The merchant's wife's story (Chiniquy, The priest, the woman and the confessional, 1875)

Text: "Neither shall he regard the God of his fathers, nor the desire of women..." Daniel 11:37 "Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils; Speaking lies in hypocrisy; having their conscience seared with a hot iron; Forbidding to marry..." 1 Timothy 4:1-3

Quote:

   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 tête-à-tête, 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, particulary 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 band-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 so cruelly-victimised man. We had hardly begun to take our dinner when he asked me if I had known their late pastor, the amiable Rev. Mr.——

   I answered, "Yes, sir, I know him."

   "Is he not a most accomplished priest?"

   "Yes, sir, he is a most accomplished man," I answered.

   "Why is it," rejoined the good merchant, "that the Bishop has taken him away from us? He was doing so well here! He had so deservedly earned the confidence of all by his piety and gentlemanly manners that we made every effort to keep him with us. I drew up a petition myself, which all the people signed, to induce the Bishop to 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.

Chiniquy, Charles Paschal Telesphore, The priest, the woman and the confessional, Montreal: F. E. Grafton, bookseller, 1875, pp. 65-72.

Online Source: archive.org/details/priestwomanconfe00chin

Book Images: