Chapter XVII: Liberty (1)

I cannot but add a chapter in which I shall especially endeavour to give a word of counsel and warning to all who may in any degree be looking upon convent life, whether in the Church of England or in the Church of Rome, with a favourable eye. I may say sincerely this book has been written with this object. And if, in doing what seemed to me so bounden a duty, I have hurt the feelings of any who are mentioned in its pages, it was not with the object of doing so that I was led to speak out the truth. My prayer for them is that they may be brought out into the same liberty that I, through God’s infinite mercy, am now in the enjoyment of. I can truthfully say that in doing this I have fully counted the cost, and it _has_ already cost me no small amount of pain. I have spoken the truth, and I have endeavoured to do so in no vindictive manner, but in love. Distinctly this book has been written to warn all against making the terrible mistake in life that I made. Had I but listened to and obeyed my mother, her advice would have saved me from wasting (I can use no other word, though God will doubtless overrule this mistake for my own good, and for the good of others) the best and youngest years of my life, and have prevented me from enduring years of mental suffering and misery. But when I went astray on the path that seemed so attractive and pleasant, I was very young; I was but fifteen years of age, and like, I fear, so many young and inexperienced people, I was foolish, self-willed, and fancied that I was better able to judge for myself than others were to judge for me. And so I was led to deliver myself over to the tender mercies of High Church Fathers and Mothers. I was simply bewitched by their “fair speeches,” high professions of sanctity, and solemn assurances of the happiness belonging to the cloistered life.

When I think of such “false prophets,” I am forcibly reminded of the words we read in 2 Timothy iii. 6:

Of these are they that _creep into houses_, and take captive
silly women, laden with sins, led away by divers lusts, _ever
learning_ and _never_ able to come to the knowledge of the
truth.

I was led by Ignatius to believe that by my action I was doing God’s will, and that by leaving my home and relations I was but obeying the command of Christ to “leave all and follow Him.” Was there ever such an absurdity as this? I was not called to go on a mission to the teeming millions living in heathen darkness, and take to them the Gospel of God’s grace; nor yet to work amongst the heathen in our own large towns; but positively to make myself a prisoner in one particular house, to be shut up where I could engage in no Christian or even philanthropic labour, and in _such_ an isolated position I was told over and over again that I could live the highest, the holiest, and the happiest life on earth, and withal, bring down to the world around me blessings and health through the merits of “holy obedience.” I was taught that I could bless, and be made a blessing to others, by “telling the beads,” “invoking the saints,” “confessing sins to man,” by “hearing mass,” and by “reciting various offices.” What incredible folly!

On looking back, I find how great was my delusion, and I do heartily trust that my experience of this folly may be the means of saving girls and boys, men and women, from wasting so much precious and God-given time, which it was my sad lot to lose. I sowed the seed of blind enthusiasm, and reaped the harvest of untold misery, and blighted hopes. All the high-flown promises (which I so greedily swallowed) of the joy, the glory, the peace, the happiness of the nun’s life, are _false_ promises and vain delusions. Certainly at one of the three convents in which I resided it was (as some of the sisters have said) “like living in a bear-garden.”

I do from the depths of my heart thank God for delivering me out of the “bear-garden,” and I pray that He will deliver others, and give them courage to “come out.”

It needs some courage to enter, but a hundred times as much to leave. I fear in many convents, humanly speaking, it is, after full profession, almost an impossibility to do so, for, as I have said, the moral bolts and bars are even more difficult to break through than the material ones; and these latter are, especially in Roman Catholic convents, not few or easily to be broken through. During all the years spent by me in nunneries I cannot look back to _one_ sister, and say I know she is happy, that she has found _true_ peace and satisfaction; but I can recollect the many who were disappointed at finding the life so utterly different from what they had been led to expect.

Alas! alas! When once we have taken up the “golden plough,” there is virtually no “looking back.” When once we have made our choice, we must abide by it. Many I know bitterly regret that they ever put their hands to this golden or, rather, this _gilded_ plough.

If nuns were only free, and not conscience-bound, they would tell the self-same, true story which I do. But alas! they dare not speak, they even scarcely dare to think for themselves. Their reason has been given up to their Superiors (do remember this), and they have no right to think anything but what their Superiors think.

It is not your place to think, but to obey.

These words were often spoken to us. And again:

A nun is always sure of doing God’s will, because her
Superior’s voice is God’s voice to her, and even should I, your
Superior, tell you to tell a lie (which of course I should
not), you would be committing the sin of disobedience if you
did not do as you were told.

I recollect well that a certain dear young sister was told to tell what she believed to be a lie. She was in great distress about it, and went to the Mother Superior we then had, telling her that she did not know what to do, as she must either commit the sin of lying or of disobedience.

When a monk or nun is under vows, such a man or a woman is but a _tool_ to be used as the owner of that tool sees fit. Individuality is sunk in the order in which such vows have been made. Practically, men and women under vows (and it matters not whether these vows are made in the established Church of England or in the alien Church of Rome) are _dead_—dead to the world, dead to father, mother, sisters, brothers and friends; above all, dead to the “still small voice” of an enlightened conscience which once had power to speak. Yes, they are _dead_ in another sense of the word, for have they not, knowingly or unknowingly, committed an act of moral suicide? They are no longer responsible beings. They have given up their souls, their bodies, their wills, their consciences and reason itself into the hands of their Superiors, who from the moment those terrible vows are taken are to them in the place of God; and whatever command the Superior gives, _that_ must they obey without question and blindly. And should one Superior give a sister over into the hands of another (as was the case with me), then that one must be obeyed with the same blind obedience. We were taught by the Superior:

If the order given is sinful, that is _my_ sin, and you are
not responsible; but you would be guilty of greater sin in not
obeying, because it would be the sin of disobedience, and God
hates that sin more than any other, because it was the sin that
brought death into the world, and it will bring death to your
soul.

Such being the case, we may define a nunnery as a place where slaves drag on a weary existence day and night. Whilst the slave-owners do their own sweet wills, we, their slaves, must idolatrously bow down to them, kiss the hems of their holy garments, and obey without a murmur. Murmuring at our condition is most strictly forbidden.

Indeed, should the relatives or friends of a poor nun go to the convent and there hold converse with her, that conversation must be held only through a grating, and (in our case, at any rate) the nun must have her face closely veiled. And even then it would not be possible to lodge a complaint with one’s relative or friend, or even with one’s own mother, since another nun is usually sent to listen. Thus it is that we were often forced to appear perfectly happy, when, in truth, we were just the opposite.

I have had thus to appear when speaking to my own sister; my heart at that time was well nigh breaking. But should a nun complain, the training she has gone through would cause her to be very distressed in mind at having been unfaithful enough to bring scandal upon the so-called “religious life,” and she would feel bound to confess it at once to her Mother Superior.

I should have written this account of my experiences of convent life some two years ago, had I not then feared that by doing so I should be doing more harm than good, by exposing to the outside world what a farce and sham some who make so much profession are, to say nothing of what a farce the whole system is.

But, little by little, I have become more free from the chains which held me, and I now trust that this book will do more good than harm by saving others from being led away by the power of Satan, for I believe it to be through Satanic influence that this system exists. I sincerely hope that this book will be read in the spirit in which it is written, and that thus it will be the means of saving many parents from heart-breaking separations from their beloved children.

I would ask those who are not believers in Christianity not to use it in order to bolster themselves up in their atheistical views, or to see in it a proof of the fallacy of true religion. Although I have given up convent religion, yet I am a firm believer in God. I believe that the Lord Jesus Christ died and rose again to atone for and save His people from their sins, that the Holy Spirit can and does give to all who believe in Christ a new and a clean heart, and grace to walk in the footsteps of the Saviour.

However misguided I was when I entered in my convent life, yet I was induced to do so because I had a deep love to my Saviour, and thought I could not in a better way prove my love and increase it.

But who can be surprised at a young girl being deluded and led astray when “false prophets” arise, who _profess_ so much holiness and so great and exact a knowledge of God’s will?

Many there are, like myself, who have been misdirected and deceived by ritual, candles, flowers, incense, gorgeous vestments, genuflexions, sentimental music and sermons, and I know not what other nonsense. I was seeking Jesus. I asked for bread, but I was given a stone. For a time the excitement arising from convent life made me think I had found what I sought, but it was a vain delusion, as I found to my cost.

There are in English convents to-day many unhappy souls, groping in the dark. Are we to let them share my fate, and that of others, which may be worse? Nay, rather let us use our pens and voices to awaken and enlighten the men and women of England as to the truth.

Others have exposed conventual life as it exists in the Roman Catholic Church; but still the people of England can scarcely be alive to the fearfully rapid increase in the number of such convents,[24] or of the degrading and un-English and un-Christian nature of the life of a nun therein. It is not my lot to expose Roman Catholic convents; the discoveries I have made have been made in connection with the Church of England, which, alas, through the fearful growth of Ritualism, is becoming a recruiting ground for Rome.

My opinion may not be worth much, but I hold the strong conviction that unless Protestants make a great stir, and unless the bishops of the Church set the example, England, at no very distant period, will be Romanized.

I can point to more than two or three convents in connection with the Established Church where not only Roman Catholic books are in constant use, but where the Roman Catholic Ordinary of the Mass is used, instead of our own Protestant Communion Service; and, worse than all perhaps, I know the Mass was on several occasions celebrated by a Roman Catholic priest in a Church of England convent!!

When I came out of convent life and mixed with Christian people, I discovered that the most earnest workers were those who were in the enjoyment of peace. They were living in the sunlight of God’s love; they were, so to speak, good without knowing it, they had no time to be always thinking of themselves, but they were ever looking to God. Now, in the convent it had been far otherwise; we had been taught by man to try with all our might to be good according to set rules, and ceremonies, and methods handed down to us by Roman Catholic saints, or so-called Fathers of the Church, and to be continually examining and fingering our spiritual muscles to see how we were getting on in the spiritual life. In consequence of such a method, there was constant failure, as there ever will be under such a system.

I feel I have much to be thankful for that God should have led me to see my mistake in life. It was _His_ work, for, in spite of the treatment I received, _I_ still clung to the convent life. My motive for leaving it was mainly to get away from being misunderstood and misrepresented, and from the endurance of cruel penances. But since then my eyes have been further opened, so that I now totally disagree with the whole system, and I thank God for having so providentially taken me by the hand. He and He alone has delivered me from so many Satanic delusions, and He and He alone has made known to me the “truth as it is in Jesus,” and not in Romish rites and ceremonies. I can and do indeed rejoice in the liberty wherewith Christ has made me free; I am free to serve Him “without fear,” and I am free to let my light shine that others may learn thereby to glorify my heavenly Father.

I thank Him especially for not letting me remain in the convent any longer, wasting time and precious opportunities of doing good and helping others. And I do pray that He will ever keep me in a listening and waiting attitude of mind upon Himself, so that I may “hear what the Lord will speak: for He will speak peace unto His people, and to His saints.” And may He so speak to me that I may _never_ “turn again to folly.”

That God may use these poor efforts of mine to open the eyes of many, is the prayer of her who, with the man whose eyes the Lord once opened, can say, “Once I was blind, now I see.”

DEVOTIONAL BOOKS USED BY SISTER MARY AGNES, O.S.B.

_APPENDIX A._

“MANUAL OF DEVOTIONS TO OUR HOLY FATHER, ST. BENEDICT, ABBOT
AND PATRIARCH OF THE WESTERN MONKS; TO HIS SISTER, ST.
SCHOLASTICA, VIRGIN AND ABBESS; AND TO ALL SAINTS OF HIS
ORDER.” (London: Catholic Publishing and Bookselling Co.
Limited.)

Father Ignatius calls himself a Benedictine monk, and his nuns belong to the same order. One would have supposed that though he imitated Rome in the worship of the wafer and of the Virgin, he would still have hesitated to go the full length of Romish superstition by obliging his nuns to put their trust in such questionable characters as Gregory VII., Thomas à Becket, etc. Yet on page 185 of the above book they are required to ask Gregory VII. to pray for them, and on the following page Thomas à Becket is invoked in the same manner. Who and what these two Romish saints were, truthful English history abundantly proves.

As the title of the book shows, it is intended to foster devotion to St. Benedict, to his sister Scholastica, and to all the other canonized saints of the Benedictine Order. Now, who canonized these supposed saints? Was it not Rome?

The first part is entirely devoted to the honouring and invoking of St. Benedict. Throughout this part we frequently meet with the verse, “Pray for us, O holy Father St. Benedict.” There are also a number of litanies, in which he is called upon as being now “placed over the choirs of monks,” as “the star of the world,” as “the equal of the prophets,” as “protector of his order,” as “the scourge of devils,” as the “Abraham of the New Testament,” and is entreated with the cry, “We beseech thee to hear us.” On page 47 the following invocation occurs: “Beseeching thee (holy Father St. Benedict) to be so faithfully present to me at the hour of my death, as to oppose thyself on every side where thou shalt see the assaults of the enemy most violently raging against me, that, being defended by thy presence, I may securely escape the snares of the enemy, and arrive at the joys of heaven.”

Similar impieties occur throughout this and the other parts. Thus, in the part devoted to St. Scholastica, on page 131, we find the following collect: “Mercifully look down upon Thy family, we beseech Thee, O Lord, through the merits of Thy blessed Virgin, St. Scholastica; and as by her prayers Thou didst cause the rain to descend from heaven deign, through her supplications,” etc. A number of litanies also occur, in which she is addressed in the most gushing way, and asked to pray for those who thus address her.

Moreover, this book introduces prayers for the dead. Thus, on page 165, the versicle, “May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.”

There are many other superstitious practices contained in the book, notably the medal of St. Benedict, the wearing of which is declared on page 223 to be “a constant silent prayer to God, … that He would have regard to the merits of our holy Father, and for his sake would extend His own protection,” etc.

Sister Mary Agnes says that the whole of this book, with the exception of the part on Indulgences, was in constant use by the nuns under Father Ignatius.

Must not then monasticism be a fostering garden of superstition, since even those who claim to reject Rome resort to the same subterfuges as Rome does to fill the void that must necessarily exist in the aching hearts of all the deluded followers of monasticism?

The next book, under Appendix B, will appear, if possible, even more grossly superstitious than the former.—(EDITOR.)

_APPENDIX B._

“THE EXERCISES OF SAINT GERTRUDE, VIRGIN AND ABBESS OF THE
ORDER OF ST. BENEDICT.” (London: Burns & Oates.)

In the preface a short account is given of the life of St. Gertrude, which is chiefly a legendary history, and made up of some of the most absurd and ridiculous tales.

“Once, when she was pouring out her whole heart in love to its Divine Spouse, it received the impression of the five wounds of the Divine Redeemer, and Gertrude felt them continually to the moment of her death with an ever-increasing anguish and love.”

Again, “On another occasion, on the Feast of Annunciation, the Mother of God fastened on her breast a heavenly jewel, wherein were seven precious stones.”

Again, we have another still more extraordinary miracle vouchsafed to her; for “once she received in her heart the Divine Infant, who sprang from his crib to attach himself to her.”

Must not such teaching as this be in the highest degree degrading? And must not those who can swallow such stuff be spiritually demented?

It is almost needless to point out that Saint Gertrude is said to have been devoted to the worship of the Virgin Mary. We find the following most blasphemous words on the subject: “The love of Gertrude towards Mary was in proportion to the tenderness with which the Mother of God regarded the dearest of the Spouses of her Son. Gertrude has bequeathed to us the expression of her devotion to the glorious Queen of heaven in that exquisite prayer which so expressively reveals the deep and touching character of her piety: ‘Hail, fair lily of the effulgent and ever-glorious Trinity! Hail, radiant rose of heavenly fragrance, of whom the King of heaven willed to be born, and with thy milk to be fed, feed our soul with thy Divine insinuations!’” I will only give the last prayer in the book to show how the invocation of supposed saints is inculcated, as in the other book so commonly used in monastic and conventual institutions.

“O God, who hast prepared for Thyself a dwelling-place of delights in the most pure heart of the blessed Virgin Gertrude, deign, we beseech Thee, through her merits and intercession, to wipe away all stains from our hearts, that they may become meet abodes of Thy Divine Majesty, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen!”—(EDITOR.)

_APPENDIX C._

REVIEW OF “VISITS TO THE MOST HOLY SACRAMENT AND THE BLESSED
VIRGIN MARY. BY ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI.” (Published by Burns &
Oates.)

This book was sent to me by Sister Agnes, who wrote as follows when forwarding it:

“I send the book which we used daily. It was my constant friend for years; my troubles and sorrows I confided to it. The hymns with the word ‘Ignatius’ at the end are his, but not the others; the writing in the first part of the book, written in MS. on foreign note paper, is taken from St. Alphonsus Liguori, and _was approved of by Ignatius_, except the part I have covered over: that he did not approve of. It treats of sinful obedience. I cannot quite make it out. The book it is culled from is, I think, entitled ‘The Religious Life.’”

Before reviewing the book itself, I purpose to place before you a part of the matter “written on foreign note paper,” and stuck carefully into the book, acting as a kind of preface to it, as we may say.

Remember this matter is _taken from St. Alphonsus Liguori’s “Life of the Religious.”_

“_There is no consecration so profound, so entire as that of ‘religious’_ on the day of their profession, because there is _none so purifying, so constant, or so religious_. The consecration of bishops and priests is more exalted, as being a Sacrament; it is more noble, as conferring a more sublime dignity and ineffable character; yea, it is more powerful, because it imparts to a mere creature some of the powers of God. _But it is not so complete as the monastic_ consecration, because it does not include a man’s entire separation from himself and from the world; it is not so entire, because it does not _absolutely consume the liberty_, the independence, and the spontaneousness of his nature: it is a great sacrifice and a great Sacrament, but _not a_ TRUE HOLOCAUST.”

I would urge my readers to stay a moment and mark carefully, and inwardly digest this description of a nun’s life. Where is the liberty that is so vainly spoken of? Are we not here told that a nun by her profession has her liberty absolutely consumed; that is to say, she is a _prisoner for life_?

Notice, I pray you, the words “it is a true holocaust.” In fact, the sin of the children of Israel, who “caused their sons to pass through the fire,” is committed over again. As king Manasseh “caused his children to pass through the fire in the valley of the son of Hinnom,” so under the pretence of offering the nuns to the service of God, the Roman Catholics, and alas! members of the Church of England, “sacrifice their sons and daughters to devils” (Ps. cvi. 37). It is nothing but Moloch worship over again. But to proceed with Liguori’s description of the life of the religious:

“The violation of the vows is then a very grievous sin against the virtue of religion—(it is) _the crime of sacrilege_. Man, consecrated to God and to His service, _becomes something divine_; he owes himself, therefore, a religious respect, which rebounds ever to God; and if ever he should dishonour by mortal sin the virtues of poverty, obedience, and virginity, of which he has made profession, he would commit an outrage against the Divine honour, he would be guilty of sacrilege. What rashness! what crime! what impiety would it not be then in you to violate your vows!

“The infidelity of consecrated persons is more awful than the sacrilege committed against holy places, Eucharist vessels, holy pictures, or relics. Your soul would shudder at the mere thought of a desecrated temple, a dishonoured ciborium, a broken crucifix, or of a saint’s body cast into the flames: would it then consent to far more horrible _crimes_, or to more infamous violations? Virginity derives not its nobility and worth from itself, but rather because it is an offering to the Lord, inspired and preserved by prudence and piety of the soul.

“If it should happen that a religious, in drawing comparison between his life and that of Christians in the world, should be seized with a holy fear lest he be less zealous, less pure, or less fervent than many of them, he may still find a legitimate reassurance in the thought that his actions, though they may be apparently less virtuous and brilliant, derive, notwithstanding, greater value and more real devotion than theirs from the virtue of religion, which is their chief source, and which has so high a place amongst the more virtuous.”

Do we not see here how a nun is taught to meet what must be an oft-recurring thought—that her life is utterly useless, and that she is unable to devote herself actively to the service of God, and that misery and unhappiness surround her, and that she cannot be so pure as many who, living in the world, are not shut up, so to speak, with only their own heart’s corruptions to brood over. She is taught that all these serious failings are more than atoned for by the mere fact that she has made a solemn profession of poverty, chastity, and obedience. But to proceed.

“He may be consoled that he has eternally consecrated to the Lord the root of his actions in such a way that they all bear the threefold character of a profound religion, ardent generosity (?), and eternal attachment to that which is good. We may reasonably suppose that on its entrance into religion, by making profession of the vows, _the Christian soul obtains remission of all its sins_. Not that the religious profession, considered in itself, possesses a sacramental virtue, operating by its own intrinsic and independent office, or that it can, like baptism and penance, blot out the stain of sin; but if it be sincere, it is a most excellent act of perfect charity, which unites us very closely to God, by an effectual outpouring of His sanctifying grace, and by an abundant remission of those temporal punishments which remain due to sin after its guilt has been forgiven.

“Before dismissing this noble subject of religious profession let us not omit to observe that the _vow of obedience is its chief feature_. That which is done by obedience is more agreeable to God than that which is performed by one’s own will. Your Superior is like a sacred vessel wherein God has placed for us all His desires and graces, and the true proof of religious sanctity, the sure token of perfection, is the perfection of _obedience_ to all Superiors.

“Need we add that obedience has its limits. There are, firstly, things forbidden by the _law of God_, which a Superior cannot prescribe without injustice, since, being then no longer subordinate to the Divine will, he can no longer serve as a medium between him and his subject. They are without the pale of obedience, and the Superior has no authority to enforce them. The subject, therefore, is not to act contrary to the law of God, or to the rule which they profess to follow; in such obedience would be _illicit_.”

I must make a few observations on this matter of obedience. Notice how, by such an obedience, a professed nun (or monk) transfers to an erring mortal the whole responsibility of her actions. She has to find out God’s will through the Superior’s. The Superior is to her in the place of God, and practically his law and order becomes for her God’s law and order. How can she remonstrate, when the Superior commands what is against the law of God, when she has been taught that she can only learn what is God’s law through the medium of the Superior? And if she dared to resist her Superior’s will because she felt it to be leading her astray, do you suppose that the Superior would ever acknowledge himself or herself to be in the wrong? And is it likely that the poor nun would escape some terrible penance for daring to doubt the propriety of any behest?

But the last paragraph, commencing “Need we add that obedience has its limits,” and closing with “Such obedience would be illicit,” was carefully hidden, for Father Ignatius had told his nuns to _paste a piece of paper over it_, since he _could not agree_ with the Romish doctor! He required an absolute and unconditional obedience, and believed it impossible for a Superior to prescribe any law that was against the law of God.

St. Alphonsus Liguori has always been considered an extreme exponent of Romish doctrines; but now we find a man holding orders in the Church of England going even beyond Liguori. I beg my readers to make a special note of this. I will now finish my extracts from the writing on foreign note-paper inserted in the book I am about to review.

“The religious is a person consecrated _for ever_ to the divine service” (mark this “_for ever_”—a prisoner for life, my friends, nothing more or less), “and who cannot disgrace his high dignity without committing sacrilege. He has solemnly vowed that he will belong to no other but God; he has devoted himself to follow after eternal wisdom in order to become perfect, and the religious, in sinning, has stripped himself of his justice and merits and become a shameful ruin, a horrid corpse.”

(This is enough to frighten a poor, timid girl, and to bind her in chains to her prison.)

“The spiritual dangers of the religious life are not to be attributed to the vows, but rather to the fault, of him who, by changing his mind, transgresses those vows. Do not then, under the pressure of _most cruel temptations_”—(who makes them cruel? Read the experiences of Miss Povey or any other nun who has had the good fortune to escape, or to be turned out of her prison, and you will find out)—“regret the profession you have made in the _fulness of liberty_”—(remember that previous to profession the Superiors have cunningly woven their entangling web around the nun, and the profession may be compared to the spider, after he has secured his prey, _carrying the poor helpless fly_ into the inner precincts of his home)—“but rather behave the more diligently to subject your impatient nature to so _salutary_ a yoke.” Mark the word “salutary.” Is it not a well-attested fact that many nuns go mad from the unnatural confinement within convent walls?

I can only hope to give a very short review of this book, which was placed in the hands of a nun who was a member of the Church of England. I have not time for an elaborate or lengthy account of its contents. I do not think that it was only at Llanthony that this book was used, and it is to be feared that whilst the Feltham convent is now no longer under the wing of Father Ignatius, yet that, with the exception of unconditional obedience, the teaching there is as extreme and as Romish as at Llanthony, and yet I believe a clergyman, holding a licence to officiate in the diocese of London, acts as chaplain there. How long our bishops are going to allow and wink at this state of things, I know not! May God raise up many faithful men who will demand that the laws of our Protestant Church be complied with!

The above work is one of the so-called devotional books prescribed by Father Ignatius, to be used by the nuns under his control.

It is a Roman Catholic publication, in constant use in all the monastic and other institutions of that Church; was composed in Italian by Liguori, the founder of the Redemptorist Order, translated into English by the Rev. R. A. Coffin, a member of that order, and published by Burns & Oates, the leading Romish publishers in Great Britain.

The nature of this book may be readily ascertained from the fact that it presupposes the consecrated wafer to be really and truly Christ himself, and that it insists upon the Virgin Mary as being the Saviour of every one that is saved. For, in the beginning of the introduction, Liguori says:

“Our holy faith teaches us, and we are bound to believe, that in the consecrated host Jesus Christ is really present under the species of bread”; and, further on, speaking of the visits to the Virgin, he says:

“The opinion of St. Bernard is well known and generally believed. It is that God dispenses no graces otherwise than through the hands of Mary.… Hence, Father Suarez declares that it is now the sentiment of the universal Church that ‘the intercession of Mary is not only useful, but even necessary to obtain graces,’” and he concludes:

“Do you then be also careful to always join to your daily visit to the most blessed Sacrament a visit to the most holy Virgin Mary in some church, or at least before a devout image of her in your own house.”

Hence on page 25 we find a prayer to the Virgin, beginning with the words:

“Most holy immaculate Virgin, and my mother ‘Mary,’” in which she is styled the “queen of the world,” “the hope, the refuge of sinners,” and the following blasphemous expressions are used:

“I worship thee, O great queen, and I thank thee for all the graces which thou hast hitherto granted me; and especially I thank thee for having delivered me from hell, which I have so often deserved.… I place all my hopes in thee, and I confide my salvation to thy care, etc.”

Hence throughout the book occur such expressions as the following:

“Sole refuge of sinners, have mercy on me.” “O Mary, grant me the grace always to have recourse to thee.” “Hail, our hope.” “My hope, help me.” “Therefore, my lady, and my hope, if thou dost not help me, I am lost.” “All who are saved obtain salvation through thee; thou then, O Mary, hast to save me,” and the like.

Extracts might be piled upon extracts, but enough have been given to show the nature and tendency of the book. Yet this book the nuns, under Father Ignatius’s jurisdiction, are induced to keep as a constant companion.

It does not seem necessary to say anything further on the head of this book: for its antichristian nature must be apparent to all students of the pure word of God. In Christ alone is salvation, and He alone is our Mediator between God and man.—(EDITOR.)

FOOTNOTES

[1] I read as follows in the October number of the _Protestant Observer_:—“I remember hearing Father Ignatius tell an Oxford audience some years ago that he was called Ignatius, not after the famous Father of the early Church, but ‘after my patron-saint, Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuit Order.’ May we not call him Ignatius Loyola the Second?”

[2] “There are persons, even amongst ‘Religious,’ so insensible to the sorrows and sufferings of others, that we might ask whether they possess a human heart” (“Thoughts and Suggestions for [Ritualistic] Sisters of Charity,” page 81 London: Hodges, 1871).

[3] These were held in Hunter Street, Brunswick Square; the sisters were of the third order, or associate sisters, living in the world, but wearing a dress similar to that in my photograph. They used to accompany Father Ignatius when he went to preach or attend meetings of a more private character in Hunter Street. It was at one of these meetings that I first met the Feltham Mother, early in the year 1868.

[4] If the reader will look at the last verse of this chapter in the Book of Numbers, he will see that the vows there spoken of can have no connection with convent vows, nor can they supply any authority for them. We read in the last verse: “These are the statutes which the Lord commanded Moses between a man and his wife, between the father and his daughter, being yet in her youth in her father’s house.” Please note this. Oh, how clever and subtle are some people in twisting Scripture and wresting it from its proper bearing!—EDITOR.

[5] In “The Rule of our Most Holy Father St. Benedict,” edited, with English translation and explanatory notes, by a monk of St. Benedict’s Abbey, Fort Augustus, occur these words, which show that the rules which regulate the convents connected with this Order are very similar to those regulating the monasteries of the same order in the Church of Rome:

“By no means let a monk be allowed to receive, either from his parents, or any one else, or from his brethren, letters, tokens, or any gifts whatsoever, or to give them to others, without permission of the abbot. And if anything be sent to him, even by his parents, let him not presume to receive it, until it hath been made known to the abbot. _But even if the abbot order it to be received, it shall be in his power to bid it to be given to whom he pleaseth, and let not the brother to whom it may have been sent be grieved, lest occasion be given to the devil. Should any one, however, presume to act otherwise, let him be subjected to the discipline of the Rule_” (p. 155).—EDITOR.

[6] John Berchmans was the son of a master shoemaker named John Charles Berchmans, and was born in the year 1599. His biographers tell us that as a child he grew up as gentle and guileless as a lamb, and early shared his time between the school and the altar.

When about fifteen years of age, he joined the Society of Jesus, although his parents were somewhat opposed to his taking this step. In a letter to his mother at that time he tried to bring his parents to be reconciled to his taking this step; he wrote, “God is now pleased, after much prayer, out of His goodness to give me a vocation to religion and to the ‘Society of Jesus,’ _the hammer of all heresies, the vessel of virtue and perfection_. I hope you will not be so unreasonable as to oppose Him, but as (as I have read in history,) the Egyptians offered their children to the crocodile, which they looked upon as a god, and, while it was eating them up, the parents made high festival, _so too, I hope you will rejoice as they did_, and praise God, and thank Him that your son should be found worthy,” etc.

This Jesuit saint seems to have been “_celebrated for devotion to His Lord in the blessed Sacrament_” and _devotion to the Virgin Mary_. He was looked upon as a “_portent of holiness_.” He is said “_to have preserved unstained by grievous sin the white robe of baptism_.” He died in the year 1621. At eight o’clock on Friday, Aug. 13th, 1621, with “_his eyes on his crucifix_,” and with “_the holy names of Jesus_ and _Mary on his lips he went to his reward_.”

Miracles of course were said to be wrought through his relics. In 1865, Pius IX. published the decree for his beatification, and on Jan. 15th, 1888, Leo XIII., amidst the splendid festivities of his sacerdotal jubilee, solemnly canonized him as a saint.—EDITOR.

[7] The late Rev. Dr. Pusey recommended Ritualistic Father Confessors to give the following advice to those Sisters of Mercy who might happen to be their penitents: “I would have great respect paid in confession to your confessor, for (to say nothing of the honour due to the priesthood) we ought to look upon them _as angels_ sent by God to reconcile us to His Divine goodness; and also as His lieutenants upon earth, and therefore we owe them all reverence, even though they may _at times_ betray that they are _human_, and have human infirmities, and perhaps _ask curious questions_ which are not part of the confession, such as your name, what penances or virtues you practise, what are your temptations, etc. _I would have you answer_, although you are not obliged to do so.” (“Manual for Confessors,” p. 190. London, 1878.) Heaven help the poor sisters who have to answer the “curious questions” of an inquisitive or wicked Father Confessor.—EDITOR.

[8] The following is an extract from a lecture delivered by Mr. W. Walsh, at Bath, reported in the _English Churchman_, Nov. 26, 1886:

“He (Mr. Walsh) had now to direct attention to the Vow of ‘_Obedience_,’ taken by many Ritualistic Sisters of Mercy. The rule as to ‘obedience’ varied considerably. In _Dr. Pusey’s sisterhood_, it was _very objectionable indeed_. The rule of holy obedience commands the sisters: ‘Ye shall ever address the spiritual Mother with honour and respect; avoid speaking of her among yourselves; cherish and obey her with holy love, _without any murmur or sign of hesitation or repugnance_, but simply, cordially, and promptly obey with cheerfulness, AND BANISH FROM YOUR MIND ANY QUESTION AS TO THE WISDOM OF THE COMMAND GIVEN YOU. If ye fail in this, ye have failed to resist a temptation of the evil one.’

“Would not such a rule as this, Mr. Walsh continued to say, if placed in the hands of a wicked Mother Superior, lead to the most fearful results? In Father Benson’s ‘Religious Life Portrayed for the Use of Sisters of Mercy,’ the teaching was, if possible, placed in a still more fearful light. In that book the sister is taught that—

“‘A _religieuse_ has made the sacrifice of her will in taking the Vow of Obedience. She is no more her own, but God’s; and she must obey her Superiors for God’s sake, _yielding herself as wax to be moulded unresistingly_.’”

Well did Mr. Walsh observe: “Persons who had to submit to ‘obedience’ such as this were as truly _slaves_ as any negro.”—EDITOR.

[9] There must be many similar lying legends of this kind, in order to stamp upon ignorant and superstitious minds the necessity of obedience.

In “The Secret Plan of the Jesuits,” by the Abbot Leone, the following story is told: “Father Saetti, knocking at my door one morning, according to his custom, I did not open it. ‘Why this delay?’ he asked me. I replied that I could not open the door sooner. He then reminded me that, in all things, the most prompt obedience was the most perfect; that, in obeying God, we must make every sacrifice, even that of a moment of time. ‘One of the brethren,’ he continued, ‘was occupied in writing, when some one knocked at the door. He had begun to make an “O,” but he did not stay to finish it. He opened the door, and on returning to his seat, he found the “O” completed, _and all in gold!_ Thus you see how God rewards him who is obedient.’” Did not St. Paul prophesy that those would arise who would “speak lies in hypocrisy,” and did he not say, “_Refuse profane and old wives’ fables_”? (1 Tim. iv. 1-7).—EDITOR.

[10] See Appendix C. for the teaching we received concerning the nature of the Vow of Obedience.—EDITOR.

[11] While these pages were passing through the press, the _Western Mail_, of Cardiff, on March 3rd, 1890, published a report, from the pen of its special correspondent, of the reception of three new monks at Llanthony Abbey by Father Ignatius. We reprint this report, slightly abridged:

“The great event at the morning service was the consecration of three brethren as monks. They were given new names after their consecration. The abbot gave Cymric names to the three new monks, naming one Mihangel Dewi Fair, another Catwg Fair, and the third Dyfrig Fair. The great organ thundered forth sweetest melody, and the voices of unseen choristers singing a Welsh chant ushered in the solemn service. The three monks in reply to the abbot—who was most gorgeously appareled in cloth of gold and hood, which caught and held the lights which blazed forth from all parts of the building—who asked whether it was their wish to depart, said, ‘We wish to dwell in the House of the Lord for ever!’ The abbot asked, would they make a solemn vow of celibacy, obedience, and poverty. That was answered in the affirmative. After some other ceremonies of the most gorgeous description had been observed, the three brethren who sought to be made monks laid themselves down on their backs on the floor of the church. A funeral pall was placed over them to signify that they were henceforth dead to the things of this world. A long wax candle was placed at each of the four corners of the carpet on which they laid. This was followed by the Burial Service being performed by the abbot, and the great bell tolled as if for the dead, and the _De Profundis_ was solemnly chanted. Moving around the prostrate figures, the abbot, now robed in black vestments, scattered ashes upon them, and said, ‘Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.’ He then sprinkled holy water upon the prostrate forms. A black curtain was now drawn across the church, hiding everything from the congregation. Subsequently that was withdrawn, and it was then seen that the three monks had commenced their spiritual existence. The head of each bore the tonsure, and was encircled with a wreath as described above. The abbot received the three monks, each of whom held beneath his chin the houseling white cloth. Later on in the service the abbot, standing in wedding garments on the steps of the altar, proclaimed the three new monks as being ‘the spouses of our Lord Jesus Christ,’ and on the third finger of the left hand of each he placed a plain wedding ring. After the ceremony of consecration was over, the three young monks took their seats, covered with crimson cloth, and thirteen or fourteen nuns, completely concealed in white wraps, descended from somewhere, and bowed low, to receive the blessing of the monks. The above will give the reader some idea of the extraordinary and gorgeous ritual observed on the occasion.”—ED.

[12] In the “Little Manual of Devotions,” for the use of the “Pilgrims” to Llanthony Abbey, Father Ignatius teaches that—“It is a pious custom of devout Christians, on seeing a monk, _to kneel and kiss the hem of the sacred habit_; if done from love to Jesus, _and reverence to the habit_ of the Consecrated Life, _a great blessing will be received_” (page 6).—EDITOR.

[13] At that period my letters were not kept back; but you will see that at any time that suits the Superiors letters may be and often are never sent.

[14] In the _Church of England Catholic and Monastic Times_ for June 24, 1884 (which was the organ of Father Ignatius), there appears an article entitled “Lent at the Monastery.” It is stated that in the evening of Ash Wednesday, “Compline was said, and then, while the nuns retired to their Priory for the Service of the _Discipline_, the monks proceeded to the Discipline in the solemn choir” (page 5). This confirms the statement of Sister Mary Agnes that the “Discipline” was in use at Llanthony.—EDITOR.

[15] This last event, I should mention, took place in Devonshire. There are no stairs at the Llanthony convent.

[16] In the article on “Lent at the Monastery,” which we have already quoted from the _Monastic Times_, it is stated that on Ash Wednesday, at Llanthony, “First the Superior [Father Ignatius] received the holy ashes on his tonsured head, then the monks; after this the nuns descended.… One by one they knelt before the priest, received the ashes on their veiled heads, and disappeared behind the Great Shrine.… Nones, Litany, and the seven penitential Psalms were said; the latter kneeling or _lying prostrate in the ashes_ in the centre of the choir.”—EDITOR.

[17] Probably few people credit what I know to be a fact, that such instruments of torture are in use in probably all monastic and conventual institutions. I have by me now a book called “Priests, Women, and Families,” by J. Michelet, published in 1874 by the Protestant Evangelical Mission.

In the editor’s preface to this book there are two sets of engravings of “Articles of Piety”; or, Instruments of Torture in English Convents. Under the first set of engravings, I read thus:

“Instruments of torture are _now_ practised upon nuns in Romish convents in London, and in all parts of the country.”

The Romish “Articles of Piety,” named on the next page, were bought at Little’s Ecclesiastical Warehouse, 20, Cranbourne Street, and at the convent of the “Sisters of the Assumption of the Perpetual Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.” (London.)

Such instruments of torture are fitter for the worshippers of Baal, than for the worshippers of God; and a person using them upon cattle would lay himself open to a prosecution by the “Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.” Both the parties who purchased these articles are intimately known to Mr. Robert Steele, the secretary of the Protestant Evangelical Mission and Electoral Union, 5, Racquet Court, Fleet Street, E.C.

Christian reader, it is your duty to testify, on God’s behalf, against the _blasphemy_ and _cruelty_ of Romanism. The _Maker_ and _Preserver_ of man is the loving _Father_, who gave His only begotten Son to die for us, and thus make atonement for our sin.

The second engraving is headed, “Iron Disciplines of the Church.” There I read:

“Saint Liguori, the Doctor of the Romish Church” (and an author strongly recommended to the nuns and monks under Father Ignatius), “commends the use of _Disciplines_ to the ‘True Spouse of Christ,’ thus:

“_Disciplines_, or _Flagellations_, are a species of mortifications strongly recommended by St. Francis of Sales, and universally adopted in religious communities of both sexes.”

Then after a minute description of some fifteen of the instruments of torture, I read these words:

“Were such cruelties perpetrated upon the _heathen_, all our _Christian_ churches would resound with appeals to the sympathy of the people to come to the help of the sufferers. This would be commendable. Why, then, is the same course not adopted on behalf of nuns, who, as Rev. Pierce Connelly says, ‘are not only slaves, but who are, _de facto_, by a Satanic consecration, secret prisoners for life, and may any day be put an end to, or much worse, with less risk of vengeance here in England than in Italy and Spain’?”—EDITOR.

[18] An extern is a boarder, or associate.

[19] See Appendix A, and B, and C, where some Romish literature used is reviewed.—EDITOR.

[20] Father Ignatius has himself described this service in his book entitled “Brother Placidus,” and records, in connection with it, a wonderful “miracle,” which he declares actually occurred in his monastery. It is hard to understand how any person outside a lunatic asylum can believe in such a “miracle”:—

“Matins were over at five minutes before midnight. A procession quickly formed in the Refectory; and, as the hour of joy and gladness struck, the figure of the holy Child was borne in state to the crib, with lighted tapers, incense, and chanting—

‘Ye faithful, approach ye, joyful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem.’