THE CONFESSIONAL AND CHURCH ABUSES
Something must now be said about the way in which the people refer to
the confessional, and this I will endeavour to do in their own words,
premising that I offer no opinion as to the truth or falsehood of their
stories, most of which have been told me by women. The abuse of the
confessional is such a heinous sin that Catholics of other nations will
not believe what is currently said as to its prevalence in Spain; they
hold that such things are impossible, and it is to be hoped, for the
sake of the Church, that prejudice distorts the popular view, and that
what the working classes in town and country assert to be of frequent
occurrence does not in fact take place. But whatever be the actual
truth, it is impossible to doubt that the people are convinced that the
confessional is habitually abused, and this conviction--which nothing
can shake--constitutes a peril which must ultimately endanger the very
existence of the Church in this country.
When first I was told, several years ago, that the secrets of the
confessional were betrayed, as a matter of course, in the interests of
the rich as against the poor, I flatly said that I did not believe it.
The thing was unthinkable to one brought up in the belief that such
secrets were inviolate. I was given actual instances of domestic
servants sent to confession “so that the mistress might learn from the
priest what the maid had been doing wrong.” As my informant was a young
foreigner, born and bred a Catholic, in the employment of a family of
title, and with a somewhat limited knowledge of Spanish, I found it
easier to assume that he had misunderstood what was said in his presence
than to believe that he had accurately repeated his employer’s words,
although he declared that the above remark had been made in his hearing
on several occasions. It should be said that he was in a house noted for
its clerical leanings.
A similar assertion was made to a member of my family by the daughter of
a professional man, better educated than most of her class, and touched
with the superficial scepticism prevalent among clever young Spaniards,
whose hatred of the priests and the Religious Orders tends to alienate
them altogether from the religion in which they were brought up. In this
instance I attributed the accusation to prejudice, and attached no more
importance to it than to the young man’s story. And as it is not a
matter that can be discussed with practising Catholics, the two
mentioned, and one other, who confirmed their statements, are the only
educated persons whose opinions I can quote.
But among the poor this offence is spoken of freely, and they accuse the
priests, not only of betraying their trust by repeating what is told
them under the seal of the confessional, but also of using the
opportunities it offers to ruin young and foolish women who obey the
Church’s order to confess with frequency. Indeed, many working men have
gravely assured me that such is their distrust of the priests that
nothing would induce them to allow their women-folk to go to confession
on any pretence whatever.
The following are some among many stories of this kind, which I give as
they were told me, only omitting the expressions of anger with which
some of them were punctuated:
“I was laundress in a priest’s house for several years. His sister
lived with him, and she really was his sister, for a wonder; not
the sort they generally call their ‘sisters.’ They also kept a
young girl to help in the house, for the priest was well off. One
day my fellow-servant committed a sin, for the devil tempted her to
steal a ring belonging to the Señora. But she could not rest happy
with it, and at last she went to a priest and confessed that she
had stolen it, and asked what she should do. He told her to put it
back, and gave her a penance. So she put it back. And the priest
went and told her mistress, and she sent the girl to prison.”
“There are several maidservants in the house of Doña Dolores, and
one of them goes to confession frequently. The others all have to
be very careful what they say before her, for the priest repeats it
all to Doña Dolores, and then it is ‘into the street’ with those
who have done anything silly or wrong in the kitchen or elsewhere.”
A friend of mine--a foreigner--was begged by her servants not to engage
an attractive-looking housemaid from one of the convent training schools
who applied for a situation. “She will repeat everything that is done in
the house to her priest, and he will make unpleasantness for you and us
too. That is done every day here. We who have not had the misfortune to
be brought up in a convent never, if we can help it, take a situation
where a convent-trained girl lives.”
“Juan Cabrito was hung through the priest telling the authorities
that he had confessed that he was a murderer. The priest went
straight to the Governor and told him everything Cabrito had said.
He well deserved hanging, and no one thought anything of the priest
betraying his confession. We are quite used to that in Spain.”
“I often used to be called in to help to wait in the evening in the
house of a priest who had a _tertulia_ for priests every week. His
niece kept house for him. I have often heard the priests laughing
and joking about the confessions of the nuns. They would imitate
their voices, speaking high up and whining: ‘Father, I lost my
temper and spoke harshly to the dog or the cat to-day.’ ‘How
tedious they are with their dogs and their cats and their tempers!’
the priest who confessed the nuns would say, and then they all
laughed together, very much amused. But it was wrong, for the
priest is forbidden to repeat a confession. I am not very fond of
the nuns myself, but I did not like to hear those coarse men
[_nombres brutos_] making jokes about their penitence.”
“It is many years since I have confessed. When I went to confess
before my wedding the priest asked me a question which no man
should put to a decent woman, so I never went again.”
“In my last situation my mistress made me go to Mass with her every
Sunday. I had to get up at five in the morning, so as to be back in
time to do my work in the house. Every Sunday she asked me if I had
confessed so that I might take the Communion, but I always told her
I had not had time and would confess next time. I will not go to
confession. I would rather lose my place.”
“It is true that I am over seventy, and it is very hard to earn my
bread and pay a penny a day for rent by picking up rags and rubbish
for sale. I am ill too: I have never been well since my daughter
ran away from me to live with a priest. But I do not wish to go
into the Asylum of the ---- Sisters. They not only make the poor
people there confess and communicate every day, but they make them
work quite as hard as I am working now. And in my own place, though
I may be hungry, at least I am not obliged to get up at six in the
morning to go to Mass, and then carry firewood for the convent, as
my poor old brother was.”
In another town in the diocese where the rag-picker lived, an old
acquaintance of mine thankfully accepted an opportunity I was able to
obtain for her, through friends, of entering an asylum for aged paupers,
managed by nuns under the supervision of the municipality. That town has
long been markedly Liberal in its politics, and possibly this may have
something to do with the more humane administration of the asylum. With
this instance in my mind I was surprised at the rag-picker’s rejection
of a similar refuge for her old age, but further inquiries convinced me
that the rule of the one convent was in truth very different from that
of the other.
“Every one knows that Higuero was the son of the Bishop, and that
was why they didn’t hang him. There was no doubt at all that he
murdered his paramour: he was caught almost in the act. How upset
the Bishop was! His son and his daughter married a brother and
sister, and both turned out badly, very badly. The son--Higuero was
his nickname--and the daughter’s husband--Pepita her name was--fell
in love with the same woman, and that was the cause of the murder.
If the Bishop had not used all his influence with the Government
Higuero would not have escaped hanging. He was taken away to ----
Prison, and no one ever heard of him again. Of course he was not
really taken to prison, he was allowed to escape. How did we know
he was the son of the Bishop? Very simply. His mother had been _ama
de gobierno_ [housekeeper] in the Bishop’s house before he was made
bishop. No, she was never married. She was well provided for, and
the children had some education, but they were bad from the
beginning. I lived for some years in the same tenement house with
them. Many of the priests’ children turn out ill. What can be
expected of the children of such bad men?”
These are a few out of hundreds of such stories told. _And the people
believe they are true._
Certain scandals, relating to the disappearance of valuable paintings
from one Spanish cathedral or another, are familiar to all who travel in
Spain. One such incident has always been a mystery to the outside world,
owing to the seeming impossibility of a thief getting access to the
picture in question, which was in a chapel in the cathedral, protected
by a heavy grille extending from floor to ceiling, the door of which was
always kept locked.
The following explanation was given by the widow of a former cathedral
servant:
“I know quite well how it was done. The assistant-keeper of the
keys was on duty that night, his superior having leave of absence
because his daughter was ill. The priest in charge of the chapel
made some excuse to take the keys from him that afternoon. Next day
he and several others were sent to prison, accused of having been
concerned in the theft. They were released in a week, for there was
no evidence against them, and the proof is that not one of them
lost his place. The priest soon after left the city. It was said
that he had been promoted, but no one ever heard of him again.” The
husband of the speaker was one of those accused.
A scandal which gave rise to a question in the Cortes was the
disappearance of two valuable pictures from the Cathedral of Toledo. It
appears that these pictures were in a chapel which had been built and
endowed in the seventeenth century by a certain family. Two or three
years ago their descendants claimed these pictures as their private
property, and entered into treaty to sell them to a “foreigner.” The
State intervened, declaring the whole contents of the cathedral to be
inviolate. Soon afterwards “it was found necessary to repair” the chapel
in question, and the pictures were taken down “for safe custody”
meanwhile. What happened after that has never been cleared up, but a
“foreigner” and a motor figure in the story, and the chapel is now
without the pictures. No steps were ever taken, so far as the public
could learn, to bring the matter home to any one.
That quantities of valuable old laces and embroideries have disappeared
from the cathedrals and parish churches of Spain there is no doubt. I
know of one case myself in which an antique chasuble was exchanged for
one of cheap jute imitating brocade. The explanation given was that the
old one was worn out, but as it now figures in a private museum it is
difficult not to believe, as the people say, that some money changed
hands with the chasuble.
In the cathedrals each canon had, until quite lately, entire control of
the chapel he served, and was responsible to no one for its contents.
The temptation to sell old lace and vestments and altar fittings, and to
replace them by new, was no doubt great, especially if there is any
truth in the popular belief that the priests in many cases maintain a
home and bring up families like men to whom marriage is not forbidden.
And no one could bring him to book for any change made in the
appointments of his chapel or (in the case of a parish priest) his
church, because, as a rule, no one in authority over him knew what it
contained when he took possession. Even after his death it would
generally be impossible to prove peculation, did the superior officers
of the Church desire to do so, for it is a rare thing for any cathedral
or church to keep an inventory of the valuables it is supposed to
possess.
It is said that the priests in many cathedrals and parish churches allow
their linen vestments and altar fittings to be taken away from the
precincts for laundry purposes. The facility with which valuable old
laces can be exchanged for modern machine-made stuff in these cases need
not be dwelt on.
Another opportunity for those who wished to profit by the sale of church
treasures was said to be afforded by the fact that fabrics, sometimes
several centuries old, stand in occasional need of repair. I have heard
the “store-room” or “workshop” laughed at by employees of the church.
“Once anything worth money goes into the store-room for repairs we never
expect to see it again.”
“And where is this store-room?”
“Don’t you know? The dealers in antiques can tell you.”
The hostility of the people towards the priests doubtless colours their
views in these as in all other matters relating to them. But it is a
fact that a distinguished Spanish archæologist a few years ago was
refused further access to the archives of a certain cathedral after he
had asked the Chapter to permit him to publish an inventory of the
treasures under their charge. Now, I am glad to say there are at any
rate some dioceses in which all this has been changed. The archbishops
have had the contents of the churches examined and catalogued, to the
annoyance of certain persons, but to the satisfaction of the
parishioners, who obtained no benefit from the sale of the Church
treasures under the old system.
The following incident was reported to the Press at the end of the year
1909. I have not seen any contradiction published, and I give the story
for what it is worth.
In one of the great cities a certain church was condemned as unsafe, and
the congregation were told that ere long they would have to attend other
churches in the neighbourhood. One of the Religious Orders entered into
treaty for the purchase of the condemned building, in order to build on
the site. But nothing was settled, and as the danger of collapse was not
immediate the services continued to be conducted as usual. When the time
came to collect money for Masses to be said on All Souls’ Day, the
parish priest found his usual request for alms refused, on the ground
that the ---- Brothers had already been round to say that the church was
given up and its congregation attached to the Brothers’ Church in such a
street, and this being so they had come to collect the payment for the
All Souls’ Masses, which was usually given to the parish priest. He
indignantly reported the affair to his superiors, and so it got into the
papers.
It was added that the priest declined to say the Masses for the dead, as
he had not been paid for them, and the ---- Brothers, although they got
the money, provided no special service for the congregation who had paid
for it. So that the souls for whom these poor folk had given their alms
will--in their belief--remain so much longer in purgatory. That the alms
were given by the poor, not by the rich of the parish, is evident from
the donors not knowing that their parish church still existed. The whole
affair throws an instructive light on the relations of the poor with
their Church or their parish priest. Had he been in the habit of
visiting them, or did they make a practice of attending Mass even
occasionally, the mistake could never have arisen. But, as the story
shows, the priest had no intercourse with his people save when he went
to beg from them. The incident, even allowing a wide margin for
journalistic exaggeration, goes a long way to support the assertion of
the woman who gave as her reason for not going to confession, that “the
priest would only ask her for money, which she wanted more than he did.”
One more case, and I have done with this unattractive subject.
Some twenty years ago a large dole to the poor, which had been given
annually for about four centuries in a certain chapel, was suddenly cut
off, and has never been renewed. It came out that the priest in charge
had sold the bonds in which the capital was invested, with the
connivance of a Government official in the Finance Department, and the
two between them spent the money. The priest was convicted and
imprisoned for a twelvemonth. Then he was released and appointed to
another church in the same diocese. My informant said he had been a
witness at the trial. “And to-day,” said he, “that bad man holds the
sacred Elements in his hands, and gives the people his blessing. Such
things ought not to be allowed.”
THE POOR AND THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS