“I won’t.”
“It comes to this: your teachers have all been Priests. Assuming they have kept their vows, such men have a, shall we say,limitedknowledge of women and of sexual congress. I, on the other hand, possess more than two decades’ experience, not only as a husband but also as a doctor. I have friends who are husbands and doctors as well. We often seek each other’s advice. You are young, Joseph, and you have been very sheltered—like a hothouse flower. Sooner orlater, a penitent will confess to you some act or desire that will shock you. You will find yourself at a loss how to respond. When that happens, I will gladly place my knowledge and experience at your disposal. I will give you no names, and you will give me none. We willbothbe bound by the Seal of Confession.”
That will not be necessary,Joseph thought.If I need advice, I will go to another Priest, just as you go to fellow doctors. You cannot diagnose sin. You don’t even wish to cure your own.
On the dayhe became a Subdeacon, Joseph’s palm retained little evidence of the wound. Bishop England assured him the damage was not sufficient to constitute an impediment, but he advised Joseph to be more careful in future. His Lordship added with a grin that Joseph was blessed to have such a fine physician.
Perhaps Joseph’s hand remained unsteady. His very first act as an Ordinand, when Bishop England called his name, was to respond “I am present” and step forward. But somehow, carrying the weight of the unaccustomed vestments and the expectations of an entire diocese, Joseph dropped his candle instead.
Miraculously, even as it rolled away from him, the candle remained lit. When he stooped to snatch it up, the tasselled ends of his cincture swung dangerously close to the flame and nearly caught fire. Everyone in the cathedral seemed to gasp and then release his breath at once.
Probably Joseph’s father thought this was another omen. After all, a clergyman’s cincture symbolized his chastity. As Joseph tied the white cord around his waist in the sacristy, he had prayed:“Gird me, O Lord, with the cincture of purity, and extinguish in my heart the fire of lust.”
Afraid he’d somehow invalidated the rite, Joseph raised his eyes nervously to his Bishop. His Lordship granted him a reassuring smile before continuing the Mass. Joseph’s heart calmed as again and again, Bishop England addressed him as “dearly beloved son.” Each time felt like an embrace.
“Consider that this day of your own free will, you desire aburden,” His Lordship proclaimed in booming Latin. “For after you have received this Order, you will no longer be free…you will be obliged to observe chastity and to work always in the ministry of the Church.”
Joseph lay prostrate, rose, and answered “Amen” at each proper place. Bishop England conferred on him all the vestments and duties of a Subdeacon. And it was done. He was safe. Joseph belonged now to God, and no woman would ever belong to him.
CHAPTER 18
No thief hugging his ill-gotten gains; no murderer, fleeing from city to city, like a deer chased by the hounds, passing night after night in but fitful slumbers, ever was haunted more by fear of discovery, or lived in greater suspense.
— Ralph W. Tyler, “1,000 Passing in Washington,”New York Age, September 16, 1909
Shortly before Easter, Joseph agreed to accompany his father to the funeral Mass for Philippe Noisette. Afterwards, they stood in St. Mary’s churchyard in the drizzle, watching Celestine, five of her children, and three grandchildren pay their last tearful respects to the Frenchman. Joseph asked his father in a low voice: “What will become of them now?”
“Philippe did all he could for them. He sent Louis to apprentice with his brother in France, so at least he is safe. Philippe has two other siblings—hopefully they won’t contest his will. He recognized all his children and made arrangements to support them and Celestine through the sale of his estate, which is considerable. But the only way to guarantee their freedom is for the Noisettes to leave the South—and they want to stay. Philippe’s eldest son,Alexandre, wants to continue his father’s business at the garden. Philippe named Joel Poinsett and Francis Duquereron his executors—good men and powerful ones. If they become, at least nominally, the Noisettes’ masters, Philippe’s family can remain in Charleston.”
His father walked Joseph back to the seminary, still clearly troubled. “I don’t intend to die anytime soon, but neither will I live forever; I need to make my own provisions. Agathe and your grandmother’s maid will probably predecease me, but I’ve been thinking a great deal about Henry and May. They have family here—brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews—owned by other masters. But if Henry and May stay in South Carolina, they will always be slaves. I can’t free them in my will.”
“As long as Mama is alive, she’ll need someone in the household who understands sign.”
“Henry and May have agreed to help teach their successors—who will be free men or women, I’m determined on that. I have agreed to reduce Henry and May’s tasks as they age. Then, they deserve a few years of rest—and they will need a protector who is free. Cathy and Perry are leaving next year, and all the other men I trust are my own age or older. But Dr. England tells me he wants to keep you in Charleston.”
“You would be safer if I sent you to the far missions,”His Lordship had admitted to Joseph.“No one in North Carolina knows your family—and even if the people there did discover your heritage, fewer would care. But I cannot conscience such a waste of your education, Joseph. My seminary needs teachers, and you are qualified in every subject.”
Now, his father stopped on the sidewalk and looked Joseph in the eyes beneath his black umbrella. “I know being a Priest doesn’t prevent you from owning slaves, and this would be in name only. Can I will Henry and May to you, son?”
Joseph hesitated. If they wanted security for Henry and May, shouldn’t his father will them to someone white?
“Will you give me your word that you’ll let them have their time? You would allow Henry and May to live where they chose. You would assist them whenever their status legally prevented themfrom accomplishing something. And you would never, ever sell them.”
“Of course—I mean, of course not.” What a burden his father was offering him—what a privilege, to someday serve the people who had served his family for so many years.
“Will you do this for me, Joseph? Will you do it for them?”
“I will.” South Carolina law couldn’t be any more complicated than Canon law.
InThe Southern Patriot, Noisette’s obituary observed that “His death was much lamented by all his friends and acquaintances.” It did not mention Celestine or their children, yet it concluded: “The writer of these lines has often heard Mr. Noisette repeat this sentiment of Pope: ‘An honest man is the noblest work of God.’”
Before his next mission to Haiti, Bishop England turned his attention to the negroes of Charleston. Slaves were forbidden to read; but it was not against the law to teach free blacks. The Protestants already had colored schools in the city, and the true Church was losing souls. So His Lordship opened a school of his own for blacks. To teach the girls, he appointed two nuns. To teach the boys, he asked two seminarians. One of them was Joseph.
He was a Deacon now (mercifully, the ceremony had passed without incident, candle and all). He would not make the solemn promise to obey his Bishop until he was ordained a Priest, yet Joseph felt he could not refuse such a request. And how could he deny anyone the chance to read?
To his surprise, Joseph enjoyed teaching—opening the children’s eyes to the world. Or at least, the corner of the world their color allowed them to occupy. It did trouble Joseph, the way some of the boys would peer at him. Especially the mulattos. Joseph wondered if they recognized his African blood. Did he make them proud or simply envious, hiding like this in plain sight?
Soon His Lordship’s new school had more than eighty pupils. But in the middle of the night that July of 1835, Joseph and hisBishop were startled awake by shouting from the street below. Joseph yanked his trousers over his night-shirt. He was still pulling his braces over his shoulders when he stumbled from his bedchamber to find His Lordship already in the hall. Together they hurried down the stairs to admit their agitated visitors through the back gate. Joseph couldn’t remember the men’s names, but he knew they were Irish.
