The Priests' Army in Dublin

Chapter XVII

The Priests’ Army in Dublin and its Work.

If we examine the standing army of priests and nuns who are quartered in such affluence in the city - of Dublin, our astonishment cannot fail to be increased at finding so much vice and misery amongst the poorer classes of the Catholic population. The priests claim exclusive responsibility for the faith and morals of the Catholics, and thereby choke out all initiative and original effort by the better-informed of the Catholic laity on behalf of our poor brethren. If we take a brief survey of the city we may satisfy ourselves that it is amply supplied with churches and secular parish priests and curates. Let us start at the pro-Cathedral parish, where we find an administrator, the archbishop’s deputy, and 7 curates. Let us cross the river to the Westland Row parish, where we find another administrator, the archbishop’s deputy, and 10 curates. St. Laurence O’Toole’s, which is in the neighbourhood of Seville Place, close to the pro7cathedral parish, has a parish priest and 3 curates; St. Agatha’s, also close at hand, extending between Fairview and the pro-cathedral, has a parish priest and 2 curates; Fairview has a parish priest and 4 curates; Clontarf has a parish priest and 4 curates; and Baldoyle, a parish priest and 2 curates. Returning to the heart of the city, St. Joseph’s parish, Berkeley Road, has a parish priest and 3 curates; St. Paul’s, which runs from Berkeley Road to Arran Quay, has a parish priest and 6 curates; the parish of the Holy Family at Aughrim Street has a parish priest and 3 curates; St. Michan’s, which is in the neighbourhood of Green Street, has a parish priest and 3 curates.

Crossing the river to the south side, we find in St. James’s parish, which stretches from James’s Street to Dolphins Barn, a parish priest and 6 curates. The tour parishes next following are coterminous and cover a very small area of the city, comprising some very bad districts: St. Katherine’s, Meath Street, a parish priest and 4 curates; St Audeon’s, High Street, a parish priest and 3 curates; St. Michael and John’s Exchange Street, a parish priest and 3 curates; and St. Nicholas’s, Francis Street, a parish priest and 4 curates.

St. Kevin’s parish, which runs from Stephen’s Green to Harrington Street, and includes the South Circular Road, has a parish priest and 5 curates; Haddington Road, a parish priest and 3 curates; Donnybrook, a parish priest and 2** **curates; Sandymount, a parish priest and 3 curates; Booterstown, a parish priest and 4 curates.

Kingstown parish has a parish priest and 5 curates; Glasthule and Dalkey, a parish priest and 4 curates; Ballybrack, a parish priest and 2 curates; Bray, a parish priest and 5 curates.

Rathmines has a parish priest and 5 curates; Rathgar, a parish priest and 4 curates; Terenure, a parish priest and 2 curates; Rathfarnham, a parish priest and 2 curates; Dundrum, a parish priest and 3 curates. Chapelizod has an administrator and 2 curates; Finglas, a parish priest and a curate; Blanchardstown, a parish priest and 2 curates. Besides the foregoing, which are within the city and in its immediate outskirts, there are within the metropolitan county 10 other parish priests and is curates. Thus we find that the secular sacerdotal organisation in the city and the small county of Dublin amounts to an archbishop, an assistant bishop, 43 parish priests and administrators, and 136 curates. There are, besides these, 9 secular priests in the Clonliffe College and 44 priests filling various chaplaincies. The total of secular priests therefore for the city and county is 233.** **Even if there were no other priests in Dublin beyond that number there could be no reasonable explanation advanced by them for the neglected and deplorable condition of so many large areas of our Catholic city; for the parishes are numerous, small, and well-manned. But, as we shall see, Dublin is not dependent on that large force of secular priests alone, for it supports a powerful contingent of regular priests belonging to various well-known orders and societies.

We have the following Orders established in our midst, and I give the numerical strength of each as admitted by themselves. [Irish Catholic Directory, 1902. Published in Dublin. Edited at Maynooth.] There are the Augustinians, in Thomas Street and John Street, who have also a novitiate at Rathfarnham, and whose spire exceeds that of St Patrick’s Cathedral in height, being the highest in Dublin, and it dominates the view to westward from O’Connell Bridge. The ordained priests in the Order in Dublin number 14. Then we have the Calced Carmelites at Aungier Street and Whitefriars Street, who have also a Carmelite College at Terenure and an Academy at Lower Dominick Street, and the number of whose ordained priests in Dublin is admitted as 29. Next come the Franciscan-Capuchins, in Church Street, where it is admitted that there are 10 ordained priests.

Then we must note the Discalced Carmelites, in Clarendon Street, who have also a House of Studies at Morehampton Road, and who admit having in Dublin ordained priests to the number of 18. We must not forget the Dominicans at Dominick Street - where they are rapidly clearing away the shops and dwellings of the laity to make room for the additions to their church and priory - and at Tallaght, who admit the number of their ordained priests in Dublin to be 21. And the Franciscans at Merchant’s Quay admit having 6 ordained priests at their church. The congregation of the Holy Ghost and of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, at Blackrock-proprietors of Blackrock College - and at Rathmines, admit having in Dublin 27 ordained priests. The well-known Society of Jesus, in Upper Gardiner Street, and also at Milltown and at Belvedere College, Great Denmark Street, and at the University College, Stephen’s Green, admit having 49 ordained priests stationed in Dublin.

The Marist Fathers, in Lower Leeson Street, admit having 11 ordained priests in Dublin. The Oblates of Mary Immaculate, at Inchicore, who have also a novitiate at Stillorgan and juniorate at Raheny, admit having 16 ordained priests in Dublin; and they have charge of the City Reformatory at Glencree, where there are 3 ordained priests in addition. The Passionist Fathers, at Mount Argus, Harold’s Cross, admit having 20 ordained priests in Dublin. The Vincentians, at Phibsborough, and at Castleknock and at Blackrock, and at All Hallows College, Drumcondra, and at the National Teachers’ Training College, Drumcondra - miscalled the “Congregation of the Mission” - admit having 51 ordained priests in C’ Dublin. This gives us a total of 275 ordained regular priests in Dublin, making, with the 233 seculars, a grand total of 508 ordained priests in the city and county of Dublin. In addition there is the Monastery of Mount St. Joseph, at Clondalkin, under the management of the Carmolite Tertiaries; and St. Joseph’s Asylum for the Blind, at Drumcondra, under the control of the same body. And there is the House of St. John of God, at Stillorgan - a private lunatic asylum-managed by the brothers of that Order, in which there are two priests admitted, and a community of 20 monks.

Then there are the Christian Brothers, whose numbers are not admitted, but who have not alone their princely place at Marino, in Clontarf, once the residence of Lord Charlemont, and where their superior-general now resides; but also a novitiate at Baldoyle; as well as the magnificent O’Brien Institute at Clontarf; and the enormous industrial schools at Artane; and industrial schools also at Carriglea Park; and the St. Vincent’s Orphanage, Glasnevin; and St. Joseph’s at Cabra; and, in addition, ii teaching establishments in the city.

It should further be borne in mind that, besides the ordained priests in all those religious houses, there are also a number of lay-brothers, novices, and postulants, of whom no account is given in the foregoing summary, and a large force of theological students in Clonliffe and All Hallows. It would be a moderate estimate to write down the number of male religious in Dublin, principal and subsidiary, at 1,500 souls. Let us now consider the nature and value of the work done by the priests, secular and regular, in the city of Dublin. The secular priests of the city are responsible for the faith and morals of the Catholic people; but they do nothing, so far as one can see, except go through a routine of ceremonials. They baptize the Catholic infants which are brought to the chapel to them for the purpose, and the administration of that sacrament is a lucrative business, large fees being paid for the ceremony, consisting of Latin prayer and sprinkling the child with holy water. The instruction of children in the Catholic catechism, which is necessary before they can receive the sacraments of penance, confirmation, and communion, is not done by the priests, but by deputies, either the National teacher, or the Christian Brother, or the nun, or the monitors and monitresses, who happen to be in charge of the parish Catholic schools. The incomprehensibility of the questions and answers in our Catholic catechism makes the preparation of children for an examination in its contents a most unpleasant duty. Few, if any, adult Roman Catholics of intelligence can answer a single question in that catechism. Indeed, owing to the meaninglessness of its definitions, it is, perhaps, the most repugnant work which teachers and children have to do at school. The secular priests’ work, then, so far as those three essential sacraments are concerned, consists in *(a) *hearing the confessions of those who approach the sacrament of penance, *(b) *distributing the sacred particles to those who approach the sacrament of the eucharist, and *(c) *marshalling the children in the chapel on the day the bishop comes to administer confirmation. Confessions are heard at stated hours in the chapel; and the priest goes into the confession-box and sits there during those hours if a sufficient number of people come to fill up the time. The hours of confession are, as a rule, in the afternoons, on the eve of holidays of obligation, and on the afternoons of Saturday. The work is an entirely formal one. And the greater the number of people whom the priest sees seated in a row outside the box, waiting to confess to him, the shorter will be the time that he will devote to each penitent; but the confessional is dealt with separately in another chapter.

The distribution of the sacrament of holy communion consists of a few minutes’ work after each of the early masses. And in connection with the sacrament of confirmation the priest has little, if any, work at all.

The fifth sacrament, in connection with which the priest makes the greatest parade of his duties, is the sacrament of extreme unction, which, as we all know, consists of anointing certain parts of the body with oil, and reciting a few Latin formulae or prayers. This is the portion of his work which the priest terms “sick-call” duty. One of the curates is told off in rotation in every parish to attend to sick-calls; and he is stricter and more punctilious about the performance of that duty than if he were a relieving officer or dispensary doctor. The people are continually warned from the altar and by printed notices in the chapels that the sick-calls must be handed in before a certain hour on the morning of each day, otherwise they cannot be attended to; and in the case of poor people, this precept is ruthlessly carried out. I can never remember a time when I did not consider the proceeding a most churlish one on the part of the priests.

If the priests attach all the importance they allege to the administration of this sacrament, then the priest on duty should only be too glad to place himself at the disposal of persons requiring his services at any hour. So far from that being the case, this service is rendered to the poor as grudgingly as am overworked dispensary doctor sets out to attend the call of a red ticket. Priests often refuse to go to sick-calls at night unless the demand for their doing so is most peremptory, and comes from a source of which they stand in dread. When a priest pays this formal sick-call, he considers his duty done. He has unlocked the treasures of the Church, and he cares and does no more for the individual or family. How hurriedly the bedside confession is gone through, how quickly the anointing is done! The sick-calls are not as numerous as one would imagine from the amount of uproar which the priests raise about them.

The sixth sacrament, matrimony, is the one above all others in which the priest exhibits his intolerance of our fellow-Christians of the Reformed Churches. Our priests absolutely refuse to celebrate a marriage between a Catholic and a Protestant. Slights, indignities, and blackmail are put upon the Catholic who desires a religious ceremony. There is no fixed fee for marriages in general, but the priest leaves no effort untried to get as much money as he possibly can out of the couple who intend to get married.

Here, in Dublin, extortion for marriages is not so rife as it is in the country districts. But an amount of fees which would astonish any Protestant has to be paid before the marriage rite will be performed, even in Dublin, for people who are considered to be in a position of even decent competence. Nuptial mass is now a general accompaniment of the marriage ceremony, and it costs money; for no generous young bridegroom could think of suffering any priest to take part in it without a fee. Here are a few instances of such masses, in one of which five priests took part and in the other no less than eight priests and a bishop:-

“O’B. and H. - January 9, at St. Mary’s Church, Ballyhaunis, with nuptial mass by the Rev. T. Sharkey, C.C., Castlerea (cousin of the bride), assisted by Rev. J. Grealy, Rev. P. Flynn, Rev. Father Brady, and Rev. W. Carrivan, Daniel J. O’B., Durrow, to A. E., second daughter of R. H., Ballyhaunis.” [Evening Telegraph, January 21, 1901.]

“G. and G. - February 6, at the Cathedral, Ballina, by Rev. J. Naughton, Adm., cousin of the bride in the presence of his Lordship Most Rev. Dr. Conmy, Bishop of Killala; Rev. J. M’Elhatton, C.C., Strabane; Rev. M. Gallagher, Adm., Knockmore, Ballina; Rev. B. Quin, C.C., Ballina; Rev. P. Hewson, Prof. Seminary, Ballina; Rev. M. Smyth, Moygownagh, Ballina; Rev. F. Doherty, C.C., Crossmolina; and Rev. T. Beirne, C.C., Kilglass, Ballina, Andrew G., Strabane, to Mary, eldest daughter of the late John G., Bridge Street, Ballina. No cards” [Freeman, February 12, 1902.

So much for the sacramental duties of the priests. They constitute a trivial amount of routine work which many a hard-worked layman would not object to performing during his holidays. But the grand work of the priest consists in saying masses. The physical labour of saying a mass is, as we know, a mere formal recitation by rote of Latin prayers, the Latin responses to which are uttered by altar-boys who do not understand a word of Latin. But, what is more deplorable still, the congregations who attend those masses not only do not know what the priest is saying, but they do not understand the object or foundation of a single one of his many motions, genuflections, and Latin prayers.

The priest is supposed to be in mysterious conversation with God; and it as may be the case, he is saying the mass for several people’s intentions, each of whom has paid him a fee, then his communing with God has special reference to his clients, but of this the congregation knows nothing. So far as the actual work of saying the mass is concerned, it is lighter than any species of business known in the world outside. And, to lighten it further, the latest hour at which mass can be commenced is twelve o’clock noon.

If the priests preached sermons at those masses, there would be something to be said in their behalf. A sermon involves preparation; it involves some mental and physical exertion in its delivery, and may be truthfully described as “work,” if well prepared. If the sermon were of a practical character, intended to be at once intelligible and instructive, the audience could check and criticise the statements of the preacher, which would ensure some degree of care in the preparation of the sermon.

But the method of celebrating the mass in Dublin is deliberately intended to kill-out the sermon. At five-sixths of the masses in the city on Sunday there are no sermons preached The priest turns round to the congregation and makes a few announcements in English, but always in a most unintelligible voice. He asks the members of the congregation to pray for the repose of the souls of a list of people who died since the preceding Sunday, or the anniversaries of whose deaths occurred during the past week.

The names of all those people, as we know, have been sent to the priest by their relatives, but they are read out in what I have often considered to be an intentionally unintelligible manner. Nobody, except a few persons who happen to be seated directly underneath the priest, ever succeeds in catching the names.

The result of this is to belittle the gratuitous prayer, and the relatives of the deceased are induced to engage the priest to offer up a special mass for the repose of their friends’ souls. Then whenever it happens that a sermon is preached in a Dublin church, I am not going beyond the mark when I say that in nine cases out of ten it is an insult to the intelligence of any rational person to be asked to sit it out.

The result of such sermons is palpable, for the most popular masses in Dublin - the masses at which the priests receive the most door money, and at which the chapels are crowded to overflowing - are those masses at which no sermon is ever preached. It can be truly said that the Sabbath sermon, as a means of edification and instruction, is well-nigh dead in Catholic Dublin.

Archbishop Walsh himself sets the example of never preaching a sermon; and, of course, the illustrious precedent is not lost upon the priests of the city, who take advantage of it to relieve themselves from the worry of delivering sermons. And it is not much loss to the laity, for the sermons of the priest, instead of teaching children and adults not to tell lies, to be conscientious, industrious, and sober, are mostly, if not altogether, reflections upon our fellow-citizens, or laudations of our Holy Mother the Church, and our Holy Father the Pope.

One never hears a sermon in praise of duty. Indeed, the priests have perverted the meaning of that noble and important word; for when they mention “duty,” it means going to confession and communion during Lent. The phrase, “Did you do your duty?” or “Did you go to your duty?” means, Have you gone to confession and communion? formal acts which no man ought to consider as equivalent to the fulfilment of his duty.

I have often heard it remarked that our priests are like policemen. I do not consider this at all discreditable to the policemen, because the policeman’s duty is necessarily of a formal kind, and does not leave much room for originality; and even where a policeman seems only standing and waiting, he is serving the State. But a priest performs his duty like a somnolent policeman on a quiet beat. He goes through his rounds in the chapel and feels no further responsibility. Priests do not go out of their way to prevent their parishioners from falling, or to help those who have fallen, into trouble; and, as it is often unjustly said of policemen, it may be truly said of the priests, that they are “never found when wanting.”

The coughing, sneezing, and expectorating at mass in the average Catholic church is, we must all admit, a most objectionable accompaniment of the service. It may be caused by the fact that the majority of the congregation are poor, ill-fed and ill-clad, or by the draughtiness and discomfort of the chapels, which are badly ventilated and badly lighted. But I think it is also to be attributed to want of interest in the proceedings. I have often heard a long sermon delivered amidst a fusillade of coughing and other noises which drowned the speaker’s voice.

Our old chapel at home was an enormous T-shaped building, capable of accommodating 4,000 people. It contained three large galleries, which covered almost the entire area of the chapel except a space in front of the altar; and, I think, it was a better arrangement than the new method of having no galleries, for in the new churches there is I not sufficient accommodation for all the people who come to the shortest masses.

In our old chapel, not only the poor, but the middle-class people shopkeepers, and farmers, used to come to mass prepared for a long bout of coughing, and sneezing, and expectoration. As soon as mass would commence, so would the coughing, and it continued all through the mass. It would stop for a few moments at the elevation of the host, but then it would recommence. It would cease for a little while at the beginning of a sermon, but then it would be resumed and continue all through the sermon. I noticed that it invariably stopped as soon as mass was over, when the people got into the open air.

One of the best-remembered sights in the gallery was that of a well-to-do, corpulent farmer or shopkeeper, sailing into his pew arrayed in his Sunday clothes, sitting down and pulling out of his pocket two or three pocket-handkerchiefs, enormous red ones, as large as small table-cloths. He would dispose one of those handkerchiefs carefully on the wooden kneeling stool in front of him, while the other would be kept for use, and it would be no sooner consigned to his pocket than it would be drawn forth again.

I think there was a certain amount of pride taken in this display of handkerchiefs, now that I look back upon it. The priests and Christian Brothers used to linger, as if luxuriating, over the use of their handkerchiefs. No one in the neighbourhood dreamed of objecting to it, though I always thought that the use and exhibition of so much handkerchief was exceedingly objectionable. Other men in the gallery who had not two handkerchiefs would use the same handkerchief for kneeling on and for other purposes. Many men seemed to have no handkerchiefs, for they knelt upon the bare and dusty boards which were never cleaned. At various times in England I happened to visit St. Paul’s, Lichfield, Chester, and other cathedrals, while service was in progress, and played the role of spectator, and I have always found myself remarking the absence of coughing, sneezing, and expectorating.

After mass, our Sunday is spent by the laity and the clergy either in pleasure or idleness; it is not spent in devotion. The young men hie themselves off to the country. The priest arranges his afternoon programme of amusement. Hurling, football, cycling, coursing, rabbit-hunting, ratting, and even hunting with beagles and harriers are indulged in. And one always finds that our Catholic young men on the Monday morning are tired, out of sorts, and ill-disposed to begin their week’s business owing to the way in which the Sabbath has been spent.

In the large cities the opening of the public-houses at 2 P.M. is the greatest event of the Catholic Sabbath afternoon. I can hardly remember a time when I did not contrast the Protestant Sunday with the Catholic Sunday to our disadvantage. Nor could I ever bring myself to see anything disgraceful in the term “Sabbatarian” which we opprobriously apply to Protestants. When I was a child, on the Sunday evenings when there was nothing to be done, I used to envy the Protestants and their children whom I saw setting off for church about seven o’clock, and I used to think what a comfortable thing it must be to go into a church with one’s friends and spend an hour or two on Sunday evening in that way. With us there was nothing on a Sunday except the half-hour’s attendance at the “coughing” mass, then long excursions to distant towns and villages and exploration of new tracts of country. And the most unwelcome period of the week was Monday morning. But as I touch upon the mass in various parts of this work, let us pass on to other branches of the priests’ work.

The “work” of the secular priests consists largely of such ceremonials as the following: “The devotions of the Quarant Ore will commence to-morrow, Sunday; high mass at twelve o’clock. On Monday and Tuesday the high mass will commence at eleven o’clock.” This forty hours’ exposition of the Blessed Sacrament is one of the great achievements of Archbishop Walsh. It consists in exposing the Blessed Sacrament on the altar, surrounded by lights and flowers, for forty hours-and the archbishop claims great credit for encouraging this practice in the churches. Does this formality tend to elevate the condition of the poor Catholics in Dublin? Can the priests be said to be doing their duty to the poor by such idle demonstrations? Will it make up for the want of practical, Christian living in the homes of the poor? Friendly intercourse with the poor would involve some exertion; but the exposition of the Blessed Sacrament involves none. Neither does the giving of a mission, which is a typical method adopted by the Dublin priests as a substitute for the personal discharge of their duties. They engage one or more priests of some regular order to preach to their parishioners once a year or once in two years. The people attend the mission, go to confession and communion, renew their baptismal vows, receive the Pope’s blessing, and disperse to commit the same sins over again. Remission of sins is not followed by a change of life in the parish. Neither enlightenment nor elevation of the people’s standard of conduct results from such missions any more than from exposition of the sacrament.

A newly appointed parish priest will occasionally strike out an original line in sodalities for his parish, as, for instance :-“A new sodality of the Sacred Heart for business people will be formed in St. Joseph’s to-morrow - the feast of the holy name - and on the following evenings. A Redemptorist Father will preach every evening at half-past eight o’clock, and also after the ten o’clock mass. A special choir will attend each evening, accompanied by the new organ. This sodality is mainly formed for the benefit of business ladies, and girls whose professional, or warehouse, or domestic occupations leave them little time. The hours will be arranged to meet their convenience. The Sodality will, for the present, be directed-and the lectures at its meetings delivered-by Father Downing, St. Joseph’s. The beautiful new *shrine of Our Lady will be adorned and lighted *during the week.” [Freeman’s Journal, 1902.]“1

What can be expected from such a programme? What practical Christian utility will it be to those Catholic business ladies, except to encourage the devotions described in the eleventh chapter?

Another active parish priest boasts “that his church has the proud distinction of having been selected as the Memorial Church of the arch-diocese of Dublin, in thanksgiving for the dogmatic definition of the Immaculate Conception, pronounced by the sainted pontiff, Pius IX.” The pastor is exerting himself to the best of his ability, which is more than can be said of nine-tenths tenths of the Dublin priests. He has a boys’ brigade attached to his church, which he styles the “Pope’s Brigade.” Perhaps it is better for those boys to be enrolled in that brigade than not to be enrolled in it. I have often seen them returning from their outings, and they strike me as being a very loosely drilled brigade in comparison with the Protestant brigade attached to the Leeson Park Church, which I frequently happen to see also. The Protestant boys join their brigade as a means of physical exercise and social improvement, and it improves them. If there are prayers in connection with it, they are of the simplest kind, such as lessons in Scripture. That is not so with the Catholic boys’ brigade. They are “The Pope’s brigade.” They learn nothing patriotic, nothing useful, their energies are diverted from practical pursuits calculated to advance them in after life. What has the Pope got to do with them? We in Ireland never received anything from the Popes, except obstruction and confusion. If our Irish secular priests were left to themselves they might not be injurious to the country. But under the guidance of Italian ecclesiastics, whose administration of temporal power, when they had it, was so bad that the citizens of their own country forcibly deprived them of it, our priests are a force making for disturbance and degeneracy.

Returning to the subject of missions, we find the following announcement from one of the archbishop’s parishes, St. Andrew’s, Westland Row:-

“A fortnight’s Mission, conducted by the Redemptorist Fathers, commenced on Sunday. The first week will be devoted *to the women *of the parish, and the second week to *the men *of the parish. There will be masses each day at 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 o’clock, and sermons after 11 o’clock mass, and each evening after rosary at 8 P. M., except on Saturdays, which will be devoted entirely to confessions. Confessions will be held on the other days from 7 to 9 A.M., 11 A.M. to 4 P.M., and after the evening devotions. The Mission will conclude with sermon, renewal of baptismal vows, plenary indulgence, papal benediction, and benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.” [Freeman’s Journal, February 18, 1902.]

This separation of women from men is one of the most objectionable and harmful practices indulged in by the unmarried priests of our Church. It would be impossible to over-estimate the individual and collective evil which springs from it for the Catholic community; but the administrator and the archbishop, no doubt, consider that this mission comprises all that is necessary for the poor Catholics of that extensive and thickly populated neighbourhood, who are so much in need of enlightenment. Canon Fricker, of Rathmines, also announces, “The annual retreat *for the women *of the parish, particularly for the members of the Sodality in honour of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, to be conducted by the Redemptorist Fathers.”

Large crowds of men and women will separately attend those missions; but after the devotions have concluded, what actual result will be apparent? The men will be more estranged than ever from the women. The homes of the people will remain in the same condition as heretofore, and the dull routine of their lives, from which all Christian study and inquiry are excluded, will be resumed.

Some secular priests get up literary societies, lest the young men should read improving literature, and thereby make discoveries; for instance, the St. Andrew’s and the St. James’s Catholic Literary Societies. And even those literary societies are converted by the priests into begging organisations. The Haddington Road parish branch of the Gaelic League, of which Canon Dillon, P.P., is the president, and of which three out of the six vice-presidents are the Catholic curates of the parish, namely, “Rev. Henry Lube, C.C., Rev. F. Wall, C.C., and Rev. J. Magrath, C.C.,” posted me the following circular a few days ago, and I blushed when I read it. To this depth in the hands of the priests is the vaunted Gaelic League, by which the race is to be regenerated, already fallen:-

“We venture to ask for your kindly co-operation and practical sympathy, to enable us to carry on this Branch of the Gaelic League, in the organising and working of which some heavy expenses were necessarily incurred. Although most of the teachers generously give their services gratis, we found it necessary to employ *one teacher who has to be paid, *and although our revered pastor, the Very Rev. Canon Dillon, P.P., has kindly given us the use of the school free, there are many expenses which have to be undertaken before our classes can be put into perfect working order. It is within the power of all - even the poorest - to help it by contributing a little to the funds necessary to carry it on, *and even the smallest trifle will be acceptable, *and also by, at all times and in all places, endeavouring to advance its interests.

Few causes are more worthy of the proverbial generosity and devotion of our people, for, even apart from merely sentimental motives, *the demoralising influence of present-day literature *and the threatened extinction of our race, demand that our every effort should be put forth to counteract these evils.”

The demoralising influence of present-day priestcraft, which is at its wits’ end to devise mind-killing employment for the youth of the country, is what I should be glad to give a subscription to counteract! Those priest- ridden Gaelic Leaguers print their humble gratitude to the parish priest for not charging them for the use of the parish national school in the evenings; which shows how the schools are looked upon as the parish priest’s private property, not the property of the ratepayers.

The week-day of an average curate was once filled in for me as follows -If there be a daily mass, rise in time to celebrate it; try and recollect for whom and how many people you have been paid to offer up mass, and get some into it; return with a sharp appetite for breakfast. If there be no daily mass, rise at any hour. After breakfast make a prolonged study of the news-paper. If on sick-call duty, remain about the house; if a sick-call comes, rush off and get it over as quickly as possible, studiously reading the breviary while in the street. Return and resume Strand Magazine, Answers, or M.A.P., and have a smoke. When the time arrives for the customary walk before lunch, get the breviary and umbrella, and set forth in parade order. Lunch. Go to some afternoon amusement-bazaar, horse show, concert, circus, or promenade at seaside. Dinner. Prolonged sojourn at table, rest, smoke, &c., or hobnob with convivial, sacerdotal spirits. If not on sick-call duty, do as you like; but avoid the parish. If it be confession day, sit in the box, restive, indignant, or interested, as the case may be, from noon to lunch; and sit somnolently after dinner doing the same work.

Of personal, practical work in the parishes, outside this formal kind of drill-work which I have been dealing with, which is mostly done in the chapels, the parish priest does positively nothing. He dines at such houses as he is invited to, where he is sure of a good dinner, and where whatever he says is received with unquestioning “faith”; but, of late years, he prefers dining in his own house in company with congenial members of his own order.

He is enveloped in mystery; and I shall not seek for what is behind the veil in his mysterious life. Pious women always suppose him to be engaged in work of charity *in secret; *but the most watchful eyes amongst even his female parishioners can never discover where it is done, or who benefits by it.

He is always supposed to be very poor, but yet he spares no expense in his own living or in entertaining his colleagues. He has abundance of cash; his credit is good, especially with Protestants; and he is most assiduous in his work of extracting money from his parishioners. When he dies - and this has been growing more noticeable yearly during the last 20 years - he leaves nothing! By an arrangement made before he gets the parish, whatever he accumulates goes to the bishop for the church fund, of which some of our city banks could give many interesting particulars.

Whenever his will is published, it usually discloses a small estate, such as the following:- “Probate of the will of Canon Carberry, P. P., James’s Street, has been granted. The assets were estimated at £965, and out of this the deceased clergyman has bequeathed £20 to the Magdalen Asylum, Drumcondra; £50 for masses for the repose of his soul; £20 to the poor of the parish of Rathdrum; £30 to the Convent of Mercy, Rathdrum; and £20 towards building a school in Clara Vale. After paying the debts, the remainder of the assets is to be distributed by his brother, Rev. Father Carberry, P.P., Wicklow, ‘as he thinks best.” [Evening Herald, March 5, 1902.]

But, in the newspapers of, perhaps, the next day you will read a report of the probate suit of Barrett v. Heffernan and others: “Father Barrett, 19 Myrtle Hill, Cork, sought to establish the will of Miss Margaret Coleman of 16 Myrtle Hill, Cork,” under which he is the sole beneficiary. Father Barrett was not a relative, and the will was disputed by the lady’s cousins. The deceased died worth about £20,000,** *which she willed to Father Barrett, who lived in one of deceased’s houses. In 1895 *she was attended for cancer, and in that year made the will. Imputations of undue influence having been withdrawn, the jury found for the plaintiff, and a decree for probate was given.” [Freeman’s Journal, June 6, 1902.]

It is at the deathbed priests acquire the bulk of their means. They have exceptional facilities for acquiring accurate information about the finances of their penitents. They exercise peculiar influence over elderly spinsters and widows, as may be gathered from the collection of wills given in the seventh chapter. Miss Coleman was an elderly lady suffering from a painful, incurable disease. She, no doubt, inherited the money from some one who worked to accumulate it. Indeed, most of the fortunes made in Catholic Ireland fall to the priests at the deathbeds either of the accumulators or their descendants.

The work performed by our secular priests being of a formal, unpractical nature, which leaves the inner lives of our community unregenerated, it follows that the poor people are not served, and the well-to-do are left outside the pale of true Christianity. They come to the chapel once a week to see the priest performing, but they are not actors in the drama. They are mere outsiders, who, to use their own words, leave their religion to the sacerdotal exports with an unconcerned mind. Hence it is that well-to-do people, from whom good example might be expected, take such little interest in the mass. They arrive late, and they leave almost before it is over. They yawn, they stare about, they do not even open a prayer-book. They never spend more than 25 minutes in the church, and, when they depart, they have heard nothing edifying or instructive within its walls to afford them topic of conversation, except, perhaps, what the ladies see of each other’s hats and dresses.

The labours of the secular priests of Dublin, therefore, leave the great mass of our poor and vicious as they find them. Bachelors, bred in Maynooth, they discover no sympathy with the struggling, distraught fathers; ailing, hopeless mothers; growing boys and girls; children and infants, amongst whom they are called upon to do the work of Christ. They are not suited for it, and they end by confining themselves altogether to those formalities and rites which are so easy, which make no tax upon their intellect; and which, as it soothes them to suppose, must satisfy all the cravings of heart and brain of the poor people.

A worse system of religion, or one farther removed from the original Christianity as taught by Christ and His Apostles, could not be imagined. But let us now consider the Regular Priests.

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