This video presents Chapter 3 of 'The Bell and the River,' following Esther Pariso's life during the Patriote Rebellion in Quebec (1837-1838). Despite her family's involvement in the Patriote movement, where her father Joseph served as militia captain and her brother Stannis led the St. Elar company, Esther demonstrated remarkable maturity by organizing a youth militia unit and maintaining family harmony. The narrative explores the tensions between French Canadians and British authorities, the role of the Catholic Church in suppressing the rebellion, and the eventual amnesty under Queen Victoria. Esther's journey culminates in her decision to pursue religious life, joining Mademoiselle Bruhier's boarding school and preparing for the novitiate of the Grey Nuns, demonstrating how personal calling can emerge from historical and familial contexts.
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Day 3: Sacred Heart Novena 2026: Esther Grows UpAdded:
I'm here at St. Steven's Catholic Church in Portland, Oregon. And today is the third day in our novena to the most sacred heart of Jesus. Well, we continue with the exciting story of Mother Joseph of the Sacred Heart of the Sisters of Charity, Servants of the Poor of Providence.
Well, let's find out more. Chapter 3 in the book The Bell and the River, published in 1956 on the centinary, the 100th year of the Sisters of Providence arriving in Portland, Oregon. Mother Joseph arriving in Portland, Oregon.
Well, they did arrive earlier in 1852.
They just didn't stay. We heard a little about that on the first day of the novena, and you'll hear more.
Let us continue then with chapter 3.
Within the retreat of winter, the world of St. Elar took on a luminous quality.
Spring came slowly in the province of Quebec, but it did finally arrive. It had an intensity and sweetness which suffused every living growing thing. One day the fields and woodland paths were expanses of mud across which one moved painstakingly, pulling up first one wellshaw foot and then the other, and then a day or so later it seemed one had to walk carefully to avoid crushing the arpetus, the blue hepaticas, and the star-like seladine.
From that time on, things moved with an accelerated pace and an enrichment of color. Near the barn, by some miracle, the crab apple tree, which had been bereft of all signs of life these many months, suddenly burst into a thing of enchantment.
The children pulled down masses of the patterned pink and white blossoms, and thrust them gay into the wide-mouthed crockery jar before the picture of our lady, until Esther remmonstrated that at that rate there would be no fruit for their mother's jellies.
In no time at all, the orchard on the northern slope was in full bloom. Apple, cherry, plum, all in precise and perfect timing. Their father and Joseph were busy in the fields, plowing and planting and harrowing. Mr. Pariso kept a vigilant eye on the weather, which was likely to turn to the treachery of frost or hail. And there was need to invoke the saints and our lady and even the Lord himself that all would go well.
The brown furrowed land needed every protection and blessing.
But then with all their prayers they knew that God understood these things.
And after a few weeks of right weather all the fields around S Elar were tinged with a faint green. The Paraso farm was good land, and their father was a man of industry and wisdom, and the rest could safely be left to Providence, which never failed them.
The garden nearer the stone cottage was left mostly to Madame Periso and the girls and Stannislos.
Esther's strong fingers loved the touch of the rich soil, and she liked the challenge of quick and delicate work which the earth demanded of her hands.
This too was creative labor, as that in the carriage shop had been in the winter.
She disliked sloavvenly work in either place, and she had small patience with the fumbler or the lagard.
Only the perceptive and authoritative spirit of Madame Periso kept her second daughter from being sometimes overbearing and imperious in her greater skill and accomplishment.
Hers was the sturdier back, her mother reminded her. For that she had God to thank, others with greater goodwill, and the asset of her health and strength might have grown even larger and redder tomatoes.
Who knows? Patience and humility were the flower and fruit most desired of her by our Lord when he visited her heart in holy communion.
Did she think that the second biatitude which the Abbe Brun brun had taught her in preparation for her first holy communion, that unforgettable day three years ago was an empty phrase of the earth and its tenacity. God had spoken through his son, "Blessed are the meek, for they shall possess the land."
The land referred to by our lord could sometimes be measured in acres, but it was always something more than a patch of ground enclosed by a hedge and a rail fence of much more value to the holder.
There was such a possession as a quiet heart.
Only the meek had that. And only they would sometime inherit that true country of God, that homeland of our heavenly father. For only the meek and humble could feel at ease in the company of the meek and humble Jesus.
It was well to reflect on these things as one planted and watered and weeded here at St. Elar.
It gave one a right sense of values.
Eventually, one's mind arrived at the truth that all human goodness is possible only through the grace of God.
For by some unfathomable mystery of his generosity, he gives us whatever goodness we ask of him, even that great good thing offered the young man in the gospel if we want it.
Esther afterward remembered her 14th spring and summer for two reasons.
One for events within the Pariso household and the other because of the tide of affairs which swept in on St. Elar from the whole province of Quebec.
That spring, Francois Periso worked neither in the garden nor in the kitchen. After the new year, Esther noticed that mother's firm step became slow and heavy as her body thickened with her 10th child.
It was only by supreme and exhaustive effort that she was able to attend mass with them on Easter. From that day in late March, Madame Periso waited out her time in declining strength. The quiet, dark, oldest daughter, Loose, took over the management of the house itself, while Esther supervised the outside chores and the garden.
Sometimes the exuberant activity of the gardeners spilled over to the inside, but it was soon muted and stilled at the couch of their mother. The child was born the first week of May and barely lived through her baptism. that their mother almost followed the child through the dark gateway of death, struck cold fear into all their hearts.
Esther was conscious of that month of Our Lady 1837 as a period of intolerable waiting. She watched her father become gray and old and realized for the first time that her parents were people who had another life apart from the lives of their children.
however completely they let themselves be absorbed by their family.
But when June came in with a flood of hot sunshine, and the broom billowed against the hills like low-lying yellow clouds, and one could see the northern mountain again in the clear air, Francois's periso grew a little stronger. It seemed evident that God had heard their prayer and would allow their mother to stay with them in their need.
She was able to go with them to St. Martal for the feast of San Jean Baptiste.
Joseph had curried the horses until their coats fairly shown and their harness glinted in the sun. The new carriage which their father had made looked very fine. And when with the dust of the road there was migled the scent of the brier rose blooming and profusion along their route. The world was beautiful and complete again and happiness flowed around them and through them like the rich deep tones of great bordon which is the bell in the church tower.
The coming of that summer however had marked the end of the childhood of Esther Pariso.
For as long as Esther could remember, there had been a name spoken among the people on the eel Jesu.
The children had heard their father deep in conversation with other Canadian Frenchmen on the subject of Msure Louie Joseph Papino.
There were cautious questions and guarded answers followed by long deliberations on the man and his principles.
There was too much weighty consideration of how his policies would affect their own lives. Of late there had been fiery words and bitter argument on the subject, and the result was that now her father sometimes failed to greet or even see certain men in the parish. A strange and puzzling situation among people who had grown up together. It was papy no papino no papino no blown along on the hot wind of a controversy which lashed not only s elar but the whole province of Quebec and finally buffeted the towers of empire in Westminster itself.
The trouble had been a long time growing and its roots went deep into the very nature of Canadian life. It was small wonder that those who were caught up in the dissension and violence of those years found the whole situation full of bitterness and contradiction.
Esther had heard how great grandfather Martin Pariso had come here from Lorraine in 1756.
He and his family had cleared the farm in the St. Lauron district across La Prairie River and had clung to the land during the perilous years of change when the white flag with the liies had been hauled down and the red enen had been run up in Montreal's plast arm.
Those were times spoken of by one's elders in quiet tones. As they spoke, their eyes were seeing some vision, never touched by the words on their lips. A well, they said, those days were passed, and they had not fared so badly on the resources left to them. They still had their religion, their language, and their laws, and they meant to keep them.
The British, on the whole, had made some effort at fairness after those first cruel years. In Grandfather Joseph Pariso's time, they had reached what they had hoped was a final settlement, and the assurance that the French Canadians would survive as a people.
What they wanted most was to be left alone. For 200 years, these French Canadians had borne the burden of this continent. They had explored it to the far reaches of the western seas and the frozen lands to the north. They had laid the basis of the great empire of the fur trade, pushing up fierce, swift rivers and crossing a thousand miles of lake water.
They had portaged over wilderness paths known only to savage Indian guides, and they had returned after months and years, loaded with the stinking pelts, which meant fortunes to the great ones in the cities beyond the seas.
All this their people had done, besides fighting a hundred years of warfare against heavy odds. For themselves, they were not and never had been interested in conquest. They wanted to live in peace within the confines of their parish. They wanted never to move again beyond the sound of their church bells, and they wanted their land.
About the time they had convinced themselves that the British meant their fair promises to respect their customs and their race, they began to discern that there were in the main two breeds of English men. There were those near the king of England who had garnered some slight wisdom about dealing with the loyalties and the sensibilities of other men who were not English. Perhaps the Canadians said Riley, the men of Boston had helped them to learn wisdom, though of those Bostona, the less said the better. [snorts] The fault of those in England was that they allowed their good intentions to lag behind the needed remedies. In the interval, it was the second group of English who took over. of them it could be said that they had learned nothing and forgotten nothing. If they were stupid in London, they were malicious in Quebec.
These were the men of the Chateau Clique, bent on becoming rich and powerful at the expense of the men of the soil and the simple workers.
It was on the wave of frustration which their selfishness and arrogance set in motion that Louise Joseph Papino came to the four in the province of Quebec. And it was he and his followers, the patriot or patriots who in 1837 planned to meet the high-handed and arbitrary suppression of the assembly's rights with violence.
All during the time of their mother's illness, Joseph Periso had been frequently abstracted and withdrawn, in spite of the fact that he had been France Periso's eldest and dearest.
At first, the others had paid little attention to him because he was given to holding himself apart from the rest of them. It was a relief not to have his whims and his demands to contend with, along with their other anxiety.
But around him and related to him, there was uneasiness in the air and a sudden dark word that could stir up echoes out of nowhere.
Their father too was likely to return from the village in a mood of silence.
Talk they had heard, of course, that Msure Papino was rumored to have said this, and Msie Cure had certainly said that.
There were smoldering resentments and an occasional halfs sentence hanging in the air which sent a prickle of fear through their hearts. But behind all this unnamed confusion of thought and feeling was a stubborn reliance on God to see them through whatever it was that lay ahead.
In July, it was learned that the old king, William IV, had died and was succeeded by a mere chit of a girl, Alexandra Victoria.
For a while there was a ray of hope that things might improve because the young queen was a daughter to Prince Edward of Kent, that personable young man who had spent a long idyllic interval in Canada.
He had lived at Mont Moransi at his pleasant country house there. the friend of a beautiful well-b bred lady of their own ancestral land.
Surely the new queen would have some inbred sympathy, some natural social grace which would heal the rift between Leonglay and the French Canadians. But it was soon evident gossip said that the new little queen was not much more than a pawn herself in the game for power.
So they shrugged their shoulders and then squared them to await the event.
It came almost as a relief one day in early summer to have 10-year-old Stannis Loss come flying home from the village with news about Joseph. The mayor, he burst out, had called up all those 16 and over to form a patriot militia, and Joseph Pariso was to be captain of the St. Elar company.
Well, things moved rapidly after that beyond the illegu, not only rapidly, but tragically.
There was a short joyous interim before October, when the countryside was wild with hope and sthing activity. The young paraso were caught up into the prevailing spirit of aror and high purpose, not only to defend their ancient liberties, but to win new ones.
At first, Joseph was a hero. that same Joseph at whom they had grumbled when their mother insisted they wait up in the evening and put the carriage and horses away after he had gone calling on the little laf flesh girl. Joseph himself wore his new role arrogantly.
Not only was he curt with his younger brothers and sisters, but also he assumed the heir of field marshall for the whole village.
It was Esther who undertook to correct that situation and whittle Joseph to his proper size. Whatever he could do, the rest of them would do. Sons of liberty.
Well, then why not younger sons and daughters of liberty as a home guard militia? That way, the honors as well as the responsibility for reserve units would be shared.
The idea was worked out with Julie, the beloved comrade of every enterprise, and with Stannis Loss, the reliable. Then it was submitted for approval first to their father, and finally to the cure, Msieur Merier. I should mention that the word cure refers to the parish priest or pastor of the parish.
Well, the result was that some 40 St. Elar and St. Martan boys from 10 to 14 years of age were rigorously marched and counter marched under Captain Stannis Loss Periso who in turn took orders from Esther.
Occasionally Stannis's command was set aside and Esther herself took over.
Under the approving eyes of the villagers, she could be seen with hair flying and arms justiculating peremptorily as she led the younger sons of Liberty in the more intricate military maneuvers. It turned out to be no mean company. Each young militia carried his own weapon thanks to Esther and Julie, who themselves designed wooden guns and turned them out in the carriage shop.
Moreover, the company was sharply reminded that smart appearance and sound morale are conccommatants.
One, in other words, one follows upon the other.
The nimble fingers of Esther and Julie made jaunty homespun caps complete with blue, red, and white pom poms. A true son of liberty wore his cap with an air of distinction at the same time that he marched with precision to the rhythm of the drum.
Well, by September, Captain Stannis Loss Periso and his men were carrying off all the parish prizes for being the best drilled, bestdressed, best disciplined unit in St. Elar.
That was good, Esther thought, for two reasons. First, it gave the boys a share in the world of their elders. And secondly, it gave the important Joseph some healthy competition.
It was on a Sunday morning that the whole parish of St. Martand de Laval was rocked back on its heels over the question of Msure Papino and the Patriot.
Msure Lure read the gospel in such an ordinary voice that Esther could never afterward remember what it had been about. And then after fumbling briefly with some papers he held and before they were well seated for the sermon he began in a voice as solemn as great Bordon itself.
Jean Jacqu Lartig by the grace of God and the holy apostolic sea bishop of Montreal to the clergy and the leoty of the dascese of Montreal. Greetings and benedictions in our Lord Jesus Christ.
It has seemed to us dot dot dot.
At first, Esther merely supposed that is lordship's letter could not mean what she thought it was saying. She was simply not hearing correctly, or she was not grasping the significance of the words. But when she saw the mayor sitting bolt upright in his pew down front, his face suffused with a purple flush, and when turning, she saw her own father's face expressionless and deathly still. She knew she was not misunderstanding.
his lordship, the bishop of Montreal, that gentle, kindly prelet at whose hands the Holy Spirit had come to her in the holy sacrament of confirmation, was now commanding the people of the parish of St. Martandanda de Laval along with those of every other parish in his dascese to respect the civil authority now ruling them and to desist from every act and word of violence under pain of grievous sin.
Thinking of the blue, red and white cockades, Esther wished that the floor beneath them would open and swallow her.
Every word was certainly being aimed at her.
How could all of them have been so wrong?
A red turmoil arose convulsingly in her heart and threatened to engulf her.
Gradually, [sighs] the shame passed to be followed by a hollow, unthinking obstinacy.
This simply could not be happening to her.
Well, somehow the mass went on and the paraso were with the rest of the congregation on the way out of the church. Today, however, they did not linger on the church steps, but without a word were ushered by their parents into the carriage.
When Esther would have spoken of Msure Papino, her father foresstalled her.
Monsenor, his lordship of Montreal speaks for Holy Mother Church.
Therefore, his voice is the voice of God speaking. It is for good children to listen and obey.
At her father's words, the turbulence within her died. She knew that he felt as strongly as she did about those selfish and powerful ones in Quebec who were bent on restricting their people in the exercise of their language, their customs, their faith.
She let her hurt her pride be soothed by the knowledge that he would never be weak or slack in the face of danger. He would take positive and suitable action in defense of what he held right and dear.
This must be the way of prudence. The church had had 1,800 years of learning forbearance.
Who was she to say otherwise?
The sun overhead was warm, and the horses were moving toward home at a good, brisk pace, their polished harness tinkling pleasantly.
Esther had the smell of dust in her nostrils and the taste of it in her mouth.
But some new wisdom helped her to see the splendor of the autumn woods and along the road the golden rod.
The most painful thing which followed at Sant Alzar in Esther's eyes was the disbanding of Captain Stannislo Periso's core.
But after the snow laid deep across the fields, there came really tragic news of patriot groups to the south, and how on the road between Lwi and Shambli, they had briefly stood their ground against the British regulars, only to be routed later at Santine and Sanch and Santustach.
Msure Papino fled to the United States for safety. But before the trouble was over, there were a thousand French Canadians in the prisons of Montreal and Quebec.
After a year, 12 of them were executed and a score were exiled to the Bermudas and Australia.
Out of the welter of heartache and bloodshed, there would eventually grow a nation which would honor the principle for which the men of 1837 and 1838 had striven with more zeal than competence.
But that day was not yet.
In Montreal, there was one who had mitigated the misery of the time by visiting the imprisoned patriot.
She was a great lady who herself had known grievous sorrow, and out of her personal loss had set before her, in so far as she was able, the task of binding up the wounds of society.
Because of her loving kindness in those years, she was afterward called the angel of the prisons.
into the world of Esther Pariso there had not yet entered the name of Emily Gabalan.
But imperceptibly that world was being made ready. Before another year was out, the little new queen proved to be worth something.
After all, when on the occasion of her solemn coronation, a general amnesty opened to the prisons to all but the most active of the patriot.
It was at least a step on the long road in which two peoples must travel if they wish to survive.
They would need to learn that each has something to give the other. Each even so simple and Christian a thing as forgiveness.
To be equal in the new Canada which must emerge, it would not be necessary to be identical.
In the fall of 1840, Manmoiselle Elizabeth Bruier came to St. Martal to open a boarding school. The event had been heralded by the cure Msure Arthur Karon during the previous summer.
Menis Al Briier had been a pupil of the sisters of the congregation of Notraam and was able to impart to the young ladies who came to her those finer points in education which their homes had not been able to give them.
There was no village school in the parish of St. Martal.
Hence this was an opportunity not to be neglected by any girl whose future might take her beyond the illegu.
Madame Pariso herself had been a pupil of the sisters of Notradam in Montreal and along with her other duties had taught her children to read and write.
She was eager to have her work strengthened and supplemented for the second daughter, whose lively and incisive mind needed the curb of a balanced intellectuality.
So when Esther, in a glow of enthusiasm presented the idea to her father, she found an ardent advocate in her mother.
The additional expense could easily be met. France Perryo argued for both the carriage shop and the farm were prospering. With Joseph married and loose about to be, there would be help enough for the other children. Julie could manage the household under her direction. Stannis loss at 13 was capable and steady, and the younger children were now able to care for themselves and share the chores.
There were times when she, Francois, discerned in Esther a disposition of heart and mind, which sought something beyond the ordinary bonds of family, for whatever it was that God would call her.
She must be made ready. It was their duty as Christian parents to see to it.
Mure Periso allowed himself to be easily persuaded, though he would miss Esther's companionship and ready assistance.
And so it was that Esther became a pupil at the school of Madmoiselle Briier in the late fall of 1840.
At the age of 17, she had nothing of the immature school girl about her. Behind her was a happy, active childhood spent within the warm, secure confines of her own family.
But though those years at St. Alzar had been happy, they had been tempered by their measure of heartache and anxiety, the natural vigor of her character had been disciplined and sobered not only by exacting work, but also by the give and take of living with other aabled and strong willed Pariso. Peace among them had been purchased at the price of self-control and constant generosity of spirit. Moreover, peace had have been the only condition which would have been tolerated by their parents who ruled them lovingly but ruled nonetheless firmly for all their love.
In many ways, Esther was an amazing pupil.
There was almost nothing in the way of practical living that she had not done.
She was adept at spinning wheel, loom and needle, at kitchen stove and oven.
She could launder, scrub, and make candles. She could grow vegetables and flowers. She could adapt designs used in the carriage shop to articles of household use, and she could invent traps for animals and snares for birds, to the amazement and delight of her younger brothers and sisters. She learned to care for her ailing mother and acted as nurse for the younger children when they were ill. She knew the simple songs and hymns of her people and sang them unfalteringly in a clear, strong voice. She had a natural genius for organization and command, and these qualities were borne out by a physical dignity and presence.
By the time she was 17, she was well above medium height, erect and decisive of carriage, with strong, well-marked features, and direct gray eyes.
It might be expected that Esther would prove a formidable pupil to the young school mistress at St. Martaz.
But the quick and enduring friendship which sprang up between them attests the contrary fact that Madmoiselle was a true gentle woman. The girl recognized at once. She was accomplished at arts with which she Esther was ill at ease and diffident. the art, for example, of the written or spoken word, and Madmoiselle had refinement of spirit as well as of speech. She was full of gentle encouragement for the practical hands, which found the pen a clumsy instrument, until gradually Esther found herself able to produce the fine, careful penmanship, which was the mark of the educated woman.
As for improvement in the mode of expression, that came much more slowly.
Her simple directness of thought led her to a style which not only lacked rhetoric, but boarded on bluntness.
However, she had a great respect for those who could not only perceive beauty, but could express it in words.
And under Madmoiselle's careful and patient toutelage, she labored to improve her own use of language.
It came as no surprise to Esther early in 1843 when Madmoiselle Briier announced that her work as school mistress was being taken over by Madmoiselle Graal.
After well-night two years with her, Esther knew what was in her teacher's mind before she was told. They had often spoken of the great Canadian heroins of earlier times among others of Jean Monz and Margarite Bourgeoa of Mother Maria of the Urselene and Madame Diovi. Of late the conversations had been more and more of Madame Diovi and her spiritual daughters, the gay nuns.
Along with the talk, there had been intervals of prayer. How does God make his will known in so important a decision? Esther wondered. It was soon apparent that he had made his wishes known to Madmoiselle, no matter what the manner of the manifestation.
For her it was to be the nvicit of the grey nuns and that immediately Esther finished out the year of study under Madmoiselle Grall.
Knowing as she did so that this was a period of waiting for herself. She was comfortingly aware of the fact that her family was waiting with her.
Whatever took place after this, it would be a pariso affair.
End of chapter 3.
I just think this is a great story.
I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am. This is history. This is this is Catholic history. And it's good to know Catholic history um especially for our for our local area. I mean, here I am on the west coast of the United States, the Pacific Northwest. I've visited Mont Rayal.
I've not been to Quebec. I've been to the east coast. I've been various places around the United States. But, you know, we're used to reading the lives of of saints in in Europe especially. And while Mother Joseph doesn't have a cause for her canonization as far as I know, um even so, this is the Catholic story of our own continent and a Catholic story that comes to our own local area.
if you're here in Portland or in the Pacific Northwest watching this video.
And as the story goes along, as you learn more about local Catholic history, you will feel more rooted in this place, you'll relate to these institutions that were built with a greater fondness and appreciation for their importance.
Well, you'll have to discover this for yourself, but I'm here to help you along that road. And I'm discovering these things myself. In fact, right up here, uh, right up here, I have a holy card from 1943 for servant of God, the most reverend Charles J. Seagars, who was the second archbishop of Oregon City, now Portland.
He was our second archbishop here. He was martyed in Alaska in 1886 at the age of 47 and his story is amazing and I hope to share with you that story of servant of God Charles J. Seagars, Archbishop of Portland and of Victoria, well of Oregon City and of Vancouver Island.
That is an amazing story. So we'll get to that one of these days.
Well, let us go next door now and pray our novena prayer and I'll meet you back here.
Amen. Oh most sacred heart of Jesus, you know the longings of our hearts and you desire that we enjoy friendship with you. From your pierced side, you have poured out the wellspring of life for which we thirst. Your heart burns with a love for all people to return to a right relationship with you. We celebrate the abundant gifts you have given this nation founded on the self-evident truths that our creator has endowed all people with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We make reparation for the offenses against you and against human dignity that have taken place in this nation. May our hearts be united to yours so that our families and communities enjoy peace and happiness. May broken relationships be reconciled, injustices repaired, and the wounds of our land be healed. May your holy Catholic Church serve as a sign pointing all people to your infinite love.
Oh desire of nations and center of history, we ask you to bless these United States of America, who live and reign with God the Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God forever and ever. Amen.
Oh most sacred heart of Jesus, have mercy on us. Oh most sacred heart of Jesus, have mercy on us. Oh most sacred heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.
Amen.
Well, join me tomorrow for the fourth day in our novena to the most sacred heart of Jesus and the continuing story of Mother Joseph of the sacred heart.
And don't miss a day of prayer with us.
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