was that there were two pastors claim
ing the church of St. Mary’s; Father Cloriviere (as
we must now call him) rented a hall and attempted
to officiate at Mass, but the hooting and jeering
from the other faction so hindered his work that he
had to desist.
At length, in 1814, the news came that Napoleon
had been banished to Elba and Louis XVIII was
King of France. Almost beside himself with joy,
Father Cloriviere rushed through the streets of
Charleston shouting “Long live the King! long live
the Bourbons”! He was shot at several times, and his
recall to Baltimore was deemed imperative.
Disheartened at his failure in Charleston, he ob
tained permission to return to Brittany, and had
actually placed his luggage on a ship bound for
Havre when a pious Catholic approached him and
asked, in chiding tone, “If he intended to desert the
Church in America in her hour of greatest need”?
The thought of the life of ease in France gave way
to the other determination “to expiate his crime,”
and he bowed in resignation, cancelled his passage
to France, and again offered his services to Arch
bishop Mareschal of Baltimore.
The Convent of the Visitation at Georgetown,
founded by the saintly Archbishop Neale, was at
that time on the verge of financial collapse. Father
Cloriviere was offered the position of chaplin. He
wrote to his sister, giving her authority to sell his
estates in Brittany, and with the funds obtained he
reclaimed the property, built for the Sisters the
cnapei of the Sacred Heart, and founded a free
school for girls. Thus did his stormy and chec-
quered career end at last in a peaceful evening. The
Annals of the Sisters relate nothing of him but piety
and devotion, faithfulness to duty, kindness and
geniality of manner, and generosity to the poor.
Among other things, they relate how every year, on
the night of Christmas Eve, he would go to the
Chapel of the Sacred Heart which he had himself
erected, and would lie prostrate on the floor before
the Altar with arms outstretched and thus remain
all through the night until time for the early Christ
mas Mass. The Sisters thought this an act of love
for the Infant Jesus—little did they dream of the
real meaning it had for their good and zealous chap
lain,—expiation for what he could not forget,—the
night of Christmas Eve in Paris!
His Death.
On May 6, 1826, after his morning Mass he was
suddenly stricken with apoplexy, and lingered un
til the 29th of September, when, having received the
Sacraments with much outward devotion, he peace
fully died. He directed that his body should be
buried under the chapel of the Sacred Heart and a
flat slab placed over his grave to serve as a resting
place for the coffins of the Sisters at their burial. He
had been of service to them during life—he would
be so after death. He also requested that the manu
scripts of his “Memoirs” be brought to him; and
after explaining that they contained much of value
to the history and religion of France, he neverthe
less directed that they be burned,—“it had all best
be forgotten.” he said. His request was reluctantly
complied with, and the good Sisters did not know
for many years the true story of their faithful and
beloved Spiritual Father.
His death was universally lamented, and high
and fulsome praise was given him in the papers of
that time. His name is venerated as that of a holy
priest and one who can rightly be styled one of the
founders of the Catholic Church in the United
States.
Thus died Joseph-Pierre Picot de Cloriviere,
Chevelier de Limoelan—soldier and patriot. Royalist
General, arch-conspirator, political fugitive, and
saintly priest,—and thus ends the story that lies
behind that striking signature on the old Savannah
record-book:
PICOT DE CLORIVIERE.”
EARLY DAYS IN ATLANTA
(Continued from Page 5)
began the recitations of his office, Father O’Neill,
meanwhile, seated on the woodpile beside the cabin
door, played upon the flute: “The Last Rose of Sum
mer.” His success confirms the statement of Eng
land’s master singer, William Shakespeare, that
“music hath charms to sooth the savage beast.” For
as he replaced his flute within the pocket of his
outer coat the former turning to Bishop England
said; “Mister, if you make your man play that over
again, you can both have supper and beds here to
night.”
(To be Continued)
Charles Carroll of Carrollton, a descendant of one
of the oldest Catholic families to settle in this coun
try, died recently at Mentone, near Nice, France.
He was a son of the late Governor John Lee Carroll
of Maryland.