No human words can adequately give an idea of the irreparable ruin which follows the successful storming and unconditional surrender of the once so noble fortress. The longer 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 the disasters which follow 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 most respectable 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 on matters for repeating 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 will think, when alone, on what she has heard and what she has said in the confessional-box. In spite of herself, the vilest thoughts will at first irresistibly fill her mind; 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, under the eyes of God. 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 conviction of her sins is now immediately connected with the thought of the 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 of going to confess comes, instead of being sad and 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; 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, one soul, by the blessed ties of a christian union, are lavishly thrown before swine.

Whole hours are thus passed by the fair penitent in speaking to her Father Confessor with the utmost freedom on matters which would rank her among 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 the 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 both, and made them blind. It is just 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! 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 are, 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," and she has found the wine of her prostitution sweet. She will henceforth delight in her spiritual and secret orgies.

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 the corrupting influences of the confessional, as if she were out of 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. 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, as a general rule, at least as vulnerable to the arrows of the enemy as the poorer and less educated. Nay, I must say that, once on the down-hill 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 one of the richest and most influential colleges of Canada, 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 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 Roman Catholic himself, 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 pentitent, 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 private secret conversations, all the pleasures 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 even 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.

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 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 head-ache."

"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. 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 nine p.m., she complained of a great pain in the chest, and soon fainted and fell on the floor.

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 neighbouring 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 the "ver solitaire" (tape-worm). 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 tomorrow. 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."

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.

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 want to make a general confession before I die."

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, that great enchantress of souls, whose seat is on the city of the "seven hills," 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, with a sanctimonious air, "You may 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 practise the lessons they had learned in the confessional. The priest had been removed to a higher position, 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 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 let him 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, I went, in the midst of 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 corrupter 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 cases 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 much that my tongue was almost paralyzed.

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 those 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 jeweller, or goldsmith, allow his priest to come when he pleases, and handle the rich articles of his stores, ransack the desk where his 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 thousandfold 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 as he wishes, and drive alone, without any other consideration and security than the discretion of his pastor?

No! surely not.

That livery-man knows that he would soon be ruined if he should 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?

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 the wife and daughters, than when driving the 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 royal—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 everything 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 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 men to submit 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 and the consolation she is in need of? Is it not to her husband, and to him alone, after God, she ought to look in her days of trial for help? Is it not under his leadership alone she must fight the battle of life and conquer? Are 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 has the right to her love, so no other man has any right to her absolute confidence. 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, which he also feeds. The wife, then, has two lords and masters, whom she must love, respect, and obey. Will she not give the best part of her love, respect, and submission to the one who is as much above the other as the heavens are above the earth? But as one 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 or 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, has no revelation to make to him, no favour 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 as 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 grave-yard keeper, must be satisfied with the carcase!

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; 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 asks a favour 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 unsupportable 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, her ears are long filled as with a heavenly music, the honeyed 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 benefit 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 it, 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, 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 practised, the more the laws of public and private morality are trampled under feet. 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 silently to shrink from entering into the sacred bond; the holy joys of home and family lose their divine attractions; he prefers the cold life of an ignominious celibacy to the humiliation and opprobrium of the questionable privileges of an uncertain paternity.

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 those nations on 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 by which they are surrounded.

Why is it that the Irish Roman Catholic people are so irremediably 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 has been enslaved and degraded, 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, blood-thirsty, degraded, so long as she rejects Christ, to be ruled by the father confessor planted in every parish by the Pope.

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 in 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 hands of the confessors, who have defiled and degraded them? How could women, in France, teach her husbands and sons to love liberty, and die for it, when she was herself a miserable, an abject slave? How could she form her husbands and sons to the manly virtues of heroes, when her own mind was defiled and her heart corrupted?

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 sword to the Germans at Sedan and Paris. 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.

That 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 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.)

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.

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 neighbouring 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 woman to be degraded and enslaved at the feet of the 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 woman, 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 immorality.

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 wound is inflicted by a sword so well oiled that the blow is not felt; 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 of the streets of London to stagger—no sin to converse with her confessor on matters so filthy that if attempted in civil life would for ever 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, 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 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, 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 so polluting as the confessional. I know nothing more corrupting than the law which forces a female to tell all 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; 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 priests 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, 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 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 (though we know that the daily average is ten). It gives us the awful number of 500,000 women whom the priests of Rome have the legal right to pollute and destroy every day!

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 women in the confessional, while you honour 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 sacrilegious mask of religion?

The confessional is in the hands of the devil 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 182,500,000 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, 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 physicians alone; you do not abuse them in their arduous and conscientious duties. Why, then, do 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 places of the Scriptures. But the art and science of the confessor are nowhere to be found in the holy records. 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, observations, 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 he 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 plaister or ointment to be applied, and all is finished. The physician never—no, never—says to that lady, "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, but there is no help; I am in duty bound to do it. But you have nothing to fear. I am a holy man, who has made a vow of celibacy. We are alone; neither your husband nor your father will ever know the secret infirmities I will find in you; they will never even suspect the perfect investigation I will make, and they will, for ever, 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, with 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 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 in 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 every kind of contaminations, impurities, secret and shameful 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 what I 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. Deligens igitur inquisitor et subtilis 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 he 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 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, and which she may have concealed through shame!! Who can tell the sentiments of surprise and shame and distress, of a timid, honest young girl, when, for the first time, she is initiated 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 sinner on the sins he may ignore or conceal with shame."

And there are 100,000 men, not only allowed, but petted, and often paid by the 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 scrutinizing 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 diseases, 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 that married woman, if he knew that the husband could hear him? No, surely not; for he is well aware that the enraged husband would blow out the brains of the villain who, under the sacrilegious pretext of purifying the soul of his wife, is filling her honest heart 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 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! But, here and there the traveller is not a little amazed and pleased to find some which have proudly stood the fiery trial without being consumed.

Has not the world at large been struck with terror when they heard of the fire which a few years ago had 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 so that, owing to a most marvellous protection of God, some privileged souls do escape, here and there, the fatal destruction which overtakes so many others in the confessional.

The confessional is just as 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 does remain of the imprudent fly, after she has been entrapped into the nets of her foe? Nothing but a skeleton. So it is with your fair wife, your precious daughter; nine times in 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 do 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 Italian Government, to show to the world that some measures ought 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 those terrible revelations. In page 115 we read the following letter from Sister Flavia Peraccini, Prioress of St Catherine, to Dr. Thomas Comparini, Rector of the Episcopal Seminary of Pistoia:—

"January 22, 1775.—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 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, one day, a man was found; he fled away, but, soon after, they gave him to us as our confessor extraordinary.

"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 118.—"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. 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 Borghieni.

"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 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 neighbour, 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 conversation of the other meals, there were only a few insignificant words exchanged with a half-supressed tone.

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 have 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. Now what troubles you is that, probably, when a good 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 myself much relieved; for I was one of those who, in spite of myself, 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 when 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 for ever 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. This lasted six years, when my parents removed to this place. I was very glad of it, for I hoped that, being far 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 horrible 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 receive the holy communion. As she had come 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 any more to go to confess.... Oh! if you could know what my confessor has asked me when 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 parlour!'

"My poor child could not speak any longer, she fainted in my arms.

"But 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 have ever defiled this world. 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 that your daughter is his, and he will be the avenger of her honour! 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, promising that he would change his life and begin to live as a good priest. But I remained inexorable. I went to the bishop, made my deposition, 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 has remained at the head of that most beautiful parish of ——, as curate, where I know it, 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!"

* * * * *

"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 so 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?

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?

Who has not been filled with deep compassion and pity for those poor idolaters of Hindustan 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 for ever 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 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 sect called Tractarians, or Ritualists, 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 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 even 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).

"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: "Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them: and whose soever 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—(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. JOHN XX.

33. And they rose up the same hour, 18. Mary Magdalene came and told and returned to Jerusalem, and the disciples that she had seen the found the eleven gathered together, Lord, and that he had spoken these and them that were with them, things unto her.

34. Saying, The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon....

36. And as they thus spake, Jesus 19. Then the same day at evening, himself stood in the midst of them, being the first day of the week, and saith unto them, Peace be unto when the doors were shut where the you. disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood 37. But they were terrified and in the midst, and said unto them, affrighted, and supposed that they Peace be unto you. 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, 20. And when he had so said, he that it is I myself: handle me, and shewed unto them his hands and his see; for a spirit hath not flesh side. Then were the disciples glad, and bones, as ye see me have. when they saw the Lord.

40. And when he had thus spoken, he shewed 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 21. Then said Jesus to them again, are the words which I spake unto Peace be unto you: as my Father you, while I was yet with you, that hath sent me, even so send I you. 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 22. And when he had said this, he understanding, that they might breathed on them, and saith unto understand the scriptures, them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost:

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:

47. And that repentance and 23. Whose soever sins ye remit, remission of sin should be preached they are remitted unto them; whose in his name among all nations, soever sins ye retain, they are beginning at Jerusalem. 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. Matt. 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 baptized 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: "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 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 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. 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 had his 100,000 high executioners! There they are, day and night, with-sharp daggers in hand, stabbing Liberty to the heart.

In vain will noble France expel her old tyrants 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. She 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 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? 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 all their most sacred rights to be trampled under feet, 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 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 threatening voice of the great Republic has troubled his rest, and he wisely speaks of going as much as possible out of the reach of Christian civilization, before the dark and threatening clouds which he sees on the horizon will hurl upon him their irresistible storms.

Will any one blame the American people for so going to the rescue of woman? 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 them read the memoirs of one of the most venerable men of the Church of Rome, Bishop 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 Carraciolo, 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 hear the lamentations of Cardinal Baronius, Saint 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 Gomorrha. Let the legislators, the fathers and husbands of every nation and tongue, interrogate Father Gavazzi, Hyacinthe, and the 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. 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 civilized 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 root 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.

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 proudly and 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 existance of society.