The Priest, the Woman, and the Confessional

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And it came to pass in the sixth year, in the sixth month, in the fifth day of the month, as I sat </I></div> <div> <I>in mine house, and the elders of Judah sat before me, that the hand of the LORD GOD fell </I></div> <div> <I>there upon me.</I></div> <div> <I>2. Then I beheld, and lo, a likeness as the appearance of fire; from the appearance of his loins </I></div> <div> <I>even downward, fire; and from his loins even upward, as the appearance of brightness, as the </I></div> <div> <I>color of amber.</I></div> <div> <I>3. And be put forth the form of an hand, and took me by a lock of mine head; and the spirit </I></div> <div> <I>lifted me up between the earth and the heaven, and brought me in the visions of God to </I></div> <div> <I>Jerusalem, to the door of the inner gate that looketh toward the north; where was the seat of </I></div> <div> <I>the image of jealousy, which provoketh to jealousy.</I></div> <div> <I>4. And behold, the glory of the God of Israel was there, according to the vision that I saw in the </I></div> <div> <I>plain.</I></div> <div> <I>5. Then said he unto me, Son of man, lift up thine eyes now the way toward the north. So I </I></div> <div> <I>lifted up mine eyes the way toward the north; and behold, northward, at the gate of the altar, </I></div> <div> <I>this image of jealousy in the entry.</I></div> <div> <I>6. He said furthermore unto me; Son of man, seest thou what they do?-even the great </I></div> <div> <I>abominations that the house of Israel committeth here, that I should go far off from my </I></div> <div> <I>sanctuary? but turn thee yet again, and thou shalt see greater abominations.</I></div> <div> <I>7. And he brought me to the door of the court; and when I looked, behold, a hole in the wall.</I></div> <div> <I>8. Then said he unto me, Son of man, dig now in the wall: and when I had digged in the wall, </I></div> <div> <I>behold, a door.</I></div> <div> <I>9. And he said unto me, Go in, and behold the wicked abominations that they do here.</I></div> <div> <I>10 So I went in and saw; and. behold, every, form of creeping things, and abominable beasts, </I></div> <div> <I>and all the idols of the of Israel, portrayed upon the wall round about.</I></div> <div> <I>11. And there stood before them seventy men of the ancients of the house of Israel, and in the </I></div> <div> <I>Page 4     </I></div> <div> <I>midst of them stood Jaazaniah the son of Shaphan, with every man his censer in his hand; and </I></div> <div> <I>a thick cloud of incense went up.</I></div> <div> <I>12. Then said he unto me, Son of man, hast thou seen what the ancients of the house of Israel </I></div> <div> <I>do in the dark, every man in the chambers of his imagery? for they say, The Lord seeth us not; </I></div> <div> <I>the Lord hath forsaken the earth.</I></div> <div> <I>13. He said also unto me, Turn thee yet again, and thou shalt see greater abominations that </I></div> <div> <I>they do.</I></div> <div> <I>14. Then he brought me to the door of the gate of the LORD'S house which was toward the </I></div> <div> <I>north; and, behold, there sat women weeping for Tammuz.</I></div> <div> <I>15. Then said he unto me, Hast thou seen this, O Son of man? turn thee yet again, and thou </I></div> <div> <I>shalt see greater abominations than these.</I></div> <div> <I>16. And he brought me into the inner court of the LORD'S house, and, behold, at the door of </I></div> <div> <I>the temple of the LORD, between the porch and the altar, were about five and twenty men, with </I></div> <div> <I>their backs towards the temple of the LORD, and their faces toward the east; and they </I></div> <div> <I>worshipped the sun toward the east.</I></div> <div> <I>17. Then he said unto me, Hast thou seen this, O Son of man? Is it a light thing to the house of </I></div> <div> <I>Judah that they commit the abominations which they commit here? for they have filled the land </I></div> <div> <I>with violence, and have returned to provoke me to anger; and, lo, they put the branch to their </I></div> <div> <I>nose.</I></div> <div> <I>18. Therefore will I also deal in fury: mine eye shall not spare, neither will I have pity; and </I></div> <div> <I>though they cry in mine ears with a loud voice, yet will I not hear them.</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>The Priest, the Woman, and the Confessional</I></div> <div> <I>CHAPTER I.</I></div> <div> <I>The Struggle before the Surrender of Womanly Self-Respect in the Confessional</I></div> <div> <I>THERE are two women who ought to be constant objects of the compassion of the disciples of </I></div> <div> <I>Christ, and for whom daily prayers ought to be offered at the mercy-seat -the Brahmin </I></div> <div> <I>woman, who, deceived by her priests, burns herself on the corpse of her husband to appease </I></div> <div> <I>the wrath of her wooden gods; and the Roman Catholic woman, who, not less deceived by her </I></div> <div> <I>priests, suffers a torture far more cruel and ignominious in the confessional-box, to appease </I></div> <div> <I>the wrath of her wafer-god.</I></div> <div> <I>For I do not exaggerate when I say, that for many noble-hearted, well-educated, high-minded </I></div> <div> <I>women, to be forced to unveil their hearts before the eyes of a man, to open to him all the most </I></div> <div> <I>secret recesses of their souls, all the most sacred mysteries of their single or married life, to </I></div> <div> <I>allow him to put to them questions which the most depraved woman would never consent to </I></div> <div> <I>hear from her vilest seducer, is often more horrible and intolerable than to be tied on burning </I></div> <div> <I>coals.</I></div> <div> <I>More than once, I have seen women fainting in the confessional-box, who told me afterwards, </I></div> <div> <I>that the necessity of speaking to an unmarried man on certain things, on which the most </I></div> <div> <I>common laws of decency ought to have for ever sealed their lips, had almost killed them! Not </I></div> <div> <I>hundreds, but thousands of times, I have heard from the lips of dying girls, as well as of </I></div> <div> <I>married women, the awful words; "I am forever lost! All my past confessions and communions </I></div> <div> <I>have been so many sacrileges! I have never dared to answer correctly the questions of my </I></div> <div> <I>confessors! Shame has sealed my lips and damned my soul!"</I></div> <div> <I>How many times I remained as one petrified, by the side of a corpse, when these last words </I></div> <div> <I>having hardly escaped the lips of one of my female penitents, who had been snatched out of </I></div> <div> <I>my reach by the merciless hand of death, before I could give her pardon through the deceitful </I></div> <div> <I>sacramental absolution? I then believed, as the dead sinner herself had believed, that she </I></div> <div> <I>could not be forgiven except by that absolution.</I></div> <div> <I>For there are not only thousands but millions of Roman Catholic girls and women whose keen </I></div> <div> <I>sense of modesty and womanly dignity are above all the sophisms and diabolical machinations </I></div> <div> <I>of their priests. They never can be persuaded to answer "Yes " to certain questions of their </I></div> <div> <I>confessors. They would prefer to be thrown into the flames, and burnt to ashes with the </I></div> <div> <I>Brahmin widows, rather than allow the eyes of a man to pry into the sacred sanctuary of their </I></div> <div> <I>souls. Though sometimes guilty before God, and under the impression that their sins will never </I></div> <div> <I>be forgiven if not confessed, the laws of decency are stronger in their hearts than the laws of </I></div> <div> <I>their cruel and perfidious Church. No consideration, not even the fear of eternal damnation, can </I></div> <div> <I>persuade them to declare to a sinful man, sins which God alone has the right to know, for He </I></div> <div> <I>alone can blot them out with the blood of His Son, shed on the cross.</I></div> <div> <I>But what a wretched life must that be of those exceptional noble souls, which Rome keeps in </I></div> <div> <I>the dark dungeons of her superstition? They read in all their books, and hear from all their </I></div> <div> <I>pulpits, that if they conceal a single sin from their confessors they are forever lost! But, being </I></div> <div> <I>absolutely unable to trample under their feet the laws of self-respect and decency, which God </I></div> <div> <I>Himself has impressed in their souls, they live in constant dread of eternal damnation. No </I></div> <div> <I>human words can tell their desolation and distress, when at the feet of their confessors, they </I></div> <div> <I>find themselves under the horrible necessity of speaking of things, on which they would prefer </I></div> <div> <I>to suffer the most cruel death rather than to open their lips, or to be forever damned if they do </I></div> <div> <I>not degrade themselves forever in their own eyes, by speaking on matters which a respectable </I></div> <div> <I>woman will never reveal to her own mother, much less to a man!</I></div> <div> <I>I have known only too many of these noble-hearted women, who, when alone with God, in a </I></div> <div> <I>real agony of desolation and with burning tears, had asked Him to grant them what they </I></div> <div> <I>considered the greatest favor, which was, to lose so much of their self-respect as to be enabled </I></div> <div> <I>to speak of those unmentionable things, just as their confessors wanted them to speak; and, </I></div> <div> <I>hoping that their petition had been granted, they went again to the confessional-box, </I></div> <div> <I>determined to unveil their shame before the eyes of that inexorable man. But when the moment </I></div> <div> <I>had come for the self-immolation, their courage failed, their knees trembled, their lips became </I></div> <div> <I>pale as death, cold sweat poured from all their pores! The voice of modesty and womanly self-</I></div> <div> <I>respect was speaking louder than the voice of their false religion. They had to go out of the </I></div> <div> <I>confessional-box unpardoned-nay, with the burden of a new sacrilege on their conscience.</I></div> <div> <I>Oh! how heavy is the yoke of Rome-how bitter is human life-how cheerless is the mystery of </I></div> <div> <I>the cross to those deluded and perishing souls! How gladly they would rush into the blazing </I></div> <div> <I>piles with the Brahmin women, if they could hope to see the end of their unspeakable miseries </I></div> <div> <I>through the momentary tortures which would open to them the gates of a better life!</I></div> <div> <I>I do here publicly challenge the whole Roman Catholic priesthood to deny that the greater part </I></div> <div> <I>of their female penitents remain a certain period of time-some longer, some shorter-under </I></div> <div> <I>that most distressing state of mind.</I></div> <div> <I>Yes, by far the greater majority of women, at first, find it impossible to pull down the sacred </I></div> <div> <I>barriers of self-respect which God Himself has built around their hearts, intelligences, and </I></div> <div> <I>souls, as the best safeguard against the snares of this polluted world. Those laws of self-</I></div> <div> <I>respect, by which they cannot consent to speak an impure word into the ears of a man, and </I></div> <div> <I>which shut all the avenues of the heart against his unchaste questions, even when speaking in </I></div> <div> <I>the name of God-those laws of self-respect are so clearly written in their conscience, and they </I></div> <div> <I>are so well understood by them, to be a most Divine gift, that, as I have already said, many </I></div> <div> <I>prefer to run the risk of being forever lost by remaining silent.</I></div> <div> <I>It takes many years of the most ingenious (I do not hesitate to call it diabolical) efforts on the </I></div> <div> <I>part of the priests to persuade the majority of their female penitents to speak on questions, </I></div> <div> <I>which even pagan savages would blush to mention among themselves. Some persist in </I></div> <div> <I>remaining silent on those matters during the greater part of their lives, and many prefer to </I></div> <div> <I>throw themselves into the hands of their merciful God, and die without submitting to the defiling </I></div> <div> <I>ordeal, even after they have felt the poisonous stings of the enemy, rather than receive their </I></div> <div> <I>pardon from a man, who, as they feel, would have surely been scandalized by the recital of </I></div> <div> <I>their human frailties. All the priests of Rome are aware of this natural disposition of their female </I></div> <div> <I>penitents. There is not a single one-no, not a single one of their moral theologians, who does </I></div> <div> <I>not warn the confessors against that stern and general determination of the girls and married </I></div> <div> <I>women never to speak in the confessional on matters which may, more or less, deal with sins </I></div> <div> <I>against the seventh commandment. Dens, Liguori, Debreyne, Bailly, &c.,-in a word, all the </I></div> <div> <I>theologians of Rome own that this is one of the greatest difficulties which the confessors have </I></div> <div> <I>to contend with in the confessional-box.</I></div> <div> <I>Not a single Roman Catholic priest will dare to deny what I say on this matter; for they know </I></div> <div> <I>that it would be easy for me to overwhelm them with such a crowd of testimonies that their </I></div> <div> <I>grand imposture would forever be unmasked.</I></div> <div> <I>I intend, at some future day, if God spares me and gives me time for it, to make known some of </I></div> <div> <I>the innumerable things which the Roman Catholic theologians and moralists have written on </I></div> <div> <I>this question. It will form one of the most curious books ever written; and it will give </I></div> <div> <I>unanswerable evidence of the fact that, instinctively, without consulting each other, and with an </I></div> <div> <I>unanimity which is almost marvellous, the Roman Catholic women, guided by the honest </I></div> <div> <I>instincts which God has given them, shrink from the snares put before them in the confessional-</I></div> <div> <I>box; and that everywhere they struggle to nerve themselves with a superhuman courage, </I></div> <div> <I>against the torturer who is sent by the Pope, to finish their ruin and to make shipwreck of their </I></div> <div> <I>souls. Everywhere woman feels that there are things which ought never to be told, as there are </I></div> <div> <I>things which ought never to be done, in the presence of the God of holiness. She understands </I></div> <div> <I>that, to recite the history of certain sins, even of thought, is not less shameful and criminal than </I></div> <div> <I>to do them; she hears the voice of God whispering into her ears, "Is it not enough that thou </I></div> <div> <I>hast been guilty once, when alone in My presence, without adding to thine iniquity by allowing </I></div> <div> <I>that man to know what should never have been revealed to him? Do you not feel that you </I></div> <div> <I>make that man your accomplice, the very moment that you throw into his heart and soul the </I></div> <div> <I>mire of your iniquities? He is as weak as you are, he is not less a sinner than yourself; what </I></div> <div> <I>has tempted you will tempt him; what has made you weak will make him weak; what has </I></div> <div> <I>polluted you will pollute him; what has thrown you down into the dust, will throw him into the </I></div> <div> <I>dust. Is it not enough that My eyes had to look upon your iniquities? must My ears, to-day, </I></div> <div> <I>listen to your impure conversation with that man? Were that man as holy as My prophet David, </I></div> <div> <I>may he not fall before the unchaste unveiling of the new Bathsheba? Were he as strong as </I></div> <div> <I>Samson, may he not find in you his tempting Delilah? Were he as generous as Peter, may he </I></div> <div> <I>not become a traitor at the maid-servant's voice?" </I></div> <div> <I>Perhaps the world has never seen a more terrible, desperate, solemn struggle than the one </I></div> <div> <I>which is going on in the soul of a poor trembling young woman, who, at the feet of that man, </I></div> <div> <I>has to decide whether or not she will open her lips on those things which the infallible voice of </I></div> <div> <I>God, united to the no less infallible voice of her womanly honor and self-respect, tell her never </I></div> <div> <I>to reveal to any man!</I></div> <div> <I>The history of that secret, fierce, desperate, and deadly struggle has never yet, so far as I </I></div> <div> <I>know, been fully given. It would draw the tears of admiration and compassion of the whole </I></div> <div> <I>world, if it could be written with its simple, sublime, and terrible realities.</I></div> <div> <I>How many times have I wept as a child when some noble-hearted and intelligent young girl, or </I></div> <div> <I>some respectable married woman, yielding to the sophisms with which I, or some other </I></div> <div> <I>confessor, had persuaded them to give up their self-respect, and their womanly dignity, to </I></div> <div> <I>speak with me on matters on which a decent woman should never say a word with a man. </I></div> <div> <I>They have told me of their invincible repugnance, their horror of such questions and answers, </I></div> <div> <I>and they have asked me to have pity on them. Yes! I have often wept bitterly on my </I></div> <div> <I>degradation, when a priest of Rome! I</I></div> <div> <I>have realized all the strength, the grandeur, and the holiness of their motives for being silent on </I></div> <div> <I>these defiling matters, and I could not but admire them. It seemed at times that they were </I></div> <div> <I>speaking the language of angels of light; that I ought to fall at their feet, and ask their pardon </I></div> <div> <I>for having spoken to them of questions, on which a man of honor ought never to converse with </I></div> <div> <I>a woman whom he respects.</I></div> <div> <I>But alas! I had soon to reproach myself, and regret those short instances of my wavering faith </I></div> <div> <I>in the infallible voice of my Church; I had soon to silence the voice of my conscience, which </I></div> <div> <I>was telling me, "Is it not a shame that you, an unmarried man, dare to speak on these matters </I></div> <div> <I>with a woman? Do you not blush to put such questions to a young girl? Where is your self-</I></div> <div> <I>respect? where is your fear of God? Do you not promote the ruin of that girl by forcing her to </I></div> <div> <I>speak with a man on such matters?</I></div> <div> <I>I was compelled by all the Popes, the moral theologians, and the Councils, of Rome, to believe </I></div> <div> <I>that this warning voice of my merciful God was the voice of Satan; I had to believe in spite of </I></div> <div> <I>my own conscience and intelligence, that it was good, nay, necessary, to put those polluting, </I></div> <div> <I>damning questions. My infallible Church was mercilessly forcing me to oblige those poor, </I></div> <div> <I>trembling, weeping, desolate girls and women, to swim with me and all her priests in those </I></div> <div> <I>waters of Sodom and Gomorrah, under the pretext that their self-will would be broken down, </I></div> <div> <I>their fear of sin and humility increased, and that they would be purified by our absolutions.</I></div> <div> <I>With what supreme distress, disgust, and surprise, we see, to-day, a great part of the noble </I></div> <div> <I>Episcopal Church of England struck by a plague which seems incurable, under the name of </I></div> <div> <I>Puseyism, or Ritualism, and bringing again-more or less openly-in many places the </I></div> <div> <I>diabolical and filthy auricular confession among the Protestants of England, Australia and </I></div> <div> <I>America. The Episcopal Church is doomed to perish in that dark and stinking pool of Popery-</I></div> <div> <I>auricular confession, if she does not find a prompt remedy to stop the plague brought by the </I></div> <div> <I>disguised Jesuits, who are at work everywhere, to poison and enslave her too unsuspecting </I></div> <div> <I>daughters and sons.</I></div> <div> <I>In the beginning of my priesthood, I was not a little surprised and embarrassed to see a very </I></div> <div> <I>accomplished and beautiful young lady, whom I used to meet almost every week at her father's </I></div> <div> <I>house, entering the box of my confessional. She had been used to confess to another young </I></div> <div> <I>priest of my acquaintance, and she was always looked upon as one of the most pious girls of </I></div> <div> <I>the city. Though she had disguised herself as much as possible, in order that I might not know </I></div> <div> <I>her, I felt sure that I was not mistaken-she was the amiable Mary * *</I></div> <div> <I>Not being absolutely certain of the correctness of my impressions, I left her entirely under the </I></div> <div> <I>hope that she was a perfect stranger to me. At the beginning she could hardly speak; her voice </I></div> <div> <I>was suffocated by her sobs; and through the little apertures of the thin partition between her </I></div> <div> <I>and me, I saw two streams of big tears trickling down her cheeks.</I></div> <div> <I>After much effort, she said: "Dear Father, I hope you do not know me, and that you will never </I></div> <div> <I>try to know me. I am a desperately great sinner. Oh! I fear that I am lost! But if there is still a </I></div> <div> <I>hope for me to be saved, for God's sake, do not rebuke me! Before I begin my confession, </I></div> <div> <I>allow me to ask you not to pollute my ears by questions which our confessors are in the habit </I></div> <div> <I>of putting to their female penitents; I have already been destroyed by those questions. Before I </I></div> <div> <I>was seventeen years old, God knows that His angels are not more pure than I was; but the </I></div> <div> <I>chaplain of the Nunnery where my parents had sent me for my education, though approaching </I></div> <div> <I>old age, put to me, in the confessional, a question which at first I did not understand, but, </I></div> <div> <I>unfortunately, he had put the same questions to one of my young class-mates, who made fun </I></div> <div> <I>of them in my presence, and explained them to me; for she understood them too well. This first </I></div> <div> <I>unchaste conversation of my life plunged my thoughts into a sea of iniquity, till then absolutely </I></div> <div> <I>unknown to me; temptations of the most humiliating character assailed me for a week, day and </I></div> <div> <I>night; after which, sins which I would blot out with my blood, if it were possible, overwhelmed </I></div> <div> <I>my soul as with a deluge. But the joys of the sinner are short. Struck with terror at the thought </I></div> <div> <I>of the judgments of God, after a few weeks of the most deplorable life, I determined to give up </I></div> <div> <I>my sins and reconcile myself to God. Covered with shame, and trembling from head to foot, I </I></div> <div> <I>went to confess to my old confessor, whom I respected as a saint and cherished as a father. It </I></div> <div> <I>seems to me that, with sincere tears of repentance, I confessed to him the greatest part of my </I></div> <div> <I>sins, though I concealed one of them, through shame, and respect for my spiritual guide. But I </I></div> <div> <I>did not conceal from him that the strange questions he had put to me at my last confession, </I></div> <div> <I>were, with the natural corruption of my heart, the principal cause of my destruction.</I></div> <div> <I>He spoke to me very kindly, encouraged me to fight against my bad inclinations, and, at first, </I></div> <div> <I>gave me very kind and good advice. But when I thought he had finished speaking, and as I was </I></div> <div> <I>preparing to leave the confessional-box, he put to me two new questions of such a polluting </I></div> <div> <I>character that, I fear neither the blood of Christ, nor all the fires of hell will ever be able to blot </I></div> <div> <I>them out from my memory. Those questions have achieved my ruin; they have stuck to my </I></div> <div> <I>mind like two deadly arrows; they are day and night before my imagination; they fill my very </I></div> <div> <I>arteries and veins with a deadly poison.</I></div> <div> <I>"It is true that, at first, they filled me with horror and disgust; but alas! I soon got so accustomed </I></div> <div> <I>to them that they seemed to be incorporated with me, and as if becoming a second nature. </I></div> <div> <I>Those thoughts have become a new source of innumerable criminal thoughts, desires and </I></div> <div> <I>actions.</I></div> <div> <I>"A month later, we were obliged by the rules of our convent to go and confess; but by this time, </I></div> <div> <I>I was so completely lost, that I no longer blushed at the idea of confessing my shameful sins to </I></div> <div> <I>a man; it was the very contrary. I had a real, diabolical pleasure in the thought that I should </I></div> <div> <I>have a long conversation with my confessor on those matters, and that he would ask me more </I></div> <div> <I>of his strange questions.</I></div> <div> <I>"In fact, when I had told him everything without a blush, he began to interrogate me, and God </I></div> <div> <I>knows what corrupting things fell from his lips into my poor criminal heart! Every one of his </I></div> <div> <I>questions was thrilling my nerves, and filling me with the most shameful sensations. After an </I></div> <div> <I>hour of this criminal tete-a-tete with my old confessor (for it was nothing else but a criminal tete-</I></div> <div> <I>a-tete), I perceived that he was as depraved as I was myself. With some half-covered words, </I></div> <div> <I>he made a criminal proposition, which I accepted with covered words also; and during more </I></div> <div> <I>than a year, we have lived together on the most sinful intimacy. Though he was much older </I></div> <div> <I>than I, I loved him in the most foolish way. When the course of my convent instruction was </I></div> <div> <I>finished, my parents called me back to their home. I was really glad of that change of </I></div> <div> <I>residence, for I was beginning to be tired of my criminal life. My hope was that, under the </I></div> <div> <I>direction of a better confessor, I should reconcile myself to God and begin a Christian life.</I></div> <div> <I>"Unfortunately for me, my new confessor, who was very young, began also his interrogations. </I></div> <div> <I>He soon fell in love with me, and I loved him in a most criminal way. I have done with him </I></div> <div> <I>things which I hope you will never request me to reveal to you, for they are too monstrous to be </I></div> <div> <I>repeated, even in the confessional, by a woman to a man.</I></div> <div> <I>"I do not say these things to take away the responsibility of my iniquities with this young </I></div> <div> <I>confessor, from my shoulders, for I think I have been more criminal than he was. It is my firm </I></div> <div> <I>conviction that he was a good and holy priest before he knew me; but the questions he put to </I></div> <div> <I>me, and the answers I had to give him, melted his heart-I know it-just as boiling lead would </I></div> <div> <I>melt the ice on which it flows.</I></div> <div> <I>"I know this is not such a detailed confession as our holy Church requires me to make, but I </I></div> <div> <I>have thought it necessary for me to give you this short history of the life of the greatest and </I></div> <div> <I>most miserable sinner who ever asked you to help her to come out from the tomb of her </I></div> <div> <I>iniquities. This is the way I have lived these last few years. But last Sabbath, God, in His infinite </I></div> <div> <I>mercy, looked down upon me. He inspired you to give us the Prodigal Son as a model of true </I></div> <div> <I>conversion, and as the most marvellous proof of the infinite compassion of the dear Saviour for </I></div> <div> <I>the sinner. I have wept day and night since that happy day, when I threw myself into the arms </I></div> <div> <I>of my loving merciful Father. Even now, I can hardly speak, because my regret for my past </I></div> <div> <I>iniquities, and my joy that I am allowed to bathe the feet of the Saviour with tears, are so great </I></div> <div> <I>that my voice is as choked.</I></div> <div> <I>"You understand that I have forever given up my last confessor. I come to ask you to do me the </I></div> <div> <I>favor to receive me among your penitents. Oh! do not reject nor rebuke me, for the dear </I></div> <div> <I>Saviour's sake! Be not afraid to have at your side such a monster of iniquity! But before going </I></div> <div> <I>further, I have two favors to ask from you. The first is, that you will never do anything to </I></div> <div> <I>ascertain my name; the second is, that you will never put to me any of those questions by </I></div> <div> <I>which so many penitents are lost and so many priests forever destroyed. Twice I have been </I></div> <div> <I>lost by those questions. We come to our confessors that they may throw upon our guilty souls </I></div> <div> <I>the pure waters which flow from heaven to purify us; but instead of that, with their </I></div> <div> <I>unmentionable questions, they pour oil on the burning fires which are already raging in our </I></div> <div> <I>poor sinful hearts. Oh! dear father, let me become your penitent, that you may help me to go </I></div> <div> <I>and weep with Magdalene at the Saviour's feet! Do respect me, as He respected that true </I></div> <div> <I>model of all the sinful, but repenting women! Did our Saviour put to her any question? did He </I></div> <div> <I>extort from her the history of things which a sinful woman cannot say without forgetting the </I></div> <div> <I>respect she owes to herself and to God! No! you told us not long ago, that the only thing our </I></div> <div> <I>Saviour did, was to look at her tears and her love. Well, please do that, and you will save me!"</I></div> <div> <I>I was then a very young priest, and never had any words so sublime come to my ears in the </I></div> <div> <I>confessional-box. Her tears and her sobs, mingled with the frank declaration of the most </I></div> <div> <I>humiliating actions, had made such a profound impression upon me that I was, for some time, </I></div> <div> <I>unable to speak. It had come to my mind also that I might be mistaken about her identify, and </I></div> <div> <I>that perhaps she was not the young lady that I had imagined. I could, then, easily grant her first </I></div> <div> <I>request, which was to do nothing by which I could know her. The second part of her prayer was </I></div> <div> <I>more embarrassing; for the theologians are very positive in ordering the confessors to question </I></div> <div> <I>their penitents, particularly those of the female sex, in many circumstances.</I></div> <div> <I>I encouraged her in the best way I could, to persevere in her good resolutions, by invoking the </I></div> <div> <I>blessed Virgin Mary and St. Philomene, who was, then, the Sainte a la mode, just as Marie </I></div> <div> <I>Alacoque is to-day, among the blind slaves of Rome. I told her that I would pray and think over </I></div> <div> <I>the subject of her second request; and I asked her to come back in a week for my answer.</I></div> <div> <I>The very same day, I went to my own confessor, the Rev. Mr. Baillargeon, then curate of </I></div> <div> <I>Quebec, and afterwards Archbishop of Canada. I told him the singular and unusual request she </I></div> <div> <I>had made, that I should never put to her any of those questions suggested by the theologians, </I></div> <div> <I>to insure the integrity of the confession. I did not conceal from him that I was much inclined to </I></div> <div> <I>grant her that favor; for I repeated what I had already several times told him, that I was </I></div> <div> <I>supremely disgusted with the infamous and polluting questions which the theologians forced us </I></div> <div> <I>to put to our female penitents. I told him frankly that several old and young priests had already </I></div> <div> <I>come to confess to me; and that, with the exception of two, they had told me that they could not </I></div> <div> <I>put those questions and hear the answers they elicited, without falling into the most damnable </I></div> <div> <I>sins.</I></div> <div> <I>My confessor seemed to be much perplexed about what he should answer. "He asked me to </I></div> <div> <I>come the next day, that he might review some of his theological books, in the interval. The next </I></div> <div> <I>day, I took down in writing his answer, which I find in my old manuscripts, and I give it here in </I></div> <div> <I>all its sad crudity:- "Such cases of the destruction of female virtue by the questions of the </I></div> <div> <I>confessors is an unavoidable evil. It cannot be helped; for such questions are absolutely </I></div> <div> <I>necessary in the greater part of the cases with which we have to deal. Men generally confess </I></div> <div> <I>their sins with so much sincerity that there is seldom any need for questioning them, except </I></div> <div> <I>when they are very ignorant. But St. Liguori, as well as our personal observation, tells us that </I></div> <div> <I>the greatest part of girls and women, through a false and criminal shame, very seldom confess </I></div> <div> <I>the sins they commit against purity. It requires the utmost charity in the confessors to prevent </I></div> <div> <I>those unfortunate slaves of their secret passions from making sacrilegious confessions and </I></div> <div> <I>communions. With the greatest prudence and zeal he must question them on those matters, </I></div> <div> <I>beginning with the smallest sins, and going, little by little, as much as possible by imperceptible </I></div> <div> <I>degrees, to the most criminal actions. As it seems evident that the penitent referred to in your </I></div> <div> <I>questions of yesterday, is unwilling to make a full and detailed confession of all her iniquities, </I></div> <div> <I>you cannot promise to absolve her without assuring yourself by wise and prudent questions, </I></div> <div> <I>that she has confessed everything.</I></div> <div> <I>"You must not be discouraged when, through the confessional or any other way, you learn the </I></div> <div> <I>fall of priests into the common frailties of human nature with their penitents. Our Saviour knew </I></div> <div> <I>very well that the occasions and the temptations we have to encounter, in the confessions of </I></div> <div> <I>girls and women, are so numerous, and sometimes so irresistible, that many would fall. But He </I></div> <div> <I>has given them the Holy Virgin Mary, who constantly asks and obtains their pardon; He has </I></div> <div> <I>given them the sacrament of penance, where they can receive their pardon as often as they </I></div> <div> <I>ask for it. The vow of perfect chastity is a great honor and privilege; but we cannot conceal </I></div> <div> <I>from ourselves that it puts on our shoulders a burden which many cannot carry forever. St. </I></div> <div> <I>Liguori says that we must not rebuke the penitent priest who falls only once a month; and some </I></div> <div> <I>other trustworthy theologians are still more charitable."</I></div> <div> <I>This answer was far from satisfying me. It seemed to me composed of soft soap principles. I </I></div> <div> <I>went back with a heavy heart and an anxious mind; and God knows that I made many fervent </I></div> <div> <I>prayers that this girl should never come again to give me her sad history. I was hardly twenty-</I></div> <div> <I>six years old, full of youth and life. It seemed to me that the stings of a thousand wasps to my </I></div> <div> <I>ears would not do me so much harm as the words of that dear, beautiful, accomplished, but </I></div> <div> <I>lost girl.</I></div> <div> <I>I do not mean to say that the revelations which she made, had, in any way, diminished my </I></div> <div> <I>esteem and my respect for her. It was just the contrary. Her tears and her sobs, at my feet her </I></div> <div> <I>agonizing expressions of shame and regret her noble words of protest against the disgusting </I></div> <div> <I>and polluting interrogations of the confessors, had raised her very high in my mind. My sincere </I></div> <div> <I>hope was that she would have a place in the kingdom of Christ with the Samaritan women, </I></div> <div> <I>Mary Magdalene, and all the sinners who have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb.</I></div> <div> <I>At the appointed day, I was in my confessional, listening to the confession of a young man, </I></div> <div> <I>when I saw Miss Mary entering the vestry, and coming directly to my confessional-box, where </I></div> <div> <I>she knelt by me. Though she had, still more than at the first time, disguised herself behind a </I></div> <div> <I>long, thick, black veil, I could not be mistaken; she was the very same amiable young lady in </I></div> <div> <I>whose father's house I used to pass such pleasant and happy hours. I had often listened, with </I></div> <div> <I>breathless attention, to her melodious voice, when she was giving us, accompanied by her </I></div> <div> <I>piano, some of our beautiful Church hymns. Who could then see and hear her without almost </I></div> <div> <I>worshipping her? The dignity of her steps, and her whole mien, when she advanced towards </I></div> <div> <I>my confessional, entirely betrayed her and destroyed her incognito.</I></div> <div> <I>Oh! I would have given every drop of my blood in that solemn hour, that I might have been free </I></div> <div> <I>to deal with her just as she had so eloquently requested me to do-to let her weep and cry at </I></div> <div> <I>the feet of Jesus to her heart's content; Oh! if I had been free to take her by the hand, and </I></div> <div> <I>silently show her the dying Saviour, that she might have bathed His feet with her tears, and </I></div> <div> <I>spread the oil of her love on His head, without my saying anything else but "Go in peace: thy </I></div> <div> <I>sins are forgiven. "</I></div> <div> <I>But, there, in that confessional-box, I was not the servant of Christ, to follow His divine, saving </I></div> <div> <I>words, and obey the dictates of my honest conscience. I was the slave of the Pope! I had to </I></div> <div> <I>stifle the cry of my conscience, to ignore the inspirations of my God! There, my conscience had </I></div> <div> <I>no right to speak; my intelligence was a dead thing! The theologians of the Pope, alone, had a </I></div> <div> <I>right to be heard and obeyed! I was not there to save, but to destroy; for, under the pretext of </I></div> <div> <I>purifying, the real mission of the confessor, often, if not always, in spite of himself, is to </I></div> <div> <I>scandalise and damn the souls.</I></div> <div> <I>As soon as the young man who was making his confession at my left hand, had finished, I, </I></div> <div> <I>without noise, turned myself towards her, and said, through the little aperture, "Are you ready </I></div> <div> <I>to begin your confession?"</I></div> <div> <I>But she did not answer me. All that I could hear was: "Oh, my Jesus, have mercy upon me! I </I></div> <div> <I>come to wash my soul in Thy blood; wilt thou rebuke me?"</I></div> <div> <I>During several minutes she raised her hands and her eyes to heaven, and wept and prayed. It </I></div> <div> <I>was evident that she had not the least idea that I was observing her; she thought the door of </I></div> <div> <I>the little partition between her and me was shut. But my eyes were fixed upon her; my tears </I></div> <div> <I>were flowing with her tears, and my ardent prayers were going to the feet of Jesus with her </I></div> <div> <I>prayers. I would not have interrupted her for any consideration, in this, her sublime communion </I></div> <div> <I>with her merciful Saviour.</I></div> <div> <I>But after a pretty long time, I made a little noise with my hand, and putting my lips near the </I></div> <div> <I>opening of the partition which was between us, I said in a low voice, "Dear sister, are you ready </I></div> <div> <I>to begin your confession?"</I></div> <div> <I>She turned her face a little towards me, and said with trembling voice, "Yes, dear father, I am </I></div> <div> <I>ready."</I></div> <div> <I>But she then stopped again to weep and pray, though I could not hear what she said.</I></div> <div> <I>After some time of silent prayer, I said, "My dear sister, if you are ready, please begin your </I></div> <div> <I>confession." She then said, "My dear father, do you remember the prayers which I made to </I></div> <div> <I>you, the other day? Can you allow me to confess my sins without forcing me to forget the </I></div> <div> <I>respect that I owe to myself, to you, and to God, who hears us? And can you promise that you </I></div> <div> <I>will not put to me any of those questions which have already done me such irreparable injury? I </I></div> <div> <I>frankly declare to you that there are sins in me that I cannot reveal to anyone, except to Christ, </I></div> <div> <I>because He is my God, and that He already knows them all. Let me weep and cry at His feet: </I></div> <div> <I>can you not forgive me without adding to my iniquities by forcing me to say things that the </I></div> <div> <I>tongue of a Christian woman cannot reveal to a man?"</I></div> <div> <I>"My dear sister," I answered, were I free to follow the voice of my own feelings I would be only </I></div> <div> <I>too happy to grant your request; but I am here only as the minister of our holy Church, and </I></div> <div> <I>bound to obey her laws. Through her most holy Popes and theologians she tells me that I </I></div> <div> <I>cannot forgive your sins if you do not confess them all, just as you have committed them. The </I></div> <div> <I>Church tells me also that you must give the details which may add to the malice or change the </I></div> <div> <I>nature of your sins. I am also sorry to tell you that our most holy theologians make it a duty of </I></div> <div> <I>the confessor to question the penitent on the sins which he has good reason to suspect have </I></div> <div> <I>been voluntarily or involuntarily omitted."</I></div> <div> <I>With a piercing cry, she exclaimed, Then, O my God, I am lost -forever lost!"</I></div> <div> <I>This cry fell upon me like a thunderbolt; but I was still more terror-stricken when, looking </I></div> <div> <I>through the aperture, I saw she was fainting; I heard the noise of her body falling upon the </I></div> <div> <I>floor, and of her head striking against the sides of the confessional-box.</I></div> <div> <I>Quick as lightning I ran to help her, took her in my arms, and called a couple of men who were </I></div> <div> <I>at a little distance, to assist me in laying her on a bench. I washed her face with some cold </I></div> <div> <I>water and vinegar. She was, as pale as death, but her lips were moving, and she was saying </I></div> <div> <I>something which nobody but I could understand-</I></div> <div> <I>"I am lost-lost forever!"</I></div> <div> <I>We took her home to her disconsolate family, where, during a month, she lingered between life </I></div> <div> <I>and death. Her two first confessors came to visit her; but having asked every one to go out of </I></div> <div> <I>the room, she politely, but absolutely, requested them to go away, and never come again. She </I></div> <div> <I>asked me to visit her every day., "for," she said, "I have only a few more days to live. Help me </I></div> <div> <I>to prepare myself for the solemn hour which will open to me the gates of eternity!"</I></div> <div> <I>Every day I visited her, and I prayed and I wept with her.</I></div> <div> <I>Many times, when alone, with tears I requested her to finish her confession; but, with a </I></div> <div> <I>firmness which, then, seemed to be mysterious and inexplicable, she politely rebuked me.</I></div> <div> <I>One day, when alone with her, I was kneeling by the side of her bed to pray, I was unable to </I></div> <div> <I>articulate a single word, because of the inexpressible anguish of my soul on her account, she </I></div> <div> <I>asked me, "Dear father, why do you weep?"</I></div> <div> <I>I answered, "How can you put such a question to your murderer! I weep because I have killed </I></div> <div> <I>you, dear friend."</I></div> <div> <I>This answer seemed to trouble her exceedingly. She was very weak that day. After she had </I></div> <div> <I>wept and prayed in silence, she said, "do not weep for me, but weep for so many priests who </I></div> <div> <I>destroy their penitents in the confessional. I believe in the holiness of the sacrament of </I></div> <div> <I>penance, since our holy Church has established it. But there is, somewhere, something </I></div> <div> <I>exceedingly wrong in the confessional. Twice I have been destroyed, and I know many girls </I></div> <div> <I>who have also been destroyed by the confessional. This is a secret, but will that secret be kept </I></div> <div> <I>forever? I pity the poor priests the day that our fathers will know what becomes of the purity of </I></div> <div> <I>their daughters in the hands of their confessors. Father would surely kill my two last </I></div> <div> <I>confessors, if he could know how they have destroyed his poor child."</I></div> <div> <I>I could not answer except by weeping.</I></div> <div> <I>We remained silent for a long time; then she said, "It is true that I was not prepared for the </I></div> <div> <I>rebuke you have given me, the other day, in the confessional; but you acted conscientiously as </I></div> <div> <I>a good and honest priest. I know you must be bound by certain laws."</I></div> <div> <I>She then pressed my hand with her cold hand and said, "Weep not, dear father, because that </I></div> <div> <I>sudden storm has wrecked my too fragile bark. This storm was to take me out from the </I></div> <div> <I>bottomless sea of my iniquities to the shore where Jesus was waiting to receive and pardon </I></div> <div> <I>me. The night after you brought me, half dead, here, to father's house, I had a dream. Oh, no! it </I></div> <div> <I>was not a dream, it was a reality. My Jesus came to me; He was bleeding; His crown of thorns </I></div> <div> <I>was on His head, the heavy cross was bruising his shoulders. He said to me, with a voice so </I></div> <div> <I>sweet that no human tongue can imitate it, "I have seen thy tears, I have heard thy cries, and I </I></div> <div> <I>know thy love for Me: thy sins are forgiven; take courage; in a few days thou shalt be with me!"</I></div> <div> <I>She had hardly finished her last word, when she fainted; and I feared lest she should die just </I></div> <div> <I>then, when I was alone with her.</I></div> <div> <I>I called the family, who rushed into the room. The doctor was sent for. He found her so weak </I></div> <div> <I>that he thought proper to allow only one or two persons to remain in the room with me. He </I></div> <div> <I>requested us not to speak at all: "For," said he, the least emotion may kill her instantly; her </I></div> <div> <I>disease is, in all probability, an aneurism of the aorta, the big vein which brings the blood to the </I></div> <div> <I>heart: when it breaks, she will go as quick as lightning."</I></div> <div> <I>It was nearly ten at night when I left the house, to go and take some rest. But it is not </I></div> <div> <I>necessary to say that I passed a sleepless night. My dear Mary was there, pale, dying from the </I></div> <div> <I>deadly blow which I had given her in the confessional. She was there, on her bed of death, her </I></div> <div> <I>heart pierced with the dagger which my Church had put into my hands! and instead of </I></div> <div> <I>rebuking, and cursing me for my savage, merciless fanaticism, she was blessing me! She was </I></div> <div> <I>dying from a broken heart, and I was not allowed by my Church to give her a single word of </I></div> <div> <I>consolation and hope, for she had not made her confession! I had mercilessly bruised that </I></div> <div> <I>tender plant, and there was nothing in my hands to heal the wounds I had made!</I></div> <div> <I>It was very probable that she would die the next day, and I was forbidden to show her the </I></div> <div> <I>crown of glory which Jesus has prepared in His kingdom for the repenting sinner!</I></div> <div> <I>My desolation was really unspeakable, and I think I would have been suffocated and have died </I></div> <div> <I>that night, if the stream of tears which constantly flowed from my eyes had not been as a balm </I></div> <div> <I>to my distressed heart.</I></div> <div> <I>How dark and long the hours of that night seemed to me!</I></div> <div> <I>Before the dawn of day, I arose to read my theologians again, and see if I could not find some </I></div> <div> <I>one who would allow me to forgive the sins of that dear child, without forcing her to tell me </I></div> <div> <I>everything she had done. But they seemed to me, more than ever, unanimously inexorable, </I></div> <div> <I>and I put them back on the shelves of my library with a broken heart.</I></div> <div> <I>At nine A.M. the next day, I was by the bed of our dear sick Mary. I cannot sufficiently tell the </I></div> <div> <I>joy I felt, when the doctor and the whole family said to me, "She is much better; the rest of last </I></div> <div> <I>night has wrought a marvellous change indeed."</I></div> <div> <I>With a really angelic smile she extended her hand towards me, that I might press it in mine; </I></div> <div> <I>and she said, "I thought, last evening, that the dear Saviour would take me to Him, but He </I></div> <div> <I>wants me, dear father, to give you a little more trouble; however, be patient, it cannot be long </I></div> <div> <I>before the solemn hour of the appeal will ring. Will you please read me the history of the </I></div> <div> <I>suffering and death of the beloved Saviour, which you read me the other day? It does me so </I></div> <div> <I>much good to see how He has loved me, such a miserable sinner."</I></div> <div> <I>There was a calm and a solemnity in her words which struck me singularly, as well as all those </I></div> <div> <I>who were there.</I></div> <div> <I>After I had finished reading, she exclaimed, "He has loved me so much that He died for my </I></div> <div> <I>sins!" And she shut her eyes as if to meditate in silence, but there was a stream of big tears </I></div> <div> <I>rolling down her checks.</I></div> <div> <I>I knelt down by her bed, with her family, to pray; but I could not utter a single word. The idea </I></div> <div> <I>that this dear child was there, dying from the cruel fanaticism of my theologians and my own </I></div> <div> <I>cowardice in obeying them, was as a mill-stone to my neck. It was killing me.</I></div> <div> <I>Oh! if by dying a thousand times, I could have added a single day to her life, with what pleasure </I></div> <div> <I>I would have accepted those thousand deaths!</I></div> <div> <I>After we had silently prayed and wept by her bedside, she requested her mother to leave her </I></div> <div> <I>alone with me.</I></div> <div> <I>When I saw myself alone, under the irresistible impression that this was her last day, I fell on </I></div> <div> <I>my knees again, and with tears of the most sincere compassion for her soul, I requested her to </I></div> <div> <I>shake off her shame and to obey our holy Church, which requires every one to confess their </I></div> <div> <I>sins if they want to be forgiven.</I></div> <div> <I>She calmly, but with an air of dignity which no human words can express, said, "Is it true that, </I></div> <div> <I>after the sin of Adam and Eve, God Himself made coats and skins; and clothed them, that they </I></div> <div> <I>might not see each other's nakedness?"</I></div> <div> <I>"Yes," I said, this is what the Holy Scriptures tell us."</I></div> <div> <I>"Well, then, how is it possible that our confessors dare to take away from as that holy, divine </I></div> <div> <I>coat of modesty and self respect? Has not Almighty God Himself made, with His own hands, </I></div> <div> <I>that coat of womanly modesty and self-respect, that we might not be to you and to ourselves, a </I></div> <div> <I>cause of shame and sin?"</I></div> <div> <I>I was really stunned by the beauty, simplicity, and sublimity of that comparison. I remained </I></div> <div> <I>absolutely mute and confounded. Though it was demolishing all the traditions and doctrines of </I></div> <div> <I>my Church, and pulverizing all my holy doctors and theologians, that noble answer found such </I></div> <div> <I>an echo in my soul, that it seemed to me a sacrilege to try to touch it with my finger.</I></div> <div> <I>After a short time of silence, she continued, "Twice I have been destroyed by priests in the </I></div> <div> <I>confessional. They took away from me that divine coat of modesty and self-respect which God </I></div> <div> <I>gives to every human being who comes into this world, and twice, I have become for those </I></div> <div> <I>very priests a deep pit of perdition, into which they have fallen, and where, I fear, they are </I></div> <div> <I>forever lost! My merciful heavenly Father has given me back that coat of skins, that nuptial </I></div> <div> <I>robe of modesty, self-respect, and holiness, which had been taken away from me. He cannot </I></div> <div> <I>allow you or any other man, to tear again and spoil that vestment which is the work of His </I></div> <div> <I>hands."</I></div> <div> <I>These words had exhausted her; it was evident to me that she wanted some rest. I left her </I></div> <div> <I>alone, but I was absolutely beside myself. Filled with admiration for the sublime lessons which I </I></div> <div> <I>had received from the lips of that regenerated daughter of Eve, who, it was evident, was soon </I></div> <div> <I>to fly away from us, I felt a supreme disgust for myself, my theologians, and-shall I say it? </I></div> <div> <I>yes, I felt in that solemn hour a supreme disgust for my Church, which was so cruelly defiling </I></div> <div> <I>me, and all her priests in the confessional-box. I felt, in that hour, a supreme horror for that </I></div> <div> <I>auricular confession, which is so often a pit of perdition and supreme misery for the confessor </I></div> <div> <I>and penitent. I went out and walked two hours on the Plains of Abraham, to breathe the pure </I></div> <div> <I>and refreshing air of the mountain. There, alone, I sat on a stone, on the very spot where Wolfe </I></div> <div> <I>and Montcalm had fought and died; and I wept to my heart's content, on my irreparable </I></div> <div> <I>degradation, and the degradation of so many priests through the confessional.</I></div> <div> <I>At four o'clock in the afternoon I went back again to the house of my dear dying Mary. The </I></div> <div> <I>mother took me apart, and very politely said, "My dear Mr. Chiniquy, do you not think it is time </I></div> <div> <I>that our dear child should receive the last sacraments? She seemed to be much better this </I></div> <div> <I>morning, and we were full of hope; but she is now rapidly sinking. Please lose no time in giving </I></div> <div> <I>her the holy viaticum and the extreme unction."</I></div> <div> <I>I said, "Yes, madam: let me pass a few minutes alone with our poor dear child, that I may </I></div> <div> <I>prepare her for the last sacraments."</I></div> <div> <I>When alone with her, I again fell on my knees, and, amidst torrents of tears, I said, ' Dear </I></div> <div> <I>sister, it is my desire to give you the holy viaticum and the extreme unction; but tell me, how </I></div> <div> <I>can I dare to do a thing so solemn against all the prohibitions of our Holy Church? How can I </I></div> <div> <I>give you the holy communion without first giving you absolution? and how can I give you </I></div> <div> <I>absolution when you earnestly persist in telling me that you have many sins which you will </I></div> <div> <I>never declare either to me or any other confessor?</I></div> <div> <I>" You know that I cherish and respect you as if you were an angel sent to me from heaven. You </I></div> <div> <I>told me the other day, that you blessed the day that you first saw and knew me. I say the same </I></div> <div> <I>thing. I bless the day that I have known you; I bless every hour that I have spent by your bed of </I></div> <div> <I>suffering; I bless every tear which I have shed with you on your sins and on my own; I bless </I></div> <div> <I>every hour we have passed together in looking to the wounds of our beloved, dying Saviour; I </I></div> <div> <I>bless you for having forgiven me your death! for I know it, and I confess it in the presence of </I></div> <div> <I>God, I have killed you, dear sister. But now I prefer a thousand times to die than to say to you a </I></div> <div> <I>word which would pain you in any way, or trouble the peace of your soul. Please, my dear </I></div> <div> <I>sister, tell me what I can and must do for you in this solemn hour."</I></div> <div> <I>Calmly, and with a smile of joy such as I had never seen before, nor seen since, she said, "I </I></div> <div> <I>thank and bless you, dear father, for the parable of the Prodigal Son, on which you preached a </I></div> <div> <I>month ago. You have brought me to the feet of the dear Saviour; there I have found a peace </I></div> <div> <I>and a joy surpassing anything the human heart can feel; I have thrown myself into the arms of </I></div> <div> <I>my Heavenly Father, and I know He has mercifully accepted and forgiven His poor prodigal </I></div> <div> <I>child! Oh, I see the angels with their golden harps around the throne of the Lamb! Do you not </I></div> <div> <I>hear the celestial harmony of their songs? I go-I go to join them in my Father's house. I </I></div> <div> <I>SHALL NOT BE LOST!"</I></div> <div> <I>While she was thus speaking to me, my eyes were really turned into two fountains of tears; I </I></div> <div> <I>was unable, as well as unwilling, to see anything, so entirely overcome was I by the sublime </I></div> <div> <I>words which were flowing from the dying lips of that dear child, who was no more a sinner, but </I></div> <div> <I>a real angel of Heaven to me. I was listening to her words; there was a celestial music in every </I></div> <div> <I>one of them. But she had raised her voice in such a strange way, when she had begun to say, </I></div> <div> <I>"I go to my Father's house," and she had made such a cry of joy when she had let the last </I></div> <div> <I>words, "not be lost," escape her lips, that I raised my head and opened my eyes to look at her. </I></div> <div> <I>I suspected that something strange had occurred.</I></div> <div> <I>I got upon my feet, passed my handkerchief over my face to wipe away the tears which were </I></div> <div> <I>preventing me from seeing with accuracy, and looked at her.</I></div> <div> <I>Her hands were crossed on her breast, and there was on her face the expression of a really </I></div> <div> <I>superhuman joy; her beautiful eyes were fixed as if they were looking on some grand and </I></div> <div> <I>sublime spectacle; it seemed to me, at first, that she was praying.</I></div> <div> <I>In that very instant the mother rushed into the room, crying, My God! my God! what does that </I></div> <div> <I>cry 'lost' mean?"-For her last words, "not to be lost," particularly the last one, had been </I></div> <div> <I>pronounced with such a powerful voice, that they had been heard almost everywhere in the </I></div> <div> <I>house.</I></div> <div> <I>I made a sign with my hand to prevent the distressed mother from making any noise and </I></div> <div> <I>troubling her dying child in her prayer, for I really thought that she had stopped speaking, as </I></div> <div> <I>she used so often to do, when alone with me, in order to pray. But I was mistaken. That </I></div> <div> <I>redeemed soul had gone, on the golden wings of love, to join the multitude of those who have </I></div> <div> <I>washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb, to sing the eternal Alleluia.</I></div> <div> <I>CHAPTER II.</I></div> <div> <I>Auricular Confession -- A Deep Pit of Perdition for the Priest</I></div> <div> <I>IT was some time after our dear Mary had been buried. The terrible and mysterious cause of </I></div> <div> <I>her death was known only to God and to myself. Though her loving mother was still weeping </I></div> <div> <I>over her grave, as usual, she had soon been forgotten by the greatest part of those who had </I></div> <div> <I>known her; but she was constantly present to my mind. I never entered the confessional-box </I></div> <div> <I>without hearing her solemn, though so mild voice, telling me, "There must be, somewhere, </I></div> <div> <I>something wrong in the auricular confession. Twice I have been destroyed by my confessors; </I></div> <div> <I>and I have known several others who have been destroyed in the same way."</I></div> <div> <I>More than once, when her voice was ringing in my ears from her tomb, I had shed bitter tears </I></div> <div> <I>on the profound and unfathomable degradation into which I, with the other priests, had to fall in </I></div> <div> <I>the confessional-box. For many, many times, stories as deplorable as that of this unfortunate </I></div> <div> <I>girl were confessed to me by city, as well as country females.</I></div> <div> <I>One night I was awakened by the rumbling noise of thunder, when I heard some one knocking </I></div> <div> <I>at the door. I hastened out of bed to ask who was there. The answer was that the Rev. Mr.-- </I></div> <div> <I>was dying, and that he wanted to see me before his death. I dressed myself, and was soon on </I></div> <div> <I>the highway. The darkness was fearful; and often, had it not been for the lightning which was </I></div> <div> <I>almost constantly tearing the clouds, we should not have known where we were. After a long </I></div> <div> <I>and hard journey through the darkness and the storm, we arrived at the house of the dying </I></div> <div> <I>priest. I went directly to his room, and really found him very low: he could hardly speak. With a </I></div> <div> <I>sign of his hand he bade his servant girl, and a young man who were there, to go out, and </I></div> <div> <I>leave him alone with me.</I></div> <div> <I>Then he said, in a low voice, "Was it you who prepared poor Mary to die?"</I></div> <div> <I>"Yes, sir," I answered.</I></div> <div> <I>"Please tell me the truth. Is it a fact that she died the death of a reprobate, and that her last </I></div> <div> <I>words were, 'Oh my God! I am lost!' "</I></div> <div> <I>I answered him, "As I was the confessor of that girl, and we were talking together on matters </I></div> <div> <I>which pertained to her confession at the very moment that she was unexpectedly summoned to </I></div> <div> <I>appear before God, I cannot answer your question in any way; please, then, excuse me if I </I></div> <div> <I>cannot say any more on that subject: but tell me who can have assured you that she died the </I></div> <div> <I>death of a reprobate!"</I></div> <div> <I>"It was her own mother," answered the dying man. "Last week she came to visit me, and when </I></div> <div> <I>she was alone with me, with many tears and cries, she said how her poor child had refused to </I></div> <div> <I>receive the last sacraments, and how her last cry was, 'I am lost!'" She added that that cry, </I></div> <div> <I>'Lost!' was pronounced with such a frightful power that it was heard through all the house."</I></div> <div> <I>"If her mother told you that, I replied, you may believe what you please about the way that poor </I></div> <div> <I>child died. I cannot say a word-you know it-about the matter."</I></div> <div> <I>"But if she is lost," rejoined the old, dying priest, "I am the miserable one who has destroyed </I></div> <div> <I>her. She was an angel of purity when she came to the convent. Oh! dear Mary, if you are lost, I </I></div> <div> <I>am a thousandfold more lost! Oh, my God, my God! what will become of me? I am dying; and I </I></div> <div> <I>am lost!"</I></div> <div> <I>It was indeed an awful thing to see that old sinner wringing his hands, and rolling on his bed, as </I></div> <div> <I>if he had been on burning coals, with all the marks of the most frightful despair on his face, </I></div> <div> <I>crying, "I am lost! Oh, my God, I am lost!"</I></div> <div> <I>I was glad that the claps of thunder which were shaking the house, and roaring without </I></div> <div> <I>ceasing, prevented the people outside the room from hearing the cries of desolation from the </I></div> <div> <I>priest, whom every one considered a great saint.</I></div> <div> <I>When it seemed to me his terror had somewhat subsided, and that his mind was calmed a </I></div> <div> <I>little, I said to him, " My dear friend, you must not give yourself up to such despair. Our merciful </I></div> <div> <I>God has promised to forgive the repenting sinner who comes to Him, even at the last hour of </I></div> <div> <I>the day. Address yourself to the Virgin Mary, she will ask and obtain your pardon."</I></div> <div> <I>"Do you not think that it is too late to ask pardon? The doctor has honestly warned me that </I></div> <div> <I>death is very near, and I feel that I am just now dying. Is it not too late to ask and obtain </I></div> <div> <I>pardon?" asked the dying priest.</I></div> <div> <I>"No! my dear sir, it is not too late, if you sincerely regret your sins. Throw yourself into the arms </I></div> <div> <I>of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph; make your confession without any more delay; I will absolve you, </I></div> <div> <I>and you will be saved."</I></div> <div> <I>But I have never made a good confession. Will you help me to make a general one?"</I></div> <div> <I>It was my duty to grant him his request, and the rest of the night was spent by me in hearing </I></div> <div> <I>the confession of his whole life.</I></div> <div> <I>I do not want to give many particulars of the life of that priest. First: It was then that I </I></div> <div> <I>understood why poor Mary was absolutely unwilling to mention the iniquities which she had </I></div> <div> <I>committed with him. They were simply surpassingly horrible-unmentionable. No human </I></div> <div> <I>tongue can express them-few human ears would consent to hear them.</I></div> <div> <I>The second thing that I am bound in conscience to reveal is almost incredible, but it is </I></div> <div> <I>nevertheless true. The number of married and unmarried females he had heard in the </I></div> <div> <I>confessional was about 1,500, of whom he said he had destroyed or scandalised at least 1,000 </I></div> <div> <I>by his questioning them on most depraved things, for the simple pleasure of gratifying his own </I></div> <div> <I>corrupted heart, without letting them know anything of his sinful thoughts and criminal desires </I></div> <div> <I>towards them. But he confessed that he had destroyed the purity of ninety-five of those </I></div> <div> <I>penitents, who had consented to sin with him.</I></div> <div> <I>And would to God that this priest had been the only one whom I have known to be lost through </I></div> <div> <I>the auricular confession. But, alas! how few are those who have escaped the snares of the </I></div> <div> <I>tempter compared with those who have perished? I have heard the confessions of more than </I></div> <div> <I>200 priests, and to say the truth, as God knows it, I must declare, that only twenty-one had not </I></div> <div> <I>to weep over the secret or public sins committed through the irresistibly corrupting influences of </I></div> <div> <I>auricular confession!</I></div> <div> <I>I am now more than seventy-one years old, and in a short time I shall be in my grave. I shall </I></div> <div> <I>have to give an account of what I now say. Well, it is in the presence of my great Judge, with </I></div> <div> <I>my tomb before my eyes, that I declare to the world that very few-yes, very few-priests </I></div> <div> <I>escape from falling into the pit of the most horrible moral depravity the world has ever known, </I></div> <div> <I>through the confession of females.</I></div> <div> <I>I do not say this because I have any had feelings against those priests; God knows that I have </I></div> <div> <I>none. The only feelings I have are of supreme compassion and pity. I do not reveal these awful </I></div> <div> <I>things to make the world believe that the priests of Rome are a worse set of men than the rest </I></div> <div> <I>of the innumerable fallen children of Adam; no; I do not entertain any such views; for everything </I></div> <div> <I>considered, and weighed in the balance of religion, charity and common sense-I think that the </I></div> <div> <I>priests of Rome are far from being worse than any other set of men who would be thrown into </I></div> <div> <I>the same temptations, dangers, and unavoidable occasions of sin.</I></div> <div> <I>For instance, let us take lawyers, merchants, or farmers, and, preventing them from living with </I></div> <div> <I>their lawful wives, let us surround each of them from morning to night, by ten, twenty, and </I></div> <div> <I>sometimes more, beautiful women and tempting girls, who would speak to them of things which </I></div> <div> <I>would pulverize a rock of Scotch granite, and you will see how many of those lawyers, </I></div> <div> <I>merchants, or farmers would come out of that terrible moral battlefield without being mortally </I></div> <div> <I>wounded.</I></div> <div> <I>The cause of the supreme-I dare say incredible, though unsuspected-immorality of the </I></div> <div> <I>priests of Rome is a very evident and logical one. By the diabolical power of the Pope, the </I></div> <div> <I>priest is put out of the ways which God has offered to the generality of men to be honest, </I></div> <div> <I>upright and holy.* And after the Pope has deprived them of the grand, holy, and Divine (in this </I></div> <div> <I>sense that it comes directly from God) remedy which God has given to man against his own </I></div> <div> <I>concupiscence-holy marriage, they are placed unprotected and unguarded</I></div> <div> <I>* "To avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have her own </I></div> <div> <I>husband." (I Cor., vii. 2.)</I></div> <div> <I>in the most perilous, difficult, and irresistible moral dangers which human ingenuity or depravity </I></div> <div> <I>can conceive. Those unmarried men are forced, from morning to night, to be in the midst of </I></div> <div> <I>beautiful girls, and tempting, charming women, who have to tell them things which would melt </I></div> <div> <I>the hardest steel. How can you expect that they will cease to be men, and become stronger </I></div> <div> <I>than angels?</I></div> <div> <I>Not only are the priests of Rome deprived by the devil of the only remedy which God has given </I></div> <div> <I>to help them to withstand, but in the confessional they have the greatest facility which can </I></div> <div> <I>possibly be imagined for satisfying all the bad propensities of fallen human nature. In the </I></div> <div> <I>confessional they know those who are strong, and they also know those who are weak among </I></div> <div> <I>the females by whom they are surrounded; they know who would resist any attempt from the </I></div> <div> <I>enemy; and they know who are ready-nay, who are longing after the deceitful charms of sin. If </I></div> <div> <I>they still retain the fallen nature of man, what a terrible hour for them? what frightful battles </I></div> <div> <I>inside the poor heart? what superhuman effort and strength would be required to come out a </I></div> <div> <I>conqueror from that battlefield, where a David and a Samson have fallen mortally wounded'?</I></div> <div> <I>It is simply an act of supreme stupidity on the part of the Protestant, as well as Catholic public, </I></div> <div> <I>to suppose or suspect, or hope that the generality of the priests can stand such a trial. The </I></div> <div> <I>pages of the history of Rome herself are filled with unanswerable proofs that the great </I></div> <div> <I>generality of the confessors fall. If it were not so, the miracle of Joshua, stopping the march of </I></div> <div> <I>the sun and the moon, would be childish play compared with the miracle which would stop and </I></div> <div> <I>reverse all the laws of our common fallen nature in the hearts of the 100,000 Roman Catholic </I></div> <div> <I>confessors of the Church of Rome. Were I attempting to prove, by public facts, what I know of </I></div> <div> <I>the horrible depravity caused by the confessional-box among the priests of France, Canada, </I></div> <div> <I>Spain, Italy, and England, I should have to write many big volumes in folio. For brevity's sake, I </I></div> <div> <I>will speak only of Italy. I take that country, because, being under the very eyes of their infallible </I></div> <div> <I>and most holy (?) pontiff, being in the land of daily miracles of painted Madonnas, who weep </I></div> <div> <I>and turn their eyes left and right, up and down, in a most marvellous way, being in the land of </I></div> <div> <I>miraculous medals and heavenly spiritual favors, constantly flowing from the chair of St. Peter, </I></div> <div> <I>the confessors in Italy, seeing every year the miraculous melting of the blood of St. January </I></div> <div> <I>having in their midst the hair of the Virgin Mary, and a part of her shirt, are in the best possible </I></div> <div> <I>circumstances to be strong, faithful and holy. Well, let us hear the testimony of an eye-witness, </I></div> <div> <I>a contemporary, and an unimpeachable witness about the way the confessors deal with the </I></div> <div> <I>penitent females in the holy, apostolical, infallible (?) Church of Rome.</I></div> <div> <I>The witness we will hear is of the purest blood of the princes of Italy. Her name is Henrietta </I></div> <div> <I>Carracciolo, daughter of the Marshal Carracciolo, Governor of the Province of Pari, in Italy. Let </I></div> <div> <I>us hear what she says of the Father Confessors, after twenty years of personal experience in </I></div> <div> <I>different nunneries of Italy, in her remarkable book, "Mysteries of the Neapolitan Convents," pp. </I></div> <div> <I>150, 151, 152: "My confessor came the following day, and I disclosed to him the nature of the </I></div> <div> <I>troubles which beset me. Later in the day, seeing that I had gone down to the place where we </I></div> <div> <I>used to receive the holy communion, called Communichino, the conversa of my aunt rang the </I></div> <div> <I>bell for the priest to come with the pyx.* He was a man of about fifty years of age, very </I></div> <div> <I>corpulent, with a rubicund face, and a type of physiognomy as vulgar as it was repulsive.</I></div> <div> <I>"I approached the little window to receive the sacred wafer on my tongue, with my eyes closed,</I></div> <div> <I>* A silver box containing consecrated bread, which is believed to be the real body, blood and </I></div> <div> <I>divinity of Jesus Christ as is customary. I placed it on my tongue, and, as I drew back, I felt my </I></div> <div> <I>cheeks caressed. I opened my eyes, but the priest had withdrawn his hand, and, thinking I had </I></div> <div> <I>been deceived, I gave it no more attention.</I></div> <div> <I>"On the next occasion, forgetful of what had occurred before, I received the sacrament with </I></div> <div> <I>closed eyes again, according to precept. This time I distinctly felt my chin caressed again, and </I></div> <div> <I>on opening my eyes suddenly, I found the priest gazing rudely upon me with a sensual smile </I></div> <div> <I>on his face.</I></div> <div> <I>"There could be no longer any doubt; these overtures were not the result of accident.</I></div> <div> <I>"The daughter of Eve is endowed with a greater degree of curiosity than man. It occurred to me </I></div> <div> <I>to place myself in a contiguous apartment, where I could observe whether this libertine priest </I></div> <div> <I>was accustomed to take similar liberties with the nuns. I did so, and was fully convinced that </I></div> <div> <I>only the old left him without being caressed.</I></div> <div> <I>"All the others allowed him to do with them as he pleased, and even, in taking leave of him, did </I></div> <div> <I>so with the utmost reverence.</I></div> <div> <I>" 'Is this the respect,' said I to myself, 'that the priests and the spouses of Christ have for their </I></div> <div> <I>sacrament of the Eucharist? Shall the poor novice be enticed to leave the world in order to </I></div> <div> <I>learn, in this school, such lessons of self-respect and chastity?' "</I></div> <div> <I>Page 163, we read: "The fanatical passion of the nuns for their confessors, priests, and monks, </I></div> <div> <I>exceeds belief. That which especially renders their incarceration endurable is the illimitable </I></div> <div> <I>opportunity they enjoy of seeing and corresponding with those persons with whom they are in </I></div> <div> <I>love. This freedom localizes and identifies them with the convent so closely that they are </I></div> <div> <I>unhappy, when, on account of any serious sickness, or while preparing to take the veil, they </I></div> <div> <I>are obliged to pass some months in the bosom of their own families, in company with their </I></div> <div> <I>fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters. It is not to be presumed that these relatives would </I></div> <div> <I>permit a young girl to pass many hours, each day, in a mysterious colloquy with a priest, or a </I></div> <div> <I>monk, and maintain with him this correspondence. This is a liberty which they can enjoy in the </I></div> <div> <I>convent only.</I></div> <div> <I>"Many are the hours which the Heloise spends in the confessional, in agreeable pastime with </I></div> <div> <I>her Abelard in cassock.</I></div> <div> <I>"Others, whose confessors happen to be old, have in addition a spiritual director, with whom </I></div> <div> <I>they amuse themselves a long time every day tete-a-tete, in the parlatoria. When this is not </I></div> <div> <I>enough, they simulate an illness, in order to have him alone in their own rooms."</I></div> <div> <I>Page 166, we read: "Another nun, being somewhat infirm, her priest confessed her in her own </I></div> <div> <I>room. After a time, the invalid penitent found herself in what is called an interesting situation, </I></div> <div> <I>on which account, the physician declaring that her complaint was dropsy, she was sent away </I></div> <div> <I>from the convent.</I></div> <div> <I>Page 167: "A young educanda was in the habit of going down, every night, to the convent </I></div> <div> <I>burying-place, where, by a corridor which communicated with the vestry, she entered into a </I></div> <div> <I>colloquy with a young priest attached to the church. Consumed by an amorous passion, she </I></div> <div> <I>was not deterred by bad weather or the fear of being discovered.</I></div> <div> <I>"She heard a great noise, one night, near her. In the thick darkness which surrounded her, she </I></div> <div> <I>imagined that she saw a viper winding itself round her feet.. She was so much overcome by </I></div> <div> <I>fright, that she died from the effects of it a few months later."</I></div> <div> <I>Page 168: "One of the confessors had a young penitent in the convent. Every time he was </I></div> <div> <I>called to visit a dying sister, and on that account passed the night in the convent, this nun </I></div> <div> <I>would climb over the partition which separated her room from his, and betake herself to the </I></div> <div> <I>master and director of her soul.</I></div> <div> <I>Another, during the delirium of a typhoid fever from which she was suffering, was constantly </I></div> <div> <I>imitating the action of sending kisses to her confessor, who stood by the side of her bed. He, </I></div> <div> <I>covered with blushes on account of the presence of strangers, held a crucifix before the eyes </I></div> <div> <I>of the penitent, and exclaimed in a commiserating tone:-"'Poor thing! kiss thy own spouse!'"</I></div> <div> <I>Page 168: "Under the bonds of secresy, an educanda of fine form and pleasing manners, and </I></div> <div> <I>of a noble family, confided to me the fact of her having received, from the hands of her </I></div> <div> <I>confessor, a very interesting book (as she described it) which related to the monastic life. I </I></div> <div> <I>expressed the wish to know the title, and she, before showing it to me, took the precaution to </I></div> <div> <I>lock the door.</I></div> <div> <I>It proved to be the Monaca, by Dalembert, a book as all know, filled with the most disgusting </I></div> <div> <I>obscenity.</I></div> <div> <I>Page 169: "I received once, from a monk, a letter in which he signified to me that he had hardly </I></div> <div> <I>seen me when 'he conceived the sweet hope of becoming my confessor.' An exquisite of the </I></div> <div> <I>first water, a fop of scents and euphuism, could not have employed phrases more </I></div> <div> <I>melodramatic, to demand whether he might hope or despair."</I></div> <div> <I>Page 169: "A priest who enjoyed the reputation of being an incorruptible sacerdote, when he </I></div> <div> <I>saw me pass through the parlatoria, used to address me as follows: -</I></div> <div> <I>"'Ps, dear, come here; Ps, Ps, come here!'</I></div> <div> <I>"These words, addressed to me by a priest, were nauseous in the extreme.</I></div> <div> <I>"Finally, another priest, the most annoying of all for his obstinate assiduity, sought to secure my </I></div> <div> <I>affections at all cost. There was not an image profane poetry could afford him, nor a sophism </I></div> <div> <I>he could borrow from rhetoric, nor wily interpretation he could give to the Word of God, which </I></div> <div> <I>he did not employ to convert me to his wishes. Here is an example of his logic:-</I></div> <div> <I>" 'Fair daughter,' said he to me one day, 'knowest thou who God truly is?'</I></div> <div> <I>"'He is the Creator of the Universe,' I answered drily.</I></div> <div> <I>"'No,-no,-no,-no! that it is not enough,' he replied, laughing at my ignorance. 'God is love, </I></div> <div> <I>but love in the abstract, which receives its incarnation in the mutual affection of two hearts </I></div> <div> <I>which idolise each other. You, then, must not only love God in His abstract existence, but must </I></div> <div> <I>also love Him in His incarnation, that is, in the exclusive love of a man who adores you. Quod </I></div> <div> <I>Deim est amor, nee colitur nisi amando.'</I></div> <div> <I>"'Then,' I replied, 'a woman who adores her own lover would adore Divinity itself?'</I></div> <div> <I>"Assuredly,' reiterated the priest, over and over again, taking courage from my remark, and </I></div> <div> <I>chuckling at what seemed to him to be the effect of his catechism.</I></div> <div> <I>" 'In that case,' said I, hastily, "I should select for my lover rather a man of the world than a </I></div> <div> <I>priest.'</I></div> <div> <I>"God preserve you, my daughter! God preserve you from that sin!' added my interlocutor, </I></div> <div> <I>apparently frightened, 'To love a man of the world, a sinner, a wretch, an unbeliever, an infidel! </I></div> <div> <I>Why, you would go immediately to hell. The love of a priest is a sacred love, while that of a </I></div> <div> <I>profane man is infamy; the faith of a priest emanates from that granted to the holy Church, </I></div> <div> <I>while that of the profane is false-false as the vanity of the world. The priest purifies his </I></div> <div> <I>affections daily in communion with the Holy Spirit; the man of the world (if he ever knows love </I></div> <div> <I>at all) sweeps the muddy crossings of the street with it day and night.'</I></div> <div> <I>"But it is the heart, as well as the conscience, which prompts me to fly from the priests,' I </I></div> <div> <I>replied.</I></div> <div> <I>"'Well, if you cannot love me because I am your confessor, I will find means to assist you to get </I></div> <div> <I>rid of your scruples. We will place the name of Jesus Christ before all our affectionate </I></div> <div> <I>demonstrations, and thus our love will be a grateful offering to the Lord, and will ascend </I></div> <div> <I>fragrant with perfume to Heaven, like the smoke of the incense of the sanctuary. Say to me, for </I></div> <div> <I>example, "I love you in Jesus Christ; last night I dreamed of you in Jesus Christ;" and you will </I></div> <div> <I>have a tranquil conscience, because in doing this you will sanctify every transport of your love."</I></div> <div> <I>Several circumstances not indicated here, by the way, compelled me to come in frequent </I></div> <div> <I>contact with this priest afterwards, and I do not, therefore, give his name."</I></div> <div> <I>"Of a very respectable monk, respectable alike for his age and his moral character, I enquired </I></div> <div> <I>what signified the prefixing the name of Jesus Christ to amorous apostrophes."</I></div> <div> <I>"It is,' he said, 'an expression used by a horrible sect, and one unfortunately only too </I></div> <div> <I>numerous, which, thus abusing the name of our Lord, permits to its members the most </I></div> <div> <I>unbridled licentiousness."</I></div> <div> <I>And it is my sad duty to say, before the whole world, that I know that by far the greater part of </I></div> <div> <I>the confessors in America, Spain, France, and England, reason and act just like that licentious </I></div> <div> <I>Italian priest.</I></div> <div> <I>Christian nations! If you could know what will become of the virtue of your fair daughters if you </I></div> <div> <I>allow secret or public slaves of Rome under the name of Ritualists to restore the auricular </I></div> <div> <I>confession, with what a storm of holy indignation you would defeat their plans!</I></div> <div> <I>CHAPTER III</I></div> <div> <I>The Confessional is the Modern Sodom</I></div> <div> <I>IF anyone wants to hear an eloquent oration, let him go where the Roman Catholic priest is </I></div> <div> <I>preaching on the divine institution of auricular confession. There is no subject, perhaps, on </I></div> <div> <I>which the priests display so much zeal and earnestness, and of which they speak so often. For </I></div> <div> <I>this institution is really the corner-stone of their stupendous power; it is the secret of their </I></div> <div> <I>almost irresistible influence. Let the people open their eyes, to-day, to the truth, and </I></div> <div> <I>understand that auricular confession is one of the most stupendous impostures which Satan </I></div> <div> <I>has invented, to corrupt and enslave the world; let the people desert the confessional-box to-</I></div> <div> <I>day, and to-morrow Romanism will fall into the dust. The priests understand this very well; </I></div> <div> <I>hence their constant efforts to deceive the people on that question. To attain their object, they </I></div> <div> <I>have recourse to the most egregious falsehoods; the Scriptures are misrepresented; the holy </I></div> <div> <I>Fathers are brought to say the very contrary of what they have ever thought or written; and the </I></div> <div> <I>most extraordinary miracles and stories are invented. But two of the arguments to which they </I></div> <div> <I>have more often recourse, are the great and perpetual miracles which God makes to keep the </I></div> <div> <I>purity of the confessional undefiled, and its secrets marvellously sealed. They make the people </I></div> <div> <I>believe that the vow of perpetual chastity changes their nature, turns them into angels, and </I></div> <div> <I>puts them above the common frailties of the fallen children of Adam.</I></div> <div> <I>Bravely, and with a brazen face, when they are interrogated on that subject, they say that they </I></div> <div> <I>have special graces to remain pure and undefiled in the midst of the greatest dangers; that the </I></div> <div> <I>Virgin Mary, to whom they are consecrated, is their powerful advocate to obtain from her Son </I></div> <div> <I>that superhuman virtue of chastity; that what would be a cause of sure perdition to common </I></div> <div> <I>men, is without peril and danger for a true Son of Mary; and, with amazing stupidity, the people </I></div> <div> <I>consent to be duped, blinded, and deceived by those fooleries.</I></div> <div> <I>But here, let the world learn the truth as it is, from one who knows perfectly everything inside </I></div> <div> <I>and outside the walls of that Modern Babylon. Though many, I know, will disbelieve me and </I></div> <div> <I>say, "We hope you are mistaken; it is impossible that the priests of Rome should turn out to be </I></div> <div> <I>such impostors; they may be mistaken; they may believe and repeat things which are not true, </I></div> <div> <I>but they are honest; they cannot be such impudent deceivers."</I></div> <div> <I>Yes; though I know that many will hardly believe me, I must tell the truth.</I></div> <div> <I>Those very men, who, when speaking to the people in such glowing terms of the marvellous </I></div> <div> <I>way they are kept pure, in the midst of the dangers which surround them, honestly blush-and </I></div> <div> <I>often weep-when they speak to each other (when they are sure that nobody, except priests, </I></div> <div> <I>hear them). They deplore their own moral degradation with the utmost sincerity and honesty; </I></div> <div> <I>Page 29     </I></div> <div> <I>they ask from God and men, pardon for their unspeakable depravity.</I></div> <div> <I>I have here-in my hands, and under my eyes-one of their most remarkable secret books, </I></div> <div> <I>written (or at least approved) by one of their greatest and best bishops and cardinals, the </I></div> <div> <I>Cardinal de Bonald, Archbishop of Lyons.</I></div> <div> <I>The book is written for the use of priests alone. Its title is, in French, "Examen de Conscience </I></div> <div> <I>des Pretres." At page 34, we read:-</I></div> <div> <I>"Have I left certain persons to make the declarations of their sins in such a way that the </I></div> <div> <I>imagination, once taken and impressed by pictures and representations, could be dragged into </I></div> <div> <I>a long course of temptations and grievous sins? The priests do not pay sufficient attention to </I></div> <div> <I>the continual temptations caused by the hearing of confessions. The soul is gradually </I></div> <div> <I>enfeebled in such a way that, at the end, the virtue of chastity is forever lost."</I></div> <div> <I>Here is the address of a priest to other priests, when he suspects that nobody but his co-sinner </I></div> <div> <I>brethren hear him. Here is the honest language of truth.</I></div> <div> <I>In the presence of God those priests acknowledge that they have not a sufficient fear of those </I></div> <div> <I>constant (what a word-what an acknowledgment-constant!) temptations, and they honestly </I></div> <div> <I>confess that these temptations come from the hearing of the confessions of so many </I></div> <div> <I>scandalous sins. Here the priests honestly acknowledge that those constant temptations, at the </I></div> <div> <I>end, destroy forever in them the holy virtue of purity.*</I></div> <div> <I>"Ah! would to God that all the honest girls and women whom the devil entraps into the snares </I></div> <div> <I>of auricular confession, could bear the cries of distress of those poor priests whom they have </I></div> <div> <I>tempted-forever destroyed! Would to God that they could</I></div> <div> <I>* And remark, that all their religious authors who have written on that subject hold the same </I></div> <div> <I>language. They all speak of those continual degrading temptations; they all lament the </I></div> <div> <I>damning sins which follow those temptations; they all entreat the priests to fight those </I></div> <div> <I>temptations and repent of those sins.</I></div> <div> <I>See the torrents of tears shed by so many priests, because, from the hearing of confessions, </I></div> <div> <I>they had forever lost the virtue of purity! They would understand that the confessional is a </I></div> <div> <I>snare, a pit of perdition, a Sodom for the priest; and they would be struck with horror and </I></div> <div> <I>shame at the idea of the continual, shameful, dishonest, degrading temptations by which their </I></div> <div> <I>confessor is tormented day and night-they would blush on account of the shameful sins which </I></div> <div> <I>their confessors have committed-they would weep over the irreparable loss of their purity-</I></div> <div> <I>they would promise before God and men that the confessional-box should never see them any </I></div> <div> <I>more-they would prefer to be burned alive, if any sentiment of honesty and charity remained </I></div> <div> <I>in them, rather than consent to be a cause of constant temptations and damnable sins to that </I></div> <div> <I>man.</I></div> <div> <I>Would that respectable lady go any more to confess to that man, if, after her confession, she </I></div> <div> <I>could hear him lamenting the continual, shameful temptations which assail him day and night, </I></div> <div> <I>and the damning sins which he had committed, on account of what she has confessed to him? </I></div> <div> <I>No! -a thousand times, no!</I></div> <div> <I>Would that honest father allow his beloved daughter to go any more to that man to confess, if </I></div> <div> <I>he could hear his cries of distress, and see his tears flowing, because the hearing of those </I></div> <div> <I>confessions is the source of constant, shameful temptations and degrading iniquities?</I></div> <div> <I>Oh! would to God that the honest Romanists all over the world-for there are millions, who, </I></div> <div> <I>though, deluded, are honest-could see what is going on in the heart, and the imagination of </I></div> <div> <I>the poor confessor when he is, there, surrounded by attractive women and tempting girls, </I></div> <div> <I>speaking to him from morning to night on things which a man cannot hear without falling. Then, </I></div> <div> <I>that modern but grand imposture, called the Sacrament of Penance, would soon be ended.</I></div> <div> <I>But here, again, who will not lament the consequences of the total perversity of our human </I></div> <div> <I>nature? Those very same priests who, when alone, in the presence of God, speak so plainly of </I></div> <div> <I>the constant temptations by which they are assailed, and who so sincerely weep over the </I></div> <div> <I>irreparable loss of their virtue of purity, when they think that nobody hears them, will yet, in </I></div> <div> <I>public, with a brazen face, deny those temptations. They will indignantly rebuke you as a </I></div> <div> <I>slanderer if you say anything to lead them to suppose that you fear for their purity, when they </I></div> <div> <I>hear the confessions of girls or married women!</I></div> <div> <I>There is not a single one of the Roman Catholic authors, who have written on that subject for </I></div> <div> <I>the priests, who has not deplored their innumerable and degrading sins against purity, on </I></div> <div> <I>account of the auricular confession; but those very men will be the first to try to prove the very </I></div> <div> <I>contrary when they write books for the people. I have no words to tell what was my surprise </I></div> <div> <I>when, for the first time, I saw that this strange duplicity seemed to be one of the fundamental </I></div> <div> <I>stones of my Church.</I></div> <div> <I>It was not very long after my ordination, when a priest came to me to confess the most </I></div> <div> <I>deplorable things. He honestly told me that there was not a single one of the girls or married </I></div> <div> <I>women whom he had confessed, who had not been a secret cause of the most shameful sins, </I></div> <div> <I>in thought, desires, or actions; but he wept so bitterly over his degradation, his heart seemed </I></div> <div> <I>so sincerely broken on account of his own iniquities, that I could not refrain from mixing my </I></div> <div> <I>tears with his; I wept with him, and I gave him pardon for all his sins, as I then thought I had the </I></div> <div> <I>power and right to give it.</I></div> <div> <I>Two hours afterwards, that same priest, who was a good speaker, was in the pulpit. His </I></div> <div> <I>sermon was on "The Divinity of Auricular Confession;" and, to prove that it was an institution </I></div> <div> <I>coming directly from Christ, he said that the Son of God was performing a constant miracle to </I></div> <div> <I>strengthen His priests, and prevent them from falling into sins, on account of what they might </I></div> <div> <I>Page 31     </I></div> <div> <I>have heard in the confessional!!!</I></div> <div> <I>The daily abominations, which are the result of auricular confession, are so horrible and so well </I></div> <div> <I>known by the popes, the bishops, and the priests, that several times, public attempts have </I></div> <div> <I>been in made to diminish them by punishing the guilty priests; but all these commendable </I></div> <div> <I>efforts have failed.</I></div> <div> <I>One of the most remarkable of those efforts was made by Pius IV. about the year 1560. A Bull </I></div> <div> <I>was published by him, by which all the girls and married women who had been seduced into </I></div> <div> <I>sins by their confessors, were ordered to denounce them; and a certain number of high church </I></div> <div> <I>officers of the Holy Inquisition were authorized to take the depositions of the fallen penitents. </I></div> <div> <I>The thing was, at first, tried at Seville, one of the principal cities of Spain. When the edict was </I></div> <div> <I>first published, the number of women who felt bound in conscience to go and depose against </I></div> <div> <I>their father confessors, was so great, that though there were thirty notaries, and as many </I></div> <div> <I>inquisitors, to take the depositions, they were unable to do the work in the appointed time. </I></div> <div> <I>Thirty days more were given, but the inquisitors were so overwhelmed with the numberless </I></div> <div> <I>depositions, that another period of time of the same length was given. But this, again, was </I></div> <div> <I>found insufficient. At the end, it was found that the number of priests who had destroyed the </I></div> <div> <I>purity of their penitents was so great that it was impossible to punish them all. The inquest was </I></div> <div> <I>given up, and the guilty confessors remained unpunished. Several attempts of the same nature </I></div> <div> <I>have been tried by other popes, but with about the same success.</I></div> <div> <I>But if those honest attempts on the part of some well-meaning popes, to punish the confessors </I></div> <div> <I>who destroy the purity of the penitents, have failed to touch the guilty parties, they are, in the </I></div> <div> <I>good providence of God, infallible witnesses to tell to the world that auricular confession is </I></div> <div> <I>nothing else than a snare to the confessor and his dupes. Yes, those Bulls of the popes are an </I></div> <div> <I>irrefragable testimony that auricular confession is the most powerful invention of the devil to </I></div> <div> <I>corrupt the heart, pollute the body, and damn the soul of the priest and his female penitent!</I></div> <div> <I>CHAPTER IV</I></div> <div> <I>How the Vow of Celibacy of the Priests is Made Easy by Auricular Confession</I></div> <div> <I>ARE not facts the best arguments? Well, here is an undeniable, a public fact, which is </I></div> <div> <I>connected with a thousand collateral ones, to prove that auricular confession is the most </I></div> <div> <I>powerful machine of demoralization which the world has ever seen.</I></div> <div> <I>About the year 1830, there was in Quebec a fine-looking young priest; he had a magnificent </I></div> <div> <I>voice, and was a pretty good speaker. Through regard for his family, which is still numerous </I></div> <div> <I>and respectable, I will not give his name: I will call him Rev. Mr. D-. Having been invited to </I></div> <div> <I>preach in a parish of Canada, about 100 miles distant from Quebec, called Vercheres, he was </I></div> <div> <I>also requested to hear the confessions, during a few days of a kind of Novena (nine days of </I></div> <div> <I>revival), which was going on in that place. Among his penitents was a beautiful young girl, </I></div> <div> <I>about nineteen years old. She wanted to make a general confession of all her sins from the first </I></div> <div> <I>age of reason, and the confessor granted her request. Twice, every day, she was there, at the </I></div> <div> <I>feet of her handsome young spiritual physician, telling all her thoughts, her deeds, and her </I></div> <div> <I>desires. Sometimes she was remarked to have remained a whole hour in the confessional-box, </I></div> <div> <I>accusing herself of all her human frailties. What did she say? God only knows; but what </I></div> <div> <I>became hereafter known by a great part of the entire part of the population of Canada is, that </I></div> <div> <I>the confessor fell in love with his fair penitent, and that she burned with the same irresistible </I></div> <div> <I>fires for her confessor-as it so often happens.</I></div> <div> <I>It was not an easy matter for the priest and the young girl to meet each other in as complete a </I></div> <div> <I>tete-a-tete as they both wished; for there were two many eyes upon them. But the confessor </I></div> <div> <I>was a man of resources. On the last day of the Novena, he said to his beloved penitent, "I am </I></div> <div> <I>going now to Montreal; but in three days, I will take the steamer back to Quebec. That steamer </I></div> <div> <I>is accustomed to stop here. At about twelve, at night, be on the wharf dressed as a young man; </I></div> <div> <I>but let no one know your secret. You will embark in the steamboat, where you will not be </I></div> <div> <I>known, if you have any prudence. You will come to Quebec, where you will be engaged as a </I></div> <div> <I>servant boy by the curate, of whom I am the vicar. Nobody will know your sex except myself, </I></div> <div> <I>and, there, we will be happy together."</I></div> <div> <I>The fourth day after this, there was a great desolation in the family of the girl; for she had </I></div> <div> <I>suddenly disappeared, and her robes had been found on the shores of the St Lawrence River. </I></div> <div> <I>There was not the least doubt in the minds of all relations and friends, that the general </I></div> <div> <I>confession she had made, had entirely upset her mind; and in an excess of craziness, she had </I></div> <div> <I>thrown herself into the deep and rapid waters of the St. Lawrence. Many searches were made </I></div> <div> <I>to find her body; but, of course, all in vain. Many public and private prayers were offered to God </I></div> <div> <I>to help her escape from the flames of Purgatory, where she might be condemned to suffer for </I></div> <div> <I>many years, and much money was given to the priest to sing high masses, in order to </I></div> <div> <I>extinguish the fires of that burning prison, where every Roman Catholic believes he must go to </I></div> <div> <I>be purified before entering the regions of eternal happiness</I></div> <div> <I>I will not give the name of the girl, though I have it, through compassion for her family; I will call </I></div> <div> <I>her Geneva.</I></div> <div> <I>Well, when father and mother, brothers, sisters, and friends were shedding tears at the sad end </I></div> <div> <I>of Geneva, she was in the parsonage of the rich Curate of Quebec, well paid, well fed, and </I></div> <div> <I>dressed-happy and cheerful with her beloved confessor. She was exceedingly neat in her </I></div> <div> <I>person, always obliging, and ready to run and do what you wanted at the very twinkling of your </I></div> <div> <I>eye. Her new name was Joseph, by which I will now call her.</I></div> <div> <I>Many times I have seen the smart Joseph at the parsonage of Quebec, and admired his </I></div> <div> <I>politeness and good manners; though it seemed to me, sometimes, that he looked too much </I></div> <div> <I>like a girl, and that he was a little too much at ease with the Rev. Mr. D--, and also with the </I></div> <div> <I>Right Rev. Bishop M--. But every time the idea came to me that Joseph was a girl, I felt </I></div> <div> <I>indignant with myself.</I></div> <div> <I>The high respect I had for the Coadjutor Bishop, who was also the Curate of Quebec, made it </I></div> <div> <I>almost impossible to imagine that he would ever allow a beautiful girl to sleep in the adjoining </I></div> <div> <I>room to his own, and to serve him day and night; for Joseph's sleeping-room was just by that of </I></div> <div> <I>the Coadjutor, who, for several bodily infirmities (which were not a secret to every one), wanted </I></div> <div> <I>the help of his servant several times at night, as well as during the day.</I></div> <div> <I>Things went on very smoothly with Joseph during two or three years, in the Coadjutor Bishop's </I></div> <div> <I>house; but at the end, it seemed to many people outside, that Joseph was taking too great airs </I></div> <div> <I>of familiarity with the young vicars, and even with the venerable Coadjutor. Several of the </I></div> <div> <I>citizens of Quebec, who were going more often than others to the parsonage, were surprised </I></div> <div> <I>and shocked at the familiarity of that servant boy with his masters; he really seemed </I></div> <div> <I>sometimes to be on equal terms with, if not somewhat above them.</I></div> <div> <I>An intimate friend of the Bishop-a most devoted Roman Catholic-who was my near relative, </I></div> <div> <I>took upon himself one day to respectfully say to the Right Rev. Bishop that it would be prudent </I></div> <div> <I>to turn out that impudent young man from his palace-that he was the object of strong and </I></div> <div> <I>most deplorable suspicions.</I></div> <div> <I>The position of the Right Rev. Bishop and his vicars, was, then, not a very agreeable one. </I></div> <div> <I>Their barque had evidently drifted among dangerous rocks. To keep Joseph among them was </I></div> <div> <I>impossible, after the friendly advice which had come from such a high quarter; and to dismiss </I></div> <div> <I>him was not less dangerous; he knew too much of the interior and secret lives of all these holy </I></div> <div> <I>(?) celibates, to deal with him as with another common servant-man. With a single word of his </I></div> <div> <I>lips he could destroy them: they were as if tied to his feet by ropes, which, at first, seemed </I></div> <div> <I>made with sweet cakes and ice-cream, but had suddenly turned into burning steel chains. </I></div> <div> <I>Several days of anxiety passed away, and many sleepless nights succeeded the too happy </I></div> <div> <I>ones of better times. But what was to be done? There were breakers ahead; breakers on the </I></div> <div> <I>right, on the left, and on every side. However, when everyone, particularly the venerable (?) </I></div> <div> <I>Coadjutor, felt as criminals who expect their sentence, and that their horizon seemed </I></div> <div> <I>surrounded absolutely by only dark and stormy clouds, a happy opening suddenly presented </I></div> <div> <I>itself to the anxious sailors.</I></div> <div> <I>The curate of "Les Eboulements," the Rev. Mr. Clement, had just come to Quebec on some </I></div> <div> <I>private business, and had taken up his quarters in the hospitable house of his old friend, the </I></div> <div> <I>Right Rev.--, Bishop Coadjutor. Both had been on very intimate terms for many years, and </I></div> <div> <I>in many instances they had been of great service to each other. The Pontiff of the Church of </I></div> <div> <I>Canada, hoping that his tried friend would perhaps help him out of the terrible difficulty of the </I></div> <div> <I>moment, frankly told him all about Joseph, and asked him what he ought to do under such </I></div> <div> <I>difficult circumstances.</I></div> <div> <I>"My Lord," said the-curate of the Eboulements, "Joseph is just the servant I want. Pay him well, </I></div> <div> <I>that he may remain your friend, and that his lips may be sealed, and allow me to take him with </I></div> <div> <I>me. My housekeeper left me a few weeks ago; I am alone in my parsonage with my old servant-</I></div> <div> <I>man. Joseph is just the person I want.</I></div> <div> <I>It would be difficult to tell the joy of the poor Bishop and his vicars, when they saw that heavy </I></div> <div> <I>stone they had on their neck thus removed.</I></div> <div> <I>Joseph, once installed into the parsonage of the pious (?) parish priest of the Eboulements, </I></div> <div> <I>soon gained the favor of the whole people by his good and winning manners, and every </I></div> <div> <I>parishioner complimented the curate on the smartness of his new servant. The priest, of </I></div> <div> <I>course, knew a little more of that smartness than the rest of the people. Three years passed on </I></div> <div> <I>very smoothly. The priest and his servant seemed to be on the most perfect terms. The only </I></div> <div> <I>thing which marred the happiness of that lucky couple was that, now and then, some of the </I></div> <div> <I>farmers whose eyes were sharper than those of their neighbors, seemed to think that the </I></div> <div> <I>intimacy between the two was going a little too far, and that Joseph was really keeping in his </I></div> <div> <I>hands the sceptre of the little priestly kingdom. Nothing could be done without his advice; he </I></div> <div> <I>was meddling in all the small and big affairs of the parish, and the curate seemed sometimes to </I></div> <div> <I>be rather the servant than the master in his own house and parish. Those who had, at first, </I></div> <div> <I>made these remarks privately, began, little by little, to convey their views to their next neighbor, </I></div> <div> <I>and this one to the next: in that way, at the end of the third year, grave and serious suspicions </I></div> <div> <I>began to spread from one to the other in such a way that the Marguilliers (a kind of Elders), </I></div> <div> <I>thought proper to say to the priest that it would be better for him to turn Joseph out than to </I></div> <div> <I>keep him any longer. But the old curate had passed so many happy hours with his faithful </I></div> <div> <I>Joseph that it was as hard as death to give him up.</I></div> <div> <I>He knew, by confession, that a girl in the vicinity was given to an unmentionable abomination, </I></div> <div> <I>to which Joseph was also addicted. He went to her and proposed that she should marry </I></div> <div> <I>Joseph, and that he (the priest) would help them to live comfortably. Joseph, in order to live </I></div> <div> <I>near his good master, consented also to marry the girl. Both knew very well what the other </I></div> <div> <I>was. The banns were published during three Sabbaths, after which the old curate blessed the </I></div> <div> <I>marriage of Joseph with the girl of his parishioner.</I></div> <div> <I>They lived together as husband and wife, in such harmony that nobody could suspect the </I></div> <div> <I>horrible depravity which was concealed behind that union. Joseph continued, with his wife, to </I></div> <div> <I>work often for his priest, till after some time that priest was removed, and another curate, called </I></div> <div> <I>Tetreau, was sent in his place.</I></div> <div> <I>This new curate, knowing absolutely nothing of that mystery of iniquity, employed also Joseph </I></div> <div> <I>and his wife, several times. One day, when Joseph was working at the door of the parsonage, </I></div> <div> <I>in the presence of several people, a stranger arrived, and enquired of him if the Rev. Mr. </I></div> <div> <I>Tetreau, the curate, was there.</I></div> <div> <I>Joseph answered, "Yes, sir. But as you seem to be a stranger, would you allow me to ask you </I></div> <div> <I>whence you come?"</I></div> <div> <I>"It is very easy, sir, to satisfy you. I come from Vercheres," replied the stranger.</I></div> <div> <I>At the word "Vercheres " Joseph turned so pale that the stranger could not but be struck with </I></div> <div> <I>his s