The Priest, the Woman
and the Confessional.
BY
Rev. Charles Chiniquy,
former
Roman Catholic priest
CHICAGO: A. CRAIG & CO., PUBLISHERS, 1880.
COPYRIGHT, 1880, BY REV.
CHARLES CHINIQUY.
CONTENTS.
BIOGRAPHICAL,
5
DECLARATION,
16
PREFACE,
19
The Struggle before the Surrender of Womanly
Self-respect
in the Confessional, 21
Auricular Confession a deep Pit of Perdition for
the Priest., 59
The Confessional is the Modern Sodom, 77
How the Vow of Celibacy of the Priests is made
easy by
Auricular Confession, 87
The highly-educated and refined Woman in the
Confessional
—What becomes of her after unconditional surrender
—Her irreparable Ruin., 98
Auricular Confession destroys all the Sacred Ties
of
Marriage and Human Society, 117
Should Auricular Confession be tolerated among
Civilized Nations?..., 160
Does Auricular Confession bring Peace to the
Soul?, 177
The Dogma of Auricular Confession a Sacrilegious
Imposture., 209
God compels the Church of Rome to confess the
Abominations
of Auricular Confession, 242
Auricular Confession in Australia, America, and
France , 260
A Chapter for the Consideration of Legislators,
Husbands, and Fathers
—Some of the matters on which the Priest of Rome
must question his Penitents, 290
PREFACE.
EZEKIEL
CHAPTER VIII.
1. And it came to pass
in the sixth year, in the sixth month, in the fifth day of the
month, as I sat in mine house, and the elders of Judah sat before me, that the
hand of the LORD GOD fell there upon me.
2. Then I beheld, and
lo, a likeness as the appearance of fire; from the appearance of his loins even
downward, fire; and from his loins even upward, as the appearance of
brightness, as the color of amber.
3. And be put forth the
form of an hand, and took me by a lock of mine head; and the spirit lifted me
up between the earth and the heaven, and brought me in the visions of God to
Jerusalem, to the door of the inner gate that looketh toward the north; where
was the seat of the image of jealousy, which provoketh to jealousy.
4. And behold, the glory
of the God of Israel was there, according to the vision that I saw in
the plain.
5. Then said he unto me,
Son of man, lift up thine eyes now the way toward the north. So I lifted up
mine eyes the way toward the north; and behold, northward, at the gate of the
altar, this image of jealousy in the entry.
6. He said furthermore
unto me; Son of man, seest thou what they do?—even the great
abominations that the house of Israel committeth here, that I should go far off
from my sanctuary? but turn thee yet again, and thou shalt see greater
abominations.
7. And he brought me to
the door of the court; and when I looked, behold, a hole in the wall.
8. Then said he unto me,
Son of man, dig now in the wall: and when I had digged in the wall, behold, a
door.
9. And he said unto me,
Go in, and behold the wicked abominations that they do here.
20 PREFACE.
10 So I went in and saw;
and. behold, every, form of creeping things, and abominable beasts, and all the
idols of the of Israel, portrayed upon the wall round about.
11. And there stood
before them seventy men of the ancients of the house of Israel, and in the
midst of them stood Jaazaniah the son of Shaphan, with every man his censer in
his hand; and a thick cloud of incense went up.
12. Then said he unto
me, Son of man, hast thou seen what the ancients of the house of Israel do in
the dark, every man in the chambers of his imagery? for they say, The Lord
seeth us not; the Lord hath forsaken the earth.
13. He said also unto
me, Turn thee yet again, and thou shalt see greater abominations that
they do.
14. Then he brought me
to the door of the gate of the LORD'S house which was toward the north; and,
behold, there sat women weeping for Tammuz.
15. Then said he unto
me, Hast thou seen this, O Son of man? turn thee yet again, and thou
shalt see greater abominations than these.
16. And he brought me
into the inner court of the LORD'S house, and, behold, at the door of the
temple of the LORD, between the porch and the altar, were about five and
twenty men, with their backs towards the temple of the LORD, and their faces
toward the east; and they worshipped the sun toward the east.
17. Then he said unto
me, Hast thou seen this, O Son of man? Is it a light thing to the house
of Judah that they commit the abominations which they commit here? for they
have filled the land with violence, and have returned to provoke me to anger;
and, lo, they put the branch to their nose.
18. Therefore will I
also deal in fury: mine eye shall not spare, neither will I have pity; and
though they cry in mine ears with a loud voice, yet will I not hear
them.
The
Priest, the Woman, and the Confessional.
CHAPTER I.
'THE STRUGGLE
BEFORE THE SURRENDER OF WOMANLY
SELF-RESPECT IN THE CONFESSIONAL.
THERE are two women who ought to be
constant objects of the compassion
of the disciples of Christ, and for whom
daily prayers ought to be offered
at the mercy-seat—the Brahmin woman, who,
deceived by her priests, burns herself on the corpse of her husband to appease
the wrath of her wooden gods; and the Roman Catholic woman, who, not less
deceived by her priests, suffers a torture far more cruel and ignominious in
the confessional-box,
to appease the wrath of her wafer-god.
For I do not exaggerate when I say, that
for many noble-hearted,
well-educated, high-minded women,
22 to
be forced to unveil their hearts before the eyes of a man, to open to him
all the most secret
recesses of their souls, all the most sacred mysteries
of their single or married life, to allow
him to put to them questions which the most depraved woman would never consent
to hear from her vilest seducer,
is often more horrible and intolerable
than to be tied on burning coals.
More than once, I have seen women fainting
in the confessional-box, who told me afterwards, that the necessity of speaking
to an unmarried man on certain things, on which the most common laws of decency
ought to have for ever sealed their lips, had almost killed them! Not hundreds,
but thousands of times, I have heard from the lips of dying girls, as well as
of married women,
the awful words; "I am forever lost!
All my past confessions and communions have been so many sacrileges! I have
never dared to answer correctly
the questions of my confessors!
Shame has sealed my lips and damned my
soul!"
How many times I remained as one
petrified, by the side of a corpse, when these last words having hardly escaped
the lips of one of my female penitents, who had been snatched out of my reach
by the merciless hand of death, before I could give her pardon through the
deceitful sacramental absolution?
23 I
then believed, as the dead sinner herself had believed, that she could not be
forgiven except by that absolution.
For there are not only thousands but
millions of Roman Catholic girls and women whose keen sense of modesty and
womanly dignity are above all the sophisms and diabolical machinations of their
priests. They never can be persuaded to answer "Yes " to certain questions
of their confessors.
They would prefer to be thrown into the
flames, and burnt to ashes with the Brahmin widows, rather than allow the eyes
of a man to pry into the sacred sanctuary of their souls. Though sometimes
guilty before God, and under the impression that their sins will never be
forgiven if not confessed, the laws of decency are stronger in their hearts
than the laws of their cruel and perfidious Church. No consideration, not even
the fear of eternal damnation, can persuade them to declare to a sinful man,
sins which God alone has the right to know, for He alone can blot them out with
the blood of His Son, shed on the cross.
But what a wretched life must that be of
those exceptional noble souls, which Rome keeps in the dark dungeons of her superstition?
They read in all their books, and hear from all their pulpits, that if they
conceal a single sin from their confessors
24 they
are forever lost! But, being absolutely unable to trample under their feet the
laws of self-respect and decency, which God Himself has impressed in their
souls, they live in constant dread of eternal damnation. No human words can
tell their desolation and distress, when at the feet of their confessors, they
find themselves under the horrible necessity of speaking of things, on which
they would prefer to suffer the most cruel death rather than to open their
lips, or to be forever damned if they do not degrade themselves forever in
their own eyes, by speaking on matters which a respectable woman will never
reveal to her own mother, much less to a man!
I have known only too many of these
noble-hearted women, who, when alone with God, in a real agony of desolation
and with burning tears, had asked Him to grant them what they considered the
greatest favor, which was, to lose so much of their self-respect as to be
enabled to speak of those unmentionable things, just as their confessors wanted
them to speak; and, hoping that their petition had been granted, they went
again to the confessional-box, determined to unveil their shame before the eyes
of that inexorable man. But when the moment had come for the self-immolation,
their courage failed, their knees trembled, their lips
25 became
pale as death, cold sweat poured from all their pores! The voice of modesty and
womanly self-respect was speaking louder than the voice of their false
religion. They had to go out of the confessional-box unpardoned—nay, with the
burden of a new sacrilege on their conscience.
Oh! how heavy is the yoke of Rome—how
bitter is human life—how cheerless is the mystery of the cross to those deluded
and perishing souls! How gladly they would rush into the blazing piles with the
Brahmin women, if they could hope to see the end of their unspeakable miseries
through the momentary tortures which would open to them the gates of a better
life!
I do here publicly challenge the whole
Roman Catholic priesthood to deny that the greater part of their female
penitents remain a certain period of time—some longer, some shorter—under that
most distressing state of mind.
Yes, by far the greater majority of women,
at first, find it impossible to pull down the sacred barriers of self-respect
which God Himself has built around their hearts, intelligences, and souls, as
the best safeguard against the snares of this polluted world. Those laws of
self-respect, by which they cannot consent to speak an impure word into the
ears of a man, and which shut all the avenues of the heart against his unchaste
questions,
26 even
when speaking in the name of God—those laws of self-respect are so clearly
written in their conscience, and they are so well understood by them,
to be a most Divine
gift, that, as I have already said, many prefer to run the risk of being
forever lost by remaining silent.
It takes many years of the most ingenious
(I do not hesitate to call it diabolical) efforts on the part of the priests to
persuade the majority of their female penitents to speak on questions, which
even pagan savages would blush to mention among themselves. Some persist in remaining
silent on those matters during the greater part of their lives, and many prefer
to throw themselves into the hands of their merciful God, and die without
submitting to the defiling ordeal, even after they have felt the poisonous
stings of the enemy, rather than receive their pardon from a man, who, as they
feel, would have surely been scandalized by the recital of their human
frailties. All the priests of Rome are aware of this natural disposition of
their female penitents. There is not
a single one—no, not a single one of their
moral theologians, who does not warn the confessors against that stern and
general determination of the girls and married women never to speak in the
confessional on matters which may,
27 more
or less, deal with sins against the seventh commandment. Dens, Liguori,
Debreyne, Bailly, &c.,—in a word, all the theologians of Rome own that this
is one of the greatest difficulties which the confessors have to contend with
in the confessional-box.
Not a single Roman Catholic priest will
dare to deny what I say on this matter; for they know that it would be easy for
me to overwhelm them with such a crowd of testimonies that their grand
imposture would forever be unmasked.
I intend, at some future day, if God
spares me and gives me time for it,
to make known some of the innumerable
things which the Roman Catholic theologians and moralists have written on this
question. It will form one of the most curious books ever written; and it will
give unanswerable evidence of the fact that, instinctively, without consulting
each other, and with an unanimity which is almost marvellous, the Roman
Catholic women, guided by the honest instincts which God has given them, shrink
from the snares put before them
in the confessional-box; and that
everywhere they struggle to nerve themselves with a superhuman courage, against
the torturer who is sent by the Pope,
to finish their ruin and to make shipwreck
of their souls. Everywhere woman feels that there
28 are
things which ought never to be told, as there are things which ought never to
be done, in the presence of the God of holiness. She understands that,
to recite the history of
certain sins, even of thought, is not less shameful and criminal than to do
them; she hears the voice of God whispering into her ears, "Is it not
enough that thou hast been guilty once, when alone in My presence, without
adding to thine iniquity by allowing that man to know what should never have
been revealed to him? Do you not feel that you make that man your accomplice,
the very moment that you throw into his heart and soul the mire of your
iniquities? He is as weak as you are, he is not less a sinner than yourself;
what has tempted you will tempt him; what has made you weak will make him weak;
what has polluted you will pollute him; what has thrown you down into the dust,
will throw him into the dust. Is it not enough that My eyes had to look upon
your iniquities? must My ears, to-day, listen to your impure conversation with
that man? Were that man as holy as My prophet David, may he not fall before the
unchaste unveiling of the new Bathsheba? Were he as strong as Samson, may he
not find in you his tempting Delilah? Were he as generous as Peter, may he not
become a traitor at the maid-servant's voice?"
29 Perhaps
the world has never seen a more terrible, desperate, solemn struggle than the
one which is going on in the soul of a poor trembling young woman, who, at the
feet of that man, has to decide whether or not she will open her lips on those
things which the infallible voice of God, united to the no less infallible
voice of her womanly honor and self-respect, tell her never to reveal to any
man!
The history of that secret, fierce,
desperate, and deadly struggle has never yet, so far as I know, been fully
given. It would draw the tears of admiration and compassion of the whole world,
if it could be written with its simple, sublime, and terrible realities.
How many times have I wept as a child when
some noble-hearted and intelligent young girl, or some respectable married
woman, yielding to the sophisms with which I, or some other confessor, had
persuaded them to give up their
self-respect, and their womanly dignity,
to speak with me on matters on which
a decent woman should never say a word
with a man. They have told me of their invincible repugnance, their horror of
such questions and answers, and they have asked me to have pity on them. Yes! I
have often wept bitterly on my degradation, when a priest of Rome!
30 I
have realized all the strength, the grandeur, and the holiness
of their motives for being silent on these defiling matters, and I could not
but admire them. It seemed at times that they were speaking the language of
angels
of light; that I ought
to fall at their feet, and ask their pardon for having spoken to them of
questions, on which a man of honor ought never to converse with a woman whom he
respects.
But alas! I had soon to reproach myself,
and regret those short instances
of my wavering faith in the infallible
voice of my Church; I had soon to silence the voice of my conscience, which was
telling me, "Is it not a shame that you,
an unmarried man, dare to speak on these
matters with a woman? Do you not blush to put such questions to a young girl?
Where is your self-respect?
where is your fear of God? Do you not
promote the ruin of that girl by forcing her to speak with a man on such
matters?
I was compelled by all the Popes, the
moral theologians, and the Councils,
of Rome, to believe that this warning
voice of my merciful God was the voice
of Satan; I had to believe in spite of my
own conscience and intelligence,
that it was good, nay, necessary, to put
those polluting, damning questions.
My infallible Church was mercilessly forcing
me to oblige those poor,
31
trembling, weeping, desolate girls and women, to swim with me and all her
priests in those waters of Sodom and Gomorrah, under the pretext that their
self-will would be broken down, their fear of sin and humility increased,
and that they would be purified by our
absolutions.
With what supreme distress, disgust, and
surprise, we see, to-day, a great part of the noble Episcopal Church of England
struck by a plague which seems incurable, under the name of Puseyism, or Ritualism,
and bringing again—more or less openly—in many places the diabolical and filthy
auricular confession among the Protestants of England, Australia and America.
The Episcopal Church is doomed to perish in that dark and stinking pool of
Popery—auricular confession, if she does not find a prompt remedy to stop the
plague brought
by the disguised Jesuits, who are at work
everywhere, to poison and enslave her too unsuspecting daughters and sons.
In the beginning of my priesthood, I was
not a little surprised and embarrassed to see a very accomplished and beautiful
young lady, whom I used to meet almost every week at her father's house,
entering the box of my confessional. She had been used to confess to another
young priest of my acquaintance,
32 and
she was always looked upon as one of the most pious girls of the city. Though
she had disguised herself as much as possible, in order that I might not know
her, I felt sure that I was not mistaken—she was the amiable Mary *
Not being absolutely certain of the
correctness of my impressions, I left her entirely under the hope that she was
a perfect stranger to me. At the beginning she could hardly speak; her voice
was suffocated by her sobs; and through the little apertures of the thin
partition between her and me, I saw two streams of big tears trickling down her
cheeks.
After much effort, she said: "Dear
Father, I hope you do not know me,
and that you will never try to know me. I
am a desperately great sinner.
Oh! I fear that I am lost! But if there is
still a hope for me to be saved,
for God's sake, do not rebuke me! Before I
begin my confession,
allow me to ask you not to pollute my ears
by questions which our confessors are in the habit of putting to their female
penitents; I have already been destroyed by those questions. Before I was
seventeen years old, God knows that His angels are not more pure than I was;
but the chaplain of the Nunnery where my parents had sent me for my education,
though approaching old age, put to me,
33 in
the confessional, a question which at first I did not understand, but,
unfortunately, he had put the same questions to one of my young class-mates,
who made fun of them in my presence, and explained them to me; for she
understood them too well. This first unchaste conversation of my life plunged
my thoughts into a sea of iniquity, till then absolutely unknown to me;
temptations of the most humiliating character assailed me for a week, day and
night; after which, sins which I would blot out with my blood, if it were
possible, overwhelmed my soul as with a deluge. But the joys of the sinner are
short. Struck with terror at the thought of the judgments of God, after a few
weeks of the most deplorable life, I determined to give up my sins and reconcile
myself to God. Covered with shame, and trembling from head to foot, I went to
confess to my old confessor, whom I respected as a saint and cherished as a
father. It seems to me that, with sincere tears of repentance,
I confessed to him the
greatest part of my sins, though I concealed one of them, through shame, and
respect for my spiritual guide. But I did not conceal from him that the strange
questions he had put to me at my last confession, were, with the natural
corruption of my heart, the principal cause of my destruction.
34 He
spoke to me very kindly, encouraged me to fight against my bad inclinations,
and, at first, gave me very kind and good advice. But when I thought he had
finished speaking, and as I was preparing to leave the confessional-box, he put
to me two new questions of such a polluting character that, I fear neither the
blood of Christ, nor all the fires of hell will ever be able to blot them out
from my memory. Those questions have achieved my ruin; they have stuck to my
mind like two deadly arrows; they are day and night before my imagination; they
fill my very arteries and veins with a deadly poison.
"It is true that, at first, they
filled me with horror and disgust; but alas!
I soon got so accustomed to them that
they seemed to be incorporated with me, and as if becoming a second nature.
Those thoughts have become a new source of innumerable criminal thoughts,
desires and actions.
"A month later, we were obliged by the
rules of our convent to go and confess; but by this time, I was so completely
lost, that I no longer blushed at the idea of confessing my shameful sins to a
man; it was the very contrary. I had a real, diabolical pleasure in the thought
that I should have a long conversation with my confessor on those matters,
35 and
that he would ask me more of his strange questions.
"In fact, when I had told him
everything without a blush, he began
to interrogate me, and God knows what
corrupting things fell from his lips into my poor criminal heart! Every one of
his questions was thrilling my nerves,
and filling me with the most shameful
sensations. After an hour of this
criminal tete-a-tete with my
old confessor (for it was nothing else but a criminal tete-a-tete), I perceived that he was as depraved as I was
myself. With some half-covered words, he made a criminal proposition, which I
accepted with covered words also; and during more than a year, we have lived
together on the most sinful intimacy. Though he was much older than I, I loved
him in the most foolish way. When the course of my convent instruction was
finished,
my parents called me back to their home. I
was really glad of that change
of residence, for I was beginning to be
tired of my criminal life. My hope was that, under the direction of a better
confessor, I should reconcile myself
to God and begin a Christian life.
"Unfortunately for me, my new
confessor, who was very young, began also his interrogations. He soon fell in
love with me, and I loved him in a most criminal way. I have done with him
things
36 which
I hope you will never request me to reveal to you, for they are too monstrous
to be repeated, even in the confessional, by a woman to a man.
"I do not say these things to take
away the responsibility of my iniquities with this young confessor, from my
shoulders, for I think I have been more criminal than he was. It is my firm
conviction that he was a good and holy priest before he knew me; but the
questions he put to me, and the answers I had to give him, melted his heart—I
know it—just as boiling lead would melt the ice on which it flows.
"I know this is not such a detailed
confession as our holy Church requires me to make, but I have thought it
necessary for me to give you this short history of the life of the greatest and
most miserable sinner who ever asked you to help her to come out from the tomb
of her iniquities. This is the way I have lived these last few years. But last
Sabbath, God, in His infinite mercy, looked down upon me. He inspired you to
give us the Prodigal Son as a model of true conversion, and as the most
marvellous proof of the infinite compassion of the dear Saviour for the sinner.
I have wept day and night since that happy day, when I threw myself into the
arms of my loving merciful Father. Even now,
I can hardly speak, because my regret for
my past iniquities,
37 and
my joy that I am allowed to bathe the feet of the Saviour with tears,
are so great that my
voice is as choked.
"You understand that I have forever
given up my last confessor. I come to ask you to do me the favor to receive me
among your penitents. Oh! do not reject nor rebuke me, for the dear Saviour's
sake! Be not afraid to have at your side such a monster of iniquity! But before
going further, I have two favors to ask from you. The first is, that you will
never do anything to ascertain my name; the second is, that you will never put
to me any of those questions by which so many penitents are lost and so many
priests forever destroyed. Twice I have been lost by those questions. We come
to our confessors that they may throw upon our guilty souls the pure waters
which flow from heaven to purify us; but instead of that, with their
unmentionable questions, they pour oil on the burning fires which are already
raging in our poor sinful hearts. Oh! dear father, let me become your penitent,
that you may help me to go and weep with Magdalene at the Saviour's feet! Do
respect me, as He respected that true model of all the sinful, but repenting
women! Did our Saviour put to her any question?
did He extort from her the history of
things which a sinful woman cannot say without forgetting the respect
38 she
owes to herself and to God! No! you told us not long ago, that the only thing
our Saviour did, was to look at her tears and her love. Well, please do that,
and you will save me!"
I was then a very young priest, and never
had any words so sublime come to my ears in the confessional-box. Her tears and
her sobs, mingled with the frank declaration of the most humiliating actions,
had made such a profound impression upon me that I was, for some time, unable
to speak. It had come to my mind also that I might be mistaken about her
identify, and that perhaps she was not the young lady that I had imagined. I
could, then, easily grant her first request, which was to do nothing by which I
could know her. The second part of her prayer was more embarrassing; for the
theologians are very positive in ordering the confessors to question their
penitents, particularly those of the female sex, in many circumstances.
I encouraged her in the best way I could,
to persevere in her good resolutions, by invoking the blessed Virgin Mary and
St. Philomene, who was, then,
the Sainte
a la mode, just as Marie Alacoque is to-day, among the blind slaves of
Rome. I told her that I would pray and think over the subject of
39 her
second request; and I asked her to come back in a week for my answer.
The very same day, I went to my own
confessor, the Rev. Mr. Baillargeon,
then curate of Quebec, and afterwards
Archbishop of Canada. I told him the singular and unusual request she had made,
that I should never put to her any of those questions suggested by the
theologians, to insure the integrity of the confession. I did not conceal from
him that I was much inclined to grant her that favor; for I repeated what I had
already several times told him,
that I was supremely disgusted with the
infamous and polluting questions which the theologians forced us to put to our
female penitents. I told him frankly that several old and young priests had
already come to confess to me; and that,
with the exception of two, they had told
me that they could not put those questions and hear the answers they elicited,
without falling into the most damnable sins.
My confessor seemed to be much perplexed
about what he should answer.
"He asked me to come the next day,
that he might review some of his theological books, in the interval. The next
day, I took down in writing his answer, which I find in my old manuscripts, and
I give it here in all its sad crudity:—
40 "Such
cases of the destruction of female virtue by the questions of the confessors is
an unavoidable evil. It cannot be helped; for such questions are absolutely
necessary in the greater part of the cases with which we have to deal. Men
generally confess their sins with so much sincerity that there is seldom any
need for questioning them, except when they are very ignorant.
But St. Liguori, as well
as our personal observation, tells us that the greatest part of girls and
women, through a false and criminal shame, very seldom confess the sins they
commit against purity. It requires the utmost charity in the confessors to
prevent those unfortunate slaves of their secret passions from making sacrilegious
confessions and communions. With the greatest prudence and zeal he must
question them on those matters, beginning with the smallest sins, and going,
little by little, as much as possible by imperceptible degrees, to the most
criminal actions. As it seems evident that the penitent referred to in your
questions of yesterday, is unwilling to make a full and detailed confession of
all her iniquities, you cannot promise to absolve her without assuring yourself
by wise and prudent questions, that she has confessed everything.
"You must not be discouraged when,
through the confessional or any other way,
41 you
learn the fall of priests into the
common frailties of human nature with their penitents. Our Saviour knew very
well that the occasions and the temptations we have to encounter, in the
confessions of girls and women,
are so numerous, and sometimes so
irresistible, that many would fall. But He has given them the Holy Virgin Mary,
who constantly asks and obtains their pardon; He has given them the sacrament
of penance, where they can receive their pardon as often as they ask for it.
The vow of perfect chastity is a great honor and privilege; but we cannot
conceal from ourselves that it puts on our shoulders a burden which many cannot
carry forever. St. Liguori says that
we must not rebuke the penitent priest who
falls only once a month;
and some other trustworthy theologians are
still more charitable."
This answer was far from satisfying me. It
seemed to me composed of soft soap principles. I went back with a heavy heart
and an anxious mind; and God knows that I made many fervent prayers that this
girl should never come again to give me her sad history. I was hardly
twenty-six years old, full of youth and life. It seemed to me that the stings
of a thousand wasps to my ears would not do me so much harm as the words of
that dear, beautiful, accomplished, but lost girl.
42 I
do not mean to say that the revelations which she made, had, in any way,
diminished my esteem and my respect for her. It was just the contrary.
Her tears and her sobs,
at my feet her agonizing expressions of shame and regret her noble words of
protest against the disgusting and polluting interrogations of the confessors,
had raised her very high in my mind. My sincere hope was that she would have a
place in the kingdom of Christ with the Samaritan women, Mary Magdalene, and
all the sinners who have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb.
At the appointed day, I was in my
confessional, listening to the confession
of a young man, when I saw Miss Mary
entering the vestry, and coming directly to my confessional-box, where she
knelt by me. Though she had, still more than at the first time, disguised
herself behind a long, thick, black veil, I could not be mistaken; she was the
very same amiable young lady in whose father's house I used to pass such
pleasant and happy hours. I had often listened,
with breathless attention, to her
melodious voice, when she was giving us, accompanied by her piano, some of our
beautiful Church hymns. Who could then see and hear her without almost
worshipping her? The dignity of her steps, and her whole mien, when she
advanced towards
43 my
confessional, entirely betrayed her and destroyed her incognito.
Oh! I would have given every drop of my
blood in that solemn hour,
that I might have been free to deal with
her just as she had so eloquently requested me to do—to let her weep and cry at
the feet of Jesus to her heart's content; Oh! if I had been free to take her by
the hand, and silently show her the dying Saviour, that she might have bathed
His feet with her tears, and spread the oil of her love on His head, without my
saying anything else but "Go in peace: thy sins are forgiven. "
But, there, in that confessional-box, I
was not the servant of Christ, to follow His divine, saving words, and obey the
dictates of my honest conscience. I was the slave of the Pope! I had to stifle
the cry of my conscience, to ignore the inspirations of my God! There, my
conscience had no right to speak; my intelligence was a dead thing! The
theologians of the Pope, alone, had a right to be heard and obeyed! I was not
there to save, but to destroy; for, under the pretext of purifying, the real
mission of the confessor, often, if not always, in spite of himself, is to
scandalise and damn the souls.
As soon as the young man who was making
his
44 confession
at my left hand, had finished, I, without noise, turned myself towards her, and
said, through the little aperture, "Are you ready to begin your
confession?"
But she did not answer me. All that I
could hear was: "Oh, my Jesus, have mercy upon me! I come to wash my soul
in Thy blood; wilt thou rebuke me?"
During several minutes she raised her
hands and her eyes to heaven, and wept and prayed. It was evident that she had
not the least idea that I was observing her; she thought the door of the little
partition between her and me was shut. But my eyes were fixed upon her; my
tears were flowing with her tears, and my ardent prayers were going to the feet
of Jesus with her prayers. I would not have interrupted her for any
consideration, in this, her sublime communion with her merciful Saviour.
But after a pretty long time, I made a
little noise with my hand, and putting my lips near the opening of the
partition which was between us, I said in a low voice, "Dear sister, are
you ready to begin your confession?"
She turned her face a little towards me,
and said with trembling voice,
"Yes, dear father, I am ready."
But she then stopped again to weep and
pray,
though I could not hear what she said.
45 After
some time of silent prayer, I said, "My dear sister, if you are ready,
please begin your confession." She then said, "My dear father, do you
remember the prayers which I made to you, the other day? Can you allow me to
confess my sins without forcing me to forget the respect that I owe to myself,
to you, and to God, who hears us? And can you promise that you will not put to
me any of those questions which have already done me such irreparable injury? I
frankly declare to you that there are sins in me that I cannot reveal to
anyone, except to Christ, because He is my God, and that He already knows them
all. Let me weep and cry at His feet: can you not forgive me without adding to
my iniquities by forcing me to say things that the tongue
of a Christian woman
cannot reveal to a man?"
"My dear sister," I answered,
were I free to follow the voice of my own feelings I would be only too happy to
grant your request; but I am here only as the minister of our holy Church, and
bound to obey her laws. Through her most holy Popes and theologians she tells
me that I cannot forgive your sins if you do not confess them all, just as you
have committed them. The Church tells me also that you must give the details
which may add to the malice or change the nature of your sins.
46 I am also sorry to tell you that our most
holy theologians make it a duty of the confessor to question the penitent on
the sins which he has good reason
to suspect have been voluntarily or
involuntarily omitted."
With a piercing cry, she exclaimed, Then,
O my God, I am lost-forever lost!"
This cry fell upon me like a thunderbolt;
but I was still more terror-stricken when, looking through the aperture, I saw
she was fainting; I heard the noise of her body falling upon the floor, and of
her head striking against the sides of the confessional- box.
Quick as lightning I ran to help her, took
her in my arms, and called a couple of men who were at a little distance, to
assist me in laying her on a bench.
I washed her face with some cold water and
vinegar. She was, as pale as death, but her lips were moving, and she was
saying something which nobody but
I could understand—
"I am lost—lost forever!"
We took her home to her disconsolate
family, where, during a month,
she lingered between life and death. Her
two first confessors came to visit her; but having asked every one to go out of
the room, she politely, but absolutely, requested them to go away, and never
come again. She asked me
47 to
visit her every day., "for," she said, "I have only a few more
days to live. Help me to prepare myself for the solemn hour which will open to
me the gates of eternity!"
Every day I visited her, and I prayed and
I wept with her.
Many times, when alone, with tears I
requested her to finish her confession; but, with a firmness which, then,
seemed to be mysterious and inexplicable, she politely rebuked me.
One day, when alone with her, I was
kneeling by the side of her bed to pray,
I was unable to articulate a single word,
because of the inexpressible anguish of my soul on her account, she asked me,
"Dear father, why do you weep?"
I answered, "How can you put such a
question to your murderer! I weep because I have killed you, dear friend."
This answer seemed to trouble her
exceedingly. She was very weak that day. After she had wept and prayed in
silence, she said, "do not weep for me,
but weep for so many priests who destroy
their penitents in the confessional.
I believe in the holiness of the sacrament
of penance, since our holy Church has established it. But there is, somewhere,
something exceedingly wrong
in the confessional. Twice I have been
destroyed, and I
48 know
many girls who have also been destroyed by the confessional.
This is a secret, but
will that secret be kept forever? I pity the poor priests the day that our
fathers will know what becomes of the purity of their daughters in the hands of
their confessors. Father would surely kill my two last confessors, if he could
know how they have destroyed his poor child."
I could not answer except by weeping.
We remained silent for a long time; then
she said, "It is true that I was not prepared for the rebuke you have
given me, the other day, in the confessional; but you acted conscientiously as
a good and honest priest. I know you must be bound by certain laws."
She then pressed my hand with her cold hand
and said, "Weep not, dear father, because that sudden storm has wrecked my
too fragile bark. This storm was
to take me out from the bottomless sea of
my iniquities to the shore where Jesus was waiting to receive and pardon me.
The night after you brought me, half dead, here, to father's house, I had a
dream. Oh, no! it was not a dream, it was a reality. My Jesus came to me; He
was bleeding; His crown of thorns was on His head, the heavy cross was bruising
his shoulders. He said to me, with a voice so sweet that no human tongue can imitate
it,
49 "I
have seen thy tears, I have heard thy cries, and I know thy love for Me:
thy sins are forgiven;
take courage; in a few days thou shalt be with me!"
She had hardly finished her last word,
when she fainted; and I feared lest she should die just then, when I was alone
with her.
I called the family, who rushed into the
room. The doctor was sent for.
He found her so weak that he thought
proper to allow only one or two persons to remain in the room with me. He
requested us not to speak at all: "For," said he, the least emotion
may kill her instantly; her disease is, in all probability,
an aneurism of the aorta, the big vein
which brings the blood to the heart: when it breaks, she will go as quick as
lightning."
It was nearly ten at night when I left the
house, to go and take some rest.
But it is not necessary to say that I
passed a sleepless night. My dear Mary was there, pale, dying from the deadly
blow which I had given her in the confessional. She was there, on her bed of
death, her heart pierced with the dagger which my Church had put into my hands!
and instead of rebuking,
and cursing me for my savage, merciless
fanaticism, she was blessing me! She was dying from a broken heart, and I was
not allowed by my Church
50 to
give her a single word of consolation and hope, for she had not made her confession! I had mercilessly bruised that
tender plant, and there was nothing in my hands to heal the wounds I had made!
It was very probable that she would die
the next day, and I was forbidden
to show her the crown of glory which Jesus
has prepared in His kingdom for the repenting sinner!
My desolation was really unspeakable, and
I think I would have been suffocated and have died that night, if the stream of
tears which constantly flowed from my eyes had not been as a balm to my
distressed heart.
How dark and long the hours of that night
seemed to me!
Before the dawn of day, I arose to read my
theologians again, and see if
I could not find some one who would allow
me to forgive the sins of that dear child, without forcing her to tell me
everything she had done. But they seemed to me, more than ever, unanimously
inexorable, and I put them back on the shelves of my library with a broken
heart. At nine A.M. the next day,
I was by the bed of our dear sick Mary. I
cannot sufficiently tell the joy I felt, when the doctor and the whole family
said to me, "She is much better; the rest of last night has wrought a
marvellous change indeed."
51 With
a really angelic smile she extended her hand towards me, that I might press it
in mine; and she said, "I thought, last evening, that the dear Saviour
would take me to Him, but He wants me, dear father, to give you a little more
trouble; however, be patient, it cannot be long before the solemn hour of the
appeal will ring. Will you please read me the history of the suffering and
death of the beloved Saviour, which you read me the other day? It does me so
much good to see how He has loved me, such a miserable sinner."
There was a calm and a solemnity in her
words which struck me singularly,
as well as all those who were there.
After I had finished reading, she
exclaimed, "He has loved me so much that
He died for my sins!" And she shut
her eyes as if to meditate in silence, but there was a stream of big tears
rolling down her checks.
I knelt down by her bed, with her family,
to pray; but I could not utter a single word. The idea that this dear child was
there, dying from the cruel fanaticism of my theologians and my own cowardice
in obeying them, was as a mill-stone
to my neck. It was killing me.
Oh! if by dying a thousand times, I could
have
52 added
a single day to her life, with what pleasure I would have accepted those
thousand deaths!
After we had silently prayed and wept by
her bedside, she requested her mother to leave her alone with me.
When I saw myself alone, under the
irresistible impression that this was her last day, I fell on my knees again,
and with tears of the most sincere compassion for her soul, I requested her to
shake off her shame and to obey our holy Church, which requires every one to
confess their sins if they want
to be forgiven.
She calmly, but with an air of dignity
which no human words can express, said, "Is it true that, after the sin of
Adam and Eve, God Himself made coats and skins; and clothed them, that they
might not see each other's nakedness?"
"Yes," I said, this is what the
Holy Scriptures tell us."
"Well, then, how is it possible that
our confessors dare to take away from as that holy, divine coat of modesty and
self respect? Has not Almighty God Himself made, with His own hands, that coat
of womanly modesty and self-respect, that we might not be to you and to
ourselves, a cause of shame and sin?"
I was really stunned by the beauty, simplicity,
53 and
sublimity of that comparison. I remained absolutely mute and confounded. Though
it was demolishing all the traditions and doctrines of my Church,
and pulverizing all my
holy doctors and theologians, that noble answer found such an echo in my soul,
that it seemed to me a sacrilege to try to touch it with my finger. After a
short time of silence, she continued, "Twice I have been destroyed by
priests in the confessional. They took away from me that divine coat of modesty
and self-respect which God gives to every human being who comes into this
world, and twice, I have become for those very priests a deep pit of perdition,
into which they have fallen, and where, I fear, they are forever lost! My
merciful heavenly Father has given me back that coat of skins, that nuptial
robe of modesty, self-respect, and holiness, which had been taken away from me.
He cannot allow you or any other man, to tear again and spoil that vestment
which is the work of His hands."
These words had exhausted her; it was
evident to me that she wanted some rest. I left her alone, but I was absolutely
beside myself. Filled with admiration for the sublime lessons which I had
received from the lips of that regenerated daughter of Eve, who, it was
evident, was soon to fly away from us,
54 I
felt a supreme disgust for myself, my theologians, and—shall I say it? yes,
I felt in that solemn
hour a supreme disgust for my Church, which was
so cruelly defiling me, and all her
priests in the confessional-box. I felt, in that hour, a supreme horror for
that auricular confession, which is so often a pit
of perdition and supreme misery for the
confessor and penitent. I went out and walked two hours on the Plains of
Abraham, to breathe the pure and refreshing air of the mountain. There, alone,
I sat on a stone, on the very spot where Wolfe and Montcalm had fought and
died; and I wept to my heart's content,
on my irreparable degradation, and the
degradation of so many priests through the confessional.
At four o'clock in the afternoon I went
back again to the house of my dear
dying Mary. The mother took me apart, and
very politely said,
"My dear Mr. Chiniquy, do you not
think it is time that our dear child should receive the last sacraments? She
seemed to be much better this morning,
and we were full of hope; but she is now
rapidly sinking. Please lose no time
in giving her the holy viaticum and the
extreme unction."
I said, "Yes, madam: let me pass a
few minutes alone with our poor dear child, that I may prepare her for the last
sacraments."
55 When
alone with her, I again fell on my knees, and, amidst torrents of tears,
I said, ' Dear sister, it is my desire to
give you the holy viaticum and the extreme unction; but tell me, how can I dare
to do a thing so solemn against all the prohibitions of our Holy Church? How
can I give you the holy communion without first giving you absolution? and how
can I give you absolution when you earnestly persist in telling me that you
have many sins which you will never declare either to me or any other
confessor?
" You know that I cherish and respect
you as if you were an angel sent to me from heaven. You told me the other day,
that you blessed the day that you first saw and knew me. I say the same thing.
I bless the day that I have known you;
I bless every hour that I have spent by
your bed of suffering; I bless every tear which I have shed with you on your
sins and on my own; I bless every hour we have passed together in looking to
the wounds of our beloved,
dying Saviour; I bless you for having
forgiven me your death! for I know it,
and I confess it in the presence of God, I
have killed you, dear sister. But now I prefer a thousand times to die than to
say to you a word which would pain you in any way, or trouble the peace of your
soul. Please, my dear sister,
56 tell
me what I can and must do for you in this solemn hour."
Calmly, and with a smile of joy such as I
had never seen before, nor seen since, she said, "I thank and bless you,
dear father, for the parable of the Prodigal Son, on which you preached a month
ago. You have brought me to the feet
of the dear Saviour; there I have found a
peace and a joy surpassing anything the human heart can feel; I have thrown
myself into the arms of my Heavenly Father, and I know He has mercifully
accepted and forgiven His poor prodigal child! Oh, I see the angels with their
golden harps around the throne of the Lamb! Do you not hear the celestial
harmony of their songs? I go—I go to join them in my Father's house. I SHALL
NOT BE LOST!"
While she was thus speaking to me, my eyes
were really turned into two fountains of tears; I was unable, as well as
unwilling, to see anything, so entirely overcome was I by the sublime words
which were flowing from the dying lips of that dear child, who was no more a
sinner, but a real angel of Heaven to me. I was listening to her words; there
was a celestial music in every one of them. But she had raised her voice in
such a strange way, when she had begun to say, "I go to my Father's
house," and she had made such a cry
57 of
joy when she had let the last words, "not be lost," escape her lips,
that I raised my head and opened my eyes to look
at her. I suspected that something strange had occurred.
I got upon my feet, passed my
handkerchief over my face to wipe away the tears which were preventing me from
seeing with accuracy, and looked at her.
Her hands were crossed on her breast, and
there was on her face the expression of a really superhuman joy; her beautiful
eyes were fixed as if they were looking on some grand and sublime spectacle; it
seemed to me, at first, that she was praying.
In that very instant the mother rushed into
the room, crying, My God! my God! what does that cry 'lost' mean?"—For her
last words, "not to be lost," particularly the last one, had been
pronounced with such a powerful voice,
that they had been heard almost everywhere
in the house.
I made a sign with my hand to prevent the
distressed mother from making any noise and troubling her dying child in her
prayer, for I really thought that she had stopped speaking, as she used so
often to do, when alone with me, in order to pray. But I was mistaken.
58 That
redeemed soul had gone, on the golden wings of love, to join the multitude of
those who have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb,
to sing the eternal
Alleluia.
CHAPTER II.
AURICULAR
CONFESSION A DEEP PIT OF PERDITION FOR THE PRIEST.
IT was some time after
our dear Mary had been buried. The terrible and mysterious cause of her death
was known only to God and to myself.
Though her loving mother was still weeping
over her grave, as usual, she had soon been forgotten by the greatest part of
those who had known her; but she was constantly present to my mind. I never
entered the confessional-box without hearing her solemn, though so mild voice,
telling me, "There must be, somewhere, something wrong in the auricular
confession. Twice I have been destroyed by my confessors; and I have known
several others who have been destroyed in the same way."
More than once, when her voice was ringing
in my ears from her tomb, I had shed bitter tears on the profound and
unfathomable degradation into which I, with the other priests, had to fall in
the confessional-box. For many, many times, stories as deplorable as that of
this unfortunate girl were
60 confessed
to me by city, as well as country females.
One night I was awakened by the rumbling
noise of thunder, when I heard some one knocking at the door. I hastened out of
bed to ask who was there. The answer was that the Rev. Mr.—- was dying, and
that he wanted to see me before his death. I dressed myself, and was soon on
the highway.
The darkness was fearful; and often, had
it not been for the lightning which was almost constantly tearing the clouds,
we should not have known where we were. After a long and hard journey through
the darkness and the storm,
we arrived at the house of the dying
priest. I went directly to his room,
and
really found him very low: he could hardly speak. With a sign of his hand he
bade his servant girl, and a young man who were there, to go out, and leave him
alone with me.
Then he said, in a low voice, "Was it
you who prepared poor Mary to die?"
"Yes,
sir," I answered.
"Please
tell me the truth. Is it a fact that she died the death of a reprobate, and
that her last words were, 'Oh my God! I am lost!' "
I
answered him, "As I was the confessor of that girl, and we were talking
together on matters
61 which
pertained to her confession at the very moment that she was unexpectedly
summoned to appear before God, I cannot answer your question
in
any way; please, then, excuse me if I cannot say any more on that subject: but
tell me who can have assured you that she died the death of a reprobate!"
"It
was her own mother," answered the dying man. "Last week she came to
visit me, and when she was alone with me, with many tears and cries, she said
how her poor child had refused to receive the last sacraments, and how her last
cry was, 'I am lost!'" She added that that cry, 'Lost!' was pronounced
with such a frightful power that it was heard through all the house."
"If
her mother told you that, I replied, you may believe what you please about the
way that poor child died. I cannot say a word—you know it
—about
the matter."
"But
if she is lost," rejoined the old, dying priest, "I am the miserable
one who has destroyed her. She was an angel of purity when she came to the
convent. Oh! dear Mary, if you are lost, I am a thousandfold more lost! Oh, my
God,
my
God! what will become of me? I am dying; and I am lost!"
It
was indeed an awful thing to see that old sinner wringing his hands,
62 and
rolling on his bed, as if he had been on burning coals, with all the marks
of
the most frightful despair on his face, crying, "I am lost! Oh, my God,
I
am lost!"
I
was glad that the claps of thunder which were shaking the house, and roaring
without ceasing, prevented the people outside the room from hearing the cries
of desolation from the priest, whom every one considered a great saint.
When
it seemed to me his terror had somewhat subsided, and that his mind was calmed
a little, I said to him, " My dear friend, you must not give yourself up
to such despair. Our merciful God has promised to forgive the repenting sinner
who comes to Him, even at the last hour of the day. Address yourself
to
the Virgin Mary, she will ask and obtain your pardon."
"Do
you not think that it is too late to ask pardon? The doctor has honestly warned
me that death is very near, and I feel that I am just now dying.
Is
it not too late to ask and obtain pardon?" asked the dying priest.
"No!
my dear sir, it is not too late, if you sincerely regret your sins.
Throw
yourself into the arms of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph; make your confession without
any more delay; I will absolve you, and you will be saved."
63 But
I have never made a good confession. Will you help me to make a general
one?" It was my duty to grant him his request, and the rest of the night
was spent by me in hearing the confession of his whole life.
I
do not want to give many particulars of the life of that priest. First:
It
was then that I understood why poor Mary was absolutely unwilling
to
mention the iniquities which she had committed with him. They were simply
surpassingly horrible—unmentionable. No human tongue can express them
—few
human ears would consent to hear them.
The
second thing that I am bound in conscience to reveal is almost incredible, but
it is nevertheless true. The number of married and unmarried females
he
had heard in the confessional was about 1,500, of whom he said he had destroyed
or scandalised at least 1,000 by his questioning them on most depraved things,
for the simple pleasure of gratifying his own corrupted heart, without letting
them know anything of his sinful thoughts and criminal desires towards them.
But he confessed that he had destroyed the purity
of
ninety-five of those penitents, who had consented to sin with him.
And
would to God that this priest had been the only one
64 whom
I have known to be lost through the auricular confession. But, alas!
how
few are those who have escaped the snares of the tempter compared with those
who have perished? I have heard the confessions of more than 200 priests, and
to say the truth, as God knows it, I must declare, that only
twenty-one
had not to weep over the secret or public sins committed through the
irresistibly corrupting influences of auricular confession!
I
am now more than seventy-one years old, and in a short time I shall be in my
grave. I shall have to give an account of what I now say. Well, it is in the
presence of my great Judge, with my tomb before my eyes, that I declare
to
the world that very few—yes, very few—priests escape from falling into the pit
of the most horrible moral depravity the world has ever known, through the
confession of females.
I
do not say this because I have any had feelings against those priests;
God
knows that I have none. The only feelings I have are of supreme compassion and
pity. I do not reveal these awful things to make the world believe that the
priests of Rome are a worse set of men than the rest of the innumerable fallen
children of Adam; no; I do not entertain any such views;
for
everything considered, and weighed in the balance of religion,
65 charity
and common sense—I think that the priests of Rome are far from being worse than
any other set of men who would be thrown into the same temptations, dangers,
and unavoidable occasions of sin.
For
instance, let us take lawyers, merchants, or farmers, and, preventing them from
living with their lawful wives, let us surround each of them from morning to
night, by ten, twenty, and sometimes more, beautiful women and tempting girls,
who would speak to them of things which would pulverize a rock of Scotch
granite, and you will see how many of those lawyers, merchants,
or
farmers would come out of that terrible moral battlefield without being
mortally wounded.
The
cause of the supreme—I dare say incredible, though unsuspected—immorality of
the priests of Rome is a very evident and logical one. By the diabolical power
of the Pope, the priest is put out of the ways which God has offered to the
generality of men to be honest, upright and holy.* And after the Pope has
deprived them of the grand, holy, and Divine (in this sense that it comes
directly from God) remedy which God has given to man against his own
concupiscence—holy marriage, they are placed unprotected and unguarded
*
"To avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let every
woman have her own husband." (I Cor., vii. 2.)
66 in
the most perilous, difficult, and irresistible moral dangers which human
ingenuity or depravity can conceive. Those unmarried men are forced, from morning
to night, to be in the midst of beautiful girls, and tempting, charming women,
who have to tell them things which would melt the hardest steel. How can you
expect that they will cease to be men, and become stronger than angels?
Not
only are the priests of Rome deprived by the devil of the only remedy which God
has given to help them to withstand, but in the confessional they have the
greatest facility which can possibly be imagined for satisfying all the bad
propensities of fallen human nature. In the confessional they know those
who are strong, and they also know those who are weak among the females by whom
they are surrounded; they know who would resist any attempt from the enemy; and
they know who are ready—nay, who are longing after the deceitful charms of sin.
If they still retain the fallen nature of man, what a terrible hour for them?
what frightful battles inside the poor heart? what superhuman effort and
strength would be required to come out a conqueror from that battlefield, where
a David and a Samson have fallen mortally wounded'?
It
is simply an act of supreme stupidity on the part of the Protestant, as well as
Catholic public,
67 to
suppose or suspect, or hope that the generality of the priests can stand such a
trial. The pages of the history of Rome herself are filled with unanswerable
proofs that the great generality of the confessors fall. If it were not so, the
miracle of Joshua, stopping the march of the sun and the moon, would be
childish play compared with the miracle which would stop and reverse all the
laws of our common fallen nature in the hearts of the 100,000 Roman Catholic
confessors of the Church of Rome. Were I attempting to prove, by public facts,
what I know of the horrible depravity caused by the confessional-box among the
priests of France, Canada, Spain, Italy, and England, I should have to write
many big volumes in folio. For brevity's sake, I will speak only of Italy. I
take that country, because, being under the very eyes of their infallible and
most holy (?) pontiff, being in the land of daily miracles of painted Madonnas,
who weep and turn their eyes left and right, up and down, in a most marvellous
way, being in the land of miraculous medals and heavenly spiritual favors,
constantly flowing from the chair of St. Peter, the confessors in Italy, seeing
every year the miraculous melting of the blood of St. January having in their
midst the hair of the Virgin Mary, and a part of her shirt, are in the best
possible circumstances to be strong,
68
faithful and holy. Well, let us hear the testimony of an eye-witness,
a
contemporary, and an unimpeachable witness about the way the confessors deal
with the penitent females in the holy, apostolical, infallible (?)
Church
of Rome.
The
witness we will hear is of the purest blood of the princes of Italy.
Her
name is Henrietta Carracciolo, daughter of the Marshal Carracciolo, Governor of
the Province of Pari, in Italy. Let us hear what she says of the Father
Confessors, after twenty years of personal experience in different nunneries of
Italy, in her remarkable book, "Mysteries of the Neapolitan
Convents," pp. 150, 151, 152: "My confessor came the following day,
and
I disclosed to him the nature of the troubles which beset me. Later in the day,
seeing that I had gone down to the place where we used to receive the holy
communion, called Communichino, the conversa of my aunt rang the bell for the
priest to come with the pyx.* He was a man of about fifty years of age, very
corpulent, with a rubicund face, and a type of physiognomy as vulgar
as
it was repulsive.
"I
approached the little window to receive the sacred wafer on my tongue,
with
my eyes closed,
*
A silver box containing consecrated bread, which is believed to be the real
body, blood and divinity of Jesus Christ as is customary.
69 I
placed it on my tongue, and, as I drew back, I felt my cheeks caressed.
I
opened my eyes, but the priest had withdrawn his hand, and, thinking I had been
deceived, I gave it no more attention.
"On
the next occasion, forgetful of what had occurred before, I received the
sacrament with closed eyes again, according to precept. This time I distinctly
felt my chin caressed again, and on opening my eyes suddenly, I found the
priest gazing rudely upon me with a sensual smile on his face.
"There
could be no longer any doubt; these overtures were not the result of accident.
"The daughter of Eve is endowed with a greater degree of curiosity than
man. It occurred to me to place myself in a contiguous apartment,
where
I could observe whether this libertine priest was accustomed to take similar
liberties with the nuns. I did so, and was fully convinced that only the old
left him without being caressed.
"All
the others allowed him to do with them as he pleased, and even, in taking leave
of him, did so with the utmost reverence.
"
'Is this the respect,' said I to myself, 'that the priests and the spouses
of
Christ have for their sacrament of the Eucharist?
70 Shall
the poor novice
be enticed to leave the world in order to learn,
in
this school, such lessons of self-respect and chastity?' "
Page 163, we read: "The fanatical passion of
the nuns for their confessors, priests, and monks, exceeds belief. That which
especially renders their incarceration endurable is the illimitable opportunity
they enjoy of seeing and corresponding with those persons with whom they are in
love. This freedom localizes and identifies them with the convent so closely
that they are unhappy, when, on account of any serious sickness, or while
preparing to take the veil, they are obliged to pass some months in the bosom
of their own families,
in
company with their fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters. It is not to be
presumed that these relatives would permit a young girl to pass many hours,
each day, in a mysterious colloquy with a priest, or a monk, and maintain with
him this correspondence. This is a liberty which they can enjoy in the convent
only. "Many are the hours which the Heloise spends in the confessional,
in
agreeable pastime with her Abelard in cassock.
"Others,
whose confessors happen to be old, have in addition a spiritual director, with
whom they amuse themselves a long time every day tete-a-tete,
71 in
the parlatoria. When this is not enough, they simulate an illness,
in
order to have him alone in their own rooms."
Page 166, we read: "Another nun, being
somewhat infirm, her priest confessed her in her own room. After a time, the
invalid penitent found herself in what
is
called an interesting situation, on which account, the physician declaring that
her complaint was dropsy, she was sent away from the convent.
Page 167: "A young educanda was in the habit
of going down, every night, to the convent burying-place, where, by a corridor
which communicated with the vestry, she entered into a colloquy with a young
priest attached to the church. Consumed by an amorous passion, she was not
deterred by bad weather or the fear of being discovered.
"She
heard a great noise, one night, near her. In the thick darkness which
surrounded her, she imagined that she saw a viper winding itself round her
feet.. She was so much overcome by fright, that she died from the effects of it
a few months later."
Page 168: "One of the confessors had a young
penitent in the convent.
Every
time he was called to visit a dying sister, and on that account passed the
night in the convent,
72 this
nun would climb over the partition which separated her room from his, and
betake herself to the master and director of her soul.
Another,
during the delirium of a typhoid fever from which she was suffering, was constantly
imitating the action of sending kisses to her confessor,
who
stood by the side of her bed. He, covered with blushes on account of the
presence of strangers, held a crucifix before the eyes of the penitent,
and
exclaimed in a commiserating tone:—"'Poor thing! kiss thy own
spouse!'"
Page 168: "Under the bonds of secresy, an
educanda of fine form and pleasing manners, and of a noble family, confided to
me the fact of her having received, from the hands of her confessor, a very
interesting book (as she described it) which related to the monastic life. I
expressed the wish to know the title, and she, before showing it to me, took
the precaution to lock the door.
It
proved to be the Monaca, by Dalembert, a book as all know, filled with the most
disgusting obscenity.
Page 169: "I received once, from a monk, a
letter in which he signified to me that he had hardly seen me when 'he
conceived the sweet hope of becoming my confessor.' An exquisite of the first
water, a fop of scents and euphuism, could not have employed phrases more
melodramatic,
73 to
demand whether he might hope or despair."
Page 169: "A priest who enjoyed the reputation
of being an incorruptible sacerdote, when he saw me pass through the
parlatoria, used to address me as follows: —
"'Ps,
dear, come here; Ps, Ps, come here!'
"These
words, addressed to me by a priest, were nauseous in the extreme.
"Finally,
another priest, the most annoying of all for his obstinate assiduity, sought to
secure my affections at all cost. There was not an image profane poetry could
afford him, nor a sophism he could borrow from rhetoric,
nor
wily interpretation he could give to the Word of God, which he did not employ
to convert me to his wishes. Here is an example of his logic:—
"
'Fair daughter,' said he to me one day, 'knowest thou who God truly is?'
"'He
is the Creator of the Universe,' I answered drily.
"'No,—no,—no,—no!
that it is not enough,' he replied, laughing at my ignorance. 'God is love, but
love in the abstract, which receives its incarnation in the mutual affection of
two hearts which idolise each other. You, then, must not only love God in His
abstract existence,
74 but
must also love Him in His incarnation, that is, in the exclusive love of a man
who adores you. Quod Deim est amor, nee colitur nisi amando.'
"'Then,'
I replied, ' a
woman who adores her own lover would adore Divinity itself?'
"Assuredly,'
reiterated the priest, over and over again, taking courage from my remark, and
chuckling at what seemed to him to be the effect of his catechism.
"
'In that case,' said I, hastily, "I should select for my lover rather a
man of the world than a priest.'
"God
preserve you, my daughter! God preserve you from that sin!' added my
interlocutor, apparently frightened, 'To love a man of the world, a sinner,
a
wretch, an unbeliever, an infidel! Why, you would go immediately to hell.
The
love of a priest is a sacred love, while that of a profane man is infamy;
the
faith of a priest emanates from that granted to the holy Church, while that of
the profane is false—false as the vanity of the world. The priest purifies his
affections daily in communion with the Holy Spirit; the man of the world
(if
he ever knows love at all) sweeps the muddy crossings of the street with it day
and night.'
"But
it is the heart, as well as the conscience, which prompts me to fly from the
priests,' I replied.
75 "'Well,
if you cannot love me because I am your confessor, I will find means
to
assist you to get rid of your scruples. We will place the name of Jesus Christ
before all our affectionate demonstrations, and thus our love will be a
grateful offering to the Lord, and will ascend fragrant with perfume to Heaven,
like the smoke of the incense of the sanctuary. Say to me, for example, "I
love you in Jesus Christ; last night I dreamed of you in Jesus Christ;"
and you will have
a
tranquil conscience, because in doing this you will sanctify every transport
of
your love."
Several
circumstances not indicated here, by the way, compelled me to come
in
frequent contact with this priest afterwards, and I do not, therefore,
give
his name."
"Of
a very respectable monk, respectable alike for his age and his moral character,
I enquired what signified the prefixing the name of Jesus Christ
to
amorous apostrophes."
"It
is,' he said, 'an
expression used by a horrible sect, and one unfortunately only too numerous,
which, thus abusing the name of our Lord, permits to its members the most
unbridled licentiousness."
And
it is my sad duty to say, before the whole world, that I know that by far the
greater part of the confessors in America,
76 Spain,
France, and England, reason and act just like that licentious Italian priest.
Christian nations! If you could know what will become of the virtue of your
fair daughters if you allow secret or public slaves of Rome under the name of
Ritualists to restore the auricular confession, with what a storm of holy
indignation you would defeat their plans!
CHAPTER
III.
THE
CONFESSIONAL IS THE MODERN SODOM.
IF
anyone wants to hear an eloquent oration, let him go where the Roman Catholic
priest is preaching on the divine institution of auricular confession. There is
no subject, perhaps, on which the priests display so much zeal and earnestness,
and of which they speak so often. For this institution is really the corner-stone
of their stupendous power; it is the secret of their almost irresistible
influence. Let the people open their eyes, to-day, to the truth,
and
understand that auricular confession is one of the most stupendous impostures
which Satan has invented, to corrupt and enslave the world; let the people
desert the confessional-box to-day, and to-morrow Romanism will fall into the
dust. The priests understand this very well; hence their constant efforts to
deceive the people on that question. To attain their object, they Have recourse to the most egregious
falsehoods; the Scriptures are misrepresented; the holy Fathers are brought to
say the very contrary of what they have ever thought or written;
78 and
the most extraordinary miracles and stories are invented.
But
two of the arguments to which they have more often recourse,
are
the great and perpetual miracles which God makes to keep the purity
of
the confessional undefiled, and its secrets marvellously sealed.
They
make the people believe that the vow of perpetual chastity changes their
nature, turns them into angels, and puts them above the common frailties of the
fallen children of Adam.
Bravely,
and with a brazen face, when they are interrogated on that subject, they say
that they have special graces to remain pure and undefiled in the midst of the
greatest dangers; that the Virgin Mary, to whom they are consecrated, is their
powerful advocate to obtain from her Son that superhuman virtue of chastity;
that what would be a cause of sure perdition
to
common men, is without peril and danger for a true Son of Mary; and,
with
amazing stupidity, the people consent to be duped, blinded, and deceived by
those fooleries.
But
here, let the world learn the truth as it is, from one who knows perfectly
everything inside and outside the walls of that Modern Babylon. Though many,
I
know, will disbelieve me and say, "We hope you are mistaken; it is
impossible that the priests of Rome should turn out to be such impostors;
79 they
may be mistaken; they may believe and repeat things which are not true, but
they are honest; they cannot be such impudent deceivers."
Yes;
though I know that many will hardly believe me, I must tell the truth.
Those
very men, who, when speaking to the people in such glowing terms of the marvellous
way they are kept pure, in the midst of the dangers which surround them,
honestly blush—and often weep—when they speak to each other
(when
they are sure that nobody, except priests, hear them). They deplore their own
moral degradation with the utmost sincerity and honesty;
they
ask from God and men, pardon for their unspeakable depravity.
I
have here—in my hands, and under my eyes—one of their most remarkable secret
books, written (or at least approved) by one of their greatest and best bishops
and cardinals, the Cardinal de Bonald, Archbishop of Lyons.
The
book is written for the use of priests alone. Its title is, in French,
"Examen de Conscience des Pretres." At page 34, we read:—
"Have
I left certain persons to make the declarations of their sins in such
a
way that the imagination, once taken and impressed by pictures and
representations, could be dragged into a long course of temptations and
grievous sins? The priests do not pay sufficient attention
80 to
the continual temptations caused by the hearing of confessions.
The
soul is gradually enfeebled in such a way that, at the end, the virtue of
chastity is forever lost."
Here
is the address of a priest to other priests, when he suspects that nobody but
his co-sinner brethren hear him. Here is the honest language of truth.
In
the presence of God those priests acknowledge that they have not
a
sufficient fear of those constant (what a word—what an
acknowledgment—constant!) temptations, and they honestly confess that these
temptations come from the hearing of the confessions of so many scandalous
sins. Here the priests honestly acknowledge that those constant temptations, at
the end, destroy forever in them the holy virtue of purity.*
"Ah!
would to God that all the honest girls and women whom the devil entraps into
the snares of auricular confession, could bear the cries of distress of those
poor priests whom they have tempted—forever destroyed! Would to God that
they could
* And remark, that all their religious
authors who have written on that subject hold the same language. They all speak
of those continual degrading temptations; they all lament the damning sins
which follow those temptations; they all entreat the priests to fight those
temptations and repent of those sins.
81 See the torrents of tears
shed by so many priests, because, from the hearing of confessions, they had forever
lost the virtue of purity! They would understand that the confessional is a
snare, a pit of perdition,
a
Sodom for the priest; and they would be struck with horror and shame
at
the idea of the continual, shameful, dishonest, degrading temptations by
which their confessor is tormented day and night—they would blush on account of
the shameful sins which their confessors have committed—they would weep over
the irreparable loss of their purity—they would promise before God and men that
the confessional-box should never see them any more—they would prefer to be
burned alive, if any sentiment of honesty and charity remained
in
them, rather than consent to be a cause of constant temptations and
damnable sins to that man.
Would
that respectable lady go any more to confess to that man, if, after her
confession, she could hear him lamenting the continual, shameful temptations
which assail him day and night, and the damning sins which he had committed, on account of what she has
confessed to him? No! —a thousand times, no!
Would
that honest father allow his beloved daughter to go any more to that man to
confess, if he could hear his cries of distress,
82 and
see his tears flowing, because the hearing of those confessions is the source
of constant, shameful temptations and degrading iniquities?
Oh!
would to God that the honest Romanists all over the world—for there are
millions, who, though, deluded, are honest—could see what is going on in the
heart, and the imagination of the poor confessor when he is, there, surrounded
by attractive women and tempting girls, speaking to him from morning to night
on things which a man cannot hear without falling. Then, that modern but grand
imposture, called the Sacrament of Penance, would soon be ended.
But
here, again, who will not lament the consequences of the total perversity
of
our human nature? Those very same priests who, when alone, in the presence of
God, speak so plainly of the constant temptations by which they are assailed, and who so
sincerely weep over the irreparable loss of their virtue of purity, when they
think that nobody hears them, will yet, in public, with a brazen face, deny
those temptations. They will indignantly rebuke you as a slanderer if you say
anything to lead them to suppose that you fear for their purity, when they hear
the confessions of girls or married women!
83 There
is not a single one of the Roman Catholic authors, who have written
on
that subject for the priests, who has not deplored their innumerable and
degrading sins against purity, on account of the auricular confession; but
those very men will be the first to try to prove the very contrary when they
write books for the people. I have no words to tell what was my surprise when,
for
the first time, I saw that this strange duplicity seemed to be one of the
fundamental stones of my Church.
It
was not very long after my ordination, when a priest came to me to confess the
most deplorable things. He honestly told me that there was not a single one of
the girls or married women whom he had confessed, who had not been
a
secret cause of the most shameful sins, in thought, desires, or actions;
but
he wept so bitterly over his degradation, his heart seemed so sincerely broken
on account of his own iniquities, that I could not refrain from mixing
my
tears with his; I wept with him, and I gave him pardon for all his sins,
as
I then thought I had the power and right to give it.
Two
hours afterwards, that same priest, who was a good speaker, was in the pulpit.
His sermon was on "The
Divinity of Auricular Confession"; and, to prove that it was an
institution coming directly from Christ,
he
said that the Son of God was performing a constant miracle
84 to
strengthen His priests, and prevent them from falling into sins,
on
account of what they might have heard in the confessional!!!
The
daily abominations, which are the result of auricular confession,
are
so horrible and so well known by the popes, the bishops, and the priests, that
several times, public attempts have been in made to diminish them
by
punishing the guilty priests; but all these commendable efforts have failed.
One
of the most remarkable of those efforts was made by Pius IV. about the year
1560. A Bull was published by him, by which all the girls and married women who
had been seduced into sins by their confessors, were ordered
to
denounce them; and a certain number of high church officers of the Holy
Inquisition were authorized to take the depositions of the fallen penitents.
The
thing was, at first, tried at Seville, one of the principal cities of Spain.
When the edict was first published, the number of women who felt bound
in
conscience to go and depose against their father confessors, was so great, that
though there were thirty notaries, and as many inquisitors, to take
the
depositions, they were unable to do the work in the appointed time.
Thirty
days more were given, but the inquisitors were so overwhelmed with the
numberless depositions,
85 that
another period of time of the same length was given. But this, again,
was
found insufficient. At the end, it was found that the number of priests who had
destroyed the purity of their penitents was so great that it was impossible to
punish them all. The inquest was given up, and the guilty confessors remained
unpunished. Several attempts of the same nature have been tried by other popes,
but with about the same success.
But
if those honest attempts on the part of some well-meaning popes, to punish the
confessors who destroy the purity of the penitents, have failed to touch the
guilty parties, they are, in the good providence of God, infallible witnesses
to tell to the world that auricular confession is nothing else than a snare to
the confessor and his dupes. Yes, those Bulls of the popes are an irrefragable
testimony that auricular confession is the most powerful invention of the devil
to corrupt the heart, pollute the body, and damn the soul of the priest and his
female penitent!
CHAPTER IV.
HOW THE VOW
OF CELIBACY OF THE PRIESTS IS MADE EASY
BY AURICULAR
CONFESSION.
ARE
not facts the best arguments? Well, here is an undeniable, a public fact, which
is connected with a thousand collateral ones, to prove that auricular
confession is the most powerful machine of demoralization which the world has
ever seen.
About
the year 1830, there was in Quebec a fine-looking young priest; he had a
magnificent voice, and was a pretty good speaker.* Through regard for his
family, which is still numerous and respectable, I will not give his name: I
will call him Rev. Mr. D—-. Having been invited to preach in a parish of
Canada, about 100 miles distant from Quebec, called Vercheres, he was also
requested to hear the confessions, during a few days of a kind of Novena (nine
days of revival), which was going on in that place. Among his penitents was a
beautiful young girl, about nineteen years old.
*
He is dead long ago.
87 She
wanted to make a general confession of all her sins from the first age
of reason, and the confessor granted her
request. Twice, every day, she was there, at the feet of her handsome young
spiritual physician, telling all her thoughts, her deeds, and her desires.
Sometimes she was remarked to have remained a whole hour in the
confessional-box, accusing herself of all her human frailties. What did she
say? God only knows; but what became hereafter known by a great part of the
entire part of the population of Canada is,
that
the confessor fell in love with his fair penitent, and that she burned with the
same irresistible fires for her confessor—as it so often happens.
It
was not an easy matter for the priest and the young girl to meet each other in
as complete a tete-a-tete as they both wished; for there were two many
eyes upon them. But the confessor was a man of resources. On the last day of
the Novena, he said to his beloved penitent, "I am going now to Montreal;
but in three days, I will take the steamer back to Quebec. That steamer is
accustomed to stop here. At about twelve, at night, be on the wharf dressed as
a young man; but let no one know your secret. You will embark in the steamboat,
where you will not be known, if you have any prudence. You will come to Quebec,
88 where
you will be engaged as a servant boy by the curate, of whom I am the vicar.
Nobody will know your sex except myself, and, there, we will be happy
together."
The
fourth day after this, there was a great desolation in the family of the girl;
for she had suddenly disappeared, and her robes had been found on the shores of
the St Lawrence River. There was not the least doubt in the minds
of
all relations and friends, that the general confession she had made, had
entirely upset her mind; and in an excess of craziness, she had thrown herself
into the deep and rapid waters of the St. Lawrence. Many searches were made to
find her body; but, of course, all in vain. Many public and private prayers
were offered to God to help her escape from the flames of Purgatory, where she
might be condemned to suffer for many years, and much money was given to the
priest to sing high masses, in order to extinguish the fires of that burning
prison, where every Roman Catholic believes he must go to be purified before
entering the regions of eternal happiness I will not give the name of the girl,
though I have it, through compassion for her family; I will call her Geneva.
Well, when father and mother, brothers, sisters,
89 and
friends were shedding tears at the sad end of Geneva, she was in the parsonage
of the rich Curate of Quebec, well paid, well fed, and dressed-happy and
cheerful with her beloved confessor. She was exceedingly neat
in
her person, always obliging, and ready to run and do what you wanted
at
the very twinkling of your eye. Her new name was Joseph, by which I will now
call her.
Many
times I have seen the smart Joseph at the parsonage of Quebec,
and
admired his politeness and good manners; though it seemed to me, sometimes,
that he looked too much like a girl, and that he was a little too much at ease
with the Rev. Mr. D—-, and also with the Right Rev. Bishop M—-.
But
every time the idea came to me that Joseph was a girl, I felt indignant with
myself.
The
high respect I had for the Coadjutor Bishop, who was also the Curate
of
Quebec, made it almost impossible to imagine that he would ever allow
a
beautiful girl to sleep in the adjoining room to his own, and to serve him day
and night; for Joseph's sleeping-room was just by that of the Coadjutor, who,
for several bodily infirmities (which were not a secret to every one), wanted
the help of his servant several times at night, as well as during the day.
Things
went on very smoothly with Joseph during two or three years,
90 in
the Coadjutor Bishop's house; but at the end, it seemed to many people outside,
that Joseph was taking too great airs of familiarity with the young vicars, and
even with the venerable Coadjutor. Several of the citizens
of
Quebec, who were going more often than others to the parsonage, were surprised
and shocked at the familiarity of that servant boy with his masters; he really
seemed sometimes to be on equal terms with, if not somewhat above them.
An
intimate friend of the Bishop—a most devoted Roman Catholic—who was my near
relative, took upon himself one day to respectfully say to the Right Rev.
Bishop that it would be prudent to turn out that impudent young man from his
palace—that he was the object of strong and most deplorable suspicions.
The
position of the Right Rev. Bishop and his vicars, was, then, not a very
agreeable one. Their barque had evidently drifted among dangerous rocks.
To
keep Joseph among them was impossible, after the friendly advice which had come
from such a high quarter; and to dismiss him was not less dangerous; he knew
too much of the interior and secret lives of all these holy (?) celibates, to
deal with him as with another common servant-man. With a single word of his
lips he could destroy them:
91 they were as if tied to
his feet by ropes, which, at first, seemed made with sweet cakes and ice-cream,
but had suddenly turned into burning steel chains. Several days of anxiety
passed away, and many sleepless nights succeeded the too happy ones of better
times. But what was to be done? There were breakers ahead; breakers on the
right, on the left, and on every side. However, when everyone, particularly the
venerable (?) Coadjutor, felt as criminals who expect their sentence, and that
their horizon seemed surrounded absolutely by only dark and stormy clouds, a
happy opening suddenly presented itself to the anxious sailors.
The
curate of "Les Eboulements," the Rev. Mr. Clement, had just come to
Quebec on some private business, and had taken up his quarters in the
hospitable house of his old friend, the Right Rev.——, Bishop Coadjutor. Both
had been on very intimate terms for many years, and in many instances they had
been of great service to each other. The Pontiff of the Church of Canada,
hoping that his tried friend would perhaps help him out of the terrible
difficulty of the moment, frankly told him all about Joseph, and asked him what
he ought to do under such difficult circumstances.
"My
Lord," said the-curate of the Eboulements,
92 "Joseph
is just the servant I want. Pay him well, that he may remain your friend, and
that his lips may be sealed, and allow me to take him with me. My housekeeper
left me a few weeks ago; I am alone in my parsonage with my old servant-man.
Joseph is just the person I want.
It
would be difficult to tell the joy of the poor Bishop and his vicars, when they
saw that heavy stone they had on their neck thus removed.
Joseph,
once installed into the parsonage of the pious (?) parish priest of the
Eboulements, soon gained the favor of the whole people by his good and winning
manners, and every parishioner complimented the curate on the smartness of his
new servant. The priest, of course, knew a little more of that smartness than
the rest of the people. Three years passed on very smoothly. The priest and his
servant seemed to be on the most perfect terms. The only thing which marred the
happiness of that lucky couple was that, now and then, some of the farmers
whose eyes were sharper than those of their neighbors, seemed to think that the
intimacy between the two was going a little too far, and that Joseph was really
keeping in his hands the sceptre of the little priestly kingdom. Nothing could
be done without his advice; he was meddling
in
all the small and big affairs of the parish,
93 and
the curate seemed sometimes to be rather the servant than the master
in his own house and parish. Those who had,
at first, made these remarks privately, began, little by little, to convey
their views to their next neighbor, and this one to the next: in that way, at
the end of the third year, grave and serious suspicions began to spread from
one to the other in such a way that the Marguilliers (a kind of Elders),
thought proper to say to the priest that
it
would be better for him to turn Joseph out than to keep him any longer.
But
the old curate had passed so many happy hours with his faithful Joseph that it
was as hard as death to give him up.
He
knew, by confession, that a girl in the vicinity was given to an unmentionable
abomination, to which Joseph was also addicted. He went to her and proposed
that she should marry Joseph, and that he (the priest) would help them to live
comfortably. Joseph, in order to live near his good master, consented also
to
marry the girl. Both knew very well what the other was. The banns were
published during three Sabbaths, after which the old curate blessed the
marriage of Joseph with the girl of his parishioner.
They
lived together as husband and wife, in such harmony that nobody could suspect
the horrible depravity which was concealed
94 behind
that union. Joseph continued, with his wife, to work often for his priest, till
after some time that priest was removed, and another curate, called Tetreau,
was sent in his place.
This
new curate, knowing absolutely nothing of that mystery of iniquity, employed
also Joseph and his wife, several times. One day, when Joseph was working at
the door of the parsonage, in the presence of several people,
a
stranger arrived, and enquired of him if the Rev. Mr. Tetreau, the curate, was
there.
Joseph
answered, "Yes, sir. But as you seem to be a stranger, would you allow me
to ask you whence you come?"
"It
is very easy, sir, to satisfy you. I come from Vercheres," replied the
stranger.
At
the word "Vercheres " Joseph turned so pale that the stranger could
not but be struck with his sudden change of color.
Then,
fixing his eyes on Joseph, he cried -out, "Oh my God! what do I see here!
Geneva! Geneva! I recognize you, and here you are in the disguise of a
man!"
"Dear
Uncle" (for it was her uncle), "for God's sake," she cried, do
not say a word more!" But it was too late.
The
people, who were there, had heard the uncle and niece.
95 Their
long secret suspicions were well-founded—one of their former priests had kept a
girl under the disguise of a man in his house! and, to blind his people more
thoroughly, he had married that girl to another one, in order to have them both
in his house when he pleased, without awakening any suspicion!
The
news went almost as quick as lightning from one end to the other of the parish,
and spread all over the northern country watered by the St. Lawrence River.
It
is more easy to imagine than express the sentiments of surprise and horror
which filled everyone. The justices of the peace took up the matter; Joseph was
brought before the civil tribunal, which decided that a physician should be
charged to make, not a post-mortem, but an ante-mortem inquest.
The
Honorable Lateriere, who was called, and made the proper inquiry, declared that
Joseph was a girl; and the bonds of marriage were legally dissolved. During
that time the honest Rev. Mr. Tetreau, struck with horror, had sent an express
to the Right Reverend Bishop Coadjutor, of Quebec, informing him that the young
man whom he had kept in his house several years, under the name of Joseph, was
a girl.
96 Now,
what were they to do with the girl, after all was discovered?
Her
presence in Canada would forever compromise the holy (?)
Church
of Rome. She knew too well how the priests, through the confessional, select
their victims, and help themselves in their company, in keeping their solemn
vows of celibacy! What would have become of the respect paid to the priest, if
she had been taken by the hand and invited to speak bravely and boldly before
the people of Canada?
The
holy (?) Bishop and his vicars understood these things very well.
They
immediately sent a trustworthy man with £500, to say to the girl that
if
she remained at Canada, she could be prosecuted and severely punished;
that
it was her interest to leave the country, and emigrate to the United States.
They offered her the £500 if she would promise to go and never return.
She
accepted the offer, crossed the lines, and has never gone back to Canada, where
her sad history is well known by thousands and thousands.
In
the providence of God I was invited to preach in that parish soon after,
and
I learned these facts accurately.
The
Rev. Mr. Tetreau, under whose pastorate this great iniquity was detected, began
from that time to have his eyes opened
97 to
the awful depravity of the priests of Rome through the confessional.
He
wept and cried over his own degradation in the midst of that modern Sodom. Our
merciful God looked down with compassion upon him, and sent him His saving
grace. Not long after, he sent to the Bishop his renunciation of the errors and
abominations of Romanism.
To-day
he is working in the vineyard of the Lord with the Methodists in the city of
Montreal, where he is ready to prove the correctness of what I say.*
Let
those who have ears to hear, and eyes to see, understand, by this, fact, that
Pagan nations have not known any institution more depraving than Auricular
Confession. * This was written in 1874. Now, in 1880, I have to say that Rev.
Mr. Tetreau died in 1877, in the peace of God, in Montreal. Twice before his
death he ordered out the priests of Rome, who had come to try to persuade him
to make his peace with the Pope,
calling
them "Suppots de Satan"—"Devil's Messengers."
CHAPTER V.
THE HIGHLY
EDUCATED AND REFINED WOMAN IN THE CONFESSIONAL.
WHAT BECOMES
OF HER UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER.
—HER
IRREPARABLE RUIN.
THE most skilful warrior
has never had to display so much skill and so many ruses de guerre—he
has never had to use more tremendous efforts to reduce and storm an impregnable
citadel, than the confessor, who wants to reduce and storm the citadel of
self-respect and honesty which God Himself has built around the soul and the
heart of every daughter of Eve.
But,
as it is through woman that the Pope wants to conquer the world,
it
is supremely important that he should enslave and degrade her by keeping her at
his feet as his footstool, that she may become a passive instrument for the
accomplishment of his vast and profound scheme.
In
order perfectly to master women in the higher circles of society, every
confessor is ordered by the Pope to learn the most complicated and perfect
strategy. He has to study a great number of treatises
99 on
the art of persuading the fair sex to confess to him plainly, clearly,
and
in detail, every thought, every secret desire, word, and deed, just as they
occurred. And that art is considered so important and so difficult that all the
theologians of Rome call it the art of arts."
Dens,
St. Liguori Chevassu, the author of the "Mirror of the Clergy,"
Debreyne, and a multitude of authors too numerous to mention,
have
given the curious and scientific rules of that secret art.
They
all agree in declaring that it is a most difficult and dangerous art;
they
all confess that the least error of judgment, the least imprudence
or
temerity, when storming the impregnable citadel, is certain death
(spiritual,
of course) to the confessor and the penitent.
The
confessor is taught to make the first steps towards the citadel with the utmost
caution, in order that his female penitent may not suspect at first,
what
he wants her to reveal; for that would generally induce her to shut for ever
the door of the fortress against him. After the first steps of advance,
he
is advised to make several steps back, and to put himself in a kind of
spiritual ambuscade, to see the effect of his first advance.
100
If there is any prospect of success, then the word "March on!" is
given,
and
a more advanced post of the citadel must be tried and stormed, if possible.
In
that way, little by little, the whole place is so well surrounded, so well
crippled, denuded and dismantled, that any more resistance seems impossible on
the part of the rebellious soul.
Then,
the last charge is ordered, the final assault is made; and if God does not
perform a real miracle to save that soul, the last walls crumble, the doors are
beaten down; then the confessor makes a triumphant entry into the place;
the
very heart, soul, conscience, and intelligence are conquered.
When
once master of the place, the priest visits all its most secret recesses and
corners; he pries into its most sacred chambers. The conquered place
is
entirely and absolutely in his hands; he is the supreme master; for the
surrender has been unconditional. The confessor has become the only infallible
ruler in the conquered place—nay, he has become its only God—for it is in the
name of God he has besieged, stormed and conquered it; it is in the name
of
God that, hereafter, he will speak and be obeyed.
No
human words can adequately convey an idea of the irreparable ruin which follows
the successful storming
101 and
unconditional surrender of that, once, noble fortress. The longer and stronger
the resistance has been, the more terrible and complete is the destruction of
its beauty and strength; the nobler the struggle has been,
the
more irretrievable are the ruin and loss. Just as the higher and stronger the
dam is built to stem the current of the rapid and deep waters of the river, the
more awful will be the disasters which follows its destruction; so it is with
that noble soul. A mighty dam has been built by the very hand of God, called
self-respect and womanly-modesty, to guard her against the pollutions of this
sinful world; but the day that the priest of Rome succeeds, after long efforts,
in destroying it, the soul is carried by an irresistible power into
unfathomable abysses of iniquity. Then it is that the once respected lady will
consent to hear, without a blush, things against which the most degraded woman
would indignantly shut her ears. Then it is that she freely speaks with her
confessor on matters, for reprinting which a printer in England has lately been
sent to jail.
At
first, in spite of herself, but soon with a real sensual pleasure, that fallen
angel, when alone, will think on what she has heard, and what she has said
in
the confessional-box. Then, in spite of herself, the vilest thoughts will,
at
first irresistibly fill her mind;
102 and
soon the thoughts will engender temptations and sins. But those vile
temptations and sins, which would have filled her with horror and regret before
her entire surrender into the hands of the foe, beget very different
sentiments, now that she is no more her own self-possessor and guide.
The
conviction of her sins is no more connected with the thought of a God,
infinitely holy and just, whom she must serve and fear. The convictions of her
sins is now immediately connected with the thought of a man with whom she will
have to speak, and who will easily make everything right and pure in her soul
by
his absolution.
When
the day for going to confession comes, instead of being sad, uneasy and
bashful, as she used to be formerly, she feels pleased and delighted to have
a
new opportunity of conversing on those matters without impropriety and sin to
herself; for she is now fully persuaded that there is no impropriety,
no
shame, no sin; nay, she believes, or tries to believe, that it is a good, honest,
Christian, and godly thing to converse with her priest on those matters.
Her
most happy hours are when she is at the feet of that spiritual physician,
showing him all the newly-made wounds of her soul,
103 and
explaining all her constant temptations, her bad thoughts, her most intimate
secret desires and sins.
Then
it is that the most sacred mysteries of the married life are revealed;
then
it is that the mysterious and precious pearls which God has given
as
a crown of mercy to those whom He has made one body, one heart and soul, by the
blessed ties of a Christian union, are lavishly thrown before swine. Whole
hours are passed by the fair penitent in thus speaking to her Father Confessor
with the utmost freedom, on matters which would rank her amongst the most
profligate and lost women, if it were only suspected by her friends and
relatives. A single word of those intimate conversations would be followed by
an act of divorce on the part of her husband, if it were known by him.
But
the betrayed husband knows nothing of the dark mysteries of auricular
confession; the duped father suspects nothing; a cloud from hell has obscured
the intelligence of them both, and made them blind. On the contrary,—husbands
and fathers, friends and relations, feel edified and pleased with the touching
spectacle of the piety of Madam and Miss —. In the village,
as
well as in the city, every one has a word to speak in their praise.
Mrs.—is
so often seen humbly prostrated at the feet, or by the side, of her
confessor; Miss—remains so long in the
confessional-box;
104 they
receive the holy communion so frequently; they both speak so eloquently and so
often of the admirable piety, modesty, holiness, patience, charity,
of their incomparable spiritual Father!
Every
one congratulates them on their new and exemplary life, and they accept the
compliment with the utmost humility, attributing their rapid progress
in
Christian virtues to the holiness of their confessor. He is such a spiritual
man; who could not make rapid strides under such a holy guide?
The
more constant the temptations, the more the secret sins overwhelm the soul, and
the more airs of peace and holiness are put on. The more foul the secret
emanations of the heart, the more the fair and refined penitent surrounds
herself by an atmosphere of the sweetest perfumes of a sham piety. The more
polluted the inside of the sepulchre is, the more shining and white the outside
will be kept.
Then
it is that, unless God performs a miracle to prevent it, the ruin of that soul is
sealed. She has drunk in the poisonous cup filled by the
"mother
of harlots," she has found the wine of her prostitution sweet!
She
will henceforth delight in her spiritual and secret orgies.
105 Her
holy (?) confessor has told her that there is no impropriety, no shame,
no sin, in that cup. The Pope has
sacrilegiously written the word "Life" on that cup of
"Death." She has believed the Pope; the terrible mystery of iniquity
is accomplished!
"The
mystery of iniquity doth already work, whose coming is after the working of
Satan with all power and signs and lying wonders, and with all deceivableness
of unrighteousness in them that perish, because they received not the love
of
the truth that they might be saved. And for this cause God shall send them strong
delusion, that they should believe a lie; that they all might be damned who
believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness."
(2 Thess. ii. 7-12.)
Yes;
the day that the rich, well-educated lady gives up her self-respect,
and
unconditionally surrenders the citadel of womanly modesty into the hands of a
man, whatever be his name or titles, that he may freely put to her questions of
the vilest character, which she must answer, she is lost and degraded, just as
if she were the humblest and poorest servant-girl.
I
purposely say "the rich and well-educated woman," for I know that
there
is
a prevalent opinion that the social position of her class places her above
106 the
corrupting influences of the confessional, as if she were out of the reach of
the common miseries of our poor fallen and sinful nature.
So
long as the well-educated lady makes use of her accomplishments to defend the
citadel of her womanly self-respect against the foe—so long as she sternly
keeps the door of her heart shut against her deadly enemy—she is safe.
But
let no one forget this: she is safe only so long as she does not surrender.
When the enemy is once master of the place, I emphatically repeat, the ruinous
consequences are as great, if not greater, and more irreparable than in the
lowest classes of society. Throw a piece of precious gold into the mud,
and
tell me if it will not plunge deeper than the piece of rotten wood.
What
woman could be nobler, purer, and stronger than Eve when she came from the
hands of her Divine Creator? But how quickly she fell when she gave ear to the
seducing voice of the tempter! How irreparable was her ruin when she
complacently looked on the forbidden fruit, and believed the lying voice which
told her there was no sin in eating of it!
I
solemnly, in the presence of the great God, who ere long, will judge me,
give
my testimony on this grave subject.
107 After
25 years' experience in the confessional, I declare that the confessor himself
encounters more terrible dangers when hearing the confessions
of
refined and highly educated ladies, than when listening to those of the humbler
classes of his female penitents.
I
solemnly testify that the well-educated lady, when she has once surrendered
herself to the power of her confessor, becomes at least as vulnerable to the
arrows of the enemy as the poorer and less educated. Nay, I must say that, once
on the downhill road of perdition, the high-bred lady runs headlong
into
the pit with a more deplorable rapidity than her humbler sister.
All
Canada is witness that a few years ago, it was among the highest ranks
of
society that the Grand Vicar Superior of the college of Montreal,
was
choosing his victims, when the public cry of indignation and shame forced the
Bishop to send him back to Europe, where he, soon after, died. Was it not also
among the higher classes of society that a superior of the Seminary
of
Quebec was destroying souls, when he was detected, and forced, during
a
dark night, to fly and conceal himself behind the walls of the Trappist Monastery
of Iowa?
Many
would be the folio volumes which I should have to write,
were
I to publish all that my twenty five years' experience
108 in the confessional has
taught me of the unspeakable secret corruption
of
the greatest part of the so-called respectable ladies, who have unconditionally
surrendered themselves into the hands of their holy (?) confessors. But the
following fact will suffice for those who have eyes to see, ears to hear, and
an intelligence to understand:
In
one of the most beautiful and thriving towns along the St. Lawrence River,
lived a rich merchant. He was young, and his marriage with a most lovely,
rich
and accomplished young lady had made him one of the happiest men in the land.
A
few years after his marriage, the Bishop appointed to that town a young priest,
really remarkable for his eloquence, zeal, and amiable qualities;
and
the merchant and the priest soon became connected by links of the most sincere
friendship.
The
young, accomplished wife of the merchant soon became the model woman of the
place under the direction of her new confessor.
Many
and long were the hours she used to pass by the side of her spiritual father to
be purified and enlightened by his godly advices. She soon was seen at the head
of the few who had the privilege of receiving the holy communion once a week.
The husband, who was a good Raman Catholic himself,
109 blessed
God and the Virgin Mary, that he had the privilege of living with such an angel
of piety.
Nobody
had the least suspicion of what was going on under that holy and white mantle
of the most exalted piety. Nobody, except God and His angels,
could
hear the questions put by the priest to his fair penitent, and the answers made
during the long hours of their tete-a-tete in the confessional-box.
Nobody but God could see the hellish fires which were devouring the hearts of
the confessor and his victim! For nearly one year, both the young priest and
his spiritual patient enjoyed, in those intimate and secret conversations, all
the pleasure which lovers feel when they can speak freely to each other of
their secret thoughts and love.
But
this was not enough for them. They both wanted something more real; though the
difficulties were great, and seemed insurmountable. The priest had his mother
and sister with him, whose eyes were too sharp to allow him
to
invite the lady to his own house for any criminal object, and the young husband
had no business, at a distance, which could keep him long enough out of his
happy home to allow the Pope's confessor to accomplish his diabolical designs.
110 But
when a poor fallen daughter of Eve has a mind to do a thing, she very soon
finds the means, particularly if high education has added to her natural
shrewdness.
And
in this case, as in many others of a similar nature which have been revealed to
me, she soon found out how to attain her object without compromising herself or
her holy (?) confessor. A plan was soon found and cordially agreed to; and both
patiently awaited their opportunity.
"Why
have you not gone to mass to-day and received the holy communion,
my
dear?" said the husband. "I had ordered the servant-man to put the
horse in the buggy for you, as usual."
"
I am not very well, my beloved; I have passed a sleepless night from
headache."
"I
will send for the physician," replied the husband.
"Yes,
my dear; do send for the physician—perhaps he will do me good."
One
hour after the physician called, and he found his fair patient a little
feverish, pronounced that there was nothing serious, and that she would soon be
well. He gave her a little powder, to be taken three times a day, and left;
but
at 9 P. M., she complained of a great pain in the chest, and soon fainted
and
fell on the floor.
111 The
doctor was again immediately sent for, but he was from home;
it
took nearly half an hour before he could come. When he arrived the alarming
crisis was over—she was sitting in an arm-chair, with some neighboring women,
who were applying cold water and vinegar to her forehead.
The
physician was really at a loss what to say of the cause of such a sudden
illness. At last, he said that it might be an attack of "ver
solitaire." (tapeworm). He declared that it was not dangerous; that he
knew how to cure her.
He
ordered some new powder to be taken, and left, after having promised
to
return the next day. Half an hour after, she began to complain of a most
terrible pain in her chest, and fainted again; but before doing so,
she
said to her husband:
"My
dear, you see that the physician understands absolutely nothing
of
the nature of my disease. I have not the least confidence in him, for I feel
that his powders make me worse. I do not want to see him any more. I suffer
more than you suspect, my beloved; and if there is not soon a change, I may be
dead to-morrow. The only physician I want is our holy confessor; please make
haste to go and get him. I want to make a general confession, and to receive
the holy viaticum (communion) and extreme unction before I grow worse."
112 Beside
himself with anxiety, the distracted husband ordered the horse
to
be put in the buggy, and made his servant accompany him on horseback,
to
ring the bell, while his pastor carried "the good god" (Le Bon
Dieu)
to
his dear sick wife.
He
found the priest piously reading his breviarium (his book of daily prayers),
and admired the charity and promptitude with which his good pastor,
in
that dark and chilly night, was ready to leave his warm and comfortable
parsonage at the first appeal of the sick. In less than an hour,
the
husband had taken the priest with "the good god" from the church
to
the bedroom of his wife.
All
along the way, the servant-man had rung a big hand-bell, to awaken
the
sleeping farmers, who, at the noise, had to jump, half naked,
out
of their beds, and worship, on their knees, with their faces prostrate in the
dust, "the good god" which was being carried to the sick by the holy
(?) priest.
On
his arrival, the confessor, with every appearance of sincere piety, deposited
"the good god" (Le Bon Dieu) on a table richly prepared for
such
a
solemn occasion, and, approaching the bed, leaned his head towards
his
penitent, and inquired how she felt.
She
answered him, "I am very sick, and I want to make a general confession
before I die."
113 Speaking
to her husband, she said, with a fainting voice, "Please, my dear,
tell
my friends to withdraw from the room, that I may not be distracted when making
what may be my last confession."
The
husband respectfully requested the friends to leave the room with him, and shut
the door, that the holy confessor might be alone with his penitent during her
general confession.
One
of the most diabolical schemes, under the cover of auricular confession, had
perfectly succeeded. The mother of harlots, the great enchantress
of
souls, whose seat is on the city of the "seven bills," had, there,
her priest
to
bring shame, disgrace, and damnation, under the mask of Christianity.
The
destroyer of souls, whose masterpiece is auricular confession, had, there, for
the millionth time, a fresh opportunity of insulting the God of purity through
one of the most criminal actions which the dark shades of night can conceal.
But
let us draw the veil over the abominations of that hour of iniquity, and let us
leave to hell its dark secrets.
After
he had accomplished the ruin of his victim and most cruelly and sacrilegiously
abused the confidence of his friend, the young priest opened
the
door of the room and said,
114 with
a sanctimonious air, "You may now enter to pray with me,
while
I give the last sacrament to our dear sick sister."
They
came in: "the good god" (Le Bon Dieu) was given to the woman;
and
the husband, full of gratitude for the considerate attention of his priest,
took
him back to his parsonage, and thanked him most sincerely for having
so
kindly come to visit his wife in so chilly a night.
Ten
years later I was called to preach a retreat (a kind of revival) in that same
parish. That lady, then an absolute stranger to me, came to my confessional-box
and confessed to me those details as I now give them. She seemed to be really
penitent, and I gave her absolution and the entire pardon of her sins,
as
my Church told me to do. On the last day of the revival, the merchant invited
me to a grand dinner. Then it was that I came to know who my penitent had been.
I must not forget to mention that she had confessed to me that, of her four
children, the last three belonged to her confessor! He had lost his mother,
and, his sister having married, his parsonage had become more accessible to his
fair penitents, many of whom had availed themselves of that opportunity to
practice the lessons they had learned in the confessional.
The
priest had been removed to a higher position,
115 where
he, more than ever, enjoyed the confidence of his superiors,
the
respect of the people, and the love of his female penitents.
I
never felt so embarrassed in my life as when at the table of that so cruelly
victimised man. We had hardly begun to take our dinner when he asked me
if
I had known their late pastor, the amiable Rev. Mr. —.
I
answered, "Yes, sir, I know him."
"Is
he not a most accomplished priest?"
"Yes,
sir, he is a most accomplished man," I answered.
"Why
is it," rejoined the good merchant, "that the Bishop has taken him
away from us? He was doing so well here; he had so deservedly earned
the
confidence of all by his piety and gentlemanly manners that we made every
effort to keep him with us. I drew up a petition myself, which all the people
signed, to induce the Bishop to allow him to remain in our midst; but in vain.
His
lordship answered us that he wanted him for a more important place,
on
account of his rare ability, and we had to submit. His zeal and devotedness
knew no bounds; in the darkest and most stormy nights he was always ready
to
come to the first call of the sick; I shall never forget how quickly and
cheerfully he responded to my appeal when, a few years ago,
116 I
went, on one of our most chilly nights, to request him to visit my wife,
who
was very sick."
At
this stage of the conversation, I must confess that I nearly laughed outright.
The gratitude of that poor dupe of the confessional to the priest who had come
to bring shame and destruction to his house, and the idea of that very man
going himself to convey to his home the corruptor of his own wife, seemed to me
so ludicrous that for a moment, I had to make a superhuman effort to control
myself.
But
I was soon brought to my better senses by the shame which I felt at the idea of
the unspeakable degradation and secret infamy of the clergy of which
I
was a member. At that instant, hundreds of instances of similar,
if
not greater, depravity, which had been revealed to me through
the
confessional, came to my mind, and distressed and disgusted me so that
my
tongue was almost paralysed.
After
dinner, the merchant asked his lady to call the children that I might see them,
and I could not but admire their beauty. But I do not need to say that
the
pleasure of seeing these dear and lovely little ones was much marred
by
the secret, though sure, knowledge I had, that the three youngest were
the
fruits of the unspeakable depravity of auricular confession in the higher ranks
of society.
CHAPTER VI.
AURICULAR
CONFESSION DESTROYS ALL THE SACRED TIES
OF MARRIAGE
AND HUMAN SOCIETY.
WOULD
the banker allow his priest to open, when alone, the safe of his bank,
manipulate and examine his papers, and pry into the most secret details
of
his banking business
No!
surely not.
How
is it then, that the same banker allows that priest to open the heart of his
wife, manipulate her soul, and pry into the sacred chambers of her most
intimate and secret thoughts?
Are
not the heart, the soul, the purity, and the self-respect of his wife
as
great and precious treasures as the safe of his bank! Are not the risks
and
dangers of temptations, imprudences, indiscretions, much greater
and
more irreparable in the second, than in the first case?
Would
the jeweler or goldsmith allow his priest to come, when he pleases,
and
handle the rich articles of his stores,
118 ransack
the desk where the money is deposited, and play with it as he pleases?
No!
surely not.
But
are not the heart, the soul, and the purity of his dear wife and daughter
a
thousand fold more valuable than his precious stones, or silver and gold wares?
Are not the dangers of temptation and indiscretions, on the part
of
the priest, more formidable and irresistible in the second, than in the first
of these cases?
Would
the livery man allow his priest to take his most valuable and unmanageable
horses, when he wishes, and drive alone, without any other consideration and
security than the discretion of his priest?
No!
surely not.
That
livery man knows that he would soon be ruined if he were to do so. Whatever may
be his confidence in the discretion, honesty, and prudence
of
his priest, he will never push his confidence so far as to give him the
unreserved control of the noble and fiery animals which are the glory of his
stables and the support of his family.
How
then, can the same man trust the entire, absolute management of his wife and
dear daughters to the control of that one, to whom he would not entrust his
horses?
119 Are
not his wife and daughters as precious to him as those horses?
Is there not greater danger of indiscretions,
mismanagement, irreparable
and
fatal errors on the part of the priest, dealing alone with his wife
and
daughters, than when driving horses? No human act of folly, moral depravity,
and want of common sense can equal the permission given by a man
to
his wife to go and confess to the priest.
That
day, he abdicates the loyal—I had almost said divine—dignity of husband; for it
is from God that he holds it; his crown is forever lost,
his
sceptre broken!
What
would you do to any one mean enough to peep or listen through
the
key-hole of your door in order to hear or see anything that was said
or
done within? Would you show so little self-respect as to tolerate such
indiscretion? Would you not rather take a whip or a cane, and drive away the
villain? Would you not even expose your life to free yourself from his impudent
curiosity?
But
what is the confessional if not the key-hole of your house and of your very
chamber, through which the priest can hear and see your most secret words and
actions; nay, more, know your most intimate thoughts and aspirations.
Are
you worthy of the Name of men when you
120 submit yourselves to
such sly and insulting inquisition? Do you deserve
the
name of men, who consent to put up with such ignoble affront and humiliation ?
"The
husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the Head
of
the Church." "Therefore, as the Church is subject unto Christ,
so
let the wives be to their own husbands in everything "—(Eph. v).
If
these solemn words are the true oracles of divine wisdom, is not the husband
divinely appointed the only adviser, counsellor, help of his wife,
just
as Christ is the only adviser, counsellor, and help of His Church?
If
the Apostle was not an impostor when he said that the wife is to her husband
what the body is to the head, and that the husband is to his wife what the head
is to the body—is not the husband appointed by God to be the light, the guide
of his wife? Is it not his duty, as well as his privilege and glory,
to
console her in her afflictions, strengthen her in her hours of weakness, keep
her up when she is in danger of fainting, and encourage her when
she
is on the rough and uphill ways of life?
If
Christ has not come to deceive the world through his Apostle, must not the wife
go to her husband for advice? Ought she not to expect from him, and him alone,
after God, the light she wants
121 and
the consolation she is in need of? Is it not to her husband, and to him alone,
after God, she ought to look to in her days of trial for help?
Is it not under his leadership alone she must
fight the battle of life and conquer? Is not this mutual and daily sharing of
the anxieties of life,
this
constant shouldering on the battle-field, and this reciprocal and mutual
protection and help renewed at every hour of the day, which form,
under
the eyes and by the mercy of God, the holiest and the purest charms
of
the married life? Is it not that unreserved confidence in each other which
binds together those golden links of Christian love that make them happy in the
very midst of the trials of life? Is it not through this mutual confidence
alone that they are one as God wants them to be one? Is it not in
this unity
of
thoughts, fears and hopes, joys and love, which come from God, that they can
cheerfully cross the thorny valley, and safely reach the Promised land?
The
Gospel says that the husband is to his wife what Christ is to His Church! Is it
not, then, a most sacrilegious iniquity for a wife to look to another rather
than to her own husband for such advice, wisdom, strength, and life,
as
he is entitled, qualified, and ready to afford? As no other man has the right
to her love, so no other man has any right to her absolute confidence.
122 As
she becomes an adulteress the day that she gives her body to another man, is
she any the less an adulteress the day that she gives her confidence and trusts
her soul to a stranger? The adultery of the heart and soul
is
not less criminal than the adultery of the body; and every time the wife goes
to the feet of the priest to confess, does she not become guilty
of
that iniquity ?
In
the Church of Rome, through the confessional, the priest is much more
the
husband of the wife than the man to whom she was wedded at the foot
of
the altar. The priest has the best part of the wife. He has the marrow, when
the husband has the bones. He has the juice of the orange, the husband has the
rind. He has the soul and the heart, the husband has the skeleton.
He
has the honey, the husband has the wax cell. He has the succulent oyster, the
husband has the dry shell. As much as the soul is higher than the body,
so
much are the power and privileges of the priest higher than the power and
privileges of the husband in the mind of the penitent wife. As the husband
is
the lord of the body which he feeds, so the priest is the lord of the soul and
the heart, which he also feeds. The wife, then, has two lords and masters, whom
she must love, respect and obey.
123 Will
she not give the best part of her love, respect, and submission
to the one who, in her mind, is as much above
the other as the heavens are above the
earth? But as she cannot serve two masters together, will not the master who
prepares and fits her for an eternal life of glory, certainly be the object of
her constant, real, and most ardent love, gratitude, and respect, when the
worldly and sinful man to whom she is married, will have only the appearance
and the crumbs of those sentiments? Will she not naturally, instinctively
serve, love, respect, and obey, as lord and master, the godly man, whose yoke
is so light, so holy, so divine, rather than the carnal man, whose human
imperfections are to her a source of daily trial and suffering?
In
the Church of Rome, the thoughts and desires, the secret joys and fears
of
the soul, the very life of the wife, are sealed things to the husband.
He
has no right to look into the sanctuary of her heart; he has no remedy
to
apply to the soul; he has no mission from God to advise her in the dark hours
of her anxieties; he has no balm to apply to the bleeding wounds,
so
often received in the daily battles of life; he must remain a perfect stranger
in his own house.
The
wife, expecting nothing from her husband,
124 has
no revelation to make to him, no favor to ask, no debt of gratitude to pay.
Nay, she shuts all the avenues of her soul, all the doors and windows of her
heart, against her husband. The priest, and the priest alone, has a, right to
her entire confidence; to him, and him alone, she will go and reveal all her
secrets, show all her wounds; to him, and him alone, she will turn her mind,
her heart and soul, in the hour of trouble and anxiety; from him, and him,
alone, she will ask and expect the light and consolation she wants. Every day,
more and more, her husband will become a stranger to her, if he does not become
a real nuisance, and an obstacle to her happiness and peace.
Yes,
through the confessional, an unfathomable abyss has been dug
by
the Church of Rome, between the heart of the wife and the heart
of
the husband. Their bodies may be very near each other, but their souls, their
real affections and their confidence are at greater distance than
the
north is from the south pole of the earth. The confessor is the master,
the
ruler, the king of the soul; the husband, as the graveyard-keeper, must be
satisfied with the carcass!
The
husband has the permission to look on the outside of the palace; he is allowed
to rest his head on the cold marble of the outdoor steps;
125
but the confessor triumphantly walks into the mysterious starry rooms, examines
at leisure their numberless and unspeakable wonders; and, alone,
he
is allowed to rest his head on the soft pillows of the unbounded confidence,
respect, and love of the wife.
In
the Church of Rome, if the husband ask a favor from his wife, nine times
in
ten she will inquire from her father confessor whether or not she can grant him
his request; and the poor husband will have to wait patiently for the
permission of the master, or the rebuke of the lord, according to the answer of
the oracle which had to be consulted! If he gets impatient under the yoke, and
murmurs, the wife will, soon, go to the feet of her confessor, to tell him how
she has the misfortune to be united to a most unreasonable man, and how she has
to suffer from him! She reveals to her "dear father" how she
is
unhappy under such a yoke, and how her life would be an insupportable burden,
had she not the privilege and happiness of coming often to his feet,
to
lay down her sorrows, hear his sympathetic words,
and
get his so affectionate and paternal advice! She tells him, with tears
of
gratitude, that it is only when by his side, and at his feet, she finds rest
to
her weary soul, balm to her bleeding heart, and peace to her troubled
conscience.
When
she comes from the confessional,
126 her ears are long filled
as with a heavenly music: the honored words
of
her confessor ring for many days in her heart: she feels it lonesome
to
be separated from him: his image is constantly before her mind, and the souvenir
of his amiabilities is one of her most pleasant thoughts.
There
is nothing which she likes so much as to speak of his good qualities,
his
patience, his piety, his charity; she longs for the day when she will again
go
to confess and pass a few hours by the side of that angelic man, in opening to
him all the secrets of her heart, and in revealing all her ennuis. She
tells him how she regrets that she cannot come oftener to see him, and receive
the
benefits of his charitable counsels; she does not even conceal from him how
often, in her dreams, she feels too happy to be with him! More and more every
day the gap between her and her husband widens. More and more each day she
regrets that she has not the happiness to be the wife of such a holy man as her
confessor! Oh! if it were possible! But then, she blushes or smiles, and sings
a song.
Then
again, I ask, Who is the true lord, ruler, and master in that house?
For
whom does that heart beat and live?
Thus
it is that that stupendous imposture, the dogma of auricular confession, does
completely destroy all the links,
127 the
joys the responsibilities, and divine privileges of the married life,
and
transforms it into a life of perpetual, though disguised, adultery.
It
becomes utterly impossible, in the Church of Rome, that the husband should be
one with his wife, and that the wife should be one with her husband:
a
"monstrous being" has been put between them both, called the
confessor. Born in the darkest ages of the world, that being has received from
hell
his
mission to destroy and contaminate the purest joys of the married life,
to
enslave the wife, to outrage the husband, and to damn the world!
The
more auricular confession is practiced, the more the laws of public and private
morality are trampled under foot. The husband wants his wife to be his—he does
not, and could not, consent to share his authority over her with anybody: he
wants to be the only man who will have her confidence and her heart, as well as
her respect and love. And so, the very moment that
he
anticipates the dark shadow of the confessor coming between him and the woman
of his choice, he prefers to shrink from entering into the sacred bond; the
holy joys of home and family lose their divine attraction; he prefers
the
cold life of an ignominious celibacy to the humiliation and opprobium
of
the questionable privileges of an uncertain paternity.
128 France, Spain, and many
other Roman Catholic countries, thus witness
the
multitude of those bachelors increasing every year. The number of families and
births, in consequence, is fast decreasing in their midst; and, if God does not
perform a miracle to stop these nations in their downward course, it is easy to
calculate the day when they will owe their existence to the tolerance and pity
of the mighty Protestant nations which surround them.
Why
is it that the Irish Roman Catholic people are so irreparably degraded and
clothed in rags? Why is it that that people, whom God has endowed with
so
many noble qualities, seem to be so deprived of intelligence and self respect
that they glory in their own shame? Why is it that their land has been for centuries
the land of bloody riots and cowardly murders? The principal cause
is
the enslaving of the Irish women, by means of the confessional. Every one knows
that the spiritual slavery and degradation of the Irish woman has
no
bounds. After she, in turn, has enslaved and degraded her husband and her sons.
Ireland will be an object of pity; she will be poor, miserable, riotous,
bloodthirsty, degraded, so long as she rejects Christ, to be ruled by
the
father confessor, planted in every parish by the Pope.
129 Who
has not been amazed and saddened by the downfall of France?
How
is it that her once so mighty armies have melted away, that her brave sons have
so easily been conquered and disarmed? How is it that France, fallen powerless
at the feet of her enemies, has frightened the world by the spectacle of the
incredible, bloody, and savage follies of the Commune?
Do
not look for the causes of the downfall, humiliation, and untold miseries
of
France anywhere else than the confessional. For centuries has not that great
country obstinately rejected Christ? Has she not slaughtered or sent into exile
her noblest children, who wanted to follow the Gospel? Has she not given her
fair daughters into the bands of the confessors, who have defiled and degraded
them? How could woman, in France, teach her husband and sons
to
love liberty, and die for it, when she was herself a miserable, an abject
slave? How could she form her husband and sons to the manly virtues
of
heroes, when her own mind was defiled and her heart corrupted by the Priest?
The
French woman had unconditionally surrendered the noble and fair citadel of her
heart, intelligence, and womanly self-respect into the hands of her confessor
long before her sons surrendered their swords to the Germans
at
Sedan and Paris.
130 The
first unconditional surrender had brought the second.
The
complete moral destruction of woman by the confessor in France has been
a
long work. It has required centuries to bow down, break, and enslave the noble
daughters of France. Yes; but those who know France, know that that destruction
is now as complete as it is deplorable. The downfall of woman
in
France, and her supreme degradation through the confessional,
is
now un fait accompli, which nobody can deny; the highest intellects have
seen and confessed it. One of the most profound thinkers of that unfortunate
country, Michelet, has depicted that supreme and irretrievable degradation
in
a most eloquent book, "The Priest, The Woman, The Family;" and not a
voice has been raised to deny or refute what he has said. Those who have any
knowledge of history and philosophy know very well that the moral degradation
of the woman is soon followed everywhere by the moral degradation
of
the nation, and the moral degradation of the nation is very soon followed
by
ruin and overthrow.
The
French nation had been formed by God to be a race of giants. They were
chivalrous and brave; they had bright intelligences, stout hearts, strong arms
and a mighty sword. But as the hardest
131 granite
rock yields and breaks under the drop of water which incessantly falls upon it,
so that great nation had to break and to fall into pieces under, not the drop,
but the rivers of impure waters which, for centuries, have incessantly flowed
in upon it from the pestilential fountain of the confessional.
"Righteousness exalteth a nation, but sin is a reproach to any
people." (Proverbs xiv.)
In
the sudden changes and revolutions of these latter days, France is also
sharing; and the Church of Rome has received a blow there, which, though
perhaps only temporary in its character, will help to awaken the people
to
the corruption and fraud of the priesthood.
Why
is it that Spain is so miserable, so weak, so poor, so foolishly and cruelly
tearing her own bosom, and reddening her fair valleys with the blood of her own
children? The principal, if not the only, cause of the downfall of that great
nation is the confessional. There, also, the confessor has defiled, degraded,
enslaved women, and women in turn have defiled and degraded their husbands and
sons. Women have sown broadcast over their country the seeds of that slavery,
of that want of Christian honesty, justice, and self-respect with which they
had themselves been first imbued in the confessional.
132 But
when you see, without a single exception, the nations whose women drink the
impure and poisonous waters, which flow from the confessional, sinking down so
rapidly, do you not wonder how fast the neighboring nations, who have destroyed
those dens of impurity, prostitution, and abject slavery, are rising up? What a
marvellous contrast is before our eyes? On one side, the nations who allow the
women to be degraded and enslaved at the feet of her confessor—France, Spain,
Romish Ireland, Mexico, &c., &c.—are, there, fallen into the dust,
bleeding, struggling, powerless, like the sparrow whose entrails are devoured
by the vulture.
On
the other side, see how the nations whose women go to wash their robes
in
the blood of the Lamb, are soaring up, as on eagle wings, in the highest regions
of progress, peace, and liberty!
If
legislators could once understand the respect and protection they owe
to
women, they would soon, by stringent laws, prohibit auricular confession
as
contrary to good morals and the welfare of society; for, though the advocates
of auricular confession have succeeded, to a certain extent,
in
blinding the public, and in concealing the abominations of the system under
a
lying mantle of holiness and religion, it is nothing else than a school of
impurity.
133 I
say more than that. After twenty-five years of hearing the confessions
of
the common people and of the highest classes of society, of the laymen and the
priests, of the grand vicars and bishops and the nuns; I conscientiously say
before the world, that the immorality of the confessional is of a more
dangerous and degrading nature than that which we attribute to the social evil
of our great cities. The injury caused to the intelligence and to the soul in
the confessional, as a general rule, is of a more dangerous nature and more
irremediable, because it is neither suspected nor understood by its victims,
The
unfortunate woman who lives an immoral life knows her profound misery; she
often blushes and weeps over her degradation; she hears, from every side,
voices which call her out of those ways of perdition. Almost at every hour of
day and night, the cry of her conscience warns her against the desolation and
suffering of an eternity passed far away from the regions of holiness, light,
and life. All those things are often so many means of grace, in the hands of
our merciful God, to awaken the mind, and to save the guilty soul.
But
in the confessional the poison is administered under the name of a pure and
refreshing water; the deadly blow is inflicted by a sword so well oiled that
the
wound is not felt;
134 the
vilest and most impure notions and thoughts, in the form of questions and
answers, are presented and accepted as the bread of life! All the notions
of
modesty, purity, and womanly self-respect and delicacy, are set aside and
forgotten to propitiate the god of Rome. In the confessional the woman is told,
and she believes, that there is no sin for her in hearing things which would
make the vilest blush—no sin to say things which would make the most desperate villain
on the streets of London to stagger—no sin to converse with her confessor on
matters so filthy that, if attempted in civil life, would forever exclude the
perpetrator from the society of the virtuous.
Yes,
the soul and the intelligence defiled and destroyed in the confessional are
often hopelessly defiled and destroyed. They are sinking into a complete,
an
irretrievable perdition; for, not knowing the guilt, they will not cry for
mercy—not suspecting the fatal disease that is being fostered, they will not
call for the true Physician. It was, evidently, when thinking of the
unspeakable ruin of the souls of men through the wickedness culminating in the
Pope's confessors, that the Son of God said:—"If the blind lead the blind,
both shall fall into the ditch." To every woman, with very few exceptions,
coming out from the feet of her confessor,
135 the
children of light may say:—"I know thy works, that thou hast a name that
thou livest, but thou art dead—(Revelations iii.).
Nobody
has yet been, nor ever will be able to answer the few following lines, which I
addressed some years ago to the Rev. Mr. Bruyere, Roman Catholic Vicar-General
of London, Canada:
"With
a blush on my face, and regret in my heart, I confess, before God and man, that
I have been like you, and with you, through the confessional, plunged for
twenty-five years in that bottomless sea of iniquity, in which the blind
priests of Rome have to swim day and night.
"
I had to learn by heart, like you, the infamous questions which
the
Church of Rome forces every priest to learn. I had to put those impure, immoral
questions to old and young females, who were confessing their sins
to
me. These questions—you know it—are of such a nature that no prostitute would
dare to put them to another. Those questions, and the answers they elicit, are
so debasing that no man in London—you know it—except a priest
of
Rome, is sufficiently lost to every sense of shame, as to put them to any
woman.
"Yes,
I was bound, in conscience, as you are bound to-day, to put into the ears, the
mind, the imagination, the memory, the heart and soul of females,
136 questions
of such a nature, the direct and immediate tendency of which
—you
know it well—is to fill the minds and the hearts of both priests and female
penitents with thoughts, phantoms, and temptations of such a degrading nature,
that I do not know any words adequate to express them. Pagan antiquity has
never seen any institution more polluting than the confessional. I know nothing
more corrupting than the law which forces a female to tell her thoughts,
desires, and most secret feelings and actions to an unmarried priest. The
confessional is a school of perdition. You may deny that before
the
Protestants; but you cannot deny it before me. My dear Mr. Bruyere,
if
you call me a degraded man, because I have lived twenty-five years
in
the atmosphere of the confessional, you are right. I was a degraded man, just
as yourself and all the priests are to-day, in spite of your denegations.
If
you call me a degraded man because my soul, my mind, and my heart were,
as
your own are to-day, plunged into the deep waters of iniquity which flow from
the confessional, I confess, 'Guilty!' I was degraded and polluted
by
the confessional, just as you and all the priests of Rome are.
"It
has required the whole blood of the great Victim,
who
died on Calvary for sinners, to purify me;
137 and
I pray that, through the same blood, you may be purified also."
If
the legislators knew the respect and protection they owe to women
—I
repeat it-they would, by the most stringent laws, prohibit auricular confession
as a crime against society.
Not
long ago, a printer in England was sent to jail and severely punished for
having published in English the questions put by the priest to the women in the
confessional; and the sentence was equitable, for all who will read those
questions will conclude that no girl or woman who brings her mind into contact
with the contents of that book can escape from moral death. But what are the
priests of Rome doing in the confessional? Do they not pass the greatest part
of their time in questioning females, old and young, and hearing their answers,
on those very matters? If it were a crime, punishable by law, to present those
questions in a book, is it not a crime far more punishable by law to present
those very things to married and unmarried women through the auricular
confession!
I
ask it from every man of common sense. What is the difference between
a
woman or a girl learning those things in a book, or learning them from the lips
of a man? Will not those impure, demoralizing suggestions sink more deeply into
their minds,
138 and impress themselves
more forcibly in their memory, when told to them
by
a man of authority speaking in the name of Almighty God,
than
when read in a book which has no authority?
I
say to the legislators of Europe and America, "Read for yourselves those
horrible, unmentionable things;" and remember that the Pope has more than
100,000 priests whose principal work is, to put those very things into the
intelligence and memory of the women whom they entrap into their snares.
Let
us suppose that each priest hears the confessions of only five female penitents
every day (though we know that the daily average is ten): it gives the awful
number of 500,000 women whom the priests of Rome have the legal right to
pollute and destroy each day of the year!
Legislators
of the so-called Christian and civilized nations! I ask it again from you,
Where is your consistency, your justice, your love of public morality,
when
you punish so severely the man who has printed the questions put to the woman
in the confessional, while you honor and let free, and often pay the men whose
public and private life is spent in spreading the very same moral poison in a
much more efficacious, scandalous, and shameful way, under the mask
of
religion !
The
confessional is in the hands of the devil,
139 what
West Point is to the United States, and Woolwich is to great Britain,
a
training of the army to fight and conquer the enemy. It is in the confessional
that 500,000 women every day, and 182,000,000 every year,
are
trained by the Pope in the art of fighting against God, by destroying
themselves and the whole world, through every imaginable kind of impurity
and
filthiness.
Once
more, I request the legislators, the husbands, and the fathers in Europe, as
well as in America and Australia, to read in Dens, Liguori, Debreyne, in every
theological book of Rome, what their wives and their daughters have to learn
in
the confessional.
In
order to screen themselves, the priests of Rome have recourse to the following
miserable subterfuge:—"Is not the physician forced," they say,
"to
perform certain delicate operations on women? Do you complain of this? No! you
let the physician alone; you do not abuse them in their arduous and
conscientious duties. Why, then, should you insult the physician of the soul,
the
confessor, in the accomplishment of his holy, though delicate duties?"
I
answer, first, The art and science of the physician are approved and praised in
many parts of the Scriptures. But the art and science of the confessor
are nowhere to be found in the holy records.
140 Auricular
confession is nothing else than a most stupendous imposture.
The
filthy and impure questions of the confessor, with the polluting answers they
elicit, were put among the most diabolical and forbidden actions by God
Himself, the day that the Spirit of Truth, Holiness, and Life wrote the
imperishable words—"Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth."
(Eph. iv. 29.)
Secondly,
The physician is not bound by a solemn oath to remain ignorant
of
the things which it will be his duty to examine and cure. But the priest
of
Rome is bound, by the most ridiculous and impious oath of celibacy,
to
remain ignorant of the very things which are the daily objects of his
inquiries, observation, and thoughts! The priest of Rome has sworn never
to
taste of the fruits with which he feeds his imagination, his memory,
his
heart, and his soul day and night! The physician is honest in the performance
of his duties; but the priest of Rome becomes, in fact, a perjured man, every
time be enters the confessional-box.
Thirdly,
If a lady has a little sore on her small finger, and is obliged to go
to
the physician for a remedy, she has only to show her little finger, allow the
plaster or ointment to be applied, and all is finished.
The
physician never—no never—says to that lady,
141 "It
is my duty to suspect that you have many other parts of your body which are
sick; I am bound in conscience, under pain of death, to examine you from head
to foot, in order to save your precious life from those secret diseases,
which may kill you if they are not cured just now. Several of those diseases
are of such a nature that you never dared perhaps to examine them with
the
attention they deserve, and you are hardly conscious of them. I know, madam,
that this is a very painful and delicate thing for both you and me,
that
I should be forced to make that thorough examination of your person; however,
there is no help; I am in duty bound to do it. But you have nothing
to
fear. I am a holy man, who have made a vow of celibacy. We are alone; neither
your husband nor your father will ever know the secret infirmities
I
may find in you: they will never even suspect the perfect investigation I will
make, and they will, forever, be ignorant of the remedy I will apply."
Has
any physician ever been authorized to speak or act in this way with any
of
his female patients?
No,—never!
never!
But
this is just the way the spiritual physician, by whom the devil enslaves and
corrupts women, acts. When the fair, honest, and timid spiritual patient has
come to her confessor, to show him the little sore
142 she
has on the small finger of her soul, the confessor is bound in
conscience to suspect that she has other sores—secret, shameful sores! Yes, he
is bound, nine times out of ten; and he is always allowed to suppose
that she does not dare to reveal them! Then he is advised by the Church to
induce her to let him search every corner of the heart, and of the soul, and to
inquire about all kinds of contaminations, impurities, secret, shameful, and
unspeakable matters!
The
young priest is drilled in the diabolical art of going into the most sacred
recesses of the soul and the heart, almost in spite of his penitents. I could
bring hundreds of theologians as witnesses to the truth of what I here say: but
it is enough just now to cite three:—
"Lest
the confessor should indolently hesitate in tracing out the circumstances of any
sin, let him have the following versicle of circumstances in readiness:
"Quis,
quid, ubi, quibus auxiliis, cur, quomodo, quando. Who, which, where, with whom,
why, how, when." (Dens, Vol. 6, p. 123. Liguori, vol. 2, p. 464.)
The
celebrated book of the Priests, "The Mirror of the Clergy," page 357, says:
"
Oportet ut Confessor solet cognoscere quid quid debet judicare.
143 Deligens
igitur inquisitor et subtillis investigator sapienter, quasi astute, interrogat
a peccatore quod ignorat, vel verecundia volit occultare."
"It
is necessary that the confessor should know everything on which he has
to
exercise his judgment. Let him then, with wisdom and subtility, interrogate the
sinners on the sins which they may ignore, or conceal through
shame."
The
poor unprotected girl is, thus, thrown into the power of the priest, soul and
body, to be examined on all the sins she may ignore, or which, through shame,
she may conceal! On what a boundless sea of depravity the poor fragile bark is
launched by the priest! On what bottomless abysses of impurities she will have
to pass and travel, in company with the priest alone, before he will have
interrogated her on all the sins she may ignore, or which she may have
concealed through shame!! Who can tell the sentiments of surprise, shame,
and
distress, of a timid, honest, young girl, when, for the first time,
she
is initiated, through those questions, to infamies which are ignored even
in
houses of prostitution!!!
But
such is the practice, the sacred duty of the spiritual physician.
"Let
him (the priest confessor), with wisdom and subtlety, interrogate
the sinners on the sins
144 they
may ignore or conceal through shame."
And
there are more than 100,000 men, not only allowed, but petted, and often paid
by so-called Protestant, Christian, and civilised governments to do that under
the name of the God of the Gospel!
Fourthly,
I answer to the sophism of the priest: When the physician has any delicate and
dangerous operation to perform on a female patient, he is never alone; the
husband, or the father, the mother, the sister, or some friends
of
the patient are there, whose scrutinising eyes and attentive ears make
it
impossible for the physician to say or do any improper thing.
But
when the poor, deluded spiritual patient comes to be treated by her
so-called
spiritual physician, and shows him her disease, is she not alone—shamefully
alone—with him? Where are the protecting ears of the husband, the father, the
mother, the sisters, or the friends? Where is the barrier interposed between
this sinful, weak, tempted, and often depraved man and
his
victim?
Would
the priest so freely ask this and that from a married woman, if
he knew that her husband could hear him? No, surely not! for he is well aware
that
the
enraged husband would blow out the brains of the villian who,
under
the sacrilegious pretext of purifying the soul of his wife,
145 is
filling her breast with every kind of pollution and infamy.
Fifthly,
When the physician performs a delicate operation on one of his female patients,
the operation is usually accompanied with pain, cries, and often with
bloodshed. The sympathetic and honest physician suffers almost as much pain as
his patient; those cries, acute pains, tortures, and bleeding wounds make
it
morally impossible that the physician should be tempted to any improper thing.
But the sight of the spiritual wounds of that fair penitent! Is the poor
depraved human heart really sorry to see and examine them? Oh, no! it is just
the contrary.
The
dear Saviour weeps over those wounds; the angels are distressed at the sight.
Yes! But the deceitful and corrupt heart of man! is it not rather apt to be
pleased at the sight of wounds which are so much like the ones he has himself
so often been pleased to receive from the hand of the enemy?
Was
the heart of David pained and horror-struck at the sight of the fair
Bath-sheba,
when, imprudently, and too freely, exposed in her bath?
Was
not that holy prophet smitten, and brought down to the dust, by that guilty
look?
Was
not the mighty giant, Samson, undone by the charms of Delilah?
Was
not the wise Solomon ensnared and
146 befooled
in the midst of the women by whom he was surrounded?
Who
will believe that the bachelors of the Pope are made of stronger metal than the
Davids, the Samsons, and the Solomons? Where is the man who has
so
completely lost his common sense as to believe that the priests of Rome are
stronger than Samson, holier than David, wiser than Solomon? Who will believe
that confessors will stand up on their feet amidst the storms which prostrate
in the dust those giants of the armies of the Lord? To suppose that, in the
generality of cases, the confessor can resist the temptations by which
he
is daily surrounded in the confessional, that he will constantly refuse
the
golden opportunities, which offer themselves to him, to satisfy the almost
irresistible propensities of his fallen human nature, is neither wisdom nor
charity; it is simply folly.
I
do not say that all the confessors and their female penitents fall into
the
same degree of abject degradation; thanks be to God, I have known several, who
nobly fought their battles, and conquered on that field of so many shameful
defeats. But these are the exceptions. It is just as when the fire has ravaged
one of our grand forests of America—how sad it is to see the numberless noble
trees fallen under the devouring element!
147 But,
here and there, the traveler is not a little amazed and pleased, to find some
which have proudly stood the fiery trial, without being consumed.
Was
not the world at large struck with terror, when they heard of the fire which, a
few years ago, reduced the great city of Chicago to ashes! But those who have
visited that doomed city, and seen the desolating ruins of her 16,000 houses,
had to stand in silent admiration before a few, which, in the very midst of an
ocean of fire, had escaped untouched by the destructive element.
It
is a fact, that owing to a most marvellous protection of God, some privileged
souls, here and there, do escape the fatal destruction which overtakes so many
others in the confessional.
The
confessional is like the spider's web. How many too unsuspecting flies find
death, when seeking rest on the beautiful framework of their deceitful enemy!
How few escape! and this only after a most desperate struggle.
See
how the perfidious spider looks harmless in his retired, dark corner;
how
motionless he is; how patiently he waits for his opportunity! But look how
quickly he surrounds his victim with his silky, delicate, and imperceptible links!
how mercilessly he sucks its blood and destroys its life!
What
remains of the imprudent fly,
after
she has been entrapped into the nets of her foe?
148 Nothing
but a skeleton. So it is with your fair wife, your precious daughter; nine
times out of ten, nothing but a moral skeleton returns to you, after the Pope's
black spider has been allowed to suck the very blood of her heart and soul. Let
those who would be tempted to think that I exaggerate, read the following
extracts from the memoirs of the Venerable Scipio de Ricci,
Roman
Catholic Bishop of Pistoia and Prato, in Italy. They were published
by
the Roman Catholic Italian Government, to show to the world that some measures
had to be taken, by the civil and ecclesiastical authorities, to prevent the
nation from being entirely swept away by the deluge of corruption flowing from
the confessional, even among the most perfect of Rome's followers,
the
monks and the nuns. The priests have never dared to deny a single iota
of
these terrible revelations. On page 115 we read the following letter from
sister Flavia Peraccini, Prioress of St. Catharine, to Dr. Thomas Camparina,
Rector of the Episcopal Seminary of Pistoia:
"In
compliance with the request which you made me this day, I hasten to say
something, but I know not how.
"Of
those who are gone out of the world, I shall say nothing. Of those who are
still alive and have very little decency of conduct,
149 there
are many, among whom there is an ex-provincial named
Father
Dr. Ballendi, Calvi, Zoratti, Bigliaci, Guidi, Miglieti, Verde, Bianchi, Ducci,
Seraphini, Bolla, Nera di Luca, Quaretti, &c. But wherefore any more? With
the exception of three or four, all those whom I have ever known,
alive
or dead, are of the same character; they have all the same maxims and the same
conduct.
"They
are on more intimate terms with the nuns than if they were married
to
them! I repeat it, it would require a great deal of time to tell half of what
I
know. It is the custom now, when they come to visit and hear the confession of
a sick sister, to sup with the nuns, sing, dance, play, and sleep in the
convent. It is a maxim of theirs that God has forbidden hatred, but not love;
and
that man is made for woman and woman for man.
"I
say that they can deceive the innocent and the most prudent and circumspect,
and that it would be a miracle to converse with them and not fall!"
Page 117.—"The priests are the husbands of the nuns,
and the lay brothers
of
the lay sisters. In the chamber of one of the nuns I have mentioned, a man was
one day found; he fled away, but, soon after, they gave him to us as our
confessor extraordinary.
150 "How
many bishops are there in the Papal States who have come to the knowledge of
those disorders, have held examinations and visitations, and yet never could
remedy it, because the monks, our confessors, tell us that those are
excommunicated who reveal what passes in the Order!
"Poor
creatures! they think they are leaving the world to escape dangers, and they
only meet with greater ones. Our fathers and mothers have given
us
a good education, and here we have to unlearn and forget what they have taught
us."
Page 188.—"Do not suppose that this is the
case in our convent alone.
It
is just the same at St. Lucia, Prato, Pisa, Perugia, &c. I have known things
that would astonish you. Everywhere it is the same. Yes, everywhere the same
disorders, the same abuses prevail. I say, and I repeat it, let the superiors
suspect as they may, they do not know the smallest part of the enormous
wickedness that goes on between the monks and the nuns whom they confess. Every
monk who passed by on his way to the chapter, entreated a sick sister
to
confess to him, and—!"
Page 119.—"With
respect to Father Buzachini, I say that he acted just as the others, sitting up
late in the nunnery, diverting himself, and letting the usual disorders go on.
There were several nuns who had love affairs on his account.
151 His
own principal mistress was Odaldi, of St. Lucia, who used to send him continual
treats. He was also in love with the daughter of our factor,
of
whom they were very jealous here. He ruined also poor Cancellieri,
who
was sextoness. The monks are all alike with their penitents.
"Some
years ago, the nuns of St. Vincent, in consequence of the extraordinary passion
they had for their father confessors Lupi and Borghiani, were divided into two
parties, one calling themselves Le Lupe, the other Le Borghiani.
"He
who made the greatest noise was Donati. I believe he is now at Rome. Father
Brandi, too, was also in great vogue. I think he is now Prior of St. Gemignani.
At St. Vincent, which passes for a very holy retreat, they have also their
lovers—-."
My
pen refuses to reproduce several things which the nuns of Italy have published
against their father confessors. But this is enough to show
to
the most incredulous that the confession is nothing else but a school
of
perdition, even among those who make a profession to live in the highest
regions of Roman Catholic holiness—the monks and the nuns.
Now,
from Italy let us go to America
152 and
see again the working of auricular confession,
not between the holy (?) nuns and monks of Rome, but among the humblest classes
of country women and priests. Great is the number of parishes where women have
been destroyed
by
their confessors, but I will speak only of one.
When
curate of Beauport, I was called by the Rev. Mr. Proulx,
curate
of St. Antoine, to preach a retreat (a revival) with the Rev. Mr. Aubry, to his
parishioners, and eight or ten other priests were also invited to come and help
us to hear the confessions.
The
very first day, after preaching and passing five or six hours
in
the confessional, the hospitable curate gave us a supper before going to bed.
But it was evident that a kind of uneasiness pervaded the whole company
of
the father confessors. For my own part I could hardly raise my eyes to look at
my neighbor; and, when I wanted to speak a word, it seemed that my tongue was
not free as usual; even my throat was as if it were choked: the articulation of
the sounds was imperfect. It was evidently the same with the rest
of
the priests. Instead, then, of the noisy and cheerful conversations
of
the other meals, there were only a few insignificant words exchanged
with
a half-suppressed tone.
153 The
Rev. Mr. Proulx (the curate) at first looked as if he were partaking also of
that singular, though general, despondent feeling. During the first part
of the lunch he hardly said a word ; but, at
last, raising his head, and turning his honest face towards us, in his usual
gentlemanly, and cheerful manner,
he
said:—
"Dear
friends, I see that you are all under the influence of the most painful
feelings. There is a burden on you that you can neither shake off nor bear
as
you wish. I know the cause of your trouble, and I hope you will not find fault
with me, if I help you to recover from that disagreeable mental condition.
You
have heard, in the confessional, the history of many great sins; but I know
that this is not what troubles you. You are all old enough in the confessional
to
know the miseries of poor human nature. Without any more preliminaries,
I
will come to the subject. It is no more a secret in this place, that one of the
priests who has preceded me, has been very unfortunate, weak, and guilty with
the greatest part of the married women whom he has confessed. Not more than one
in ten has escaped him. I would not mention this fact had I got it only from
the confessional, but I know it well from other sources, and I can speak of it
freely, without breaking the secret seal of the confessional.
154 Now,
what troubles you is that, probably, when a great number of those women have
confessed to you what they had done with their confessor, you have not asked
them how long it was since they had sinned with him;
and
in spite of yourselves, you think that I am the guilty man. This does,
naturally, embarrass you, when you are in my presence, and at my table.
But
please ask them, when they come again to confess, how many months
or
years have passed away since their last love affair with a confessor; and you
will see that you may suppose that you are in the house of an honest man.
You
may look me in the face, and have no fear to address me as if I were still
worthy of your esteem; for, thanks be to God, I am not the guilty priest who
has ruined and destroyed so many souls here."
The
curate had hardly pronounced the last word, when a general "We thank you,
for you have taken away a mountain from our shoulders," fell from almost
every lip.
"It
is a fact that, notwithstanding the good opinion we had of you," said
several, "we were in fear that you had missed the right track, and fallen
down with your fair penitents, into the ditch."
I
felt much relieved; for I was one of those who, in spite of myself,
155 had
my secret fears about the honesty of our host.
When,
very early the next morning, I had begun to hear the confessions,
one
of those unfortunate victims of the confessor's depravity came to me,
and
in the midst of many tears and sobs, she told me, with great details,
what
I repeat here in a few lines:
"I
was only nine years old when my first confessor began to do very criminal
things with me, every time I was at his feet confessing my sins. At first,
I
was ashamed and much disgusted; but soon after, I became so depraved that I was
looking eagerly for every opportunity of meeting him, either in his own house,
or in the church, in the vestry, and many times, in his own garden,
when
it was dark at night. That priest did not remain very long; he was removed, to
my great regret, to another place, where he died. He was succeeded by another
one, who seemed at first to be a very holy man.
I
made to him a general confession with, it seems to me, a sincere desire
to
give up forever, that sinful life; but I fear that my confessions became
a
cause of sin to that good priest; for, not long after my confession was
finished, he declared to me, in the confessional, his love, with such
passionate words, that he soon brought me down again into my former criminal
habits
with him.
156 This
lasted six years, when my parents removed to this place. I was very glad for
it, for I hoped that, being away from him, I should not be any more a cause of
sin to him, and that I might begin a better life. But the fourth time that I
went to confess to my new confessor, he invited me to go to his room, where we
did things so disgusting together, that I do not know how to confess them. It
was two days before my marriage, and the only child I have had is the fruit of
that sinful hour. After my marriage, I continued the same criminal life with my
confessor. He was the friend of my husband; we had many opportunities of
meeting each other, not only when I was going to confess, but when my husband
was absent and my child was at school. It was evident to me that several other
women were as miserable and criminal as I was myself. This sinful intercourse
with my confessor went on, till God Almighty stopped it with a real
thunderbolt. My dear only daughter had gone to confess, and received the holy
communion. As she came back from church much later than I expected, I inquired
the reason which had kept her so long. She then threw herself into my arms,
and, with convulsive cries said,—'Dear mother, do not ask me to go to confess
any more—Oh! if you could know what my confessor asked me when
157 I was at his feet! and if you could know what he
has done with me, and he has forced me to do with him, when he had me alone in
his parlor!'
"My
poor child could not speak any longer; she fainted in my arms.
"As
soon as she recovered, without losing a minute, I dressed myself, and, full of
an inexpressible rage, I directed my steps towards the parsonage.
But
before leaving my house, I had concealed under my shawl a sharp butcher's
knife, to stab and kill the villain who had destroyed my dearly beloved child.
Fortunately for that priest, God changed my mind before
I
entered his room: my words to him were few and sharp.
"'You
are a monster!' I said to him. 'Not satisfied to have destroyed me, you want to
destroy my own dear child, which is yours also! Shame upon you! I had come with
this knife, to put an end to your infamies; but so short a punishment would be
too mild a one for such a monster. I want you to live, that you may bear upon
your head the curse of the too unsuspecting and unguarded friends whom you have
so cruelly deceived and betrayed. I want you to live with the consciousness
that you are known by me and many others, as one of the most infamous monsters
who has ever defiled this world.
158 But know that if you are not away from this place before the end of
this week, I will reveal everything to my husband; and you may be sure that he
will not let you live twenty-four hours longer; for he sincerely thinks your
daughter is his; he will be the avenger of her honor! I go to denounce you,
this very day, to the bishop, that he may take you away from this parish, which
you have
so shamelessly polluted.'
"The
priest threw himself at my feet, and, with tears, asked my pardon, imploring me
not to denounce him to the bishop, and promising that he would change his life
and begin to live as a good priest. But I remained inexorable.
I
went to the bishop, and warned his lordship of the sad consequences which would
follow, if he kept that curate any longer in this place, as he seemed inclined
to do. But before the eight days had expired, he was put at the head of another
parish, not very far away from here."
The
reader will, perhaps, like to know what has become of this priest.
He
remained at the head of that most beautiful parish of Beaumont, as curate,
where, I know it for a fact, he continued to destroy his penitents, till a few
years before he died, with the reputation of a good priest, an amiable man,
and
a holy confessor!
159 For
the mystery of iniquity doth already work: . . . .
And
then shall that Wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with
the
spirit of His mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of His coming:
Even
him, whose coming is after the working of Satan, with all power and signs and
lying wonders.
And
with all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish; because they
received not the love of the truth, that they might be saved.
And
for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a
lie:
That
they all might be damned who believed not the truth, but had pleasure
in
unrighteousness. (2 Thess. ii. 7-12.)
CHAPTER
VII.
SHOULD
AURICULAR CONFESSION BE TOLERATED
AMONG
CIVILIZED NATIONS.
LET
my readers who understand Latin, peruse the extracts I give from Bishop
Kenrick, Debreyne, Burchard, Dens, or Liguori, and the most incredulous will
learn for themselves that the world, even in the darkest ages of old paganism,
has never seen anything more infamous and degrading as auricular confession.
To
say that auricular confession purifies the soul, is not less ridiculous and
silly than to say that the white robe of the virgin, or the lily of the valley,
will
become whiter by being dipped into a bottle of black ink.
Has
not the Pope's celibate, by studying his books before he goes
to
the confessional-box, corrupted his own heart, and plunged his mind, memory,
and soul into an atmosphere of impurity which would have been intolerable even
to the people of Sodom?
161 We
ask it not only in the name of religion, but of common sense. How can that man,
whose heart and memory are just made the reservoir of all the grossest
impurities the world has ever known, help others to be chaste and pure?
The
idolaters of India believe that they will be purified from their sins
by
drinking the water with which they have just washed the feet of their priests.
What monstrous doctrine! The souls of men purified by the water which has
washed the feet of a miserable, sinful man! Is there any religion more
monstrous and diabolical than the Brahmin religion?
Yes,
there is one more monstrous, deceitful, and contaminating than that.
It
is the religion which teaches that the soul of man is purified by a few magical
words (called absolution) which come from the lips of a miserable sinner, whose
heart and intelligence have just been filled by the unmentionable impurities of
Dens, Liguori, Debreyne, Kenrick, &c. , &c. For if the poor Indian's
soul is not purified by the drinking of the holy (?) water which has touched
the feet of his priest, at least that soul cannot be contaminated by it. But
who does not clearly see that the drinking of the vile questions of the
confessor contaminate, defile and damn the soul?
162 Who
has not been filled with deep compassion and pity for those poor idolaters of
Hindoostan, who believe that they will secure to themselves
a happy passage to the next life, if they
have the good luck to die when holding in their hands the tail of a cow? But
there are people among us who are not less worthy of our supreme compassion and
pity; for they hope that they will be purified from their sins and be forever
happy, if a few magical words (called absolution) fall upon their souls from
the polluted lips of a miserable sinner, sent by the Pope of Rome. The dirty
tail of a cow, and the magical words of a confessor, to purify the souls and
wash away the sins of the world, are equally inventions of the devil. Both
religions come from Satan, for they equally substitute the magical power of
vile creatures for the blood of Christ, to save the guilty children of Adam.
They both ignore that the blood
of
the Lamb alone cleanseth us from all sin.
Yes!
auricular confession is a public act of idolatry. It is asking from a man what
God alone, through His Son Jesus, can grant: forgiveness of sins.
Has
the Saviour of the world ever said to sinners, "Go to this or that man for
repentance, pardon and peace?" No: but he has said to all sinners,
"Come
unto me." And from that day to
163 the
end of the world, all the echoes of heaven and earth will repeat these words of
the merciful Saviour to all the lost children of Adam—"Come unto me."
When
Christ gave to His disciples the power of the keys in these words,
"whatsoever ye shall bind on earth, shall be bound in heaven; and
whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven" (Matt. xviii. 18), He had just explained His mind by
saying, "If thy brother shall trespass against thee"
(v. 15). The Son of God Himself, in that solemn
hour, protested against the stupendous imposture of Rome, by telling us
positively that that power
of
binding and loosing, forgiving and retaining sins, was only in reference
to
sins committed against each other. Peter had correctly understood his
Master's words, when he asked, "How oft shall my brother sin against me
and I forgive him?"
And
in order that His true disciples might not be shaken by the sophisms
of
Rome, or by the glittering nonsense of that band of silly half-Popish
Episcopalians, called Tractarians, Ritualists, or Puseyites, the merciful
Saviour gave the admirable parable of the poor servant, which He closed by what
He
has so often repeated, "So likewise shall my Heavenly Father do also unto
you, if ye, from
164 your
hearts, forgive not every one his brother their trespasses."
(Matt. xviii. 35.)
Not
long before, He had again mercifully given us His whole mind about the
obligation and power which every one of His disciples had of
forgiving:—"For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your Heavenly Father
will also forgive you; but if ye forgive men not their trespasses, neither will
your Father forgive your trespasses." (Matt. vi.
14, 15.)
"Be
ye therefore merciful as your Father also is merciful; forgive and ye shall be
forgiven." (Luke vi. 36, 37.)
Auricular
Confession, as the Rev. Dr. Wainwright has so eloquently put it in his "Confession
not Auricular," is a diabolical caricature of the forgiveness of sin
through the blood of Christ, just as the impious dogma of Transubstantiation
is
a monstrous caricature of the salvation of the world through His death.
The
Romanists, and their ugly tail, the Ritualistic party in the Episcopal Church,
make a great noise about the words of our Saviour, in St. John:
"Whatsoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them: and whatsoever
sins ye retain, they are retained." (John xx. 23.)
But.
again, our Saviour had Himself, once for all, explained what He meant
by
forgiving and retaining sins
165 —Matt. xviii. 35; Matt. vi. 14, 15; Luke vi. 36, 37.
Nobody
but wilfully-blind men could misunderstand Him. Besides that,
the
Holy Ghost Himself has mercifully taken care that we should
not
be deceived by the lying traditions of men, on that important subject,
when
in St. Luke He gave us the explanation of the meaning of John xx. 23,
by
telling us, "Thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead
the third day: and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in
His name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem." (Luke xxiv. 46, 47.)
In
order that we may better understand the words of our Saviour in St. John xx. 23, let us put them face to face with His
own explanations (Luke xxiv. 46, 47).
LUKE XXIV.
33.
And they rose up the same hour and returned to Jerusalem and found the eleven
gathered together, and them that were with them.
34.
Saying, the Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon . . . . .
36.
And as they thus spake, Jesus himself stood in the midst of them, and said unto
them, Peace be unto you.
JOHN XX.
18.
Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and that
he had spoken these things unto her.
19.
Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors
were shut where the disciples were assembled, for fear of the Jews, came Jesus
and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you.
166 37.
But they were terrified and affrighted, and supposed that they had seen a
spirit.
38.
And he said unto them, Why are ye troubled? and why do thoughts arise
in
your hearts?
39.
Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself: handle me, and see; for a
spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye see me have.
40.
And when he had thus spoken, he showed them his hands and his feet.
41.
And while they yet believed not for joy, and wondered, he said unto them, Have
ye here any meat?
42.
And they gave him a piece of a broiled fish, and of an honeycomb.
43.
And he took it, and did eat before them.
44.
And he said unto them, These are the words which I spoke unto you, while I was
yet with you, that all things must be fulfilled, which were written in the law
of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the psalms concerning me.
45.
Then opened he their understanding, that they might understand the Scriptures,
46.
And said unto them, Thus it is written, and thus it behoved Christ to suffer,
and to rise from the dead the third day:
20.
And when he had so said, he shewed unto them his hands and his side. Then were
the disciples glad, when they saw the Lord.
21.
Then said Jesus to them again, Peace be unto you: as my Father hath sent me,
even so send I you.
22.
And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and saith unto them, Receive ye
the Holy Ghost:
167 47.
And that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among
all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.
23.
Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them; whose soever sins ye
retain, they are retained.
Three
things are evident from comparing the report of St. John and St. Luke:
1.
They speak of the same event, though one of them gives certain details omitted
by the other, as we find in the rest of the gospels.
2.
The words of St. John, "Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto
them; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained," are explained
by the Holy Ghost Himself, in St. Luke, as meaning that the apostles shall
preach repentance and forgiveness of sins through Christ. It is just what our
Saviour has Himself said in St. Matthew ix. 13:
"But go ye and learn what that meaneth, I will have mercy, and not
sacrifice: for I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners to
repentance."
It
is just the same doctrine taught by Peter (Acts ii.
38): "Then Peter said unto them, Repent, and be baptised every one
of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall
receive the gift of the Holy Ghost."
Just
the same doctrine of the forgiveness of sins, not through auricular confession
or absolution, but through the preaching of the Word:
168 "Be
it known unto you therefore, men and brethren, that through this man
is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins
" (Acts xiii. 38).
3.
The third thing which is evident is that the apostles were not alone when
Christ appeared and spoke, but that several of His other disciples, even some
women, were there.
If
the Romanists, then, could prove that Christ established auricular confession,
and gave the power of absolution, by what He said in that solemn hour, women as
well as men—in fact, every believer in Christ—would be authorized to hear
confessions and give absolution. The Holy Ghost was not promised or given only
to the Apostles, but to every believer, as we see in Acts i. 15, and ii. 1, 2, 3.
But
the Gospel of Christ, as well as the history of the first ten centuries
of
Christianity, is the witness that auricular confession and absolution are
nothing else but a sacrilegious as well as a most stupendous imposture.
What
tremendous efforts the priests of Rome have made, these last five centuries,
and are still making, to persuade their dupes that the Son of God was making of
them a privileged caste, a caste endowed with the Divine and exclusive power of
169 opening
and shutting the gates of Heaven,
when
He said, "Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth, shall be bound in Heaven; and
whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in Heaven. "
But
our adorable Saviour, who perfectly foresaw those diabolical efforts
on
the part of the priests of Rome, entirely upset every vestige of their
foundation by saying immediately, "Again I say unto you, That if two of
you shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be
done for them of my Father which is in Heaven. For where two or three are
gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them (Matt. xviii. 19, 20.)
Would
the priests of Rome attempt to make us believe that these words
of
the 19th and 20th verses are addressed to them exclusively? They have not yet
dared to say it. They confess that these words are addressed to all His
disciples. But our Saviour positively says that the other words, implicating
the
so-called power of the priests to hear the confession and give the absolution,
are addressed to the very same persons—" I say unto you,"
&c., &c. The you of the 19th and 20th verses is the same you of the 18th.
The
power of loosing and unloosing is, then, given to all-those who would be
offended and would forgive.
170 Then,
our Saviour had not in His mind to
form a caste of men with any marvellous power over the rest of His disciples.
The priests of Rome, then,
are
impostors, and nothing else, when they say that the power of loosing and
unloosing sins was exclusively granted to them.
Instead
of going to the confessor, let the Christian go to his merciful God, through
Christ, and say, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that
trespass against us." This is the Truth, not as it comes from the Vatican,
but
as it comes from Calvary, where our debts were paid, with the only condition
that we should believe, repent and love.
Have
not the Popes publicly and repeatedly anathematized the sacred principle of
Liberty of Conscience? Have they not boldly said, in the teeth of the nations
of Europe, that Liberty of Conscience must be destroyed—killed at any
cost? Has not the whole world heard the sentence of death to liberty coming
from the lips of the old man of the Vatican? But where is the scaffold on which
the doomed Liberty must perish? That scaffold is the confessional-box. Yes, in
the confessional, the Pope has his 100,000 high executioners! There they are,
day and night, with sharp daggers in hand, stabbing Liberty to the heart.
171 In
vain will noble France expel her old tyrants in order to be free; in vain will
she shed the purest blood of her heart to protect and save liberty! True
liberty cannot live a day there so long as the executioners of the Pope are
free to stab her on their 100,000 scaffolds.
In
vain chivalrous Spain will call Liberty to give a new life to her people.
Liberty cannot set her feet there, except to die, so long as the Pope is
allowed
to
strike her in his 50,000 confessionals.
And
free America, too, will see all her so dearly-bought liberties destroyed, the
day that the confessional-box is universally reared in her midst.
Auricular
Confession and Liberty cannot stand together on the same ground; either one or
the other must fall.
Liberty
must sweep away the confessional, as she has swept away the demon
of
slavery, or she is doomed to perish.
Can
a man be free in his own house, so long as there is another who has the legal
right to spy all his actions, and direct not only every step, but every thought
of his wife and children? Can that man boast of a home whose wife and children
are under the control of another? Is not that unfortunate man really the slave
of the ruler and master of his household?
172 And
when a whole nation is composed of such husbands and fathers,
is
it not a nation of abject, degraded slaves?
To
a thinking man, one of the most strange phenomena is that our modern nations
allow their most sacred rights to be trampled under foot,
and
destroyed by the Papacy, the sworn enemy of Liberty, through a mistaken respect
and love for that same Liberty!
No
people have more respect for Liberty of Conscience than the Americans; but has
the noble State of Illinois allowed Joe Smith and Brigham Young
to
degrade and enslave the American women under the pretext of Liberty
of
Conscience, appealed to by the so-called "Latter-day Saints ?"
No!
The ground was soon made too hot for the tender conscience of the modern
prophets. Joe Smith perished when attempting to keep his captive wives in his
chains, and Brigham Young had to fly to the solitudes of the Far West, to enjoy
what he called his liberty of conscience with the thirty women whom he had
degraded, and enchained under his yoke. But even in that remote solitude the
false prophet has heard the distant peals of the roaring thunder. The threatened
voice of the great Republic has troubled his rest, and before his death he
wisely spoke of going as much as possible out of the reach
of
Christian civilisation,
173 before
the dark and threatening clouds which he saw on the horizon would hurl upon him
their irresistible storms.
Will
any one blame the American people for so going to the rescue of women? No,
surely not.
But
what is this confessional box? Nothing but a citadel and stronghold
of
Mormonism.
What
is this Father Confessor, with few exceptions, but a lucky Brigham Young? I do
not want to be believed on my ipse dixit. What I ask from serious
thinkers is, that they should read the encyclicals of the Piuses, the Gregorys,
the Benoits, and many other Popes, "De Sollicitantibus." There they
will see, with their own eyes, that, as a general thing, the confessor has more
women to serve him than the Mormon prophets ever had. Let him read the memoirs
of one of the most venerable men of the Church of Rome, Bishop Scipio de Ricci,
and they will see, with their own eyes, that the confessors are more free with
their penitents, even nuns, than husbands are with their wives. Let them hear
the testimony of one of the noblest princesses of Italy, Henrietta Carraceiolo,
who still lives, and they will know that the Mormons have more respect for
women than the greater part of the confessors have. Let them read
the
personal experience of Miss O'Gorman,
174 five
years a nun in the United States, and they will understand that the priests and
their female penitents, even nuns, are outraging all the laws of God and man,
through the dark mysteries of auricular confession. That Miss O'Gorman, as well
as Miss Henrietta Carraceiolo, are still living. Why are they not consulted by
those who like to know the truth, and who fear that we exaggerate the infamies
which come from "auricular confession" as from their infallible
source? Let them hear the lamentations of Cardinal Baronius,
St.
Bernard, Savanarola, Pius, Gregory, St. Therese, St. Liguori, on the
unspeakable and irreparable ruin spread all along the ways and all over the
countries haunted by the Pope's confessors, and they will know that the
confessional-box is the daily witness of abominations which would hardly have
been tolerated in the lands of Sodom and Gomorrah. Let the legislators, the
fathers and husbands of every nation and tongue, interrogate Father Gavazzi,
Grassi, and thousands of living priests who, like myself, have miraculously
been taken out from that Egyptian servitude to the promised land, and they will
tell you the same old, old story—that the confessional-box is for the greatest
part of the confessors and female penitents, a real pit of perdition, into
which they promiscuously fall and perish.
175 Yes;
they will tell you that the soul and heart of your wife and daughter are
purified by the magical words of the confessional, just as the souls of the
poor idolaters of Hindoostan are purified by the tail of the cow which they
hold
in
their hands, when they die. Study the pages of the past history of England,
France, Italy, Spain, &c., &c., and you will see that the gravest and
most reliable historians have, everywhere, found mysteries of iniquity in the
confessional-box which their pen refused to trace.
In
the presence of such public, undeniable, and lamentable facts, have not the
civilised nations a duty to perform? Is it not time that the children of light,
the
true disciples of the Gospel, all over the world, should rally round the
banners of Christ, and go, shoulder to shoulder, to the rescue of women?
Woman
is to society what the roots are to the most precious trees of your orchard. If
you knew that a thousand worms are biting the roots of those noble trees, that
their leaves are already fading away, their rich fruits, though yet unripe, are
falling on the ground, would you not unearth the roots and sweep away the
worms?
The
confessor is the worm which is biting, polluting, and destroying the very roots
of civil and religious society, by contaminating, debasing,
and
enslaving woman.
176 Before
the nations can see the reign of peace, happiness, and liberty,
which Christ has promised, they must, like
the Israelites, pull down the walls
of Jericho. The confessional is the modern
Jericho, which defiantly dares
the
children of God!
Let,
then, the people of the Lord, the true soldiers of Christ, rise up and rally
around His banners; and let them fearlessly march, shoulder to shoulder,
on
the doomed city: let all the trumpets of Israel be sounded around its walls:
let fervent prayers go to the throne of Mercy, from the heart of every one for
whom the Lamb has been slain: let such a unanimous cry of indignation
be
heard, through the length and breadth of the land, against that greatest and
most monstrous imposture of modern times, that the earth will tremble under the
feet of the confessor, so that his very knees will shake, and soon the walls of
Jericho, will fall, the confessional will disappear, and its unspeakable
pollutions will no more imperil the very existence of society.
Then
the multitudes who were kept captive will come to the Lamb, who will make them
pure with His blood and free with His word.
Then
the redeemed nations will sing a song of joy: "Babylon, the great, the
mother of harlots and abominations of the earth, is fallen! is fallen!"
CHAPTER
VIII.
DOES
AURICULAR CONFESSION BRING PEACE TO THE SOUL?
THE
connecting of Peace with Auricular Confession is surely the most cruel sarcasm
ever uttered in human language.
It
would be less ridiculous and false to admire the calmness of the sea, and the
stillness of the atmosphere, when a furious storm raises the foaming waves to
the sky, than to speak of the Peace of the soul either during or after the
confession.
I
know it; the confessors and their dupes chorus every tune by crying
"Peace, peace!" But the God of truth and holiness answers,
"There is no peace for the wicked!"
The
fact is, that no human words can adequately express the anxieties of the soul
before confession, its unspeakable confusion in the act of confessing, or its
deadly terrors after confession.
Let
those who have never drunk of the bitter waters which flow from the
confessional box,
178 read
the following plain and correct recital of my own first experiences
in auricular confession. They are nothing
else than the history of what nine-tenths of' the penitents* of Rome, old and
young, are subject to; and they will know what to think of that marvellous
Peace about which the Romanists,
and
their silly copyists, the Ritualists, have written so many eloquent lies.
In
the year 1819, my parents had sent me from Murray Bay (La Mal Baie),
where they lived, to an excellent school at St. Thomas. I was then about nine
years old. I boarded with an uncle, who, though a nominal Roman Catholic,
did
not believe a word of what his priest preached. But my aunt had the reputation
of being a very devoted woman. Our schoolmaster, Mr. John Jones, was a
well-educated Englishman, and a staunch PROTESTANT. This last circumstance had
excited the wrath of the Roman Catholic priest against
the
teacher and his numerous pupils to such an extent, that they were often
denounced from the pulpit with very hard words. But if he did not like us, I
must admit that we were paying him with his own coin.
But
let us come to my first lesson in Auricular
*
By the word penitents, Rome means not those who repent, but those
who confess to the priest.
179 Confession.
No! No words can express to those who have never had any experience in the
matter, the consternation, anxiety and shame of a poor Romish child, when he
hears his priest saying from the pulpit, in a grave and solemn tone: "This
week you will send your children to confession. Make them understand that this
action is one of the most important of their lives, that for every one of them
it will decide their eternal happiness or ruin. Fathers, mothers and guardians
of those children, if, through your fault or theirs, your children are guilty
of a false confession: if they do not confess everything
to
the priest who holds the place of God Himself, this sin is often irreparable:
the devil will take possession of their hearts, they will lie to their father
confessor, or rather to Jesus Christ, of whom he is the representative:
their
lives will be a series of sacrileges, their death and eternity those
of
reprobates. Teach them, therefore, to examine thoroughly all their actions,
words, thoughts and desires, in order to confess everything just
as
it occurred, without any disguise."
I
was in the Church of St. Thomas, when these words fell upon me like
a
thunderbolt. I had often heard my mother say, when at home, and my aunt, since
I had come to St. Thomas, that upon the first confession depended
my
eternal happiness or misery.
180 That
week was, therefore, to decide the vital question of my eternity!
Pale
and dismayed, I left the Church after the service, and returned
to
the house of my relations. I took, my place at the table, but could not eat,
so
much was I troubled. I went to my room for the purpose of commencing
my
examination of conscience, and to try to recall every one of my sinful actions,
thoughts and words!
Although
scarcely over nine years of age, this task was really overwhelming
to
me. I knelt down to pray to the Virgin Mary for help, but I was so much taken
up with the fear of forgetting something or making a bad confession, that I
muttered my prayers without the least attention to what I said.
It
became still worse, when I commenced counting my sins; my memory,
though
very good, became confused; my head grew dizzy; my heart beat with
a
rapidity which exhausted me, my brow was covered with perspiration.
After
a considerable length of time spent in these painful efforts, I felt bordering
on despair from the fear that it was impossible for me to remember exactly
everything, and to confess each sin as it occurred. The night following was
almost a sleepless one; and when sleep did come, it could hardly be called
sleep, but a suffocating delirium. In a frightful dream,
181 I felt as if I had been cast into hell, for not
having confessed all my sins
to
the priest. In the morning I awoke fatigued and prostrate by the phantoms and
emotions of that terrible night. In similar troubles of mind were passed the
three days which preceded my first confession.
I
had constantly before me the countenance of that stern priest who had never
smiled on me. He was present to my thoughts during the days, and in my dreams
during the nights, as the minister of an angry God, justly irritated against
me
on account of my sins. Forgiveness had indeed been promised to me,
on
condition of a good confession; but my place had also been shown to me
in
hell, if my confession was not as near perfection as possible.
Now,
my troubled conscience told me that there were ninety chances against one that
my confession would be bad, either if by my own fault, I forgot some sins, or
if I was without that contrition of which I had heard so much, but the nature
and effects of which were a perfect chaos in my mind.
At
length came the day of my confession, or rather of judgment and condemnation. I
presented myself to the priest, the Rev. Mr. Beaubien.
He
had, then, the defects of lisping or stammering, which we often turned into
ridicule. And, as nature had unfortunately endowed me with admirable
powers
as a mimic,
182 the
infirmities of this poor priest afforded only too good an opportunity
for
the exercise of my talent. Not only was it one of my favorite amusements
to
imitate him before the pupils amidst roars of laughter, but also, I preached
portions of his sermons before his parishioners with similar results. Indeed,
many of them came from considerable distances to enjoy the opportunity
of
listening to me, and they, more than once, rewarded me with cakes of maple
sugar, for my performances.
These
acts of mimicry were, of course, among my sins; and it became necessary for me
to examine myself upon the number of times I had mocked the priests. This
circumstance was not calculated to make my confession easier or more agreeable.
At last, the dread moment arrived, I knelt for the first time at the side of my
confessor, but my whole frame trembled: I repeated the prayer preparatory to
confession, scarcely knowing what I said, so much was
I
troubled by fears.
By
the instructions which had been given us before confession, we had been made to
believe that the priest was the true representative,
yea,
almost the personification of Jesus Christ. The consequence was that
I
believed my greatest sin was that of mocking the priest,
183 and
I, as I had been told that it was proper first to confess the greatest sins, I
commenced thus: "Father, I accuse myself of having mocked a priest!"
Hardly
had I uttered these words, "mocked a priest," when this pretended
representative of the humble Jesus, turning towards me, and looking in my face,
in order to know me better, asked abrubtly: "What priest did you mock, my
boy?"
I
would have rather chosen to cut out my tongue than to tell him, to his face,
who it was. I, therefore, kept silent for a while; but my silence made him very
nervous, and almost angry. With a haughty tone of voice, he said: "What
priest did you take the liberty of thus mocking, my boy?" I saw that I had
to answer. Happily, his haughtiness had made me bolder and firmer; I said:
"Sir, you are the priest whom I mocked!"
"But
how many times did you take upon yourself to mock me, my boy? " asked he,
angrily.
I
tried to find out the number of times, but I never could.
"You
must tell me how many times; for to mock one's own priest, is a great
sin."
"It
is impossible for me to give you the number of times," I answered.
"Well,
my child, I will help your memory by asking you questions.
184 Tell
me the truth. Do you think you mocked me ten times?"
A
great many times more," I answered.
Have
you mocked me fifty times?
Oh!
many more still
"A
hundred times?"
"Say
five hundred, and perhaps more," I answered.
"Well,
my boy, do you spend all your time, in mocking me?"
"Not
all my time; but, unfortunately, I have done it very often."
"Yes,
you may well say 'unfortunately!' for to mock your priest, who holds the place
of our Lord Jesus Christ, is a great sin and a great misfortune for you. But
tell me, my little boy, what reason have you for mocking me thus?"
In
my examination of conscience, I had not foreseen that I should be obliged to
give the reasons for mocking the priest, and I was thunderstruck by his
questions. I dared not answer, and I remained for a long time dumb, from the
shame that overpowered me. But, with a harrassing perseverance, the priest
insisted upon my telling why I had mocked him; assuring me that I would be
damned if I did not speak the whole truth. So I decided to speak, and said:
"I
mocked you for several things."
185 "What
made you first mock me?" asked the priest.
I
laughed at you because you lisp: among the pupils of the school, and other
people, it often happens that we imitate your preaching to laugh at you,
"
I answered.
"For
what other reason did you laugh at me, my little boy? "
For
a long time I was silent. Every time I opened my mouth to speak,
my
courage failed me. But the priest continued to urge me; I said at last:
"It is rumored in town that you love the
girls: that you visit the Misses Richards almost every night; and this made us
laugh often."
The
poor priest was evidently overwhelmed by my answer, and ceased questioning me
on that subject. Changing the conversation, he said:
What
are your other sins? "
I
began to confess them according to the order in which they came to my memory.
But the feeling of shame which overpowered me, in repeating all my sins to that
man, was a thousand times greater than that of having offended God. In reality,
this feeling of human shame, which absorbed my thoughts, nay, my whole being,
left no room for any religious feeling at all, and I am certain that this is
the case with more than the greater part of those who confess their sins to the
priest.
186 When
I had confessed all the sins I could remember, the priest began to put to me
the strangest questions about matters upon which my pen must be silent. . . . .
I replied, "Father, I do not understand what you ask me."
"I
question you," he answered, on the sins of the sixth commandment of God
(seventh in the Bible). Do confess all, my little boy, for you will go to hell,
if,
through your fault, you omit anything."
And
thereupon he dragged my thoughts into regions of iniquity which, thanks be to
God, had hitherto been quite unknown to me.
I
answered him again, "I do not understand you," or "I have never
done those wicked things."
Then,
skilfully shifting to some secondary matters, he would soon slyly and cunningly
come back to his favorite subject, namely, sins of licentiousness.
His
questions were so unclean that I blushed and felt nauseated with disgust and
shame. More than once, I had been, to my great regret, in the company of bad
boys, but not one of them had offended my moral nature so much as this priest
had done. Not one of them had ever approached the shadow of the things from
which that man tore the veil,
187 and
which he placed before the eyes of my soul. In vain I told him that I was not
guilty of those things; that I did not even understand what he asked me; but he
would not let me off.
Like
a vulture bent upon tearing the poor defenceless bird that falls into
its
claws, that cruel priest seemed determined to ruin and defile my heart.
At
last he asked me a question in a form of expression so bad, that I was really
pained and put beside myself. I felt as if I had received the shock from an
electric battery: a feeling of horror made me shudder. I was filled with such
indignation that, speaking loud enough to be heard by many, I told him:
"Sir, I am very wicked, but I was never guilty of what you mention to me:
please don't ask me any more of those questions, which will teach me more
wickedness than I ever knew."
The
remainder of my confession was short. The stern rebuke I had given him had
evidently made that priest blush, if it had not frightened him. He stopped
short, and gave me some very good advice, which might have done me good,
if
the deep wounds which his questions had inflicted upon my soul,
had
not so absorbed my thoughts as to prevent me giving attention
to
what he said. He gave me a short penance and dismissed me.
188 I
left the confessional irritated and confused. From the shame of what I had just
heard, I dared not raise my eyes from the ground. I went into a corner
of
the church to do my penance, that is to recite the prayers which he had
indicated to me. I remained for a long time in the church. I had need of a
calm, after the terrible trial through which I had just passed. But vainly I
sought for rest. The shameful questions which had just been asked me; the new
world
of
iniquity into which I had been introduced; the impure phantoms by which
my
childish head had been defiled, confused and troubled my mind so much, that I
began to weep bitterly.
I
left the church only when forced to do so by the shades of night, and came back
to my uncle's house with a feeling of shame and uneasiness, as if I had done a
bad action and feared lest I should be detected. My trouble was much increased
when my uncle jestingly said: "Now that you have been to confess, you will
be a good boy. But if you are not a better boy, you will be a more learned one,
if your confessor has taught you what mine did when I confessed for the first
time."
I
blushed and remained silent. My aunt said: "You must feel happy, now that
you have made your confession: do you not?"
189 I
gave an evasive answer, but could not entirely conceal the confusion which
overwhelmed me. I went to bed early; but I could hardly sleep.
I
thought I was the only boy whom the priest had asked these polluting questions;
but great was my confusion, when, on going to school the next day,
I
learned that my companions had not been happier than I had been.
The
only difference was that, instead of being grieved as I was, they laughed at
it.
"Did
the priest ask you this and that," they would demand, laughing
boisterously; I refused to reply, and said: "Are you not ashamed to speak
of these things?"
"Ah!
ah! how scrupulous you are," continued they, "if it is not a sin for
the priest to us on these matters, how can it be a sin for us to laugh at
it." I felt confounded, not knowing what to answer. But my confusion
increased not a little when, soon after, I perceived that the young girls of
the school had not been less polluted or scandalized than the boys. Although
keeping at a sufficient distance from us to prevent us from understanding
everything they had to say on their confessional experience, those girls were
sufficiently near to let us hear many things which it would have been better
for us not to know.
Some
of them seemed thoughtful, sad, and shameful;
190 but some of them laughed
heartily at what they had learned in the confessional-box. I was very indignant
against the priest; and thought in myself that he was a very wicked man for
having put to us such repelling questions.
But
I was wrong. That priest was honest; he was only doing his duty, as I have
known since, when studying the theologians of Rome. The Rev. Mr. Beaubien was a
real gentleman; and if he had been free to follow the dictates of his honest
conscience, it is my strong conviction, he would never have sullied our young
hearts with such impure ideas. But what has the honest conscience
of
a priest to do in the confessional, except to be silent and dumb; the priest of
Rome is an automaton, tied to the feet of the Pope by an iron chain. He can
move, go right or left, up or down; he can think and act, but only at the
bidding of the infallible god of Rome. The priest knows the will of his modern divinity
only through his approved emissaries, ambassadors, and theologians.
With
shame on my brow, and bitter tears of regret flowing just now,
on
my cheeks, I confess that I have had myself to learn by heart those damning
questions, and put them to the young and the old, who like me,
were
fed with the diabolical doctrines of the Church of Rome,
191 in
reference to auricular confession.
Some
time after, some people waylaid and whipped that very same priest, when, during
a very dark night he was coming back from visiting his fair young penitents,
the Misses Richards. And the next day, the conspirators having met at the house
of Dr. Stephen Tache, to give a report of what they had done
to
the half secret society to which they belonged, I was invited by my young
friend Louis Casault* to conceal myself with him, in an adjoining room, where
we could hear everything without being seen. I find in the old manuscripts
of
"my young years' recollections" the following address of Mr. Dubord,
one
of the principal merchants of St. Thomas.
"Mr.
President,—I was not among those who gave to the priest the expression of the
public feelings with the eloquent voice of the whip; but I wish I had been; I
would heartily have co-operated to give that so well-deserved lesson
to
the father confessors of Canada; and let me give you my reasons for that.
"My
child, who is hardly twelve years old, went to confess, as did the other girls
of the village, * He died many years after when at the head of the Laval
University, some time ago.
192 It
was against my will. I know by my own experience, that of all actions,
confession is the most degrading of a person's life. I can imagine nothing
so well calculated to destroy forever one's
self-respect, as the modern invention of the confessional. Now, what is a
person without self-respect? Especially a woman? Is not all forever lost
without this?
"In
the confessional, everything is corruption of the lowest grade.
There,
the girls' thoughts, lips, hearts and souls are forever polluted.
Do
I need to prove you this! No! for though you have long since given up auricular
confession, as below the dignity of man, you have not forgotten the lessons of
corruption which you have received from it. Those lessons have remained on your
souls as the scars left by the red-hot iron upon the brow
of
the slave, to be a perpetual witness of his slave, to be a perpetual witness
of
his shame and servitude.
"The
confessional-box is the place where our wives and daughters learn things which
would make the most degraded woman of our cities blush!
"Why
are all Roman Catholic nations inferior to nations belonging
to
Protestantism? Only in the confessional can the solution of that problem
be found. And why are Roman Catholic nations
degraded
193 in
proportion to their submission to their priests? It is because the more often
the individuals composing those nations go to confess, the more rapidly they
sink in the sphere of intelligence and morality. A terrible example of the
auricular confession depravity has just occurred in my own family.
"As
I have said a moment ago, I was against my own daughter going
to
confession, but her poor mother, who is under the control of the priest,
earnestly wanted her to go. Not to have a disagreeable scene in my house,
I
had to yield to the tears of my wife.
"On
the following day of the confession, they believed I was absent, but I was in
my office, with the door sufficiently opened to hear everything which could be
said by my wife and the child. And the following conversation took place:
"'What
makes you so thoughtful and sad, my dear Lucy, since you went to confess? It
seems to me you should feel happier since you had the privilege
of
confessing your sins.'
"My
child answered not a word; she remained absolutely silent.
"After
two or three minutes of silence, I heard the mother saying:
"Why
do you weep, my dear Lucy? are you sick?'
194 But
no answer yet from the child!"
You
may well suppose that I was all attention: I had my secret suspicions about
the
dreadful mystery which had taken place. My heart throbbed with uneasiness and
anger.
"After
a short silence, my wife spoke again to her child, but with sufficient firmness
to decide her to answer at last. In a trembling voice, she said:
"Oh!
dear mamma, if you knew what the priest has asked me, and what he said to me
when I confessed, you would perhaps be as sad as I am.'
"'But
what can he have said to you? He is a holy man, you must have misunderstood
him, if you think that he has said anything wrong.'
"My
child threw herself in her mother's arms, and answered with a voice,
half
suffocated with her sobs: ' Do not ask me to tell you what the priest has
said—it is so shameful that I cannot repeat it—his words have stuck
to
my heart as the leech put to the arm of my little friend, the other day.'
"'What
does the priest think of me, for having put me such questions?'
"My
wife answered: 'I will go to the priest and will teach him a lesson. I have
noticed myself that he goes too far when questioning old people, but I had the
hope he was more prudent with children. I ask of you, however,
195 never
to speak of this to anybody, especially let not your poor father know anything
about it, for he has little enough of religion already, and this would leave
him without any at all.'
"I
could not refrain myself any longer: I abruptly entered the parlor.
My
daughter threw herself into my arms; my wife screamed with terror,
and
almost fell into a swoon. I said to my child: 'If you love me, put your hand on
my heart, and promise never to go again to confess. Fear God, my child,
love
Him, and walk in His presence. For His eyes see you everywhere. Remember that
He is always ready to forgive and bless you every time you turn your heart to
Him. Never place yourself again at the feet of a priest,
to
be defiled and degraded.'
This
my daughter promised to me.
When
my wife had recovered from her surprise, I said to her:
"Madame,
it is long since the priest became everything, and your husband nothing to you!
There is a hidden and terrible power which governs you;
it
is the power of the priest; this you have often denied, but it can not be
denied any longer; the Providence of God has decided to-day that this power
should be destroyed forever in my house;
I
want to be the only ruler of my family; from this moment,
196 the power of the priest
over you is forever abolished. Whenever you go and take your heart and your
secrets to the feet of the priest, be so kind as not
to
come back any more into my house as my wife.'"
This
is one of the thousands of specimens of the peace of conscience brought to the
soul through auricular confession. If it were my intention to publish
a
treatise on this subject, I could give many similar instances, but as I only
desire to write a short chapter, I will adduce but one other fact to show
the
awful deception practised by the Church of Rome, when she invites persons to
come to confession, under the pretext that peace to the soul will be the
reward of their obedience. Let us hear the testimony of another living and
unimpeachable witness, about this peace of the soul, before, during, and after
auricular confession. In her remarkable book, "Personal Experience of
Roman Catholicism," Miss Eliza Richardson writes (pages
34 and 35):——*
"Thus
I silenced my foolish quibbling, and went on to test of a convert's fervor and
sincerity in
*
This Miss Richardson is a well-known Protestant lady, in England, who turned
Romanists became a nun, and returned to her Protestant church, after five
years' personal, experience of Popery. She is still living as an unimpeachable
witness of the depravity of auricular confession.
197 And,
here, was assuredly a fresh source of pain and disquiet, and one not
so easily vanquished. The theory had
appeared, as a whole, fair and rational; but the reality, in some of its
details, was terrible!
"Divested,
for the public gaze, of its darkest ingredients, and dressed up,
in
their theological works, in false and meretricious pretensions to truth and
purity, it exhibited a dogma only calculated to exact a beneficial influence
on
mankind, and to prove a source of morality and usefulness. But oh, as with
all ideals, how unlike was the actual?
"Here,
however, I may remark, in passing, the effect produced upon my mind by the
first sight of the older editions of 'the Garden of the Soul.'
I
remember the stumbling-block it was to me; my sense of womanly delicacy was
shocked. It was a dark page in my experience when I first knelt at the feet
of
a mortal man to confess what should have been poured into the ear of God alone.
I cannot dwell upon this . . . . . Though I believe my confessor was,
on
the whole, as guarded as his manners were kind, at some things I was strangely
startled, utterly confounded.
"The
purity of mind and delicacy in which I had been nurtured, had not prepared me
for such an ordeal; and my own sincerity,
198 and dread of committing a sacrilege, tended
to augment the painfulness
of
the occasion. One circumstance, especially, I will recall, which my fettered
conscience persuaded me I was obliged to name. My distress and terror,
doubtless, made me less explicit than I otherwise might have been.
The
questioning, however, it elicited, and the ideas supplied by it,
outraged
my feelings to such an extent, that, forgetting all respect for
my
confessor, and careless, even, at the moment, whether I received absolution or
not, I hastily exclaimed, 'I cannot say a word more,' while the thought rushed
into my mind, 'all is true that their enemies say of them.'
Here,
however, prudence dictated to my questioner to put the matter
no
further; and the kind and almost respectful tone he immediately assumed,
went far towards effacing an impression so injurious. On rising from my knees,
when I should have gladly fled to any distance rather than have encountered his
gaze, he addressed me in the most familiar manner on different subjects, and
detained me some time in talking. What share I took in the conversation
I
never knew, and all that I remember, was by burning cheeks, and inability
to
raise my eyes from the ground.
"Here
I would not be supposed to be intentionally casting a stigma upon
an
individual. Nor am
199 I
throwing unqualified blame upon the priesthood. It is the system which
is
at fault, a system which teaches that things, even at the remembrance
of which degraded humanity must blush in the presence of heaven and its
angels, should be laid open, dwelt upon, and exposed in detail, to the
sullied ears
of
a corrupt and fallen fellow-mortal, who, of like passions with the penitent
at
his feet, is thereby exposed to temptations the most dark and dangerous. But
what shall we say of woman? Draw a veil! Oh purity, modesty! and every womanly
feeling! a veil as oblivion, over the fearfully dangerous experience thou art
called to pass through!" (Pages 37 and 38.)
"Ah!
there are things which cannot be recorded! facts too startling, and at the same
time too delicately intricate, to admit a public portrayal, to meet the public
gaze; but the cheek can blush in secret at the true images which memory evokes,
and the oppressed mind shrinks back in horror from the dark shadows which have
saddened and overwhelmed it. I appeal to converts, to converts
of
the gentler sex, and ask them, fearlessly ask them, what was the first
impression made on your minds and feelings by the confessional? I do not ask
how subsequent familiarization has weakened the effects; but when acquaintance
was first made with it, how were you affected by it?
200 I
was not the impure, the already defiled, for to such it is sadly susceptible of
being made a darker source of guilt and shame I appeal to the pure minded and
delicate, the pure in heart and sentiment. Was not your first impression one of
inexpressible dread and bewilderment, followed by a sense of humiliation and
degradation not easily to be defined or supported?" (Page 39.) "The memory of that time [first
auricular confession] will ever be painful and abhorrent to me; though
subsequent experience has thrown even that far into the background. It was my
initiatory lesson upon subjects which ought never to enter the imagination of
girlhood: my introduction into a region which ought never to be approached by
the guileless and the pure." (Page 61.)
"One or two individuals (Roman Catholics) soon formed a close intimacy
with me, and discoursed with a freedom and plainness I had never before
encountered. My acquaintances, however, had been brought up in convents, or
familiar with them for years, and I could not gainsay their statement.
I
was reluctant to believe more than I had experienced. The proof, however, was
destined to come in no dubious shape at no distant day...... A dark and sullied
page of experience was fast opening upon me;
201 but
so unaccustomed was the eye which scanned it, that I could scarcely at all, at
once, believe in its truth! And it was of hypocrisy so hateful, of sacrilege
so terrible, and abuse so gross of all things
pure and holy, and in the person
of
one bound by his vows, his position, and, every law of his Church,
as
well as of God, to set a high example, that, for a time, all confidence
in
the very existence of sincerity and goodness was in danger of being shaken;
sacraments, deemed the most sacred, were profaned; vows disregarded, vaunted
secrecy of the confessional covertly infringed, and its sanctity abused to an
unhallowed purpose; while even private visitation was converted
into
a channel for temptation, and made the occasion of unholy freedom
of
words and manner. So ran the account of evil, and a dire account it was.
By
it all serious thoughts of religion were well-nigh extinguished. The influence
was fearful and polluting, the whirl of excitement inexpressible; I cannot
enter into minute particulars here, every sense of feminine delicacy and
womanly feeling shrink from such a task. This much, however, I can say,
that
I, in conjunction with two other young friends, took a journey
to
a confessor, an inmate of a religious house, who lived at some distance,
to
lay the affair before him, thinking that he would take some remedial
202 measures
adequate to the urgency of the case. He heard our united statements, expressed
great indignation, and at once commended us each
to
write and detail the circumstances of the case to the Bishop of the district.
This we did, but of course never heard the result. The reminiscences of these
dreary and wretched months seem now like some hideous and guilty dream.
It
was actual familiarization with unholiest things!" (Page 63.)
"The
Romish religion teaches that if you omit to name anything in confession,
however repugnant or revolting to purity, which you even doubt having
committed, your subsequent confessions are thus rendered null and sacrilegious;
Whilst it also inculcates that sins of thought should be confessed in order
that the confessor may judge of their mortal or venial character. What sort of
a chain this links around the strictly conscientious, I would attempt to
portray if I could. But it must have been worn to understand its torturing
character! Suffice it to say that, for months past, according to this standard,
I had not made a good confession at all! And now, filled with remorse for my
past sacrilegious sinfulness, I resolved on making a new general confession to
the religieux alluded to. But this confessor's scrupulosity exceeded
everything I had hitherto encountered.
203 He
told me some things were mortal sins which I had never before imagined could be
such, and thus threw so many fetters around my conscience,
that
a host of anxieties for my first general confession was awakened within me. I
had no resource, then, but to re-make that, and thus I afresh entered
on
the bitter path I had deemed I should never have occasion again to tread. But
if my first confession had lacerated my feelings, what was it to this one?
Words have no power, language has no expression to characterise, the emotion
that marked it!
"The
difficulty I felt in making a full and explicit avowal of all that distressed
me, furnished my confessor with a plea for his assistance in the questioning
department, and fain would I conceal much of what passed then as a foul blot on
my memory. I soon found that he made mortal sins of what my first confessor had
professed to treat but lightly, and he did not scruple to say that I had never
yet made a good confession at all. My ideas, therefore, became more complicated
and confused as I proceeded, until, at length, I began to feel doubtful of ever
accomplishing my task in any degree satisfactorily; and my mind and memory were
positively racked to recall every iota of every kind, real or imaginary, that
might if omitted, hereafter be occasion of uneasiness.
204 Things,
heretofore held comparatively trifling, were recounted, and pronounced damnable
sins; and as, day after day, I knelt at the feet of that man, answering
questions and listening to admonitions calculated to bow my very soul to the
dust, I felt as though I should hardly be able to raise my head again! (Page 63.)
This
is the peace which flows from auricular confession! I solemnly declare that,
except in a few cases, in which the confidence of the penitents
is
bordering on idiocy, or in which they have been transformed into immoral
brutes, nine tenths of the multitudes who go to confess are obliged to recount
some such desolate narrative as that of Miss Richardson, when they are
sufficiently honest to say the truth.
The
most fanatical apostles of auricular confession cannot deny that the
examination of conscience, which must precede confession, is a most difficult
task, a task which, instead of filling the mind with peace, fills it with
anxiety and serious fears. Is it then only after confession that they promise
such peace? But they know very well that this promise is also a cruel
deception. . . . . for to make a good confession the penitent has to relate not
only all his bad actions, but all his bad thoughts and desires,
205 their
number and various aggravating circumstances. But have they found
a
single one of their penitents who was certain to have remembered all the
thoughts, the desires, all the criminal aspirations of the poor sinful heart?
They are well aware that to count the thoughts of the mind for days and weeks
gone by, and to narrate those thoughts accurately at a subsequent period,
are
just as easy as to weigh and count the clouds which have passed over the sun in
a three days' storm, a month after that storm is over. It is simply
impossible—absurd! This has never been, this will never be done. But there
is
no possible peace so long as the penitent is not sure that he has
remembered, counted, and confessed every past sinful thought, word and deed. It
is, then, impossible, yes! it is morally and physically impossible for a
soul
to
find peace through auricular confession. If the law which says to every sinner:
"You are bound, under pain of eternal damnation, to remember all your bad
thoughts and confess them to the best of your memory," were not so
evidently a satanic invention, it ought to be put among the most infamous ideas
which have ever come out of the brain of fallen man. For who can remember and
count the thoughts of a week, of a day, nay, of an hour of this sinful life?
206 Where is the traveler
who has crossed the swampy forests of America,
in
the three months of warm weather, who could tell the number of mosquitoes which
have bitten him and drawn the blood from the veins? What should that traveler
think of the man who, seriously, would tell him "You must prepare yourself
to die, if you do not tell me, to the best of your memory, how many times you
have been bitten by the mosquitoes the last three summer months, when you
crossed the swampy lands along the shores of the Mississippi and Missouri
rivers?" Would he not suspect that his merciless inquirer had escaped from
a lunatic asylum?
But
it would be much more easy for that traveler to say how many times he has
suffered from the bitings of the mosquitoes, than for the poor sinner to count
the bad thoughts which have passed through his sinful heart, through any period
of his life.
Though
the penitent is told that he must confess his thoughts only according
to
his best recollection, he will never, never know if he has done
his best efforts to remember everything: he will constantly fear lest he
has not done his best to count and confess them correctly.
Every
honest priest, if he speak the truth, will at once, admit that his most
intelligent and pious penitents, particularly among women, are constantly
tortured by the fear of having omitted to confess some sinful deeds or
thoughts.
207 Many
of them, after having already made several general confessions,
are
constantly urged by the pricking of their conscience, to begin afresh,
in
the fear that their first confessions had some serious defects. Those past
confessions, instead of being a source of spiritual joy and peace, are, on the
contrary, like so many Damocle's swords, day and night suspended over their
heads, filling their souls with the terrors of an eternal death. Sometimes,
the
terror-stricken consciences of those honest and pious women tell them that they
were not sufficiently contrite; at another time, they reproach them for not
having spoken sufficiently plain, on some things fitter to make them blush.
On
many occasions, too, it has happened that sins which one confessor had declared
to be venial, and which had long ceased to be confessed, another more
scrupulous than the first, would declare to be damnable. Every confessor, thus
knows well that he proffers what is flagrantly false, every time he dismisses
his penitents after confession, with the salutation: "Go in peace,
thy
sins are forgiven thee."
But
it is a mistake to say that the soul does not find peace in auricular
confession; in many cases, peace is found. And if the reader desires to learn
208 something
of that peace, let him go to the graveyard, open the tombs,
and
peep into the sepulchres. What awful silence! What profound quiet! What
terrible and frightful peace! You hear not even the motion of the worms that
creep in, and the worms that creep out, as they feast upon the dead carcass.
Such is the peace of the confessional! The soul, the intelligence, the honor,
the
self-respect, the conscience, are, there, sacrificed. There, they must die!
Yes, the confessional is the very tomb of human conscience, a sepulchre
of
human honesty, dignity, and liberty; the graveyard of the human soul!
By
its means, man, whom God hath made in his own image, is converted into the
likeness of the beast that perishes; women, created by God to be the glory and
helpmate of man, is transformed into the vile and trembling slave of the
priest. In the confessional, man and woman attain to the highest degree of Popish
perfection; they become as dry sticks, as dead branches, as silent corpses
in
the hands of their confessors. Their spirits are destroyed,
their
consciences are stiff, their souls are ruined.
This
is the supreme and perfect result achieved, in its highest victories,
by
the Church of Rome.
There
is, verily, peace to be found in auricular confession—yes, but it is the peace
of the grave!
CHAPTER IX.
THE DOGMA OF
AURICULAR CONFESSION A SACRILEGIOUS IMPOSTURE.
BOTH
Roman Catholics and Protestants have fallen into very strange errors
in
reference to the words of Christ: "Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are
remitted unto them; and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are
retained."
(St. John xx. 23.)
The
first have seen in this text the inalienable attributes of God of forgiving and
retaining sins transferred to sinful men; the second have most unwisely granted
their position, even while attempting to refute their errors.
A
little more attention to the translation of the 3d
and 6th verses of chapter xiii. of Leviticus by
the Septuagint would have prevented the former from falling into their
sacrilegious errors, and would have saved the latter from wasting so much time
in refuting errors which refute themselves.
Many
believe that the Septuagint Bible was the Bible that was generally read and
used by Jesus
210 Christ
and the Hebrew people in our Saviour's days. Its language was possibly the one
spoken at times by Christ and understood by his hearers.
When addressing his apostles and disciples on
their duties towards the spiritual lepers to whom they were to preach the ways
of salvation,
Christ
constantly followed the very expression of the Septuagint. It was the
foundation of his doctrine and the testimonial of his divine mission to which
he
constantly appealed: the book which was the greatest treasure of the nation.
From
the beginning to the end of the Old and the New Testaments, the bodily leprosy,
with which the Jewish priest had to deal, is presented as the figure of the
spiritual leprosy, sin, the penalty of which our Saviour had taken upon
himself, that we might be saved by his death. That spiritual leprosy was the
very thing for the cleansing of which he had come to this world—for which he
lived, suffered, and died. Yes, the bodily leprosy with which the priests of
the Jews had to deal, was the figure of the sins which Christ was to take away
by shedding his blood, and with which his disciples were to deal till the end
of the world.
When
speaking of the duties of the Hebrew priests towards the leper,
our
modern translations say: (Lev. xiii. v. 6,)
211 "They
will pronounce him clean." or (v. 3)
"They will pronounce him unclean."
But
this action of the priests was expressed in a very different way by the
Septuagint Bible, used by Christ and the people of his time. Instead of saying,
"The priest shall pronounce the leper clean," as we read in our
Bible, the Septuagint version says, "The priest shall clean (katharei),
or shall unclean (mianei) the leper."
No
one had ever been so foolish, among the Jews, as to believe that because their
Bible said clean (katharei), their priests had the miraculous and
supernatural power of taking away and curing the leprosy: and we nowhere see
that the Jewish priests ever had the audacity to try to persuade the people
that they had ever received any supernatural and divine power to
"cleanse" the leprosy, because their God, through the Bible, had said
of them: "They will cleanse the leper." Both priest and people were
sufficiently intelligent and honest to understand and acknowledge that, by that
expression, it was only meant that the priest had the legal right to see if the
leprosy was gone or not, they had only to look at certain marks indicated by
God himself, through Moses, to know whether or not God had cured the leper before
he presented himself to his priest. The leper, cured by the mercy and power of
God alone,
212 before
presenting himself to the priest, was only declared to be clean by that priest.
Thus the priest was said, by the Bible, to "clean" the leper, or the
leprosy;—and in the opposite case to "unclean."
(Septuagint, Leviticus xiii. v. 3, 6.)
Now,
let us put what God has said, through Moses, to the priests of the old law, in
reference to the bodily leprosy, face to face with what God has said, through
his Son Jesus, to his apostles and his whole church, in reference to the
spiritual leprosy from which Christ has delivered us on the cross.
Septuagint Bible, Levit. xiii.
"And
the Priest shall look on the plague, in the skin of the flesh, and when the
hair in the plague is turned white, and the plague in sight be deeper than the
skin of his flesh, it is a plague of leprosy; and the priest shall look on him
and UNCLEAN HIM (mianei)
"And
the Priest shall look on him again the seventh day, and if the plague is somewhat
dark and does not spread on the skin, the Priest shall CLEAN HIM (katharei):
and he shall wash his clothes and BE CLEAN" (katharos).
New Testament, John xx. 23.
"Whosesoever
sins ye remit, they are remitted unto. them; and whosesoever sins ye retain they
are retained."
213 The
analogy of the diseases with which the Hebrew priests and the disciples of
Christ had to deal, is striking: so the analogy of the expressions prescribing
their respective duties is also striking.
When
God said to the priests of the Old Law, "You shall clean the leper,"
and
he shall be "cleaned," or "you shall unclean the leper,"
and he shall be "uncleaned," he only gave the legal power to see if
there were any signs
or
indications by which they could say that God had cured the leper before
he
presented himself to the priest. So, when Christ said to his apostles and his
whole church, "Whosesover sins ye shall forgive, shall be forgiven unto
them," he only gave them the authority to say when the spiritual lepers,
the sinners, had reconciled themselves to God, and received their pardon from
him and him alone, previous to the coming to the apostles.
It
is true that the priests of the Old Law had regulations from God, through
Moses, which they had to follow, by which they could see and say whether
or
not the leprosy was gone.
If
the plague spread not on the skin. . . . . the priest shall clean him. . . . .
but if the priest see that the scab spread on the skin, it is leprosy: he shall
"unclean" him. (Septuagint, Levit. xiii. 3,
6.)
Should
any be convinced that Christ spoke the
214 Hebrew
of that day and not the Greek, and used the Old Testament in Hebrew, we have
only to say that the Hebrew is precisely the same as the Greek—the priest is
said to clean or unclean as the case may be, precisely as in the
Septuagint.
So
Christ had given to his apostles and his whole church equally, infallible rules
and marks to determine whether or not the spiritual leprosy was gone, that they
might clean the leper and tell him,
I
clean thee, I forgive thy sins,
or
or I unclean thee I retain thy sins.
I
would have, indeed, many passages of the Old and New Testaments to copy, were
it my intention to reproduce all the marks given by God himself, through his
prophets, or by Christ and apostles, that his ambassadors might know when they
should say to the sinner that he was delivered from his iniquities. I will give
only a few.
First:
"And he said unto them, go ye into all the world and preach the gospel
to
every creature:
"He
that believeth and is baptised, shall be saved: but he that believeth not shall
be damned. (Mark xvi. 15, 16.)
What
a strange want of memory in the Saviour of the World! He has entirely forgotten
that "auricular confession," besides faith and baptism are necessary
to be saved!
215 To those who believe and
are baptised, the apostles and the church are authorized by Christ to say:
"You
are saved! your sins are forgiven: I clean you!"
Second:
"And when ye come into a house, salute it.
"And
if the house be worthy, let your peace come upon it: but if it be not worthy,
let your peace return to you.
"And
whosoever shall not receive you nor hear your words, when ye depart out of that
house or city, shake off the dust of your feet.
"Verily,
verily I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and
Gomorrah, in the day of Judgment, than for that city." (Matt. X. 12-15.)
Here,
again, the Great Physician tells his disciples when the leprosy will be gone,
the sins forgiven, the sinner purified. It is when the lepers, the sinners, will
have welcomed his messengers, heard and received their message. Not a word
about auricular confession: this great panacea of the Pope was evidently
ignored by Christ.
Third:
"If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly father will also
forgive you,—but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your
Father forgive your trespasses. "(Matt. vi.
14,15.)
216 Was it possible to give
a more striking and simple rule to the apostles and the disciples that they
might know when they could say to a sinner: "Thy sins are forgiven!"
or, "thy sins are retained?" Here the double keys of heaven are most
solemnly and publicly given to every child of Adam! As sure as there
is
a God in heaven and that Jesus died to save sinners, so it is sure that if one
forgives the trespasses of his neighbor for the dear Saviour's sake, believing
in him, his own sins have been forgiven! To the end of the world, then, let the
disciples of Christ say to the sinner, "Thy sins are forgiven," not
because you have confessed your sins to me, but for Christ's sake; the evidence
of which
is
that you have forgiven those who had offended you.
Fourth:
"And behold, a certain one stood up and tempted him, saying: Master, what
shall I do to inherit eternal life?
"He
said unto him: What is written in the law? how readest thou?
"And
he, answering, said: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and
with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy
neighbor as thyself.
"And
he said unto him: Thou hast answered right; this do and thou shalt live." (Luke x. 25- 28.)
217 What
a fine opportunity for the Saviour to speak of "auricular confession"
as a means given by him to be saved! But here
again Christ forgets that marvellous medicine of the Popes. Jesus, speaking
absolutely like the Protestants, bids his messengers to proclaim pardon,
forgiveness of sins,
not
to those who confess their sins to a man, but to those who love God and their
neighbor. And so will his true disciples and messengers do to the end
of
the world!
Fifth:
"And when he (the prodigal son) came to himself, he said: I will arise and
go to my father, and I will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven
and before thee: and I am not worthy to be called thy son: make me as one
of
thy hired servants.
"And
be arose and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off,
his
father saw him and had compassion, and ran, and he fell on his neck and kissed
him.
"And
the son said, Father, I have sinned against Heaven and in thy sight,
and
am not worthy to be called thy son.
"But
the father said to his servants: Bring forth the best robe,
and
put it on him: put a ring on his hand and shoes on his feet, and bring hither
the fatted calf. For this my son was dead, and he is alive again,
218 he was lost and he is
found." (Luke xv. 17-24.)
Apostles
and disciples of Christ, wherever you will hear, on this land of sin and
misery, the cry of the Prodigal Son: "I will arise and go to my
Father," every time you see him, not at your feet, but at the feet of his
true Father, crying, "Father, I have sinned against thee," unite your
hymns of joy to the joyful songs of the angels of God; repeat into the ears of
that redeemed sinner
the
sentence just fallen from the lips of the Lamb, whose blood cleanses
us
from all our sins; say to him, "Thy sins are forgiven."
Sixth:
"Come unto me all ye who labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart,
and ye shall find rest unto your souls; for my yoke is easy and my burden
is
light." (Matt. xi. 28-30.)
Though
these words were pronounced more than 1800 years ago, they were pronounced this
very morning: they come at every hour of day and night from the lips and the
heart of Christ to everyone of us sinners. It is just now that Jesus says to
every sinner, " Come to me and I will give ye rest." Christ has never
said and he will never say to any sinner,
219 "Go
to my priests and they will give you rest." But he has said, "Come to
me, and I will give you rest."
Let
the apostles and disciples of the Saviour, then, proclaim peace, pardon,
and
rest, not to the sinners who come to confess to them all their sins,
but
to those who go to Christ, and him alone, for peace, pardon and rest.
For
"Come to me," from Jesus' lips, has never meant—it will never mean—
"Go
and confess to the priests."
Christ
would never have said: "My yoke is easy and my burden light " if he
had instituted auricular confession. For the world has never seen a yoke so
heavy, humiliating, and degrading, as auricular confession.
Seventh:
"As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of
Man be lifted up; that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,
but
have eternal life." (John iii. 14.)
Did
Almighty God require any auricular confession in the wilderness,
from
the sinners, when he ordered Moses to lift up the serpent? No! Neither did
Christ speak of auricular confession as a condition of salvation to those who
look to Him when He dies on the Cross to pay their debts. A free pardon was
offered to the Israelites who looked to the uplifted serpent.A free pardon is
offered by Christ crucified to all those who look to Him with faith,
repentance, and love.
220 To
such sinners the ministers of Christ, to the end of the world,
are
authorized to say: "Your sins are forgiven "we clean your
leprosy."
Eighth:
"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son,
that
whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have eternal life.
"For
God sent not his Son to condemn the world, but that the world, through him,
might be saved.
"He
that believeth in him is not condemned; but he that believeth not
is
condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only
begotten Son of God.
"And
this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved
darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that
doeth evil, hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds
should be reproved.
"But
he that doeth truth, cometh to the light, that his deeds may be manifest, that
they are wrought in God." (John iii. 16-21.)
In
the religion of Rome, it is only through auricular confession that the sinner
can be reconciled to God; it is only after he has beard a most detailed
confession of all the thoughts,
221 desires,
and actions of the guilty one that he can tell him: "Thy sins are
forgiven." But in the religion of the Gospel, the reconciliation of the
sinner with his God is absolutely and entirely the work of Christ. That
marvellous forgiveness is a free gift offered not for any outward act of the
sinner: nothing is required from him but faith, repentance, and love. These are
marks by which the leprosy is known to be cured and the sins forgiven. To all
those who have these marks, the ambassadors of Christ are authorized to say,
Your
sins are forgiven," we clean" you.
Ninth:
The publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes
to
heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying: " God! be merciful to me a
sinner!
"I
tell you, this man went down to his house justified." (Lake xviii. 13-14.) Yes! justified! and without
auricular confession!
Ministers
and disciples of Christ, when you see the repenting sinner smiting
his
breast and crying: "Oh, God, have mercy upon me, a sinner!" shut your
ears to the deceptive words of Rome, or its ugly tail the Ritualists, who tell
you
to
force that redeemed sinner to make to you a special confession of all his sins
to get his pardon. But go to him and deliver the message of love,
222 peace,
and mercy, which you received from Christ: "Thy sins are forgiven!
I
'clean' thee!"
Tenth:
"And one of the malefactors which were hanged, railed on him, saying: If
thou be Christ save thyself and us.
"But
the other, answering, rebuked him, saying: Dost thou not fear God, seeing thou
art in the same condemnation?
"And
we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath
done nothing amiss.
"And
he said unto Jesus: Remember me when thou comest into thy Kingdom. And Jesus
said unto him: Verily I say unto thee, to-day, shalt thou be with me in
Paradise. (Luke xxiii. 39-43.)
Yes,
in the Paradise or Kingdom of Christ, without auricular confession! From
Calvary, when his hands are nailed to the cross, and his blood is poured out,
Christ protests against the great imposture of auricular confession. Jesus will
be, to the end of the world, what he was, there, on the cross: the sinner's
friend; always ready to hear and pardon those who invoke his name
and
trust in him.
Disciples
of the gospel, wherever you hear the cry of the repenting sinner
to
the crucified Saviour:
223 "Remember me when thou comest to thy
Kingdom," go and give the assurance to that penitent and redeemed child of
Adam, that "his sins are forgiven:"—"clean the leper."
Eleventh:
"Let the wicked forsake his ways, and the unrighteous man his thoughts:
and let him return to the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him;
and
to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." (Isa.
lv. 7, 8.)
"Wash
you and make you clean, put away the evils of your doings from before mine
eyes: cease to do evil, learn to do well; seek judgment,
relieve
the oppressed; judge the fatherless, and plead for the widow.
"Come
now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins
be
as scarlet, they will be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson;
they shall be as wool." (Isa. i, 16-18.)
Here
are the landmarks of the mercy of God, put by his own Almighty hands! Who will
dare to remove them in order to put others in their place?
Has
ever Christ touched these landmarks? Has he ever intimated that anything but
faith, repentance, and love, with their blessed fruits, were required from the
sinned to secure his pardon? No-never.
Have
the prophets of the Old Testament or the apostles of the New,
ever
said a word about "auricular confession,"
224 as
a condition for pardon? No—never.
What
does David say? "I confess my sins unto thee, and mine iniquity have
I
not hid. I said, I will confess my transgression unto the Lord, and thou
forgavest the iniquity of my sin." (Psalm xxxii.
5.)
What
does the apostle John say? "If we say that we have fellowship with him,
and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth.
"But
if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one
another, and the blood of Jesus Christ, his son, cleanseth us from sin;
"If
we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.
"If
we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive our sins, and to cleanse
us from all unrighteousness." (1 John i. 6-9.)
This
is the language of the prophets and apostles. This is the language of the Old
and the New Testament. It is to God and him alone that the sinner
is
requested to confess his sins. It is from God and him alone that he can expect
his pardon.
The
apostle Paul writes fifteen epistles, in which he speaks of all the duties
imposed upon human conscience by the laws of God and the prescriptions
of the Gospel of Christ.
225 A
thousand times he speaks to sinners, and tells them how they may
be
reconciled to God. But does he say a word about auricular confession?
No—not
one!
The
apostles Peter, John, Jude, address six letters to the different churches, in
which they state, with the greatest detail, what the different classes
of
sinners have to do to be saved. But again, not a single word comes from them
about auricular confession.
St.
James says: "Confess your faults one to another." But this is so
evidently the repetition of what the Saviour had said about the way of
reconciliation between those who had offended one another, and it is so far
from the dogma of a secret confession to the priest that the most zealous
supporters
of
auricular confession have not dared to mention that text in favor of their
modern invention.
But
if we look in vain in the Old and New Testaments for a word in favor
of
auricular confession as a dogma, will it be possible to find that dogma
in
the records of the first thousand years of Christianity? No! for the more one
studies the records of the Christian Church during those first ten centuries,
the more he will be convinced that auricular confession
is
a miserable imposture of the darkest days of the world and the church.
century, by one of the early fathers of the
church.
226 But
not a word is said in it of his confessing his sins to anyone,
though
a thousand things are said of him which are of a far less interesting
character.*
*
[This version lacks some words.—Ed. Another version adds the following:
And
so is it with the lives of several of the early fathers of the church.
Not
a word is said of their confessing their sins to anyone, though a thousand
things are said of him which are of a far less interesting character.—Ed.]
So
it is with the life of St. Mary, the Egyptian. The minute history of her life,
her public scandals, her conversion, long prayers and fastings in solitude,
the
detailed history of her last days and of her death, all these we have;
but
not a single word is said of her confessing to anyone. It is evident that
she
lived and died without ever having thought of going to confess.
The
deacon Pontius wrote also the life of St. Cyprian, who lived in the third
century; but he does not say a word of his ever having gone to confession,
or
having heard the confession of anyone. More than that, we learn from this
reliable historian that Cyprian was excommunicated by the Pope of Rome, called
Stephen, and that he died without having ever asked from anyone absolution from
that excommunication; a thing which has not seemingly prevented him from going
to Heaven, since the infallible Popes of Rome, who succeeded Stephen, have
assured us that be is a saint.
Gregory
of Nyssa has given us the life of St. Gregory, of Neo-Caesarea,
of
the third century, and of St. Basil, of the fourth century.
227 But
neither speak of their having gone to confess, or having heard the secret and
auricular confession of anyone. It is thus evident that those two great and
good men, with all the Christians of their times, lived and died without ever
knowing anything about the dogma of auricular confession.
We
have the interesting life of St. Ambrose, of the fourth century, by Paulinus;
and from that book it is evident, as two and two make four, that St. Ambrose
never went to confess.
The
history of St. Martin, of Tours, of the fourth century, by Severus Sulpicius,
of the fifth century, is another monument left by antiquity to prove that there
was no dogma of auricular confession in those days; for St. Martin has
evidently lived and died without ever going to confess.
Pallas
and Theoderet have left us the history of the life, sufferings, and death of
St. Cbrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople, who died at the beginning
of
the fifth century, and both are absolutely mute about that dogma.
No
fact is more evident, by what they say, than that holy and eloquent bishop
lived and died also without ever thinking of going to confess.
No
man has ever more perfectly entered into the details of a Christian life, when
writing on that subject,
228 than
the learned and eloquent St. Jerome, of the fifth century. Many of his
admirable letters are written to the priests of his day, and to several
Christian ladies and virgins, who had requested him to give them some good
advice about the best way to lead a Christian life. His letters, which form
five volumes, are most interesting monuments of the manners, habits, views,
morality, practical and dogmatical faith of the first centuries of the church;
they are a most unanswerable evidence that auricular confession, as a dogma, had
then
no
existence, and is quite a modern invention. Would it be possible that Jerome
had forgotten to give some advices or rules about auricular confession,
to
the priests of his time who asked his council about the best way to fulfil
their ministerial duties, if it had been one of their duties to hear the
confessions of the people? But we challenge the most devoted modern priest of
Rome to find a single line in all the letters of St. Jerome in favor
of
auricular confession. In his admirable letter to the Priest Nepotianus,
on
the life of priests, vol. II., p. 203, when speaking of the relations, of
priests with women, he says: "Solus cum sola, secreto et absque arbitrio,
vel teste,
non
sedeas. Si familiarius est aliquid loquendum, habet nutricem. majorem domus,
virginem, viduam, vel mari tatam;
229 non
est tam inhumana ut nullum praeter te habeat cui se audeat credere."
"Never
sit in secret, alone, in a retired place, with a female who is alone with you.
If she has any particular thing to tell you, let her take the female attendant
of the house, a young girl, a widow, or a married woman. She cannot be so
ignorant of the rules of human life as to expect to have you as the only one to
whom she can trust those things."
It
would be easy to cite a great number of other remarkable passages where Jerome
showed himself the most determined and implacable opponent of those secret tete-a-tete
between a priest and a female, which, under the plausible pretext of mutual
advice and spiritual consolation, are generally nothing but bottomless pits of
infamy and perdition for both. But this is enough.
We
have also the admirable life of St. Paulina, written by St. Jerome.
And,
though in it, he gives us every imaginable detail of her life when young,
married, and widow; though he tells us even how her bed was composed of the
simplest and rudest materials; he has not a word about her ever having gone
to confess. Jerome speaks of the
acquaintances of St. Paulina, and gives their names; he enters into the
minutest details of her long voyages,
230 her
charities, her foundations of monasteries for men and women,
her temptations, human frailties, heroic
virtues, her macerations, and her holy death; but he has not a word to say
about the frequent or oracular confessions of St. Paulina; not a word about her
wisdom in the choice of a prudent and holy (?) confessor.
He
tells us that after her death, her body was carried to her grave on the
shoulders of bishops and priests, as a token of their profound respect for the
saint. But he never says that any of those priests sat there, in a dark corner
with her, and forced her to reveal to their ears the secret history of all the
thoughts, desires, and human frailties of her long and eventful life. Jerome
is
an unimpeachable witness that his saintly and noble friend, St. Paulina, lived
and died without having ever thought of going to confess.
Possidius
has left us the interesting life of St. Augustine, of the fifth century; and,
again, it is in vain that we look for the place and time when that celebrated
Bishop of Hippo went to confess, or heard the secret confessions of his people.
More than that, St. Augustine has written a most admirable book called:
"Confessions," in which he gives us the history of his life.
231
With that marvellous book in hand we follow him step by step, wherever
be
goes; we attend with him those celebrated schools, where his faith and morality
were so sadly wrecked; he takes us with him into the garden where, wavering
between heaven and hell, bathed in tears, he goes under the fig-tree and cries
"Oh Lord! how long will I remain in my iniquities!" Our soul thrills
with emotions, with his soul, when we hear with him, the sweet and mysterious
voice: "Tolle! lege!" take and read. We run with him to the place
where he has left his gospel book; with a trembling hand, we open it and we
read:
"Let
us walk honestly as in the day... put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ.
(Rom. xiii. 13, 14.)
That
incomparable book of St. Augustine makes us weep and shout with joy with him;
it initiates us into all his most secret actions, to all his sorrows,
anxieties, and joys; it reveals and unveils his whole life. It tells us where
he
goes, with whom he sins, and with whom he praises God; it makes us pray, sing,
and bless the Lord with him. Is it possible that Augustine could have been to
confess without telling us when, where, and to whom he made that auricular
confession? Could he have received the absolution and pardon of his sins from
his confessor, without making us partakers
232 of
his joys, and requesting us to bless that confessor with him?
But
it is in vain that you look in that book for a single word about auricular
confession. That book is an unimpeachable witness that both Augustine and his
saintly mother, Monica, whom it mentions so often, lived and died without ever
having been to confess. That book may be called the most crushing evidence
to
prove that "the dogma of auricular confession" is a modern imposture.
From
the beginning to the end of that book, we see that Augustine believed and said
that God alone could forgive the sins of men, and that it was to him alone that
men had to confess in order to be pardoned. If he writes his confession, it is
only that the world might know how God had been merciful to him, and that they
might help him to praise and bless his merciful heavenly father. In the tenth
book of his Confessions, Chapter III., Augustine protests against the idea that
men could do anything to cure the spiritual leper, or forgive the sins of their
fellow-men; here is his eloquent protest: "Quid mihi ergo est cum
hominibus ut audiant confessiones, meas, quasi ipsi sanaturi Sint languores
meas? Curiosum genus ad cognescendam vitam alienam; desidiosum ad
corrigendam."
233 "What
have I to do with men that they should hear my confessions, as if they were
able to heal my infirmities? The human race is very curious to know another
person's life, but very lazy to correct it."
Before
Augustine had built up that sublime and imperishable monument against auricular
confession, St. John Chrysostom had raised his eloquent voice against it in his
homily on the 50th Psalm, where, speaking in the name of the church, he said:
"We do not request you to go to confess your sins to any of your
fellow-men, but only to God!
Nestorius,
of the fourth century, the predecessor of John Chrysostom,
had,
by a public defence, which the best Roman Catholic historians have had
to
acknowledge, solemnly forbidden the practice of auricular confession. For, just
as there has always been thieves, drunkards, and malefactors in the world, so
there has always been men and women who, under the pretext of opening their
minds to each other for mutual comfort and edification, were giving themselves
to every kind of iniquity and lust. The celebrated Chrysostom was only giving
the sanction of his authority to what his predecessor had done, when,
thundering against the newly-born monster, he said to the Christians
of
his time, "We do not ask you to go and confess
234 your
iniquities to a sinful man for pardon—but only to God."
(Homily
on 50th Psalm.)
Auricular
confession originated with the early heretics, especially with Marcion.
Bellarmin speaks of it as something to be practiced. But let us hear what the
contemporary writers have to say on the question.
"Certain
women were in the habit of going to the heretic Marcion to confess their sins
to him. But, as he was smitten with their beauty, and they loved him also, they
abandoned themselves to sin with him."
Listen
now to what St. Basil in his commentary on Ps. xxxvii,
says of confession:
"I
have not come before the world to make a confession with my lips. But I close
my eyes, and confess my sins in the secret of my heart. Before thee,
O
God, I pour out my sighs, and thou alone art the witness. My groans are within
my soul. There is no need of many words to confess: sorrow and regret are the
best confession. Yes, the lamentations of the soul, which thou art pleased to
hear, are the best confession."
Chrysostom,
in his homily, De Paenitentia, vol. IV., col. 901, has the following: "You
need no witnesses of your confession. Secretly acknowledge your sins, and let
God alone bear you."
235 In
his homily V., De incomprehensibili Dei natura, vol. I., he says:
"Therefore, I beseech you, always confess your sins to God! I, in no way,
ask you to confess them to me. To God alone should you expose the wounds of
your soul, and from him alone expect the cure. Go to him, then, and you shall
not be cast off,
but
healed. For, before you utter a single word, God knows your prayer."
In
his commentary on Heb. XII., hom. XXXI., vol. XII., p. 289, he further says:
"Let us not be content with calling ourselves sinners. But let us examine
and number our sins. And then I do not tell you to go and confess them,
according to the caprice of some; but I will say to you, with the prophet:
'Confess your sins before God, acknowledge your iniquities at the feet of your
Judge; pray in your heart and your mind, if not with your tongue, and you shall
be pardoned.'"
In
his homily on. Ps. I., vol. V., p. 589, the same
Chrysostom says: "Confess your sins every day in prayer. Why should you
hesitate to do so? I do not tell you
to
go and confess to a man, sinner as you are, and who might despise you
if
he knew your faults. But confess them to God, who can forgive them to
you."In his admirable homily IV., De Lazaro, vol. I., p. 757, he exclaims:
236 "Why, tell me,
should you be ashamed to confess your sins? Do we compel you to reveal them to
a man, who might, one day, throw them into your face? Are you commanded to
confess them to one of your equals, who could publish them and ruin you? What
we ask of you is simply to show the sores of your soul to your Lord and Master,
who is also your friend, your guardian, and physician."
In
a small work of Chrysostom's, entitled, "Catechesis ad illuminandos,"
vol. II., p. 210, we read these remarkable
words: "What we should most admire is not that God forgives our sins, but
that he does not disclose them to anyone, nor wishes us to do so. What he
demands of us is to confess our transgressions to him alone to obtain
pardon."
St.
Augustine, in his beautiful homily on the 31st Ps.,
says: "I shall confess
my
sins to God, and He will pardon all my iniquities. And such confession is not
made with the lips, but with the heart only. I had hardly opened my mouth to
confess my sins when they were pardoned, for God had already heard the voice of
my heart."
In
the edition of the Fathers by Migne, vol. 67, pp. 614, 615, we read:
"About
the year 390, the office of penitentiary was abolished in the church
in
consequence of a great scandal given by a woman
237 who
publicly accused herself of having committed a crime against chastity with a
deacon."
I
know that the advocates of auricular confession present to their silly dupes
several passages of the Holy Fathers, where it is said that sinners were going
to that priest or that bishop to confess their sins: but this is a most
dishonest way of presenting that fact—for it is evident to all those who are a
little acquainted with the church history of those times, that these referred
only
to
the public confessions for public transgressions through the office
of
the penitentiary.
The
office of the penitentiary was this:—In every large city, a priest
or
minister was specially appointed to preside over the church meetings where the
members who had committed public sins were obliged to confess them publicly
before the assembly, in order to be reinstated in the privileges
of
their membership: and that minister had the charge of reading
or
pronouncing the sentence of pardon granted by the church to the guilty ones
before they could be admitted again to communion. This was perfectly
in
accordance with what St. Paul had done with regard to the incestuous one
of
Corinth; that scandalous sinner who had cast obloquy on the Christian name, but
who, after confessing and weeping over his sins before the church, obtained his
pardon
238 —not from a priest in
whose ears he had whispered all the details of his incestuous intercourse, but
from the whole church assembled. St. Paul gladly approves the Church of Corinth
in thus absolving, and receiving again in their midst, a wandering but
repenting brother.
When
the Holy Fathers of the first centuries speak of "confession"
they
invariably understand "public confessions" and not auricular
confession.
There
is as much difference between such public confessions and auricular
confessions, as there is between heaven and hell, between God and his great
enemy, Satan.
Public
confession, then, dates from the time of the apostles, and is still practiced
in Protestant churches of our day. But auricular confession was unknown by the
first disciples of Christ; as it is rejected to-day, with horror, by all the
true followers of the Son of God.
Erasmus,
one of the most learned Roman Catholics who opposed the Reformation in the
sixteenth century, so admirably begun by Luther and Calvin, fearlessly and
honestly makes the following declaration in his treatise,
De
Paenitentia, Dis. 5: "This institution of penance [auricular confession]
began rather of some tradition of the Old or New Testament
239 But
our divines, not advisedly considering what the old doctors do say,
are
deceived, that which they say of general and open confession, they wrest, by
and by, to this secret and privy kind of confession."
It
is a public fact, which no learned Roman Catholic has ever denied,
that
auricular confession became a dogma and obligatory practice
of
the church only at the Council of Lateran in the year 1215, under the Pope
Innocent III. Not a single trace of auricular confession, as a dogma,
can
be found before that year.
Thus,
it has taken more than twelve hundred years of efforts for Satan
to
bring out this masterpiece of his inventions to conquer the world
and
destroy the souls of men.
Little
by little, that imposture had crept into the world, just as the shadows
of
a stormy night creep without anyone being able to note the moment when
the
first rays of light gave way before the dark clouds. We know very well when the
sun was shining, we know when it was very dark all over the world; but no one
can tell positively when the first rays of light faded away.
So
saith the Lord: "The kingdom of Heaven is likened unto a man which sowed
good seed in his field.
240"But
while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat and went his
way.
"But
when the blade was sprung up, and brought forth fruit, there appeared the tares
also.
"So
the servants of the householder came and said unto him: Sir, didst not thou sow
good seed in thy field? From whence then hath it tares?
"He
said unto them: An enemy hath done this." (Matt.
xiii. 24-28.)
Yes,
the Good Master tells us that the enemy sowed those tares in his field during
the night when men were sleeping.
But
he does not tell us precisely the hour of the night when the enemy cast
the
tares among the wheat. However, if anyone likes to know how fearfully dark was
the night which covered the "Kingdom," and how cruel, implacable, and
savage was the enemy who sowed the tares, let him read the testimony
of
the most devoted and learned cardinals whom Rome has ever had, Baronius,
Annals, Anno 900: "It is evident that one can scarcely believe what
unworthy, base, execrable, and abominable things the holy Apostolic See, which
is the pivot upon which the whole Catholic Church revolves, was forced to
endure, when princes of the age, though Christians,
241 arrogated
to themselves the election of the Roman Pontiffs. Alas, the shame! alas, the
grief! What monsters, horrible to behold, were then intruded
on
the Holy See! What evils ensued! What tragedies they perpetrated!
With
what pollutions was this See, though itself without spot, then stained! With
what corruptions infected! With what filthiness defiled! And by these things
blackened with perpetual infamy (Baronius, Annals, Anno, 900.)
"Est
plane, ut vix aliquis credat, imino, nee vix quidem sit crediturus, nisi suis
inspiciat ipse oculis, manibusque contractat, quam indigna, quainque turpia
atque deformia, execranda insuper et abominanda sit coacta pati sacrosancta
apostolica sedes, in cujus cardine universa Ecclesia catholica vertitur, cum
principes saeculi hujus, quantumlibet christiani, hac tamen ex parte dicendi
tyrrani saevissini, arrogaverunt sibi, tirannice, electionem Romanorum
pontificum. Quot tune ab eis, proh pudor! pro dolor! in eamdem sedem, angelis
reverandam, visu horrenda intrusa sunt monstra? Quot ex eis oborta sunt mala,
consummatae tragediae! Quibus tunc ipsam sine macula et sine ruga contigit
aspergi sordibus, purtoribus infici, in quinati spurcitiis, ex hisque perpetua
infamia denigrari!''
CHAPTER X.
GOD COMPELS
THE CHURCH OF ROME TO CONFESS
THE
ABOMINATIONS OF AURICULAR CONFESSION.
THE
Priests of Rome resort to various means in order to deceive the people
on
the immorality resulting from auricular confession. One of their favorite
stratagems is to quote some disconnected passages from theologians,
recommending caution on the part of the priest, in questioning his penitents
on
delicate subjects, should he see or apprehend any danger for the latter
of
being shocked by his questions. True, there are such prudent theologians, who
seem to realize more than others the real danger of the priest in confession.
But those wise counselors resemble very much a father who would allow his child
to put his fingers in the fire, while advising him to be cautious lest he
should burn those fingers. There is just as much wisdom in the one case as
there would be in the other. What would you say of a brutal parent casting
a
young, weak and inexperienced boy among
243 wild
beasts, with the foolish and cruel expectation that his prudence might save him
from injury?
Such
theologians may be perfectly honest in giving such advice,
although
it is anything but wise or reasonable. But those are far from being honest or
true who contend that the Church of Rome, in commanding everyone to confess all
his sins to the priests, has made an exception in favor of sins against
chastity. This is only so much dust thrown in the eyes of Protestants and
ignorant people, to prevent them from seeing through the frightful mysteries of
confession.
When
the Council of Lateran decided that every adult, of either sex, should confess
all their sins to a priest, at least once a year, there was no exceptions made
for any special class of sins, not even for those committed against modesty or
purity. And when the Council of Trent ratified or renewed
the
previous decision, no exception was made, either, of the sins in question. They
were expected and ordered to be confessed, as all other sins.
The
law of both Councils is still unrepealed and binding for all sins, without any
exception. It is imperative, absolute; and every good Catholic, man or woman,
must submit to it by confessing all his or her sins, at least once a year.
I
have in my hand Butler's Catechism, approved by several bishops of Quebec.
244 On
page 62, it reads, "that all penitents
should examine themselves
on
the capital sins, and confess them all, without exception, under penalty
of
eternal damnation."
The
celebrated controversial catechism of Rd. Stephen Keenan, approved
by
all the bishops of Ireland, positively says (page 186): "The penitent must
confess all his sins."
Therefore,
the young and timid girl, the chaste and modest woman, must think of shameful
deeds and fill their minds with impure ideas, in order to confess to an
unmarried man whatever they may be guilty of, however repugnant may
be
to them such confession, or dangerous to the priest who is bound to hear and
even demand it. No one is exempt from the loathsome, and often polluting task.
Both priest and penitent are required and compelled to go through
the
fiery ordeal of contamination and shame. They are bound, on every particular,
the one to ask, and the other to answer, under penalty of eternal damnation. Such
is the rigorous, inflexible law of the Church of Rome with regard to
confession. It is taught not only in works of theology or from the pulpit, but
in prayer-books and various other religious publications.
It
is so deeply impressed in the minds of Romanists as to have become a part of
their religion.
245 Such
is the law which the priest himself has to obey, and which puts
his
penitents at his own discretion.
But
there are husbands with a jealous disposition, who would little fancy
the
idea of bachelors confessing their wives, if they knew exactly what questions
they have to answer in confession. There are fathers and mothers who don't like
much to see their daughters alone with a man, behind a curtain, and who would
certainly tremble for their honor and virtue if they knew all the abominable
mysteries of confession. It is necessary, therefore, to keep these people, as
much as possible, in ignorance, and prevent light from reaching that empire of
darkness, the confessional. In that view, confessors are advised
to
be cautious "on those matters;" to "broach these questions in a
sort
of
covert way, and with the greatest reserve." For it is very desirable
"not to shock modesty, neither frighten the penitent nor grieve her. Sins,
however, must be confessed."
Such
is the prudent advice given to the confessor on certain occasions.
In
the hands or under the command of Liguori, Father Gury, Scavani, or other
casuists, the priest is a sort of general, sent during the night, to storm
a
citadel or a strong position,
246 Having
for order to operate cautiously, and before daylight. His mission
is
one of darkness and violence, and cruelty; above all, it is a mission
of
supreme cunning, for when the Pope commands, the priest, as his loyal soldier,
must be ready to obey; but always with a mask or blind before him,
to
conceal his object. However, many a time, after the place has been captured by
dint of strategy and secrecy, the poor soldier is left, badly wounded and
completely disabled, on the battle-field. He has paid dearly for his victory;
but
the conquered citadel has also received an injury from which it may never
recover. The crafty priest has gained his point: he has succeeded
in
persuading his lady penitent that there was no impropriety, that it was even
necessary for them to have a parley on things that made her blush a few moments
before. She is soon so well convinced, that she would swear that there is
nothing wrong in confession. Truly this is a fulfillment of the words:
"Abyssus abyssum invocat," an abyss calls for another abyss.
Have
the Romish theologians—Gury, Scavani, Liguori, etc—ever been honest enough, in
their works on confession, to say that the Most Holy God could never command or
require woman to degrade and pollute herself and the priest in pouring into the
ear of a frail and sinful mortal,
words
unfit even for an angel?
247 No;
they were very careful not to say so; for, from that very moment, their
shameless lies would have been exposed; the stupendous, but weak structure
of
auricular confession, would fall to the ground, with sad havoc and ruin
to
its unholders. Men and women would open their eyes, and see its weakness and
fallacy. "If God," they might say, "can forgive our most
grievous sins against modesty, without confessing them, He can and will
certainly do the same with those of less gravity; therefore there is no
necessity or occasion for us to confess to a priest."
But
those shrewd casuists knew too well that, by such frank declaration,
they
would soon lose their bold on Catholic populations, especially on women,
by
whom, through confession, they rule the world. They much prefer to keep their
grip on benighted minds frightened consciences, and trembling souls.
No
wonder, then, that they fully endorse and confirm the decisions of the councils
of Lateran and Trent, ordering "that all sins must be confessed such
as
God knows them." No wonder that they try their best or worst to overcome
the natural repugnance of women for making such confessions, and to conceal the
terrible dangers for the priests in hearing the same.
However,
God, in his infinite mercy, and for the sake of truth,
248 has
compelled the Church of Rome to acknowledge the moral dangers and corrupting
tendencies of auricular confession. In His eternal wisdom, He knew that Roman
Catholics would close their ears to whatever might be said by the disciples of
gospel truth, of the demoralising influence of that institution; that they
would even reply with insult and fallacy to the words of truth kindly addressed
to them, just as the Jews of old returned hatred and insult to the good Saviour
who was bringing them the glad tidings of a free salvation.
He
knew that Romish devotees, led astray by their priests, would call the apostles
of truth, liars, seducers, possessed of the devil, as Christ was constantly
called a demoniac, an impostor, and finally put to death by His false accusers.
That
great God, as compassionate now as He was then, for the poor benighted and
deluded souls, has wrought a real miracle to open the eyes of the Roman
Catholics, and compel them, as it were, to believe us, when we say,
on
His authority, that auricular confession was invented by Satan to ruin both the
priest and his female penitents, for time and eternity. For, what we would
never have dared to say of ourself to the Roman Catholics with regard to what
frequently happens between their priests and their wives and daughters, either
during or after confession,
249 God
has constrained the Church of Rome to acknowledge herself, in revealing things
that would have seemed incredible, had they come simply from our mouth or our
pen. In this, as in other instances, that apostate Church has unwittingly been
the mouth-piece of God for the accomplishment of His great and merciful ends.
Listen
to the questions that the Church of Rome, through her theologians,
puts
to every priest after he has heard the confession of your wives or daughters:
1. "Nonne inter
audiendas confessiones quasdam proposui questiones circa sextum decalogi
preoeceptum cum intentione libidinosa? (Miroir du Clerge, p. 582.)
"While
hearing confessions, have I not asked questions on sins against the sixth
(seventh in the Decalogue) commandment, with the intention of satisfying my
evil passions?"
Such
is the man, O mothers and daughters, to whom you dare to unbosom
the
most secret, as well as the most shameful actions. You kneel down at his feet
and whisper in his ear your most intimate thoughts and desires, and your most
polluting deeds; because your church, by dint of cunning and sophistry, has
succeeded in persuading you that there was no impropriety or danger
in
doing so;
250 that
the man whom you choose for your spiritual guide and confident,
could
never be tempted or tainted by such foul recitals. But that same Church,
through some mysterious providence, is made to acknowledge, in her own books,
her own lies. In spite of herself, she admits that there is real danger
in
confession, both for the woman and for the priest; that willingly
or
otherwise, and sometimes both unawares, they lay for each other dangerous
snares. The Church of Rome, as if she had an evil conscience for allowing
her
priest to hold such close and secret converse with a woman, on such delicate
subjects, keeps, as it were, a watchful eye on him, while the poor misguided
woman is pouring in his ear the filthy burden of her soul; and as soon as she
is off, questions the priest as to the purity of his motives,
the
honesty of his intentions in putting the requisite questions. "Have you
not," she asks him immediately, "under the pretence of helping that
woman in her confession, put to her certain questions simply in order to
gratify your lust,
and
with the object of satisfying your evil propensities?"
2. "Nonne munus
audiendi confessiones suscepi, aut veregi ex prava incontinentioe appettentia (Idem,
p. 582.) "Have I not repaired to the confessional and heard confessions
with the intention of gratifying my evil passions?
251 (Miroir du Clerge, p. 582.)
O
ye women! who tremble like slaves at the feet of the priests, you admire
the
patience and charity of those good (?) priests, who are willing to spend
so
many long and tedious hours in hearing the confession of your secret sins; and
you hardly know how to express your gratitude for so much kindness and charity.
But, hush, listen to the voice of God speaking to the conscience of the priest,
through the Church of Rome!
"Have
you not," she asks him, "heard the confession of women simply to
foster or gratify the grovelling passions of your fallen nature and corrupt
heart?"
Please
notice, it is not I, or the enemies of your religion, who put to your priests
the above questions; it is God Himself, who, in His pity and compassion for
you, compels your own Church to ask such questions; that your eyes
may
be opened, and that you may be rescued from all the dangerous obscenities and
the humiliating and degrading slavery of auricular confession. It is God's will
to deliver you from such bondage and degradation. In His tender mercies He has
provided means to drag you out of that cesspool, called confession;
to
break the chains which bind you to the feet of a miserable and blasphemous
sinner called confessor,
252 who,
under the pretence of being able to pardon your sins, usurps the place of your
Saviour and your God! For while you are whispering your sins in his ear, God
says to him through his Church, in tones loud enough to be heard:
"In
hearing the confession of these women, are you not actuated by lust, spurred by
evil passions?"
Is this not sufficient
to warn you of the danger of auricular confession? Can you now, with any sense
of safety or propriety, come to that priest, for whom your very confession may
be a snare, a cause of fall or fearful temptation? Can you, with a particle of
honor or modesty, willingly expose yourself to the impure desires of your
confessors? Can you, with any sort of womanly dignity, consent to entrust that
man with your inmost thoughts and desires, your most humiliating and secret
actions, when you know from your own Church's lips, that that man may not have
any higher object in listening to your confession than a lustful curiosity, or
a sinful desire of exciting his evil passions?
3. "Nonne ex
auditis in confessione occasionem sumpsi poenitentes utriusque sexus ad
peccandum sollicitandi?" (Idem, p. 582.)
"Have
I not availed myself of what I heard in confession to induce my penitents of
both sexes to commit sin?"
253 I
would run a great risk of being treated with the utmost contempt,
should
I dare to put to your priests such a question. You would very likely call me a
scoundrel, for daring to question the honesty and purity of such holy men. You
would, perhaps, go as far as to contend that it is utterly impossible for them
to be guilty of such sins as are alluded to in the above question; that never
such shameful deeds have been perpetrated through confession. And you would,
maybe, emphatically deny that your confessor has ever said or done anything
that might lead you to sin or even commit any breach of propriety or modesty.
You feel perfectly safe on that score, and see no danger to apprehend. Let me
tell you, good ladies, that you are altogether too confident, and thus you are
kept in the most fatal delusion. Your own Church, through the merciful and
warning voice of God speaking to the conscience of your own theologians, tells
you that there is a real and imminent danger, where you fancy yourself in
perfect security. You may never have suspected the danger,
but
it is there, within the walls of the confessional; nay, more,
it
is lurking in your very hearts, and that of your confessor.
254 He
may hitherto have refrained from tempting you; he may, at least,
have kept within the proper limits of outward
morality or decency. But nothing warrants you that he may not be tempted; and
nothing could shield you from
his
attempts on your virtue, should he give way to temptation, as cases are not
wanting to prove the truth of my assertion. You are sadly mistaken in a false
and dangerous security. You are, although unawares, on the very brink of a
precipice, where so many have fallen through their blind confidence in their
own strength, or their confessor's prudence and sanctity. Your own Church
is
very anxious about your own safety; she trembles for your innocence and purity.
In her fear, she cautions the priest to be watchful over his wicked passions
and human frailty. How dare you pretend to be stronger and more holy than your
confessor is in the mind of your own Church? Why should you
so
wilfully imperil your chastity or modesty? Why expose yourself to danger, when
it could be so easily avoided? How can you be so rash, so devoid
of
common prudence and modesty as to shamelessly put yourselves in a position to
tempt and be tempted, and thereby incur your temporal and eternal perdition?
4. "Nonne extra
tribunal, vel, in ipso confess
255 ionis
actu, aliuqia dixi aut egi cum Intenticne diabolica has personas
seducendi?" (Idem, idem).
"Have
I not, either during or after confession, done or said certain things with a
diabolical intention of seducing my female patients?"
"What
arch enemy of our holy religion is so bold and impious as to put to our saintly
priests such an impudent and insulting question?" may ask some of our
Roman Catholic readers. It is easy to answer. This great enemy of your religion
is no less than a justly offended God, admonishing and reproving your priests
for exposing both you and themselves to dangerous allurements and seductions.
It is His voice speaking to their consciences, and warning them of the danger
and corruption of auricular confession. It says to them: Beware! for ye might
be tempted, as surely you will be, to do or say something against honor and
purity.
Husbands
and fathers! who rightly value the honor of your wives and daughters more than
all treasures, who consider it too precious a boon to be exposed
to
the dangers of pollution, and who would prefer to lose your life a thousand
times, than to see those you love most on earth fall in the snares of the
seducer, read once more and ponder what your Church asks the priest, after he
has heard your wife and daughter in confession:
256 "Have
you not, either during or after confession, done or said something with a
diabolical intention of seducing your female patients?"
If
your priest remains deaf to these words addressed to his conscience,
you
cannot help giving heed to them and understanding their full significance. You
cannot be easy and fear nothing from that priest in those close interviews with
your wives and daughters, when his superiors and your own Church tremble for
him, and question his purity and honesty. They see a great danger for both the
confessor and his penitent; for they know that confession has, many a time,
been the pretence of the cause of the most shameful seductions.
If
there were no real danger for the chastity of women, in confessing to a man
their most secret sins, do you believe that your popes and theologians would be
so stupid as to acknowledge it, and put to confessors questions that would be
most insulting and out of place, should there be no occasion for them?
Is
it not presumption and folly, on your part, to think that there is no danger,
when the Church of Rome tells you, positively, that there is danger, and uses
the strongest terms in expressing her uneasiness and apprehension?
257 Why!
your Church sees the most pressing reasons to fear for the honor of your wives
and daughters, as well as for the chastity of her priests; and still you remain
unconcerned, indifferent to the fearful peril to which they are exposed! Are
you like the Jewish people of old, to whom it was said: "Hear ye indeed,
but understand not; and see ye indeed, but perceive not?" (Isa. vi. 9).
But
if you see or suspect the danger you are warned of; if the eye of your
intelligence can fathom the dreadful abyss where the dearest objects of your
heart are in danger of falling, then it behooves you to keep them from the
paths that lead to the fearful chasm. Do not wait till it is too late, when
they are too near the precipice to be rescued. You may think the danger to be
far off, while it is near at hand. Profit by the sad experience of so many
victims
of
confession who have been irretrievably lost, irrecoverably ruined for time and
eternity. The voice of your conscience, of honor, of God Himself, tells you
that it may soon become too late to save them from destruction, through your
neglect and procrastination. While thanking God for having preserved them from
temptations that have proved fatal to so many married or unmarried women, do
not lose a single moment in taking the necessary means to keep them from
temptation and falls.
258 Instead
of allowing them to go and kneel at the feet of a man to obtain the remission
of their sins, lead them to the dying Saviour's feet, the only place where they
can secure pardon and peace everlasting. And why, after so many unfruitful
attempts, should they try any longer to wash themselves in a puddle, when the
pure waters of eternal life are offered them so freely through Christ Jesus,
their only Saviour and Mediator?
Instead
of seeking their pardon from a poor and miserable sinner, weak and tempted as
they are, let them go to Christ, the only strong and perfect man, the only hope
and salvation of the world.
O
poor deluded Catholic women! listen no longer to the deceiving words of the
Church of Rome, who has no pardon, no peace for you, but only snares;
who
offers you thraldom and shame in return for the confession of your sins! But
listen rather to the invitations of your Saviour, who has died on the cross,
that you might be saved; and who, alone, can give rest to your weary souls.
Hearken
to His words, when He says to you: "Come unto Me, O ye heavily laden,
crushed, as it were, under the burden of your sins, and I shall give you rest.
. . I am the Physician of your souls. . . . .Those who are well have no need of
a physician, but those who are sick. . . . Come, then, to
259 Me,
and ye shall be healed. . . . I have not sent back nor lost any who have come
to Me. . . . invoke My name. . . . believe in Me. . . . repent. . . . love God,
and your neighbor as yourself, and you shall
be saved. . . For all who believe
in
Me and call upon My name, shall be saved. . . .When I am raised up between
heaven and earth, I shall draw every one to Me. . . ."
Oh,
mothers and daughters, instead of going to the priest for pardon and salvation,
go to Jesus, who is so pressingly inviting you! and the more so as you have
more need of divine help and grace. Even, if you are as great a sinner
as
Mary Magdalene, you can, like her, wash the feet of the Saviour with
the
flowing tears of your repentance and your love, and like her, receive the
pardon of your sins.
To
Jesus, then, and to Him alone, go for the confession and pardon of your sins;
for there, only, you can find peace, light, and life for time and eternity!
CHAPTER XI.
AURICULAR
CONFESSION IN AUSTRALIA, AMERICA, AND FRANCE.
WE
hope this chapter will be read with interest and benefit everywhere; it will be
particularly interesting to the people of Australia, America, and France.
Let every one consider with attention its
solemn teachings; they will see how auricular confession is spreading,
broadcast, the seeds of an unspeakable corruption an every side, all over the
world. Let every one see how the enemy is successfully at work, to destroy
every vestige of honesty and purity in the hearts and the minds of the fair
daughters of their countries.
Though
I have been in Australia only a few months, I have a collection
of
authentic and undeniable facts about the destruction of female virtue, through
the confessional, which would fill several large volumes, and would strike the
country with horror, were it possible to publish them all.
But
to keep myself within the limits of a short chapter,.
261
I will give only a few of the most public ones.
Not
long ago, a young Irish lady, belonging to one of the most respectable families
of Ireland, went to confess to a priest of Parramatta. But the questions put to
her in the confessional, were of such a bestial character;
the
efforts made by this priest to persuade his God-fearing and honest young
penitent, to consent to satisfy the infamous desires of his corrupted heart,
caused the young lady to give up, immediately, the Church of Rome, and break
the fetters, by which she had been too long bound to the feet of her would-be
seducers. Let the reader peruse her letter, which I have copied from the Sydney
(Australia) Gazette, of the 28th July, 1839, and they will see
how bravely, and over her own signature, she not only accuses her confessors
of
having most infamously scandalized her by their questions, and tried to destroy
in her the last vestige of female modesty, but she declares that many of her
female friends had acknowledged in her presence, that they had been dealt with
in the very same way, by their father confessors.
As
that young lady was the niece of a well-known Roman Catholic Bishop, and the
near relation of two priests, her public declaration made a profound sensation
in the public mind, and the Roman
262 Catholic
hierarchy keenly felt the blow. The facts were too plainly and bravely given by
that unimpeachable witness to be denied. The only thing to which those haughty
and implacable enemies of all that is true, holy and pure,
in the world, had
recourse to, to defend their tottering power, and keep their mask of honesty,
what they have done in all ages—"murder the honest young girl they had
not been able to silence." A few days after, she was found bathed in
her blood, and cruelly bruised, at a short distance from Parramatta; but by the
good providence of God, the would-be murderers, sent by these priests, had
failed to kill their victim. She recovered from her wounds, and lived many
years more to proclaim before the public, how the priests of Australia, as well
as the priests of the rest of the world, make use of auricular confession to
pollute the hearts, and damn the souls of their penitents.
Here
is the letter of that young, honest, and brave lady:
THE
CONFESSIONAL.
(To
the Editors of the Sydney Gazette.)
While
reading over, the other day, in the Sydney Gazette, an account of the
trial, which took place at the Supreme Court, Tuesday, the 9th instant,
I
was struck with inexpressible amazement at the evidence of Dr. Polding,
263 Roman
Catholic Bishop in this colony, and beg to enquire, through the medium of your
paper, whether any difference exists between the English
and the Irish Roman Catholic priests? If
there does not, and if what
Dr.
Polding says is really the case, I must have been very unfairly dealt with
indeed, by most of the priests, to whom I have confessed.
I
know very well a Roman Catholic priest will never say
—"Pay
me so much, and I will give you absolution," because that would
be
exposing the craft; but practice speaks louder than precept, and I can say for
myself (and I know hundred of others, who could say the same, if they dared),
that I have, times without number, paid the priest, before I rose from my knees
at confession, under the pretence, as I will show, of getting masses and
prayers said for the release of the souls of my deceased relatives from purgatory.
I
was taught to believe that masses were not valid, unless I was from under a
state of sin, or in other words, in a state of grace. Consequently I must be
absolved, to make the masses effectual, and all Roman Catholics know full well,
that all masses must be paid for, before they will be said. I have been
told by a priest, a man of good education, that the more I gave, the better for
my own
soul, and the souls of friends detained in
purgatory.
264 I
was taught to believe that the Church of Rome being infallible,
and
incapable of erring, its doctrine and practices were the same throughout the
world; of course I was the more staggered on reading Dr. Polding's evidence. I
think that he must be laboring under a great mistake, when he says, that it is strictly
forbidden for a priest to receive money in any way,
or
even if anything should be given for charitable purposes, it is usual to give
it
at another time, "but not customary," or else the priests in Ireland
are outrageously simonical. Perhaps Dr. Polding will inform me, why I should,
for
so many years, and not only I, but very many members of my poor deluded family,
pay the priest for relies—such as "the word of the cross," "holy
bones," "holy wax," "holy fire," "pieces of
saints' garments," from Rome and other places: "holy clay," from
the saints' tombs; "the Agnus Dei," "gospels,"
"scapularies," "blessed candle," "blessed salt,"
"St. Francis' lard, &c.
But
the time would fail me to repeat the abominable delusions I've paid for, and
none of them could, in any way, be reckoned among the priests' traveling
expenses, as the priests were resident in the place; but, perhaps, these are
not some of the acts
265 which
would bring a priest into degradation with his own community,
as
Dr. Polding acknowledges; "there are certain acts to which, inherently and
incessantly, there are degradations and detestation attached," but I
humbly and heartily thank God I have not, like Dr. Polding, to wait until I
have
"been
a Protestant," to know how such acts must affect all who come within reach
of their contagion, as I do most solemnly protest, before God and man, against
refuges of lies and idolatrous worship of the Popish Church,
out
of which it is my earnest and constant prayer, that not only my own relations,
but all within her pale, may, through the riches of God's grace, "come out
from her and be separate," as I have, so that after the way which they
call heresy—"that they may yet be brought to worship the God of their
fathers."
But
there is one thing asserted by Dr. Polding, in his evidence, that needs
particular explanations, as it either casts a most blasphemous reflection on
the Holy Scriptures, or Dr. Polding must, if he directs the attention of
Protestants, for the rule of confession, in the Roman Catholic Church, to the
Holy Scriptures, be totally ignorant of that, which the everyday student in
Maynooth College is master of; and were it not that I esteem the glory of God
far beyond my own personal feelings of female delicacy,
266 I
would shrink from acknowledging that which I do now publicly, and with
shame, that I have carefully perused the translations of the extracts from
"Dens' Theology," where alone the true practice of the Roman Catholic
confessional is to be found, and publicly authorized by Dr. Murray, the Roman
Catholic Archbishop of Dublin, and in the presence of my Maker, I solemnly
declare, that horrible and unspeakably vile as that book is, I have had a
hundred times more disgusting questions put to me in the confessional,
which
I was obliged to answer, having been told by my confessor, "that being
ashamed of answering him, I was in a state of mortal sin." I have been
often obliged to perform severe penance, for repeating to my companions, a
portion of these horrible things, out of confession, and comparing the
questions
put
to them (as far as decency would allow) with those put to myself.
What
then will the Protestant public think, when I again declare, and in the same
solemn manner, that their experience, and especially the experience
of
one of them, was worse than mine, acts following questions, which
I readily believe, from the specimens offered to myself, one day, in the
confessional.
If
then, Dr. Polding will only prove to me, from simply the Holy Scriptures,"
any
authority for what I have stated,
267 on
the part of Roman Catholic Confession, and which may be read by any one who
please, in Dens' Theology,—I promise to return to the bosom of the Roman
Catholic Church. But I must leave this subject for the present, on which I
could relate what would fill a moderate sized volume, and just speak a few
words about the sale of indulgences, of which Dr. Polding has only read
"in
Protestant books." This also astonished me, that a bishop in the Roman
Catholic Church, should know nothing of these things, and I to have purchased
one, which I did during the cholera of 1832. At that time I heard the priest
of
the parish publish from the altar, that the Pope had granted an indulgence;
and, as the cholera was raging in Dublin, every one was in dread of its
spreading over the whole country, and every Roman Catholic that could crawl
to
the chapel, in the parish where I lived, lost no time in coming. Amongst them I
well remember the priest showing me an old woman, who, he said, had not been to
confession for fifty years, and who was in the act of laying her money on the
tray, when he pointed her out. Indulgence was to be had, as the priest had
published, and I saw the old woman put her money on the tray, where I put
mine—she got her seal of indulgence, and I got mine. Will Dr. Polding
have the kindness to tell me what the money was for?
268 In
complying with the indulgence, it was necessary also, to say so many prayers,
such as the "Jesus Psalter," &c., but those who could not were to
bring their beads to their priests, who selected a proper number of prayers to
be said on them. Persons were to give at their own option, what money they
pleased, but nothing less than silver was taken. I have seen trays on
the
vestry-room table of the chapel, at that
time, full of silver, bank-notes and gold, and I have also seen trays
for the same purpose, in Marlborough Street Chapel, Dublin, upon the holy-water
trough.
How
many poor creatures have I known, who were little short of starving, beg or
borrow a six-pence, to be at the chapel at that time; but it would be
impossible almost for me, unless I was as insensible as the images I was taught
to worship, especially my own guardian angel, St. Agnes, to whom, with the
Virgin Mary, I was taught to pay more adoration than to God Himself,
were
I to have remained unacquainted with the depth of these, and many more wicked
and abominable devices, under the garb of the most self-denying religion,
having such a number of priests related to me, a bishop for my uncle, and
brought up amongst priests, friars, and nuns of almost every order, from my
birth,
269 besides
being a most zealous devoted Roman Catholic myself, during
my
ignorance of "the truth, as it is in Jesus." But I am content to
leave all temporal good as I have already done, in leaving wealthy relations
and former friends, only desiring from my heart, that, as I have suffered the
loss of all things, I may "be more enabled to count them but dung, that I
may win Christ, and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness (which I
was taught
to
value in the Roman Catholic Church, and which is of the law), but that which is
through the faith of Christ, the righteousness, which is of God, by
faith."
I
know, sir, I have taken up too much of your paper, but, should it please God,
that the truths, the solemn truths, which I have stated, be so blessed
as
to rouse even one of my Roman Catholic fellow-sinners to reflect, and
break through that slavish bondage, in which I know too well, they are kept,
and
begin to think for him or herself, I am sure you will feel doubly recompensed
for the space you have given this letter.
I
am, sir, &c., &c.,
AGNES
CATHERINE BYRNE.
25th
July, 1839.
As
some people, from a mistaken sense of charity, may be tempted to believe that
the priests of Rome, in Australia, have reformed,
270 and
are not so corrupted to-day as they were in 1839, let them read the following
document, which I take from the Sydney Evening News, 19th November, 1878
"One
of the largest assemblages that were ever seen inside the Protestant Hall in
Castlereagh-street, attended last night in response to an advertisement
announcing that a lady would deliver a lecture on the subject—'Mrs. Constable
wrong, and the ex-priest Chiniquy right, relative to auricular confession;
proved by the lady's personal experience in Sydney.' The building was densely
packed in every part, and there was no standing room. On the platform, around
it, and in the galleries were large numbers of ladies. Pastor Allen then opened
the proceedings by giving out the hymn 'Rock of ages cleft for me.'
Mr.
W. Neill (the banker) was voted to the chair. The lady lecturer,
Mrs.
Margaret Ann Dillon, a middle-aged lady, neatly dressed, was then introduced to
the audience. At first she appeared somewhat tremulous and confused, which she
explained was mainly owing to the cruel and heartless letter she had, that
night, received, announcing the death of her husband.
She
stated that she had not been brought up in the Roman Catholic faith,
but
after much consideration she had joined that Church,
271 because
she had been led to believe it was the only true Church. She had,
for
years after joining the Church, faithfully attended to its duties, even
to
auricular confession. It was not her intention to insult the Roman Catholics that
she had thus publicly come forward, but to refute the allegations of
Mrs.
Constable, and show that the ex-priest Chiniquy's statements were true. Nothing
but her duty to God would have caused her to come before them
in
this public manner. It was her first appearance in public; therefore,
they must allow for her shortcomings; but she
would speak truthfully and fearlessly. Her address would have reference
entirely to her own personal experience of auricular confession. After some
further remarks, Mr. Neill
was
requested to read the following letter, sent by the lady lecturer
to
Archbishop Vaughan: 'No. 259 Kent Street, Sydney. 12th of April, 1878.
To
his Grace Archbishop Vaughan. May it please your Grace:—I have for
a
considerable time past been very desirous of bringing a most painful subject
under your notice, and which has caused me considerable pain. Various reasons
have prevented my doing so until now, and it is only when I perceive the object
of my complaint apparently unpunished for his conduct, which I heard has been
the case, I determined upon appealing to you,
272 feeling
sure of obtaining redress. About the year 1876, I resided in Clarence street,
in this city, and while suffering from severe illness was visited by Father
Sheridan, of St. Mary's, as also by Father Maher. From the former
I
received the last rites of the Church, as I was supposed to be on my dying-bed.
Half an hour after Father Sheridan had left me, Father Maher called upon me,
and insisted upon performing the service upon me, which I declined.
There
was a bottle containing brandy on the table, and by its side a tumbler
containing a small quantity of castor oil for my use. Father Maher wished for
some of the spirits, and my husband, who was in the room, requested him
to
help himself. He did so, using the tumbler that contained the medicine, and
finding the mistake, he had emptied some more of the spirits into a clean
tumbler, and drank it. He then desired my husband to leave the room. He then
came to my bedside professedly to administer the rites of the Church to me, and
I remonstrated with him, when he laid violent hands upon me, and made most
improper overtures to me. In my struggles to resist, my night dress was much
torn. He assured me that no harm would be done to me if I did comply with his
terrible device (Cries of Oh! Oh!) saying what he did was under the holy
orders, and would not be held as a sin by the Church,
273 or
words to that effect. (Sensation.) I, at length, found strength to call my
husband; and, on his appearing, Father Maher was forced to leave the room.
I
was fearful in telling my husband all that happened, as I felt sure he would
use violence to Father Maher. Since the occurrence, I was apprised that he had
been suspended for some other cause, and that it was useless my taking steps in
the matter. But as, within the present month, I have seen him passing my door
dressed in a priest's usual garb, and it being evident to me that
he
is still under some control, I have determined upon making the complaint
he
so richly deserves. I write to add that when my husband drove him off the
premises, he (Father Maher) had become quite intoxicated with the spirits
he
had taken.—I am, with much respect, your Grace's humble servant, MARGARET ANN
DILLON.' Mrs. Dillon then proceeded, at great length,
to
relate minutely the facts of the affair stated in the letter, and how the
Vicar-General (Dean Sheridan) came to her place to hush up the matter.
In
a long dialogue with the reverend Dean, she asserted that he maintained that
Archbishop Vaughan had shed tears over her letter, and that he
(the
Dean) had always known her to be a good woman. In reply to a question,
the
Dean told her that 'once a priest always a priest;'
274 but
she rejoined, 'once in infamy, always in infamy.' Subsequently, a priest called
on her, and asked her why she did not go to church. She explained that, having
three children to take care of, she could not go. Once, a priest saw the
Protestant Bible with some other books on her table, and he said to her,
'I see you have got some heretical books
here; you must take them and burn them.' She said she would not do so; and he
said, 'If you do not give me those books, I will not give you absolution.' She
said she did not care, and he left
the
place. The lady then read from Dens' Theology, Vol. VI., page 305,
as
to the doctrines of the confessional. She maintained that the priest likened
themselves to God in the confessional-box, but outside of it they were only
men. She would not give utterance to the filthy language that she had been
subject to hear and reply to by the priest in the confessional-box.
Not
only herself, but her daughter could bear witness to the abominations
of
the confessional. She had been married twice, and shortly after her first
husband's death she sent her daughter to confession. The priest told her
daughter that her dead father, who had been a Protestant, was a heretic,
and
was in hell. She urged that Catholic women ought not to send their children to
be insulted and degraded by the confessional.
275 She
hoped they would keep their children away from it, for the priests put
questions to them suggesting wickedness of the grossest description,
and
filling their minds with carnal thoughts for the first time in their lives.
(Cheers.) She would strongly advise all Roman Catholic men not to allow priests
to remain alone with their wives. Napoleon adopted a scheme by which he would
himself frame the questions to be put to his son in the confessional.
If
Napoleon was so careful of his son, how much more so must those
be
in a humbler sphere of life. Mrs. Dillon, then, read extracts from Dens'
Theology and other text-books, which she claimed to be the standard works
of
the Roman Catholic Church, to refute Mrs. Constable's allegations.
Her
experience, as well as that of many others, clearly proved that the cause of
the majority of the large numbers of girls on the streets arose from the
abominable questions they have to reply to in the confessional-box. (Cheers.)
Not only were the majority of these girls Catholics, but our hospitals and
charitable institutions are filled with those whose early life had been
degraded in the confessional. (Hear, hear.) In conclusion, Mrs. Dillon touched
on the sacrament question, asserting that the priests take good care to drink
the
276 wine—the
blood of Christ,—and the people had the lozenge,—the body of Christ.
(Laughter.) Mrs. Dillon resumed her seat amid tumultuous cheering. Frequently
her remarks created great sensation and rounds of applause.
The
Rev. Pastor Allen read a letter sent that night to the lady lecturer,
containing an extract from the S. M. Herald, published four years ago,
about the punishment of an Abbe for unpriestly conduct to four young ladies in
the confessional. A hearty vote of thanks was passed to the lady lecturer, and
a similar honor was accorded to Mr. Neill, for presiding. The benediction and
the singing of the National Anthem closed the proceedings about half-past nine
o'clock.
Has
the world ever seen any act more disgustingly corrupt than that priest's? Who
will not be struck with horror at the sight of that confessor, who struggles
with his dying penitent, and tears her night-dress, when she is on her sick
bed, to satisfy his vile propensities?
What
an awful spectacle is here presented, by the hands of Providence, before the
eyes of a Christian people! A dying woman obliged to fight and struggle against
her confessor, to keep her purity and honor intact! Her night-robes torn by the
beastly priest of Rome!
277 Let
the Americans who like to know more precisely what is going on between the
father confessors and their female penitents in the United States, go to the
beautiful town of Malone, in the State of New York. There, they will see, by
the public records of the court, how Father McNully seduced his fair penitent,
Miss McFarlane, who was boarding with him, and of whom he was the teacher. They
will see that the enraged parents of the young lady prosecuted him and got a
verdict of $2,129 for damage, which he refused to pay. He was incarcerated—broke
his gaol, went to Canada, where he was welcomed by the bishops and employed
among the confessors of the Irish girls of the Dominion!
Do
not the echoes of the whole world still repeat the horrors of the Cracow
Nunnery in Austria? In spite of the superhuman efforts of the Roman Catholic
press to suppress or deny the truth, has it not been proved by the evidence
that the unfortunate Nun Barbary Ubryk was found absolutely naked in a most
horrible, dark, damp, and filthy dungeon, where she had been kept by the nuns
because she had refused to live their life of infamy with their Father
Confessor Pankiewiez. And has not that miserable priest corroborated all that
was brought to his charge, by putting an end himself, like Judas, to his own
infamous life?
278 I have met, in Montreal,
a nephew of the Nun Barbara Ubryk, who was
in
Cracow when his aunt was found in her horrible danger. He not only corroborated
all what the press had said about the tortures of his near relation and their
cause, but he publicly gave up the Church of Rome,
whose
confessional he knew personally, are schools of perdition.
I
visited Chicago for the first time in 1851, at the pressing request of Bishop
Vandevelde. It was to cover Illinois, as much as we could, with Roman Catholics
from Canada, France, and Belgium, that we might put that splendid State, which
was then a kind of wilderness, under the control of the Church of Rome. I then
inquired from a priest about the particulars of the death of the late Bishop.
That priest had no reasons whatever to deceive me and concede the truth,
and
it was with an evidently distressed mind that he gave the following details,
which he assured me, were the exact, though very sad, truth:
"The
Grand Vicar, M. . ., had fallen in love with his beautiful penitent, the
accomplished Nun,. . . ., Superioress of the Convent of Lorette.
The
consequence was that to conceal her fall, she went, under the pretext of
recruiting her health, to a western city, where she soon died when giving birth
to a dead-born child."
279 Though
these mysteries of iniquity had been, as much as possible, kept secret, enough
of them had come to the ears of the Bishop to induce him
to
tell the confessor that he was obliged to make inquiry about his conduct,
and
that, if found guilty, he would be interdicted. That priest boldly and
indignantly denied his guilt; and said that be was glad of that inquiry.
For
he boasted that he was sure to prove his innocence. But after more mature
deliberation, he changed his mind. In order to save his bishop the troubles
of
that inquiry, he administered to him a dose of poison which relieved him from
the miseries of life, after five or six days of suffering, which the doctors
took for a common disease!!!
Auricular
confession! These are some of thy mysteries!
The
people of Detroit, Michigan, have not yet forgotten that amiable priest who was
the confessor, "a la mode," of the young and old Roman Catholic
ladies. They all remember still, the dark night during which he left for
Belgium,
with
one of his most beautiful penitents, and $4,000 which he had taken from the
purse of his Bishop Lefebvre, to pay his traveling expenses.
And,
who, in that same city of Detroit does not still sympathize with that young
doctor whose beautiful wife eloped with her father confessor,
280 in
order, we must charitably suppose, to be more benefited when in the constant
company of her spiritual and holy (?) physician.
Let
my readers come with me to Bourbonnais Grove, and there, every one will show
them the son whom the Priest Courjeault had from one of his fair penitents.
Week-kneed
Protestants! who are constantly speaking of peace, peace,
with Rome, and who keep
yourselves humbly prostrated at their feet, in order to sell them your wares,
or get their suffrages, do you not understand your supreme degradation?
Do
not answer to us that these are exceptional cases, for I am ready to prove that
this unspeakable degradation and immorality are the normal state of the greater
part of the priests of Rome. Father Hyacinthe has publicly declared, that
ninety-nine out of one hundred of them, live in sin with the females they have
destroyed. And not only the common priests are, for the greater part, sunk in
that bottomless pit of secret or public infamy, but the bishops and popes, with
the cardinals, are no better.
Who
does not know the history of that interesting young girl of Armidale,
Australia, who, lately, confessed to her distracted parents, that her seducer
had been no less than a bishop! And when the enraged father
281 prosecuted
the bishop for damages, is it not a public fact that he got £350 from the
Pope's bishop, with the condition that he would emigrate with his family, to
San Francisco, where this great iniquity might be concealed!
But,
unfortunately for the criminal confessor, the girl gave birth to a little
bishop, before she left, and I can give the name of the priest who baptized the
child of his own holy (?) and venerable (?) bishop.
Will
the people of Australia ever forget the history of Father Nihills, who was
condemned to three years in the penitentiary, for an unmentionable crime with
one of his penitents?
This
brings to my mind the deplorable end of Father Cahill, who cut his own throat
not long ago, in New England, to escape the prosecution of the beautiful girl
whom he had seduced. Who has not heard of that grand Vicar of Boston, who,
about three ago, poisoned himself to escape the sentence which was to be hurled
against him the very next day, by the Supreme Court, for having seduced one of
his fair penitents?
Has
not all France been struck with horror and confusion at the declarations made
by the noble Catherine Cadiere and her numerous young female friends, against
their father confessor, the Jesuit, John B. Girard? The details of the
villainies practiced by that holy (?)
282 father
confessor and his coadjutors, with their fair penitents, are such,
that
no Christian pen can retrace them, and no Christian reader would consent to
have them put before his eyes.
If
this chapter was not already long enough, I would say how Father Achazius,
superior of a nunnery in Duren, France, used to sanctify the young and old
ladies who confessed to him. The number of his victims was so great, and their
ranks in society so exalted, that Napoleon thought it was his duty to take that
scandalous affair before him.
The
way this holy (?) father confessor used to lead the noble girls, married women,
and nuns, of the territory of Aix-la-Chapelle, was revealed by a young nun who
had escaped from the snares of the priest, and married a superior officer in
the army of the Emperor of France. Her husband thought it his duty to direct
the attention of Napoleon to the performances of that priest, through the
confessional. But the investigations which were directed by the State Counsellor,
Le Clerq, and the Professor Gall, were compromising so many other priests, and
so many ladies in the highest ranks of society, that the Emperor was absolutely
disheartened, and feared that their exposure before the whole of France, would
cause the people to renew
283 the
awful slaughters of 1792 and 1793, when thirty thousand priests, monks and
nuns, had been mercilessly hung, or shot dead, as the most implacable enemies
of public morality and liberty. In those days, that ambitious man was
in
need of the priests to forge the fetters by which the people of France would be
securely tied to the wheels of his chariot.
He
abruptly ordered the court of investigation to stop the inquiry, under the
pretext of saving the honor of so many families, whose single and married
females
had been seduced by their confessors. He thought that prudence and shame were
urging him not to lift up more of the dark and thick veil, behind which the
confessors conceal their hellish practices with their fair penitents. He found
it was enough to confine Father Achazius and his co-priests
in
a dungeon for their lives.
But
if we turn our eyes from the humble confessor priests to the monsters whom the
Church of Rome adores as the vicars of Jesus Christ—the supreme Pontiffs—the
Popes, do we not find horrors and abominations, scandals and infamies, which
surpass everything which is done by the common priests behind the impure
curtains of the confessional-box?
Does
not Cardinal Baronius himself, tell us that the world has never seen anything
comparable to
284 the
impurities and unmentionable vices of a great number of popes?
Do
not the annals of the Church of Rome give us the history of that celebrated
prostitute of Rome, Marozia, who lived in public concubinage with the Pope
Sergius III., whom she raised to the so-called chair of St. Peter? Had she not
also, by that Pope a son, of whom. she also made a pope after the death of his
holy (?) father, Pope Sergius?
Did
not the same Marozia and her sister, Theodora, put on the pontifical throne
another one of their lovers, under the name of Anastasius III., who was soon
followed by John X.? And is it not a public fact, that that pope having lost
the confidence of his concubine Marozia, was strangled by her order?
Is
it not also a fact of public notoriety, that his follower, Leo VI.,
was
assassinated by her, for having given his heart to another woman,
still
more degraded?
The
son whom Marozia had by Pope Sergius, was elected pope, by the influence of his
mother, under the name of John XI., when not sixteen years old!
But
having quarrelled with some of the enemies of his mother, he was beaten and
sent to gaol, where he was poisoned and died.
In
the year 936, the grandson of the prostitute Marozia, after several bloody
encounters with his opponents,
285 succeeded
in taking possession of the pontifical throne under the name of John XII. But
his vices and scandals became so intolerable, that the learned and celebrated
Roman Catholic Bishop of Cremorne, Luitprand, says of him:—"No honest lady
dared to show herself in public, for the Pope John had no respect either for
single girls, married women, or widows—they were sure
to
be defiled by him, even on the tombs of the holy apostles, Peter and Paul.
That
same John XII. was instantly killed by a gentleman, who found him committing
the act of adultery with his wife.
It
is a well-known fact that Pope Boniface VII. had caused John XIV.
to
be imprisoned and poisoned, and when he soon after died, the people
of
Rome dragged his naked body through the streets, and left it, when horribly
mutilated, to be eaten by dogs, if a few priests had not secretly buried him.
Let
the readers study the history of the celebrated Council of Constance, called to
put an end to the great schism, during which three popes, and sometimes four,
were every morning cursing each other and calling their opponents Antichrists,
demons, adulterers, sodomists, murderers,
enemies
of God and man.
286 As
every one of them was an infallible pope, according to the last Council
of
the Vatican, we are bound to believe that they were correct in the compliments
they paid to each other.
One
of these holy (?) popes, John XXIII., having appeared before the Council to
give an account of his conduct, he was proved by thirty-seven witnesses,
the
greater part of whom were bishops and priests, of having been guilty
of
fornication, adultery, incest, sodomy, simony, theft, and murder. It was proved
also by a legion of witnesses, that he had seduced and violated 300 nuns. His
own secretary, Niem, said that he had at Boulogne, kept a harem, where not less
than 200 girls had been the victims of his lubricity.
And
what could we not say of Alexander VI.? That monster who lived in public incest
with his two sisters and his own daughter Lucretia, from whom he got
a
child.
But
I stop—I blush to be forced to repeat such things. I would never have mentioned
them were it not necessary not only to put an end to the insolence and the
pretensions of the priests of Rome, but also to make the Protestants remember
why their heroic fathers have made such great sacrifices and fought so many
battles, shed their purest blood and even died, in order to break the fetters
by
287 which
they were bound to the feet of the priests and the popes of Rome.
Let
not my readers be deceived by the idea that the popes of Rome in our days, are
much better than those of the ninth, tenth, eleventh and twelfth centuries.
They are absolutely the same—the only difference is that, to-day, they take a
little more care to conceal their secret orgies. For they know well, that the
modern nations, enlightened as they are, by the light of the Bible, would not
tolerate the infamies of their predecessors; they would hurl them very soon
into the Tiber, if they dared to repeat in the open day, the scenes
of
which the Alexanders, Stephens, Johns, &c. &c., were the heroes.
Go
to Italy, and there the Roman Catholics themselves will show you the two
beautiful daughters whom the last pope, Pius IX., had from two of his
mistresses. They will tell you, too, the names of five other mistresses—three
of them nuns—he had when a priest and a bishop; some of them are still living.
Inquire
from those who have personally known Pope Gregory XVI.,
the
predecessor of Pius IX., and after they will have given you the history
of
his mistresses, one of whom was the wife of his barber, they will tell you that
he was one of the greatest drunkards in Italy!
288 Who
has not heard of the bastard, whom Cardinal Antonelli had from Countess
Lambertini? Has not the suit of that illegitimate child of the great cardinal
secretary filled Italy and the whole world with shame and disgust?
However,
nobody can be surprised that the priests, the bishops, and the popes of Rome
are sunk into such a bottomless abyss of infamy, when we remember that they are
nothing else than the successors of the priests of Bacchus and Jupiter. For not
only have they inherited their powers, but they have even kept their very robes
and mantles on their shoulders, and their caps on their heads. Like the priests
of Bacchus, the priests of the Pope are bound never to marry, by the impious
and godless laws of celibacy. For every one knows that the priests of Bacchus
were, as the priests of Rome, celibates. But, like the priests of the Pope, the
priests of Bacchus, to console themselves for the restraints of celibacy, had
invented auricular confession. Through the secret confidences of the
confessional, the priests of the old idols, as well as those of the
newly-invented wafer gods, knew who were strong and weak among their fair
penitents, and under the veil "of the sacred mysteries," during the
night celebration of their diabolical mysteries, they knew to whom they should
address themselves, and make their vows of celibacy an easy yoke.
289 Let
those who want more information on that subject read the poems of Juvenal,
Propertius, and Tibellus. Let them peruse all the historians of old Rome, and
they will see the perfect resemblance which exists between the priests of the
Pope and those of Bacchus, in reference to the vows of celibacy, the secrets of
auricular confession, celebration of the so-called "sacred
mysteries," and the unmentionable moral corruption of the two systems of
religion. In fact, when one reads the poems of Juvenal, he thinks he has before
him the books of Dens, Liguori, Lebreyne, Kenrick.
Let
us hope and pray that the day may soon come when God will look in His mercy
upon this perishing world; and then, the priests of the wafer-gods,
with
their mock celibacy, their soul-destroying, auricular confession and their
idols will be swept away.
In
that day Babylon—the great Babylon will fall, and heaven and earth shall
rejoice.
For
the nations will no more go and quench their thirst at the impure cisterns dug
for them by the man of sin. But they will go and wash their robes in the blood
of the Lamb; and the Lamb will make them pure by His blood, and free by His
word. Amen.
CHAPTER
XII.
A CHAPTER FOR
THE CONSIDERATION OF LEGISLATORS, HUSBANDS,
AND FATHERS.—
SOME OF THE MATTERS ON WHICH THE PRIEST OF ROME
MUST QUESTION
HIS PENITENTS
DENS wants
the confessors to interrogate on the following matters:
1
"Peccant uxores, quae susceptum viri semen ejiciunt, vel ejicere
conantur." (Dens, tom. vii., p. 147.)
2.
"Peccant conjuges mortaliter, Si, copula ancesta, cohibeant seminationem."
3. "Si
vir jam seminaverit, dubium. fit an femina lethaliter peccat, Si se retrahat a
seminando ; aut peccat lethaliter vir non expectando seminationem.
uxoris." (P. 153.)
4.
"Peccant conjuges inter se circa actum conjugalein. Debet servari modus,
sive situs ; imo ut non servetur debitum vas, sed copula habeatur in vase
praepostero, aliquoque non naturali. Si fiat
291 accedendo a postero, a latere, stando, sedendo, vel Si vir sit
succumbus." (P. 166.)
5.
"Impotentia est incapacitas perficiendi, copulum carnalem perfectam cum.
seminatione viri in vase debito seu, de se, aptam generationi. Vel, ut Si
mulier sit nimis arcta respectu unius viri, non respectu alterius. " (Vol.
vii., p. 273.)
6. "
Notatur quod pollutio in mulieribus possit perfici, ita ut semen earum nou
effluat extra membrum. genitale.
"Indicium.
istius allegat Billuart, Si scilicet mulier sensiat serninis resolutionem. cum
magno voluptatis sensu, qua completa, passio satiatur." (Vol. iv., p.
168.)
7.
"Uxor se accusans, in confessione, quod negaverit debitum, interrogetur an
ex pleno rigore juris sui id petiverit." (Vol. vii., p. 168.)
8.
"Confessor poenitentem, qui confitetur se pecasse cum Sacerdote, vel
sollicitatam. ab eo ad turpia, potest interrogare utrum ille sacerdos sit ejus
confessarius, an in confessione sollitaverit." (Vol. vi., p. 294.)
There are a great many other unmentionable things on which Dens,
in his fourth, fifth and seventh volumes, requires the confessor to ask his
penitent, which I omit.
Now let us come to Liguori. That so-called
292 Saint,
Liguori, is not less diabolically impure than Dens, in his questions to the
women. But I will cite only two of the things on which the spiritual physician
of the Pope must not fail to examine his spiritual patient:—
1.
"Quaerat an sit semper mortale, Si vir immitat pudenda in os uxoris?
"Verius
affirmo quia, in hoc actu ob calorem Cris, adest proximum periculum
pollutionis, et videtur nova species luxuriae contra naturam, dicta
irruminatio. "
2.
"Eodem modo, Sanchez damnat virum de mortali, qui, in actu copulae,
immiteret dignitum in vas praeposterum nxoris; quia, ut ait, in hoc actu adest
affectus ad Sodomiam. " (Liguori, tom. vi.) p. 935.)
The
celebrated Burchard, Bishop of Worms, has made a book of the questions which
had to be put by the confessors to their penitents of both sexes. During
several centuries it was the standard book of the priests of Rome. Though that
work to-day is very scarce, Dens, Liguori, Debreyne, &-c., &c., have
ransacked its polluting pages, and given them to study to the modern
confessors, in order to question their penitents. I will select only a few
questions of the Roman Catholic Bishop to the young men.
293 1. "Fecisti solus tecum fornicationem ut quidam facere
solent; ita dico ut ipse tuum membrum. virile in manum taum acciperes, et sic
duceres praeputium tuum, et manu propria commoveres, ut sic, per illam
delectationem semen projiceres ? "
2.
"Fornicationem fecisti cum masculo intra coxes ; ita dicto ut tuum virile
membrum intra coxas alterius mitteres, et sic agitando semen funderes ?"
3.
"Fecisti fornicationem, ut quidem facere Solent, ut tuum virile membrum in
lignum perforatum, aut in aliquod hujus modi mitteres, et, sic, per illam
commotionem et delectationem semen projiceres? "
4.
"Fecisti fornicationem contra naturam, id est, cum masculis vel animalibus
coire, id est cum equo, cum vacca, vel asina, vel aliquo, animali ? (Vol. i.,
p. 136.)
Among the questions we find in the compendium of the Right Rev.
Burchard, Bishop of Worms, which must be put to women, are the following (p.
115):—
1.
"Fecisti quod quaedam mulieres Solent, quoddam molimem, aut machinamentum
in modum virilis membri ad mensbram Woe voluptatis, et illud lodo verendorurn
tuorum aut alterius cum aliquibus ligaturis, ut fornacationem facereres cum
aliis mulieribus, vel alia eodem instrumento, sive alio tecum?"
294 2. "Fecisti quod quaedem mulieres facere Solent ut jam supra
dicto molimine, vel alio aliquo machinamento, tu ipsa. in te solam faceres
fornicationem?
3.
"Fecisti quod quaseam mulieres facere Solent, quando libidinem se vexantem
exinguere volunt, quae se conjungunt quasi coire debeant ut possint, et
conjungunt invicem puerperia sua, et sic, fricando pruritum illarum extinguere,
desiderant? "
4.
"Fecisti quod quaedam mulieres facere solent, ut succumberes aliquo
jumento et illiud jumentum ad coitum quolicumque, posses ingenio, ut sic coiret
tecum ? "
The celebrated Debreyne has written a whole book, composed of the
most incredible details of impurities, to instruct the young confessors in the
art of questioning their penitents. The name of the book is
"Moechialogy," or "Treaty on all the sins against the sixth
(seventh) and the ninth commandments, as well as on all the questions of the
married life which refer to them."
That work is much approved and studied in the Church of Rome. I
do not know that the world has ever seen anything comparable to the filthy and
infamous details of that book. I will cite only two of the questions which
Debreyne wants the confessor to put to his penitent:—
295 Of the young men (page 95) the confessor will ask:—
"Ad cognoscendum an usque ad pollutionem se tetigerent,
quando tempore et quo fine se teti gerint an tune quosdam motus in corpore
experti fuerint, et per quantum temporis spatium; an cessantibus tactibus,
nihil insolitum et turpe accideret; an nou longe majorem in compore voluptatem
perceperint in fine tactuum quam in eorum principio; an tum in fine quando
magnam delectationem carnalem sensuerunt, omnes motus corporis cessaverint; an
non madefacti fuerint? " &c., &c.
Of the girl the confessor will ask:—
"Quae sese tetegisse fatentur, an non aliquem puritum
extinguere entaverint, et utrum pruritus ille cessaverit cam magnum senserint
voluptatem; an tune, ipsimet tactus cessaverint ? " &c., &c.
The Right Rev. Kenrick, late Bishop of Boston, United States, in
his book for the teaching of confessors on what matters they must question
their penitents, has the following, which I select among thousands as impure
and damnable to the soul and body:
"Uxor quae, in usu matrimonii, se vertit, ut lion recipiat
Semen, vel statim post illud acceptum surgit 'it expellatur, lethalitur peccat;
sed opus non est ut din. resupina jaceat, quum matrix, brevi,
296 semen attrahat, et mox, arctissime claudatur. (Vol. iii., p.
317.)
"Pollae patienti licet se vertere, et conari ut nou recipiat
semen, quod injuria ei iminittitur; sed, exceptum, non licet expellere, quia
jam possessionein pacificam habet et baud absque injuria natura,
ejiceretur." (Tom. iii., p. 317.)
" Conjuges senes plerumque coeunt absque culpa, licet
contingat semen extra vas effundi; id enim per accidens fit ex imfirmitate
naturae. Quod Si veres adeo sint fractae 'Lit nullo sit seminandi intra
vas spes, jam nequeunt jure conjugii uti." (Tom. iii., p. 317.)
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