I attempting to prove by public
facts what I know of the horrible depravity caused by the confessional-box
among the priests of France, Canada, Spain, Italy, England, I should have
to write many big volumes in folio. For brevity's sake, I will speak only
of Italy. I take that country because, being under the very eyes of their
infallible and most holy (?) Pontiff, being in the land of daily miracles,
of painted Madonnas, who weep and turn their eyes left and right, up and
down, in a most marvellous way, being in the land of miraculous medals and
heavenly spiritual favors, constantly flowing from the chair of St. Peter,
the confessors in Italy are in the best possible circumstances to be
strong, faithful, and holy. Well, let us hear an eye-witness, a
contemporary, an unimpeachable witness about the way the confessors deal
with their penitent females, in the only holy, apostolical, infallible (?)
Church of Rome.

The witness we will hear is of the purest blood of the princes of Italy.
Her name is Henrietta Carracciolo, daughter of the Marshal Carracciolo,
Governor of the Province of Bari, in Italy. Let us hear what she says of
the Father Confessors, after twenty years of personal experience in
different nunneries of Italy, in her remarkable book, "Mysteries of the
Neapolitan Convents," pp. 150, 151, 152: "My confessor came the following
day, and I disclosed to him the nature of the troubles which beset me.
Later in the day, seeing that I had gone down to the place where we used to
receive the holy communion, called Communichino, the conversa of my aunt
rang the bell for the priest to come with the pyx.[2] He was a man of about
fifty years of age, very corpulent, with a rubicund face, and a type of
physiognomy as vulgar as it was repulsive.

"I approached the little window to receive the sacred wafer on my tongue,
with my eyes closed, as it is customary. I placed it upon my tongue; and,
as I drew back, I felt my cheeks caressed. I opened my eyes, but the priest
had withdrawn his hand, and, thinking I had been deceived, I gave it no
more attention.

"On the next occasion, forgetful of what had occurred before, I received
the sacrament with closed eyes again, according to precept. This time I
distinctly felt my chin caressed again; and on opening my eyes suddenly, I
found the priest gazing rudely upon me, with a sensual smile on his face.

"There could be no longer any doubt: these overtures were not the result of
accide