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

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

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

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

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.”



ORDER.” (London: Catholic Publishing and Bookselling Co.

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

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.)


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

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

“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.)



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

“_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

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

“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

“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.