Transcribed from the [c1889] edition printed by J. T. Drought by David Price.
REV. T. CONNELLAN,
TO HIS
Dearly Beloved Brethren,
THE ROMAN CATHOLICS
OF THE
DIOCESE OF ELPHIN.
Dublin: Printed by J. T. Drought, 6, Bachelor’s-walk.
A LETTER,
ETC.
Beloved Brethren,—
For seven years and three months I laboured among you. Thousands of you knew me in the Confessional; almost all of you have heard my voice from the pulpit; I have baptized not a few among you. I have laboured in the four most populous centres in your diocese—Sligo, Strokestown, Roscommon, and Athlone—and from the day on which I entered upon my work to the day of my departure from the diocese, there has never been a word of disagreement between us. I resided but four months in the parish of Strokestown, yet, at my departure, my flock presented me with a purse of sovereigns. Most of you have read the comments in the local journals when I left the diocese, and I leave them to speak for themselves.
I am returning to live and die among you if you will permit me, and I know the question that will naturally be asked by every one of you. You will say—“Yes, we remember Father Connellan very well. He preached in our chapel, and we used to call him ‘the fair-haired priest.’ But wasn’t he drowned in Lough Ree a couple of years ago? Is it his ghost that is coming among us?”
Well, my clear friends, I am thankful to say I was not drowned in Lough Ree. I left the diocese, put off my clerical garb, and worked on the Press in London for eighteen months. It was rather a curious thing for a “fair-haired priest” to do, arid I am going to give you my reasons for the step in as few words as possible.
I was not more than two years a priest when I began to have conscientious scruples. I shall tell you the causes of these scruples and troubles, not in the order in which they arose, for that would be impossible in a short sketch like the present, and if you cannot master the difficulties yourselves, you can ask your parish priest to explain them for you.
1. We have all a great love for St. Patrick, and I used to read everything I could lay my hands on concerning him when I was a Roman Catholic priest. Now, St. Patrick left some writings in manuscript, and one of these is called “St. Patrick’s Confession.” All agree in believing this the genuine work of St. Patrick. Now, the following are the opening words of St. Patrick’s Confession:—“I, Patrick, a sinner, the rudest and the least of all the faithful, and most contemptible to very many, had for my father Calpurnius, a deacon, a son of Potitus a presbyter, who dwelt in the village of Bannavem Taberniae.” Presbyter, I may tell you, is the old word for priest, so we find that St. Patrick’s father was a deacon, and his grandfather a priest. If a Roman Catholic deacon or priest were to marry now, he would at once be suspended; and don’t you think the priests and deacons living only three centuries after Christ were more likely to be right than those of the nineteenth century?