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 d.a.m.nation, 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 G.o.d 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 h.e.l.l 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 G.o.d" (_Le Bon Dieu_) was given to the woman; and the husband, full of grat.i.tude 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 embarra.s.sed 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 pet.i.tion 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 grat.i.tude 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 n.o.ble 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 G.o.d 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 ign.o.ble 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d, the light she wants and the consolation she is in need of? Is it not to her husband, and to him alone, after G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d wants them to be _one_? Is it not in this unity of thoughts, fears and hopes, joys and love, which come from G.o.d, that they can cheerfully cross the th.o.r.n.y 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 ent.i.tled, 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 sh.e.l.l. 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, grat.i.tude, 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 G.o.dly 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 G.o.d 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 grat.i.tude 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 grat.i.tude, 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 pa.s.s 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 h.e.l.l his mission to destroy and contaminate the purest joys of the married life, to enslave the wife, to outrage the husband, and to d.a.m.n the world!