It is very likely that Ængus died in his beloved retreat at Disert-beagh;

but, according to the metrical Life, he was buried at Clonenagh. He had

laboured long and travelled far to illustrate the history of the saints of

his native land; and now that long day's work was done, and he lay down to

sleep in the bosom of the dear and holy scenes of his childhood. He knew

that the pious brotherhood of Clonenagh would not forget to chant for many

a year the requiem for his soul's repose; and that the 'pure cold Nore' of

his youthful love would breathe its gentle murmurs near his grave for

ever. But his voice has not been stilled by the flight of centuries--even

now he speaks to us on earth in his writings, and he prays for us amongst

the choirs of angels and saints in heaven.

Clonenagh suffered so much during the Danish wars that it gradually fell

away from its ancient importance, and in the twelfth century sank to the

rank of a parochial church. At present it is only a green mound associated

with a historic name.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE SCHOOL OF GLENDALOUGH.

"By that lake, whose gloomy shore

Skylark never warbles o'er,

Where the cliff hangs high and steep,

Young St. Kevin stole to sleep."

--_Moore._

I.--ST. KEVIN.

Glendalough--the Valley of the Two Lakes--is, for a religious and

cultivated mind, one of the most interesting spots in Ireland. Nature has

made it wild and beautiful; religion has hallowed its scenery with the

holiest associations; the genius of song has lit up its dark lakes and

mountains with all the radiance of romance. It is one of those places the

very sight of which raises the mind from mean and sordid thoughts to the

contemplation of what is beautiful and good.

This will be felt all the more by those who are acquainted with the holy

and self-denying life of the founder of Glendalough. His career is

peculiarly interesting and attractive; for he was a man of the most

amiable disposition, and yet of the most austere virtue; a lover of nature

and a teacher of men, with the emotional soul of a poet, and a conscience

of angelic purity. We are told that the wild birds loved to alight on his

shoulders, and that the savage beasts fawned at his feet. He felt himself

most at home in the midst of the wild majestic scenery of his mountain

valley, where he loved to commune with Nature and with Nature's God. We

are told in his Life that his eyes and ears were always open to the sights

and sounds around him--that the birds made sweet music in his ears--that

the toil of his austere life was lightened by listening to the gentle

murmurs of the wind through the leaves of the trees around his cell.

Kevin--in Irish Coemghen, or the Fair-begotten--came of the royal stock of

Leinster both on his father's and mother's side. His father, Coemlug, was

seventh in descent from Messincorb, the common ancestor of the Dal

Messincorb, who himself was son of Cucorb, a king of Leinster in the

beginning of the second century. Coemell, his mother, was the daughter of

Cennandan, a chief of the Dal Cormac, so called from Cormac Caech, who was

a brother of that Messincorb already alluded to.

Coemghen was born A.D. 498, for we are told that he was one hundred and

twenty years old when he died A.D. 618. The place of his birth is not

given in his Life; but it was somewhere in the county Wicklow, the

south-eastern corner of which, around Rathdrum, seems to have been the

patrimony of his family. It was a family of saints; for Kevin had two

brothers and two sisters, whose names are in the Calendar. One of the

brothers was Caemhan of Ard-Chaemhain, near Wexford; the other was

Mocuemin, or Nathchaemh, the cousin and successor of St. Columba of

Terryglass, in Lower Ormond. The sisters were St. Coeltigerna, mother of

St. Dagan of Inver Daoile, in Wicklow, and Melda, the mother of the

younger St. Abban, who was born about the year A.D. 520. Then, again,

Coemghen's paternal uncle was St. Eugenius, Bishop of Ardstraw, the

principal patron saint of the diocese of Derry.

The family, too, seems to have been remarkable for personal beauty as well

as for sanctity of life--all its members, male and female, being described

in their very names as 'beautiful' or 'fair-begotten.' Young Coemghen of

Glendalough grew up to be a youth of remarkable beauty, so that his good

looks became a source of great danger and temptation to the boy, as we

shall presently see.

The child was baptized by a priest called Cronan, not by an Angel, as has

been sometimes foolishly said. It is stated, however, in the saint's Life

in the _Salamanca MS._, that an Angel under the appearance of a beautiful

boy, met the child when it was being carried to the font, and blessed the

infant--a fact which is not at all improbable.

At the early age of seven the child was placed under the care of St.

Petroc, a learned and holy man who came from Cornwall, and hence is called

a Briton in the _Life of St. Kevin_. Petroc came to Ireland in A.D. 492

and devoted himself to the study of Sacred Scripture, as well as to the

instruction and edification of his neighbours in Wicklow, both by word and

example. He afterwards returned to his own country, where he continued the

same course of saintly life. His monastic school in Cornwall became a

great centre of learning and holiness, and was known as Petroc-Stowe,

which afterwards came to be corrupted into Padstow--its present name.

Under the care of this venerable master young Coemghen remained for

twelve years, until A.D. 512, when he was transferred to the guidance of

his uncle, St. Eugenius, afterwards founder and bishop of Ardstraw. He had

studied some years in Britain in the great monastery of Rosnat which by

some writers is placed in Wales, but by others, with much more

probability, is identified with Whithern in Galloway. Eugenius, after his

return to his own country, in conjunction with St. Lochan and St. Enna,

founded a monastic school at a place called Kilnamanagh, in his native

territory of Cualann. There is a townland called Kilnamanagh in the parish

of Glenealy, north-east of Rathdrum, in Wicklow; and it was here,

doubtless, that Coemghen lived under the care of these three saints,

making, we are told, daily progress in virtue and learning.

St. Eugenius, though he had studied in the schools of Britain, was

probably not much older than his nephew. He was now, it seems, desirous to

preach the Gospel in the native territory of his mother, who came from the

North of Ireland, and he was anxious to appoint young Coemghen to succeed

him at Kilnamanagh. Thereupon Coemghen, fearing to be raised to this post

of honour and responsibility, fled from his uncle's monastery to the

desert of Glendalough, and hid himself in the remotest recesses of that

wild mountain valley.

There was it seems another reason, too, which has been much distorted by

poetic licence, that induced him to fly from his native district. The

genuine story is told in his Life, and is very different from the popular

and poetic account. Coemghen was a very handsome youth, and his good looks

won the affection of a beautiful girl of his own age, whose sorrow was

great to find her love not only unrequited, but unnoticed. On one occasion

she even followed the gracious boy, when he went with his brothers to the

woods, and finding him alone exerted all her blandishments to win his

heart. The young saint, tormented instead of softened by her proffered

caresses, which he had tried in vain to repel, resolved to give her a

lesson for the future. He had flung himself half-naked into a brake full

of nettles, and now gathering a handful, he scourged the girl with the

burning nettles on her face and arms. "The fire without," says the author

of the saint's Life, "extinguished the fire within." Her heart was touched

with the grace of penance. She humbly asked Coemghen's pardon for all she

had done to tempt him, and besought him to pray to God in her behalf. Such

prayers could not but be heard; and so we are told that she became a

sincere convert, consecrating her virginity to God, and faithfully

following all the years of her life the counsels and spiritual guidance of

St. Coemghen. To scourge the fair Kathleen with nettles for the good of

her soul is a very different thing from flinging her into the lake.

Before Kevin retired to the recesses of Glendalough, he was ordained

priest by Bishop Lugaidh, or Lugidus. Some persons think it was by his

advice that Coemghen sought that lonely retreat.

In order to understand the subsequent events in the life of St. Coemghen,

or, as we may now call him, St. Kevin, it is necessary to have some idea

of the topography of Glendalough.

The valley is something more than two miles long, and about three quarters

in average breadth. It runs from east to west, slightly trending towards

the north at its western extremity. Towards the east it gradually opens

into the valley of the Avonmore; but on the other three sides it is

completely enclosed by lofty and precipitous mountains. To the south, or

left hand, looking westward, are the mountains of Derrybawn and Lugduff,

the latter especially rising in steep and gloomy grandeur, like a great

wall, from the floor of the valley. On the north or right hand are the two

mountains of Brockagh and Comaderry--neither so bold nor so steep as

Lugduff; Comaderry, however, rises to the height of 2,296 feet, while

Lugduff is only 2,140 above the level of the sea.

There are two lakes in this dark valley, one called the Upper, or western

lake, which is the larger and gloomier sheet of water lying under the

gigantic shadow of Lugduff, whose cliffs rise sheer from the water to the

height of 1,000 feet. The Lower, or eastern lakelet, is smaller and

brighter in its aspect, and leaves a foot passage on either side between

its shores and the mountains to the north and south. At the extreme

western end of the valley a mountain torrent dashes down a steep ravine

into the lake, forming a fine cascade, which may be seen from the eastern

shore of the lake. There is another mountain stream that rushes down

between Lugduff and Derrybawn on the south, forming a grand waterfall

called Pollanass, escaping from which its waters enter the Upper Lake at

its south-eastern extremity. Fed by these two streams and numerous

rivulets, the Upper Lake sends out its surplus waters down the valley in a

considerable stream called here the Glenealo River, which rushes eastward

over the broken ground until it takes rest for a while in the Lower Lake.

Emerging thence, and still flowing eastward for half a mile, it unites

with another stream called the Glendasan River, which flows down the back

of Comaderry mountain. For about a quarter of a mile before uniting, these

two streams flow almost parallel through the valley, and then suddenly

bending towards each other, send their united waters still eastward to

join the Avonmore at Larah, towards the eastern extremity of the Valley of

Glendalough. The delta, formed in the valley by the Glenealo and Glendasan

rivers, was the site of the 'City' of Glendalough, and there still the

principal ruins are to be found.

When Kevin fled from Kilnamanagh and its dangers, he penetrated to the

very heart of this wilderness, and took up his abode in its most

inaccessible retreats. The writer of his Life gives a most accurate

description of the spot which he chose for his place of abode. "It was a

valley closed in with lofty and precipitous mountains, and in the western

part of this valley towards the south he found a lake enclosed between two

mountains."[322] On the shores of this lake he lived for seven years the

life of a solitary, without fire, without a roof, and almost without human

food. "On the northern shore his dwelling was in a hollow tree; but on the

southern shore of the lake he dwelt in a very narrow cave, to which there

was no access except by a boat, for a perpendicular rock of immense height

overhangs it from above." This is St. Kevin's Bed on the face of Lugduff,

overhanging the southern shore of the Upper Lake, whose deep waters wash

the base of the rock 30 feet beneath. Even from the lake the path is steep

and difficult, but not dangerous. Very few, however, have the steadiness

and courage to descend to the cave from the overhanging cliffs above.

The cave itself is only about four feet square, and not high enough to

stand upright in. But there is a smaller hollow within where the saint

might lay his head and snatch his few hours of brief repose. It was a

dizzy height, and a hard bed; but we cannot judge of the saints of God by

our own worldly and selfish standard. And for one who loved God and His

glorious works, as St. Kevin did, there were never wanting, by day or

night, sights and sounds to fill his mind with manifold ideas of the

wondrous attributes of the great Author of all. The majesty of these dark

mountains, the changing glories of these lakes and streams, the voices of

the falling waters, the roaring of the storms through the wintry hills,

Arturus and the Bear rising over the lofty crest of Comaderry and for ever

silently sweeping round the changeless pole, the morning sun flooding the

dark valley with light--a pale reflection of the splendour around the

Great White Throne--these were the sights that met his eyes, and the

voices that spoke in his ears during the days and nights that he spent on

the rocky floor of his narrow cell. He spoke to no man, but he communed

with God and Nature--his body was on the naked rock, but his soul was in

heaven. It was during these years that the birds and beasts came to know

and to love the gentle saint, who lived as Adam did in Paradise. He had

made for himself a hut of boughs on the northern shore of the lake, where

he spent much of his time, and we are told that the birds used to come and

alight on his hands and shoulders, and sing for him their sweetest songs;

and that the trees were like Æolian harps whose melody lightened the

toilsome routine of his life. As for his food, "no man knows on what he

lived during these years, for he himself never revealed it to anyone."

But now it pleased God to make known the virtues of his servant to his

fellow men. A shepherd discovered the saint's retreat, and told far and

wide of the holy man who had led for so long the life of an angel in the

desert. Crowds of persons made their way to the heart of the mountains,

and St. Kevin could no longer be alone. It was revealed to him that he was

destined to be the father of many monks, and he submitted to the will of

Providence.

Still he was at first unwilling to go far from his beloved cave in

Lugduff. So they built him a cell--a circular bee-hive hut of

stones--close to the southern shore of the lake; and near at hand his

disciples also built him an oratory on a rock projecting from the base of

Lugduff into the lake, hence called _Tempull-na-Skellig_. This was the

"clara cella quae Desertum Coemghini appellatur."[323] But that beautiful

and celebrated oratory is now, like the saint's cell, almost a heap of

ruins--the sight-seers are even worse than the Danes, and fifty years of

tourists in the mountain valley have caused more ruin to these venerable

monuments than centuries of civil strife. Not far from

_Tempull-na-Skellig_, and on the same southern shore of the Upper Lake,

there is another ruined church and church-yard, known in the guide books

as _Rifearta_ Church; that is, the 'royal cemetery' (_righ-fearta_) of the

O'Toole kings. They were not the original rulers of this district; but

after the Norman Conquest they retired from the plains of Kildare before

the invaders, and held these valleys and mountains as a stronghold of

freedom against the 'strangers.'

But this place became too small for the multitude of the saint's

disciples, who now dwelt around his little church--it was inconveniently

situated, too, and very difficult of access. So God's Angel appeared to

Kevin, and commanded him to go and build his monastery at the eastern

shore of the smaller lake, about half a mile further down the valley.

"If it was God's will," said Kevin, "I should prefer to remain until my

death near this place, where I have laboured in His service." "Nay," said

the Angel, "if you dwell where I say, many thousands of happy souls will

have their resurrection there, and go with you to the heavenly kingdom."

Then the Angel led the saint, after he had spent four years at Lugduff, to

the eastward of the smaller lake, and marked out the site of his church

and monastery; and "there he built that celebrated monastery of the Valley

of the Two Lakes, which was the mother house of many others."

And there, too, he lived as of old in the practice of the most rigid

austerity. "He was clothed in the coarsest garments; his bed was the bare

ground; he broke his fast at evening on a meal of herbs and water; he kept

constant and prayerful vigils often in the open air; and so he lived a

long time in the monastery, as he used to live in the desert, until at the

earnest entreaty of many holy men he consented at last to live like his

monks in the ordinary monastic way." It is evident that the saint was most

reluctant to give up those habits of extreme asceticism which he had

adopted in the desert; and he only yielded in deference to the entreaties

of other venerable men who feared to lose so precious a life.

It is not to be wondered at that large crowds of disciples came to the

monastery of this great servant of God, and were anxious to place

themselves under his guidance, so that Glendalough became a seminary of

saints and scholars, who went forth from its halls to found other

monasteries, and rule other churches. In fact, it became quite a 'city' in

the desert, whose citizens were "cives sanctorum et domestici Dei,"

clothed with human nature, but living like the household of God in heaven.

At this period Kevin must have been still a comparatively young man,

certainly not exceeding forty years of age. For all these events are

narrated in his life as if happening before he left Glendalough to pay a

visit to the holy abbots, Columba, Comgall, and Canice, who met the saint

of Glendalough at the celebrated hill of Uisnech (now Usney) in

Westmeath. This visit is represented as having taken place only a few days

after the death of St. Ciaran at Clonmacnois, which happened in A.D. 544,

so that the large monastery of Glendalough was probably founded about A.D.

540, when the saint was 42 years of age. The hill of Uisnech was from time

immemorial a celebrated place of meeting, being situated in the centre of

Ireland, and, though belonging to Meath, it was considered neutral ground,

with the privilege of sanctuary during these meetings. It is probable

these holy abbots, Columba of Kells and Durrow, Comgall of Bangor, Canice

of Aghaboe, were met together for the transaction of some weighty matters

arising from the accession of the new king of Tara, Diarmaid Mac

Cearbhaill, and they invited to their meeting the already famous abbot of

the great Leinster monastery. In the Life of Kevin it is said that he went

to establish, or confirm, a league of brotherly friendship with these

saints; and so much was he respected that Columba stood up at his

approach, and remained standing until he arrived. And when the ruder

multitude (plebs) censured the great Columba for acting thus in deference

to an unknown stranger, Columba warmly replied:--"Foolish men! why should

not I stand at the approach of that servant of God, in whose honour God's

Angels in heaven will yet rise from their thrones?"

After his return to Glendalough he presided over that great monastery and

school for 60 years more, leading still the same heavenly life, training

others by word and example to walk in the paths of holiness, and

confirming his teaching by the performance of many miracles. But as was

well said by one of his disciples, his own life was the greatest miracle

of all. Special mention is made of two of his favourite disciples--St.

Berach, who himself afterwards founded a great monastery at

Cluaincairpthe, since called Tarmonbarry, on the banks of the Shannon, and

Mochoroy, a Briton, who was for many years a loving disciple of the saint

and founder of the Church of Delgany. He enjoyed the great privilege of

giving the Viaticum to Kevin, when the holy old man was about to be called

away to his reward. St. Kevin died on the 3rd of June, A.D. 618, at the

great age of 120 years, and was buried by his sorrowing children in his

own church at Glendalough.

The memory of St. Kevin is greatly revered, not only in Wicklow but in all

parts of Ireland; and he seems to hold a place in popular affection next

after the great patron saints of Ireland, Patrick, Bridget, and

Columcille.

Some writings have been attributed to the saint, amongst others a Life of

St. Patrick, but without sufficient evidence. He was certainly the author

of a very celebrated monastic Rule, which unhappily is no longer extant.

It would be invaluable as exhibiting the special bent of his mind in the

formation of the religious character. It was in this that his great

influence made itself felt during the long years of his life. It was by

this means he stamped his own character on the minds of his disciples, and

made Glendalough famous during subsequent centuries as a nursery of holy

and learned men. His monastery was for the East of Ireland for many ages

what Aran of St. Enda was for the West--a great school of asceticism, a

novitiate for the training of the young saints and clergy of Erin in

virtue even more than in knowledge. It was also his noble ambition to

elevate the standard of ecclesiastical knowledge, and make the cloister

not only the home of all virtue, but an asylum of the liberal arts. This

was all the more necessary in a turbulent and semi-barbarous age, when the

strong hand made its own laws. In this respect the seclusion of

Glendalough, as well as the sanctity of its founder and of its holy

places, rendered it a most secure asylum down to the advent of the Danes,

and even after their departure down to the time of the Anglo-Normans.

II.--RUINS AT GLENDALOUGH.

The existing ruins in the ancient city of Glendalough may, as we have

observed, be divided into two groups--those at the shore of the Upper

Lake, to which we have already referred, and those at the junction of the

two rivers and east of the Lower Lake, which constitute the city proper.

This group of buildings was enclosed by a _caiseal_, or strong stone wall,

which not only served the purposes of defence, but also marked the limits

of the _clausura_, or enclosed space, which females were not allowed to

enter, nor the monks to leave without permission. Within this enclosure

are the ruins of the following buildings:--(1) the cathedral; (2) the

round tower; (3) _Cro Coemghin_, or St. Kevin's kitchen; (4) the Church of

the Blessed Virgin.

The wall of the cashel has now almost entirely disappeared; but the

magnificent gateway by which it was entered, after crossing the bridge of

the Glendasan river, still remains. "This gateway was very nearly a

square, being sixteen feet between the side walls and sixteen feet six

between the perforated or arched walls."[324] It was built of mica

slate--the stone of the district--except the arches and pilasters, which

are built of large chiselled blocks of granite. The two arches are of

equal height--five feet to the chord and ten to the soffit. A tower arose

originally over this double arch, but it has now quite disappeared. There

can be no doubt that the gateway tower and cashel were coeval with the

completed monastery, and date from the beginning of the seventh century.

The nave of the great church or cathedral, and the round tower are, in

Petrie's opinion, coeval, and also belong to the early part of the seventh

century. He bases his opinion mainly on the character of the masonry,

which in the tower is perfectly similar to that of the round tower of

Kilmacduagh. There is historical evidence that the great Church of

Kilmacduagh was built by Guaire Aidhne, about the year A.D. 610. The

masonry of this church is so similar to that of the tower at Kilmacduagh

that they must be regarded as of contemporaneous construction. The

magnificent tower of Glendalough is still 110 feet high; with its conical

cap it would have been originally 132 feet high. The door-way is at

present ten feet from the ground, and is perfectly similar in construction

to the door-ways of the ancient churches in the valley--in this, that they

are all constructed of chiselled blocks of granite, while the walls are

built of the rubble masonry with the stones of the district. The door-way

is five feet seven inches high, two feet wide at the sill, and one foot

ten inches at the arch, which is cut out of the stone--a feature

characteristic of our earliest churches. The nave of the great church

which is of the same date (the chancel is in the later ornamented style),

and of perfectly similar masonry, was 55 feet in length by 37 in breadth;

the chancel seem to have been a later addition.

The building called St. Kevin's Kitchen, with its belfry tower and high

pitched stone roof, is perhaps the most interesting building at

Glendalough, and was, there is no longer reason to doubt, like

Columcille's House at Kells, the oratory and dormitory of the saint. It is

evident, upon close examination, that the chancel and sacristy annexed to

it, as well as the belfry, were later additions. It was originally a

simple oblong 30 feet long and a little more than 22 feet wide; the side

walls are 11 feet in height, whilst its height to the ridge of the roof is

31 feet. The lower apartment was an oratory arched with stone, the high

pitch of the stone roof leaving space for the croft, or upper chamber,

which was at once the cell and sleeping apartment of the saint

himself--the oratory beneath was what would now be called a private

oratory. The belfry is a small round tower, with conical cap, at the

western end of the building.

"Our Lady's Church" is situated a little to the west of these buildings

already described, which are in close proximity to each other. It is said

to have been the first church built by the saint, eastward of the smaller

lake; and its architecture confirms this tradition. The door-way is of

singular beauty, and of the most primitive type. It is figured in Petrie's

great work, and exhibits all the characteristic features of the earliest

doorways. The architrave, however, is ornamented with a plain double

moulding; and a cross, saltier-wise, is carved on the soffit of the

lintel. St. Kevin himself was buried within this ancient church, which he

had dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary.[325] His grave was shown in the

last century, but it seems that it is now covered over with rubbish from

the falling walls. This is also called the Ivy Church, for its walls are

festooned with that charitable creeper which flings so much beauty around

decay.

This group of buildings was all erected during the lifetime of the saint,

or shortly after his death. There were, however, two other edifices

further down the valley to the east, of a more ornamental character and of

later date.

'Trinity Church' is about a furlong eastward of the 'City' proper,

standing alone close to the road on the left from Larah to those buildings

which we have just described. It has, or rather had, a chancel with a very

beautiful semicircular chancel arch, and also a round tower, which Petrie

thinks was built so late as the thirteenth century when the valley of the

saints had become "a nest of robbers and murderers." Still further to the

east near Larah bridge, and about a mile from the 'City,' was the Priory

of St. Saviour, or as it is sometimes called, the Monastery. It is now

almost a heap of ruins; portions, however, of the pilasters supporting the

chancel arch still remain. The nave of this church was 42 feet long by 26

in breadth; the monastic buildings seem to have been annexed to the north

side of the church, but cannot now be traced. Its most interesting

feature, however, was the elaborate carving in low-relief on the bases and

capitals of the piers (at one side only) that supported the chancel arch.

The character of the ornamentation would seem to point to the end of the

eleventh, or the beginning of the twelfth century, as the probable date of

this once beautiful building. The little oratory within the cathedral

cemetery, called the "Priest's House," which has now completely

disappeared, but of which drawings are preserved, also belonged to the

Romanesque period. It was called the 'Priests' House,' according to

Petrie, because it was reserved for the burial place of the Roman Catholic

clergy of the surrounding districts.

Within the cemetery, which surrounds the cathedral and is much overcrowded

with graves, was the famous yew tree, said to have been planted by St.

Kevin himself; but it has now entirely disappeared. It is said that some

of its branches were lopped off to make furniture, and that the ancient

tree then gradually withered and decayed.

In close proximity to St. Kevin's Kitchen there were anciently several

other buildings, all traces of which have now quite disappeared. Mention

is made of Cro-Chiarain or St. Ciaran's House, and also of the church of

the "Two Sinchells"--Regles an da Sinchell--the patron saints of Killeigh

in the King's County. These saints were friends and contemporaries of St.

Kevin, and probably resided for a while in the 'Houses' which they or

their disciples had constructed in the holy valley. The remains of

numerous ancient crosses and tombstones have been discovered during the

recent restorations, and are now better cared for than they were

heretofore.

III.--ST. MOLING.

Many celebrated scholars were trained in Glendalough from the time of St.

Kevin to St. Laurence O'Toole. The See of Glendalough, too, occupied a

highly honourable position amongst the bishoprics of Leinster, sometimes

claiming the place of honour next to Kildare itself. Yet there is no

evidence that St. Kevin himself was raised to the episcopal dignity; and

we may fairly assume that if he were a bishop the fact would not have been

passed over in silence by the writers of his Life. But the fame of the

monastery and schools became so great during the life of the holy founder,

that his successor and nephew, St. Molibba, was consecrated bishop, and

probably during the lifetime of St. Kevin himself. The subsequent prelates

are styled sometimes 'bishops,' and sometimes 'abbots' of Glendalough; and

in one instance, at least, that of the abbot Cormac, who died in A.D. 925,

the same person is styled bishop and abbot.

It was during the abbacy of Molibba that the school of Glendalough

produced a distinguished pupil, whose name is well known in Leinster, that

is, St. Moling, the patron and founder of St. Mullins.

St. Moling was one of the most celebrated of the holy and learned men who

were trained in Glendalough during the lifetime, or shortly after the

death of the founder. His name is still preserved in the parish and barony

of St. Mullins, on the left bank of the Barrow, in the extreme south-west

of the county Carlow. Moling's first name was Daircell or Taircell. He

came of the royal race of Cathaoir Mor, a celebrated king of Leinster in

the third century of the Christian era. His father's name was Faolain,

whence he is sometimes called Mac Faolain, and his mother Eamhnat, is said

to have been a Kerry woman. Though sprung from the Ui Deagha, on the left

bank of the Barrow, he was probably born in his mother's country; and

hence he is sometimes called Moling Luachra, from the mountain district in

Kerry, where he was either born or fostered amongst the friends of his

mother. The date of his birth is not known; but as he died in A.D. 697, it

was probably some time in the early part of the same century.

Few particulars of his early life are preserved, except certain miraculous

stories, which we need not refer to here. It is expressly stated, however,

that he spent some time in the monastery of Glendalough, which was not

very far from Hy-Kinsellagh, and was then the most celebrated

establishment in Leinster. As St. Kevin died about A.D. 618, young Moling

cannot have seen much of that great saint, if indeed he ever had an

opportunity of meeting him at all. But the spirit of Kevin was there--his

Rule and his discipline flourished in Glendalough; and hence in any case

we may regard St. Moling as his disciple. It was most probably at

Glendalough that the young saint acquired that great knowledge of the

Sacred Scriptures which he afterwards manifested, as well as those exalted

virtues which bore such lasting fruit on the banks of the Barrow.

The place where he founded his cell and monastery was then called Achadh

Cainidh; but the name was soon changed into _Teach Moling_--the House of

Moling--since corrupted into St. Mullins. He chose for his home a

beautiful spot on a gentle eminence overlooking the noble river, which at

this point mingles its waters with the rising tide between the green

meadows and rich groves that crown its swelling banks. A small stream here

joins the Barrow, and Moling built his monastery on the high ground,

between the junction of the river and the stream. His own cell he built

lower down, close to the river, for he loved to be alone with God as much

as possible, although he frequently visited his monastery, and allowed his

monks to confer with himself whenever it was necessary.

He had, too, that love of useful labour which pre-eminently marked the

great Benedictine Order. Laborare est orare. To labour is to pray--when

the labour is sanctified by its motive and its object. Moling wished to

grind the corn for his monks, and for this purpose, with his own hands, he

dug a mill-race from the stream already referred to, in such a way as to

convey the water more than a hundred yards from the river, even through

high ground, in order to get a fall for the water to turn the mill-wheel

near his monastery. He kept a curragh, too, on the river, near his own

cell, and was always ready to ferry strangers across the broad river, who

came to pray and do penance at the monastery. During all this time his

food was herbs and water; and according to some accounts--probably in

imitation of St. Kevin--he lived a long time within a hollow tree.

His austerities and his virtues soon attracted around Moling a great

number of disciples, so that a large community was formed under his

guidance and direction. The ruins of four ancient churches are still to be

seen on the slope of the hill overlooking the Barrow and the streamlet,

some of which were certainly built in his time. It is said, too, that a

portion of the mill-stone of Moling's mill was found in the stream, and

that the mill-race which he dug out can still be clearly traced.

St. Aidan, called also Mo-Eadan, which has been shortened into Moedog and

Moque, the celebrated Bishop of Ferns, died A.D. 632. It is said that he

wished St. Moling to be his successor, and that the princes and clergy of

Leinster invited Moling to become the Bishop of Ferns. Reluctantly the

saint complied with their wishes--for he loved Teach Moling much--and

preferred to spend his life there in solitude, attending only to himself

and the direction of the chosen souls, who placed themselves under his

direction. But God willed it otherwise; and Moling became, at least for

some years, Bishop, or High-bishop of Ferns--for at this period a certain

kind of precedence was claimed for Ferns over the other bishoprics of

Leinster. It is by no means certain, however, that Moling became Bishop of

Ferns in immediate succession to Aidan in A.D. 632. If so he must have

afterwards resigned his See, which is highly probable, and thus made room

for other bishops of Ferns, whose names are mentioned in connection with

that See during the seventh century, and during the lifetime of Moling

himself. It cannot, therefore, be determined whether he became Bishop of

Ferns in A.D. 632 or 691--the former is, however, the more probable date.

Moling procured for his tribesmen one signal temporal advantage--the

remission of the celebrated cow-tribute, called the Borumha, which was

levied by the King of Tara in Leinster every three years. It was an

oppressive tax, originally inflicted for a great crime committed by the

King of Leinster in A.D. 106, and was productive of much bloodshed, and

mutual hatred between the men of Leinster and the Hy-Niall. Now King

Finnachta the Festive had already twice exacted the tribute, and was

coming to levy it a third time. The Lagenians resolved to fight rather

than to pay; but first of all it was deemed expedient to get St. Moling to

use his great influence in their behalf to have the tribute remitted. The

saint succeeded beyond their expectations, although, it is said, he made

use of an equivocation to effect his purpose. Failing to get a promise of

the absolute remission of the tribute, he asked the king to grant him a

stay of execution until _luan_. The king promised to grant this stay. Now

_luan_ means Monday; and so the king understood it, but it also means the

Judgment Day, in which sense Moling understood[326] it, and insisted on

the fulfilment of the promise in that sense. The king feared the saint,

and moreover was unwilling to be deemed a pledge-breaker, so he was

constrained to remit the tribute for ever. The remission, however, was a

most unpopular act with his own northern subjects; and it is not unlikely

that the story of the equivocation was invented by the king's friends, who

wished to please the saint, and yet to throw the odium of this unpopular

measure on one who was much better able to bear it than Finnachta. Even

the wise Adamnan is represented as counselling his royal master to assert

the legal claims of the great Hy-Niall race to which he himself belonged;

and he is said to have blamed the king for yielding so weakly to the

Leinster saint. The remission was made about the year A.D. 693; and the

cow-tax was never levied in Leinster afterwards.

St. Moling is said to have been a great scholar, and a great writer. More

ancient Irish poems, several of which are still extant, have been ascribed

to St. Moling than to any other of our Irish saints,[327] with the

exception, perhaps, of Columcille. Some of these have reference to that

Borromean Tribute of which we have already spoken; others purporting to be

prophetical, give a list of the kings of Erin, their battles, victories,

and death. In consequence of these and several other prophetical poems,

St. Moling has been set down as one of the four great prophets of Erin.

The others are St. Patrick, St. Columcille, and St. Berchan of Clonsast.

One of Moling's prophecies foretells the coming of the Anglo-Normans to

Ireland, and the 'conquest' of the country by Henry II. Some of these

poems are manifest forgeries written after the event. They were ascribed

to St. Moling, because he was pre-eminently a holy man, who enjoyed in his

own time the reputation of a prophet amongst all the people.

Keating had in his possession a work which he calls the _Yellow Book of

St. Moling_, but which has since been unfortunately lost. Hence we know

nothing of it beyond the name. It was probably begun by St. Moling and

afterwards continued by his monastic successors as an authentic record of

local and national events, like the _Annals of Tighernach_, or the

_Chronicon Scotorum_ at Clonmacnoise. Colgan observes that St. Moling had

a great devotion for St. Kevin, and constantly invokes that saint in his

poems and prophecies. He was probably privileged to see during his boyhood

the venerable Kevin at Glendalough, and must have been greatly impressed

by that saintly master. St. Moling died towards the close of the seventh

century.

Notwithstanding its remoteness, the Danes frequently ravaged Glendalough

during the ninth century; and again repeated their ravages during the

tenth and following century. There could be no peace for the monks of St.

Kevin whilst the fleets of foreigners were on the Boyne, the Liffey, and

even at the mouth of the Bray River--if it be the _Inner-na-mbarc_

referred to by the Four Masters in A.D. 836, as O'Donovan conjectures.

Still the sanctuary retained at least to some extent its ancient fame even

during these troubled times, for Cormac Mac Cullinnan before his death in

A.D. 907, bequeathed to Glendalough an ounce of gold and an ounce of

silver, as an offering to secure the prayers of the community. It

contained 'learned men' and 'anchorites,' as we know, during this century,

for the death of one of them is recorded by the Four Masters in A.D. 953

(_recte_ 954); and the death of several other anchorites is noticed by

the Masters in this same century. They were probably the same as the

_inclusi_ of whom we read later on--each of them living in his own little

cell, or 'kitchen,' which was at once his house and his oratory. One of

them was also what was called 'Head of the Rule' at Glendalough, and died

in A.D. 965. The death of a lector or reader in theology is also noticed

the previous year; both bore the surname of O'Manchan, and were probably

members of the same family.

But it was not the Danes alone who wasted the abbey-lands and destroyed

the sacred edifices. Native Irishmen now followed their bad example both

at Glendalough and elsewhere. In A.D. 983, "the three sons of Cearbhall,

son of Lorcan, plundered the termon, or abbey-lands of Coemghen; but the

three were killed before night through the miracles of God and Coemghen."

No one can regret their fate; it was an example and a warning greatly

needed in those rude and lawless days. Five times during the next thirty

years St. Kevin's sacred city was plundered and destroyed by the

Danes;[328] yet it was still a venerated and much frequented shrine during

the whole of the eleventh and twelfth centuries. In A.D. 1095 died the

Brehon O'Manchan, Comarb of St. Kevin, and a most celebrated judge. He was

doubtless a member of the same distinguished family, which had already

given many abbots and anchorites to Glendalough.

Noble ladies, too, we find, used to go on the pilgrimage to Glendalough;

for in A.D. 1098, Dearbhforgaill, daughter of Tadhg Mac Gillaphadraig, and

mother of Murtogh and Tadgh O'Brian, died in pilgrimage at Glendalough.

The same year Mac Maras Cairbreach, a noble priest and learned senior,

died in the sacred vale; but whether on his pilgrimage or in his own

monastery is not stated. In A.D. 1127, the abbot Gilla Comghall O'Toole

was slain by the men of Fertuathal; he was doubtless a member of the same

family as the illustrious Laurence O'Toole, the greatest glory of

Glendalough after its founder, of whom we must give a more particular

account, for he was the last canonized of the countless saints of ancient

Erin.

The Four Masters in A.D. 1085 record the death of "Gilla na-Naomh Laighen

(the Leinster-man), noble bishop of Gleann-da-locha, and afterwards head

of the monks of Würzburg." The celebrated monastery of Würzburg in

Germany, called in Latin Herbipolis, was founded by St. Killian. There is

still preserved in the library of its university a famous MS. called the

_Codex Paulinus_, or _Codex of the Epistles of St. Paul_ in Latin, with

copious glosses, both marginal and interlinear, in the Irish language,

which were largely made use of by Zeuss, in the composition of his

_Grammatica Celtica_. This MS. is hardly of the time of St. Killian

himself. Zeuss thinks it was written either by Marianus Scotus, or more

probably brought from Ireland by one of the learned pilgrims, who crowded

the Scoto-German monasteries at that time. He makes special reference to

Gilla na-Naomh, Bishop of Glendaloch; and it may be that he was the writer

of this Codex, which still proves to the learned world how carefully the

Scriptures were studied in our Irish schools, and how the Irish language

was cultivated by our native scholars during the 'darkest' of the Middle

Ages.

CHAPTER XVIII--(_continued_).

THE SCHOOL OF GLENDALOUGH.

ST. LAURENCE O'TOOLE.

"And, Thou, O mighty Lord, whose ways

Are far above our feeble minds to understand,

Sustain us in these doleful days,

And render light the chain that binds our fallen land.

Look down upon our dreary state;

And through the ages that may still roll sadly on,

Watch Thou o'er hapless Erin's fate,

And shield, at least from darker ill, the blood of Conn."

--_Clarence Mangan._

Something like this was the prayer of St. Laurence O'Toole when he was

dying in a foreign land. He was the last of our saints; and he was also

the associate and intimate friend of the last of our kings. At one time

both had high hopes that the demon of civil strife might be banished from

the land; and that Celtic learning and Celtic art would find their highest

development under the protection of a strong government and a united

people.

Together they drew a sword, that could not save, in defence of hapless

Ireland. Together they were forced to bow the knee in homage to the Norman

king. But St. Laurence did not forget his old master in his new loyalty.

He was faithful through all his misfortunes to the unhappy Roderick

O'Connor; and it may be truly said that he met his noble death striving to

obtain Henry's pardon for the discrowned king, and "to render light the

chains that bound his fallen land." The saint's career, from every point

of view, is full of interest; and therefore we make no apology for tracing

his history at some length.

It is fortunate that in the case of St. Laurence, or Lorcan O'Toole, we

are not left to tradition or imagination to enable us to ascertain what

manner of man he was. We have an accurate and authentic Life of the saint,

rich in all details, and written by one who was in every way qualified for

the task. The writer was a member of that community at Eu, in whose bosom

St. Laurence found a home and a grave; and he must have had ample and

authentic information at his disposal. For the Life was written shortly

after the saint's death; its author must have seen and probably conversed

with Laurence himself; and, doubtless, he made the acquaintance of the

clergy who accompanied him from Ireland to Normandy. Above all, he had at

his command the official documents, which were transmitted from Dublin to

Rouen, at the request of the Bishop and Chapter of that Cathedral, and

which were drawn up by the Bishop of Kildare and the Prior of Christ's

Church by command of Henry de Loundres, Archbishop of Dublin, for the

process of the saint's canonization.

Laurence O'Toole, both by father and mother, came of the noblest stock of

Leinster. His father, Murtough, was hereditary prince of the Hy-Murray, a

race that inhabited the fertile lands of south-eastern Kildare (which

still belongs to the diocese of Dublin), until they were driven into the

mountains of Wicklow by the Normans. His mother was the daughter of

O'Byrne, the ruler of north-eastern Kildare, who shared the same fate; for

both were driven from the plains into the mountains, where they maintained

a sturdy but turbulent independence, down to a period within the memory of

men still living.

The young Lorcan was baptized at St. Brigid's famous shrine in Kildare, by

the hands of the bishop of that ancient see, who seems to have been in

some way connected with the family of the saint. We need not dwell on the

alleged prophecies of the saint's future greatness--too often these

prophecies were composed after the event. A few years at most after the

birth of the child, Dermott M'Murrough, of infamous memory, became king of

Leinster, and, as Gerald Barry testifies, he was a tyrant from the

beginning, a cruel oppressor of the nobles, a man whose hand was against

every man, and who had every man's hand against him. The father of the

young Lorcan being suspected or defeated by the tyrant, was forced to give

his youngest child as a hostage to M'Murrough. Sometimes these hostages

were treated with great cruelty; and if any violation of faith, real or

imaginary, took place, were not unfrequently put to death with

circumstances of the greatest atrocity. M'Murrough was a savage, and

treated the child savagely. He had him at the tender age of ten led away

in bonds; he caused him to be sent into a desert, stony land, somewhere

probably to the north of Ferns, and there the child was left almost

without food, until he was nearly starved to death, and his clothes were

reduced to rags; so that, as the author of his Life tells us, he had

nothing to shelter him from the biting north winds of winter. It was the

discipline of the Cross which sometime or other God prepares for those

whom he destines for a high degree of sanctity, that they may thus learn

the best of all lessons--the lesson of patient endurance at the foot of

the Cross.

When his father heard of the sad plight to which his poor son was

reduced--knowing that prayers would be fruitless with such a man--he

fortunately made prisoners of twelve of M'Murrough's followers, and then

gave the tyrant to understand that if his son were not released, he would

take summary vengeance on the captives. The threat was effective;

M'Murrough could not afford to lose his followers. So he agreed to give up

the boy to the Bishop of Glendalough on condition that his own followers

were at once released.

It was fortunate for young Lorcan that the chances of war brought him to

Glendalough, for it was the crisis of his life. His captivity was, after

all, a blessing in disguise, since it ended in thus bringing him to the

holy city of St. Kevin. In spite of the ravages of the Danes, and of other

spoilers like Dermott M'Murrough, the lamp of learning still burned

brightly in the mountain valley, and the virtues of St. Kevin were still

cultivated, at least to some extent by his monastic children. There were,

it is true, from time to time burnings at Glendalough, and deeds of

violence were perpetrated even under the shadow of its holy mountains. But

the learning and holiness acquired by St. Laurence in its cloisters--for

it was his only school--is the clearest proof that both sacred and profane

studies were there cultivated in comparative peace, and that the churches

of Glendalough were crowded with holy and learned monks until the Norman

spoilers came, when it was made a desert, which afforded refuge only to

the robber and the outlaw.

Young Lorcan was at once placed under the protection of the bishop; and

when his father came to bring him home, the noble boy asked permission to

remain for ever in the family of St. Kevin, and forego his hopes of an

earthly and, in those days, a very brilliant inheritance. The father

gladly consented; and thus, at the early age of twelve, young Lorcan was

given over to God, and like Samuel, was brought up in the temple of the

Lord, serving day and night before His altar. His whole time, like that of

his young companions, was given to prayer and study. It was his highest

privilege to be allowed to attend at the altar, to train his young voice

to sing the praises of God with the monks in the choir, and prepare the

requisites for the Holy Sacrifice, especially the spotless host, and the

wine, and the limpid water from St. Kevin's well. He was assiduous in

attendance at all the lessons of the lectors, that is the readers in

Divinity and Sacred Scriptures, who were attached to the monastic school,

and delivered their lectures in a somewhat free and easy, but very

effective, sort of way. In rainy weather they assembled in the church, or

the abbot's house, or the reading room; but when the sun shone the

professor and monks strolled about, or sat down under the shade of St.

Kevin's yew, while the teacher expounded the sacred page, or read the

lives of ancient saints, or went through the canons of the Church,

explaining how the law was violated, how transgressors were punished, and

how the truly repentant after condign penance were reconciled. It was not

so elaborate a system as we have at present; but it was admirably suited

to the wants of the time. It certainly produced great prelates and great

saints; and beyond all doubt it was more healthy for soul and body to hear

the Word of God explained in the bracing air of Glendalough, under the

shadow of its majestic mountains, than to be cooped up in a dusty hall,

where one could hardly ever catch a ray of the glorious sun struggling

through the murky atmosphere.

Lorcan was a diligent and keen-witted scholar. He was, says the writer of

his Life, "Fervens in audiendo, sagax in repetendo, prudens in

discernendo, sollicitus audita tenaci memoriæ commendare." No good quality

of a perfect student was wanting. He was not merely an attentive but an

eager listener--fervens in audiendo. He went carefully and wisely over

what he had heard or read--sagax in repetendo. This improved his natural

talents, and made him a youth of keen and penetrating judgment--prudens in

discernendo--and the knowledge which he acquired he stored up, not in a

confused heap, but with system and order, which helped to strengthen his

retentive memory, and enable him to have his knowledge ready for

use--sollicitus audita tenaci memoriæ commendare.

For thirteen years he spent his life in the service of God, in the

improvement of his mind, and the acquisition of sacred knowledge. They

were probably the happiest years of his life; his young heart, pure and

free from care, was given to the only love that begets perfect happiness,

the love and service of God. Then it came to pass that the abbot of

Glendalough, the comarb of St. Kevin, died; and, young as he was, the

unanimous voice of the clergy, and of the people, called for Lorcan as

his successor. He was only twenty-five--too young, indeed, in ordinary

circumstances to be placed at the head of a great community; but his

virtues, his learning, and his prudence far exceeded the measure of his

years, and so they placed him, reluctant as he was, at the head of the

great establishment of St. Kevin, probably about the year A.D. 1153, when

we read that the abbot Dunlaing Ua Cathail died.

We cannot stay to recount his wisdom, his zeal, and, above all, his great

charity in his new post. The abbey lands were wide; the family of St.

Kevin was very large; the duties of the abbot very onerous; but we find

young Lorcan discharged all these duties with complete success. Above all,

his charity to the poor was remarkable. A time of great scarcity had come

upon the people in all that mountain region, and great numbers would,

undoubtedly, have perished of cold and hunger, but the abbot found means

to be generous to all--no appeal was made to him in vain; no one left the

gates of the monastery hungry. When necessary he gave the scanty meal from

his own table to feed the starving people. Perhaps it was that he was too

profuse of the property of the monastery, or because in the common need he

made all give a share to the poor, but it is certain that at this period

in his own religious family there were false brethren who calumniated

their abbot, whispering evil things against him. Yet he bore all with

perfect patience, and took no measures to vindicate his own character,

until his enemies, from very shame, were forced to confess that they did

injustice to their blameless abbot.

Shortly after the see of Glendalough became vacant and the eyes of all

were turned on Laurence as the most suitable person to assume the mitre.

But the pious abbot this time absolutely refused; they made him a

religious superior against his will; but he would not become bishop at any

rate; and that for two very good reasons--first, because he had not yet

attained the canonical age; and secondly, because in his humility he

thought himself unable to bear so heavy a burden.

But Providence reserved him for greater things.

Shortly after the archiepiscopal See of Dublin became vacant by the death

of Gregory in October, A.D. 1161. Next year the abbot of Glendalough was

chosen to succeed to the vacant See, and was consecrated in Christ Church

Cathedral by the Primate Gelasius, attended by several other prelates and

abbots from various parts of the kingdom. The choice of Lorcan to fill

the See of Dublin is a singular proof of the great esteem is which he was

held by all classes of his countrymen, both clergy and laity. For the

citizens of Dublin were mostly of Danish origin, and had small sympathy

with the natives. Hitherto their prelates were either of foreign

extraction, or Irishmen, who had been trained and educated in England.

They were consecrated too by the Archbishops of Canterbury; and they

invariably took an oath of obedience and subjection to the see of

Canterbury.

But the election of Lorcan inaugurated a new era. He was Irish of the

Irish; trained and educated at home, as far as we know, exclusively within

the shadow of the Wicklow Mountains. He was consecrated by the Primate of

Armagh, and of course he was neither asked, nor if asked, was he a man to

promise obedience to the see of Canterbury, which certainly had no claim

_de jure_ to the obedience of any Irish prelate. Nor did any prelate after

him consecrated for any Irish see promise or pay any such canonical

obedience to any prelate except the Pope. So that in the person of Lorcan

the Irish Church was finally emancipated from this dependence on the

Primate of all England, which in after days, had it continued, might have

been the means of causing the shipwreck of our country's faith.

Laurence was consecrated Archbishop of Dublin--Glendalough was not yet

united to the Archdiocese--in the year A.D. 1162. In the same year we find

that there was a Synod of the Irish prelates held at Clane in the co.

Kildare, at which twenty-six bishops and several abbots are said to have

assembled for the reformation of abuses, and the enactment of salutary

discipline. The Primate Gelasius presided; and it is highly probable that

many of the same prelates assisted at the consecration of St. Laurence in

Dublin.

At that time the city seems to have been greatly in need of some moral

reformation; and the holy prelate at once girt up his loins for the

difficult task.

He began with the clergy; for he knew that the people would readily follow

their good example. He persuaded the secular clergy of the Cathedral

Church to form themselves into a kind of religious community. With the

sanction of the Pope they adopted the rule of life followed by the Regular

Canons of Aroasia--a reform that had been introduced into the diocese of

Arras in France some eighty years before. The Archbishop himself adopted

the same rule of life, and became a living model of its perfect observance

for all his clergy. We fortunately have accurate details regarding his

manner of life at this period; and beyond all doubt it was, as the

lessons read on his festival declare, a life of marvellous austerity.

Beneath his episcopal dress he wore the habit of a Canon Regular, but,

unlike the others, next his skin he wore a coarse hair shirt night and

day; and as if that was not enough to mortify his flesh, he had himself

frequently scourged, often no less than three times in the day, by an

attendant who knew how to keep the scourging secret. He dined in the same

refectory with the other canons, and, as with St. Augustine and his

clergy, whilst the body was refreshed with food, the spirit was nourished

by spiritual reading. He was most abstemious too at all his meals, and

never tasted meat. On Friday his only food was bread and water; and

sometimes on that day he absolutely abstained from all food--feeding his

soul, however, with meditation on the passion of Christ. Yet he was

hospitable as became a great prelate, and had banquets rich and abundant

prepared for his guests. He even pretended on these occasions to take a

share of the good things provided for the strangers, and coloured his

water with a little wine, lest his own abstinence might prevent them from

fully enjoying the bountiful hospitality prepared for them.

He was assiduous in prayer, and before all things anxious to promote the

beauty of God's house, as well as the splendour and regularity of Divine

worship. Here, too, the example of the holy prelate must have exercised a

very powerful influence both on the clergy and on the people. We are told

by the writer of his Life that he was a constant attendant at all the

offices of the Church, when not visiting his diocese; and not content at

presiding at the daily offices, he regularly got up at midnight to recite

matins and lauds with his canons; and when they retired to rest after the

office was completed, he generally remained behind in the choir, before

the miraculous crucifix of Christ Church, sometimes standing, or sitting,

or kneeling, but always praying; so that he often continued reciting the

psaltery until the morning dawned, and then he would go out to the

cemetery to say a prayer for the dead before retiring for a few hours'

brief repose. Yet in all things which might win popular favour or

applause, he loved to hide even his good works, lest they might beget

self-esteem or hypocrisy.

Such a life was sufficiently rigorous, but it was not enough for this man

of God. His nephew Thomas, whom he greatly loved, became Abbot of

Glendalough; and then the holy prelate having one in whom he could

confide, used to retire to his beloved mountain valley at the approach of

Lent, in order to give himself up to a forty days' retreat in the desert.

All the saints of God loved solitude, and longed to fly from the haunts of

men. They seem to have been especially anxious to select for their place

of retreat those secluded spots where the sights and sounds of nature

might be most apt to raise their minds to God. Hence we find them in the

islands of the great sea, or of some lonely lake; or they retired to the

majestic solitude of some mountain valley, where no mean or sordid

thoughts could cross their minds; nay, rather everything around them

helped to raise their souls to heaven. It was in this spirit--the spirit

of a noble generous soul that Laurence used to leave the city and go out

to meet and commune with God in the solitude of the mountains of Wicklow.

It was the same Spirit of God that brought Moses to Nebo, and Eliseus to

Horeb. Therefore it was that St. Gall sought the inmost recesses of the

Alps, and St. Kevin the deepest valleys of the Wicklow mountains. So

Laurence, like another Kevin, took up his abode not with his nephew in the

monastery at the bottom of the valley, but in the bosom of the hills--in

the very cave where St. Kevin himself spent his earliest penitential

years. There St. Laurence dwelt in the grotto in the face of Lugduff,

under the mountain's brow, overlooking the gloomy lake, to which access

could be gained only by a boat, or by a ladder planted in the lake itself.

Twice a week his nephew brought him a little bread and water to support

life, and ascertained his wishes or commands in all things concerning the

government of the diocese. If urgent business called him, he went at once

from his retreat; but this rarely happened. Whilst there he saw no one but

his nephew. His bed was the rock; his canopy the sky; his lamps the

midnight stars that shone above the summit of Comaderry mountain. He was

there in cold and hunger, in storm and sunshine, alone all the day and all

the dreary night. Yet he was perfectly happy, for he lived with God. The

saints are not alone in these solitudes, they are watched by angels; the

light of heaven is around them; the glow of perfect love is in their

hearts; God speaks to them in all the voices of the mountains, and they

see Him in all the majestic sights before their eyes. He spoke by day and

night to Laurence, as He spoke to holy Job of old.

But what useful purpose does this extreme austerity serve? We can only

answer very briefly that it serves two things--first, it serves to

emancipate and ennoble the soul in its conflict with the flesh; second,

it serves to assimilate us with Christ crucified. We with our selfish

hearts, our sordid ungenerous souls, cannot understand the saints of God;

we cannot realize how God speaks to them, and comforts them, and feeds

them like the ravens in the wilderness. Yet this bishop was a man like

ourselves, a man whose life was cast on evil days, and who lived in the

midst of a wicked and perverse generation.

Yes, the prelate was a Saint and an Apostle; but the people were sensual

and wicked; they would not hearken to his word, nor turn away from their

evil courses. Danish Dublin at this time was not a model city, nor a truly

Christian city. It was still, in many ways, half pagan; or if they had

faith, they certainly had not works. The Archbishop was sorely grieved; he

forewarned them, like another Jeremias, of the wrath to come. He told

them, what even human sagacity might perceive, that every kingdom divided

against itself must fall; that an evil day was in store for them, as well

as for the wicked and perverse generation that was over all the land. God

had sent them prophets, and they would not hearken; apostles, but they

would not be converted. "So the day is at hand, and thy house will be laid

desolate." It was even at their doors--a day of wrath and vengeance--and

yet a day of justice and mercy, because their bitter chastisement was yet

their salvation.

Shortly after the arrival of the Norman freebooters in the year A.D. 1169,

Dermott M'Murrough and Maurice Fitzgerald made their first attack on

Dublin. On this occasion the citizens kept within their gates, and the

enemy was not strong enough to take the city. But the midnight sky was red

with the glare of burning homesteads through all the valley of the Liffey;

and when the plunderers departed, scarcely a living thing survived in all

that fertile region.

Next year the attack was renewed in force, and this time it was directed

against the city itself. The citizens had great reason to fear the

vengeance of M'Murrough, for they had put his father to a cruel death in

the midst of their city, and had shamefully buried him with a dog. Now

M'Murrough, with the Normans led on by Strongbow in person, was thundering

at their gates. The city, too, was badly prepared for a siege, and there

were traitors within the walls; so the citizens resolved to make the best

terms they could, and surrender the city. The Archbishop was asked to

negotiate the terms of surrender; but even whilst he and the Earl were in

conference outside the walls of the city, Milo de Cogan, and some of the

more lawless spirits, burst over the walls, and attacked the town. They

burned, robbed, and slaughtered as usual, so that the streets were filled

with the dead and dying. Then it was that St. Laurence proved himself a

true pastor. Rushing from the false parley, he entered the city, and

snatched from the brutal soldiers the palpitating bodies of their victims.

A hundred times he interposed his own body to ward off the fatal stroke

from others. He went about through the slippery streets in his episcopal

robes, with the cross in his hands, imploring the merciless foe for

Christ's sake to stop the horrid carnage; and when he could do no more, he

gave absolution to the dying, and helped to bury the heaps of dead. It was

a fearful foretaste of what his native land was destined to endure in the

future.

But the Archbishop was not only a true pastor, but a true patriot. He knew

that the first adventurers were simply robbers, some of whom were

afterwards imprisoned for daring to effect a hostile landing in Ireland,

without the licence of the king, at the invitation of a traitor. So he

stimulated the slothful king, Rory O'Connor, to action; he implored the

native princes to give up for a while their insane divisions, to unite

against the common foe, and come to the aid of the Capital. These efforts

were partially successful. Some thirty thousand Irish soldiers under the

supreme command of Roderick himself beleagured the city from Dalkey to

Clontarf, whilst the ships of Hasculf the Dane crowded the river, and

watched the river-gate. It was the supreme moment of Ireland's destiny.

Had the Irish been soldiers, or even men, they might have annihilated

their foes. But they were neither. After a two months' siege, in which the

garrison was reduced to the verge of starvation, Milo de Cogan made a

desperate sally with a few hundred soldiers, and routed the hosts of the

Irish, almost with a shout, as boys frighten away the flocks of birds from

the fields in spring.

The Archbishop doubtless saw clearly enough from what he witnessed on that

occasion, that the Irish soldiers had no discipline, that their leaders

had no union amongst themselves, and that such a heap of uncementing sand,

as the event proved, would have no chance of withstanding the mail-clad

warriors, who were victorious on every battlefield in Europe. So when the

king himself came over towards the close of A.D. 1171, Laurence O'Toole,

with the rest of the Irish prelates, followed the example of the kings of

the West, and South, and East, who had all submitted to Henry without

striking a blow. Herein, too, he proved himself a true patriot, although

submission must have cost him a bitter pang. He had seen enough to prove

that resistance was utterly hopeless, and that his duty to God and to the

people was to yield to a power which he could not oppose. So we find his

name amongst the prelates who assembled at Cashel in A.D. 1171, or the

beginning of A.D. 1172, to enact such disciplinary laws as the deplorable

state of the times had rendered imperatively necessary for the reformation

of morality and the reform of discipline. From the Pope's reply to the

Synodical letter of this Council we can readily infer, what indeed we

might naturally expect from the disturbed state of the times, that very

grave abuses prevailed at this period in various parts of the

country--abuses which it was a blessing to have reformed almost at any

cost.

Yet the great Archbishop was devotedly loyal to his own sovereign, Rory

O'Connor, and continued to be faithful to him to the end, even when he

became a crownless king, forsaken by his own subjects, and despised and

imprisoned by his own sons. Indeed it is not too much to say that Laurence

lost his life in the service of that worthless king, whose misfortunes he

had done so much to alleviate.

In A.D. 1175 Rory O'Connor finally and formally gave up all claims to the

kingdom of Ireland, and was content to accept his own hereditary kingdom

of Connaught as a fief from the English monarch. The treaty is still

extant; and we find the name of Laurencius Dublinensis as Chancellor for

the unfortunate King of Connaught. He even went over to London in person

in company with the Archbishop of Tuam, and the Abbot of St. Brendan's,

Clonfert, to negotiate the treaty for his old and beloved monarch. Such

fidelity to fallen princes is rare, and is highly honourable to the great

prelate of Dublin.

Towards the end of the year A.D. 1178 Alexander III. convoked for the

first Sunday of the following Lent a General Council to meet in Rome, in

order to heal the deplorable wounds which the Church had received from a

schism of some twenty years' standing. The Letters of Convocation did not

arrive in Ireland until near Christmas; the journey to Rome was toilsome

and perilous, especially in the winter season; yet the good Archbishop at

once prepared to obey the voice of the Pope as the voice of God. He

started immediately after Christmas, and crossing over to England was,

with the Irish prelates, his companions, very rudely treated by the king.

Before they were allowed to cross to France the jealous tyrant compelled

them to swear that during their stay in Rome they would do nothing

derogatory to the dignity of the English crown. But in spite of every

obstacle they succeeded in making their way to Rome, and were present at

all the sessions of the Council. It is a proud thing to find the names of

six Irish prelates amongst the signatories of that great Council--a larger

number than came from England and Scotland together--and at their head

stands the name of Laurence, Archbishop of Dublin.

But Laurence did more than attend the sessions of the Council. He opened

the eyes of the Pope to the true state of affairs in Ireland, and not only

secured many privileges for his own Church in Dublin, but also insisted on

the Pope recognising and safeguarding the liberty and independence of the

Church in Ireland. Unfortunately our information on this question is very

scanty. However we are inclined to think that, when it is said St.

Laurence secured the liberty of the Church in Ireland, it means not only

that, like Thomas à Becket, he took measures to protect it against the

encroachments of the civil power, but what was at least of equal

importance, he preserved it from all dependence on the See of Canterbury.

It was only two years before in A.D. 1177 that the Scottish prelates and

abbots were forced to swear obedience to the Archbishop of York as their

metropolitan. The same crafty policy would no doubt be also attempted in

Ireland; and although we cannot prove it, we are convinced in our own mind

that it is to St. Laurence O'Toole we owe the spiritual independence of

the Catholic Church in Ireland.

The Pope conceived a very strong regard for St. Laurence; he conferred on

him the high and special honour of Apostolic Legate in Ireland; and the

independence of the Irish Church, having thus been once formally

recognised in Rome, could not afterwards be easily undermined. But we must

hasten to the end. Laurence came home to Ireland; his stay, however, was

very brief, when he was again compelled to travel to England in the

interest of Rory O'Connor, the discrowned king. Several abortive attempts

were made to get rid of the English influence in the West of Ireland;

Rory, or at least his sons, were implicated in these designs, and Henry,

who only wanted an excuse, threatened to depose the old king, and

confiscate all his territories to the Crown. Rory was alarmed, and what

was worse, he was helpless. His own sons had turned against him; so in his

misery he implored the Archbishop to be his mediator with the king. He

had no one else to rely on, and the Archbishop did not disappoint him.

Again he left the shores of Ireland on a mission of charity; and doubtless

his eyes were not dry as he gazed on the lessening summits of the far-off

Wicklow mountains, and thought of the many happy days he had spent in the

wild solitude of his beloved Glendalough. When he arrived in England Henry

could not, or would not, see him; moreover, he forbade the prelate to

return again to Ireland, and he himself sailed away to Normandy. For three

weeks the Archbishop was kept as a sort of prisoner in the monastery of

Abingdon, when, revolving to dare all in order to accomplish his purpose,

he made up his mind to find out the king beyond the Channel. He embarked

at Dover; but a fever had already laid hold of him, so that when he

landed, he was unable to travel. He struggled onward, however, for a

little until he came to the brow of the hill which overlooks the church

and monastery at the little town of Augum or Eu, on the borders of

Normandy. Enquiring the name of the place, he learned that it was the

Church of the Canons Regular of St. Victor, a branch closely allied to his

own. Thereupon he cried out--"Haec requies mea in aeternum, hic habitabo

quoniam elegi cam."

Arriving at the monastery, he first paid a visit to the church, and after

spending some time in fervent prayer before the altar, he was carried to

the hospice. The scene that followed is touching in the extreme, and is

taken exactly from the Latin Life written by a brother of the Order. After

reposing a little he sent for the Abbot Osbert, and made his confession

with great sorrow and humility. But still his mind was not easy; for the

task for which he crossed the sea was unaccomplished, and he was no longer

able to plead in person before the king. Then he called one of his

attendant clerics, David by name, the tutor of Rory's son, who was to be

given as a hostage to Henry for his father's loyalty. "Go," said he to

David, "find out King Henry, tell him I am dying, and ask him in God's

name to forgive the King of Connaught, and receive him again into favour."

David bowed his head, and set out to find the king. He was favourably

received, for his story made a deep impression on the king, whose hard

heart was softened by the sufferings of the Archbishop in the cause of his

sovereign. He granted the boon, and pledged his royal word that he would

receive Rory again into favour. So David, after four days, returned to the

dying prelate, who anxiously awaited his arrival, and told of his

success. Then St. Laurence called David to him, made him sit close by his

side, for he was almost unable to speak, and laid his head upon the bosom

of the priest to imply that he was now satisfied, and that he would die in

peace.

Shortly after, his mind being now at ease, he received the Viaticum with

the greatest devotion, and then begged to be anointed. Some one of the

bystanders suggested that now, as he had received all the sacraments, it

were well if the Archbishop made his will. Raising his eyes to heaven he

made use of these solemn and memorable words:--"I declare before God that

I have not one penny under the sun to dispose of--not one penny"--he was a

religious, a Canon Regular; he professed poverty and he kept his vow.

Whatever he possessed he gave to the poor; indeed he never possessed

anything at all. No sooner was it got than it was gone again. Happy the

priest who at his dying hour can make the same declaration with the same

truth. Then his thoughts wandered back to his native land--that native

land which he loved so wisely and so well, which he tried in vain to save,

and which he now saw torn with internal dissensions and trampled under

foot by foreign foes--and he dying far away, and leaving no one behind him

to guide his people or heal his country's wounds. These bitter thoughts

sank deep into his heart; and in anguish of mind he exclaimed--alas! we

know how prophetically--"Heu popule stulte et insipiens, quid jam facturus

es--quis sanabit aversiones tuas? Quis medebitur tui?" Ah, foolish and

misguided people, what will now become of thee? Who will cure thy

dissensions? Who will heal thy wounds? He longed to be dissolved and to be

with Christ; yet for the sake of his perishing flock he would still

remain. But the end was now at hand. With dim eyes he kept reading a MS.

copy of the Seven Penitential Psalms which he had brought to him; and when

he could read no more, orally or mentally, about twelve o'clock on Friday,

the 14th of November, the glorious Confessor closed his eyes in a

peaceful, happy death.

The body of the holy Confessor was buried in presence of Cardinal Alexis,

the Papal Legate of Scotland. But it remained in its place of burial only

four years and six months, when the many wondrous miracles wrought at his

tomb caused the remains of St. Laurence to be transferred, and with great

solemnity enclosed in a crystal case before the high altar of the church.

Shortly after, at the urgent request of the Canons Regular and the

faithful of Eu, a petition for the canonization of the holy servant of

God was sent to Rome by the Archbishop and Chapter of Rouen, to which

diocese the church of Eu belongs. The Pope, Honorius III., ordered the

usual investigation to be made by the ecclesiastical authorities. As St.

Laurence came from Ireland shortly before his death, it became necessary

to have an official report concerning the life of St. Laurence from that

country. The task was committed by the Pope to Henry de Loundres,

Archbishop of Dublin; but he being absent in England on affairs of State,

commissioned the Bishop of Kildare and the Prior of Christ's Church to

collect the necessary depositions and transmit them to Rome. After the

usual process with legal proof of the practice of heroic virtues during

life and miracles after death, Honorius III., in the tenth year of his

pontificate, in a Bull issued from Reate, solemnly enrolled St. Laurence

O'Toole amongst the canonized saints of the Church. It was the year of our

Lord A.D. 1225 that the latest of our saints was thus formally canonized.

It is the greatest glory of the School of Glendalough to have produced

such a man--so learned, so holy, so faithful to his king and to his

country in the hour of trial. When shall we see his like again? And who

will deny that the Church which produced such men as St. Laurence and St.

Malachy was sound at the core in spite of many faults and abuses?

After his death the School and Monastery of Glendalough gradually fell

into decay, until at length the holy valley of St. Kevin became little

better than a nest of robbers and murderers.

CHAPTER XIX.

SCHOOLS OF THE SEVENTH CENTURY.

"I found in each great church, moreo'er,

Whether in island or on shore,

Pity, learning, fond affection,

Holy welcome and kind protection."

--_King Aldfrid's Poem on Ireland._

I.--THE SCHOOL OF LISMORE, ST. CARTHACH.

The Munster Schools were of somewhat later origin than the monastic

schools of the North; but during the seventh century some of them became

very celebrated, especially the great School of Lismore, which was second

only to that of Clonmacnoise. It was founded by St. Carthach about the

year A.D. 636, and soon became the chief seminary in the South of Ireland.

St. Carthach, its founder, was born about the middle of the sixth century

in that remote district of West Kerry, which also gave birth to St.

Brendan of Clonfert. He was sprung, too, from the same race as Brendan,

for his father Firaull, son of Fingin, derived his descent from the

renowned Fergus Mac Roy, the northern hero, so celebrated in romantic

legend and bardic song. His mother, Findmaith--the noble-fair one--is said

to have been the daughter of another Fingin, who was chieftain of

Corcoduibhne, in the same County Kerry. This lady was twice married, and

by the second marriage became the mother of St. Cuanna of Kilcoony, and

probably of other saints also.

The infant was baptized by a priest called Aidan,[329] who gave him

Carthach as his baptismal name; but the future saint was more commonly

called Mochuda, which seems to have been a pet name given to the boy by

his teacher St. Carthach the Elder.[330] The Elder Carthach at this time,

about A.D. 570, lived at his monastery at the foot of Slemish (Slieve Mis)

on the right bank of the river Mang, not far from Castlemaine. His

younger namesake had just attained the age of twelve, and was according to

the writer of his Life, a handsome youth, whose bright face and winning

ways made him a great favourite with all who knew him. As yet, however, he

had received little or no training either in virtue or learning. Like St.

Patrick at the same age, he was employed in herding his father's swine on

the banks of the river, when it chanced that he came near the monastery of

St. Carthach. Just then he happened to hear the monks pouring forth the

solemn strains of sacred psalmody, and was filled with such rapture that

he remained all night near the holy place without food or shelter. When

asked by his parents where he had spent the night, he told them; and added

that he was ready to leave all and join that sacred choir of white-robed

monks. His parents gladly consented, and sending for the Bishop Carthach,

they handed over the boy for the service of the Lord.

The bishop trained the youth in sacred learning, and saw him daily, to his

great joy, make even greater progress in virtue, so that after some years

he ordained him priest. The holy prelate then after a short term of trial

gave him permission to found a monastery of his own at a place called

Killtulach, which is described as between Slemish mountain and the river

Mang--not far it would seem from Castlemaine, on the right bank of the

river. This was about the year A.D. 590; so that we may assign the date of

his birth to about the year A.D. 560.

It was very usual at this period for young monks to travel to different

monasteries, and spend a period in each in order to perfect themselves in

sanctity and learning. Bangor had acquired great fame under the rule of

St. Comgall, and so Carthach went to visit his kinsmen in the far north,

and make himself still further acquainted with monastic discipline under

so great a master. After staying some time at Bangor he returned home to

Kerry; but once more went northward to the extreme limit of Munster to pay

a visit to St. Molua of Clonfert Molua, whose monastery was situated at

the roots of Slieve Bloom at the place now called Kyle. It still forms a

part of the diocese of Killaloe, though quite close to the frontier of the

ancient Meath.

Shortly afterwards we find him at the great monastery founded by

Colman-elo, and called from him Land-elo, now Lynally, quite near to

Tullamore, and only three miles from Rahan, where the saint was soon to

found an establishment of his own.

It is evident that it was St. Colman-Elo who advised St. Carthach to found

a monastery near his own in the territory, not of Munster, but of

Meath--in fact it was near the site of some of our most famous battles,

which the sons of Heber and Heremon fought for supremacy on this border

land. The name _Raithain_ signifies _filicetum_, or the Ferney Land; and

it was not more than three miles from Lynally, the ancient Land-elo, which

is derived by some from _ealla_, meaning an ancient grove or wood.

St. Carthach lived at Rahan for nearly forty years,[331] and at Lismore,

certainly not more than two years; yet his name is generally connected

with the latter, and hardly ever with the former monastery. Perhaps it was

because the men of Meath treated the saint so badly after his long and

laborious career at Rahan. Indeed, it is quite evident, that it was

jealousy--jealousy which the Hy-Niall monks, probably of Durrow, near

Rahan, felt at the success of St. Carthach--that prompted them to expel

the saint and his scholars from the dear old convent, where he had lived

so long. There are few things less creditable to the Southern Hy-Niall,

both princes and priests, than their conduct on this occasion. It is

manifest that Carthach by his piety and learning had gathered around him a

great monastic school at Rahan. For not to speak of boys and servants, the

Life in the _Salamanca MS._, tells us that he had gathered round him some

847 monks, who supported themselves and succoured the poor by the labour

of their own hands, and with their holy founder served God

together--unanimiter--with one mind and in one spirit. "Their toil," says

the Life, "was severe, but the fire of charity lightened the burden of

this labour, so that to none of them did it seem heavy" (Vita I., sect.

15). It is said, too, that Carthach himself was raised to the episcopal

dignity in Rahan.

Now, the 'native clerics,' says the Life, of the Hy-Niall race, were

jealous of this success, and instigated by Satan, they resolved to drive

the southern monk from their territories. The Kerryman, of course, though

a saint, was, no doubt, annoyed by these proceedings of the men of Meath.

It was indeed hard to be borne, for his was a holy, a useful, and an

inoffensive life. He had spent forty years amongst them. His soul clung to

the place, because he fondly believed, as it was the scene of his labours,

so also it would be the place of his resurrection. He had built for

himself and his monks a very beautiful church, the ruins of which are

still to be seen. He had established a famous school, and crowds of young

men had placed themselves under his direction, and were, doubtless,

tenderly attached to their master. He was near the monasteries, too, of

some of his dearest friends, who dwelt around Slieve Bloom. And now they

were going to drive him from his home, and his monks, and his friends, at

an age too when the strength of his arm was weakened, and the vigour of

his mind diminished.

It was a wanton and a cruel eviction, for which Prince Blathmac, son of

Aedh Slaine, seems to have been primarily responsible. The Annalists

denounce this expulsion; but they seem afraid to mention openly the

authors of the crime. The _Ulster Annals_ (A.D. 635), call it the

'effugatio' of Carthach from Rahan, which is not merely a flight but an

expulsion. The Four Masters say that he was 'banished' from Rahan, and

date it as taking place in A.D. 631; but both the _Chronicon Scotorum_ and

the _Annals of Ulster_ give A.D. 635, at Easter, which is in all

probability the true date.

The _Life of St. Carthach_, however, assigns the real motive for thus

evicting the saint. The clergy of the district moved by jealousy at the

success of Carthach, resolved to expel the 'stranger' from their province;

and Blathmac, then ruler of that territory, was persuaded to carry out

this wicked purpose. Can it be that the Columbian monks of Durrow were

envious at seeing the fame of their own establishment eclipsed by the

greater renown of Rahan? It is not at all unlikely, although it is not

expressly stated; for the Life attributes it simply "to some of the native

clergy of that province." Elsewhere it is said that the expulsion of

Carthach is one of the three evil things for which certain 'saints' of

Erin were responsible--the other two being the shortening of St. Ciaran's

life, and the banishment of Columcille to Iona. We entirely sympathise

with this traditional sentiment. If any of the 'saints' were responsible

for driving away the venerable old man from his monastery at Rahan, they

must have done penance for the deed before they could deserve the name. It

was a cruel and an evil deed; and although Providence brought much good

from the evil by the foundation of Lismore, there is some reason to fear

that it broke the old man's heart, and brought down his grey hairs in

sorrow to the grave.

When the edict went forth that Carthach and his monks were to be driven

from Rahan, we are told that he departed reluctantly. "Leave this city

with your monks," said the chiefs of Meath, "and seek a settlement in some

other country."[332] "I wish to end my days here," said Carthach, "for I

have served God many years in this place, and now my end is nigh.

Therefore, I will not depart, except I am compelled, lest men think me

inconstant of purpose. I am ashamed to become a wanderer in my old age."

After some hesitation the men of Meath plucked up an ignoble courage; and

it is said that Blathmac himself took the hand of the saint, and led him

forth from his monastery.

The poor old man was not equal to long journeys; and so slowly and

regretfully he travelled southward, having turned his back for ever on the

jealous and ungrateful men of Meath.

The first night he stopped with St. Barrind (or Barrindeus) of Drumcullen,

in the barony of Eglish. The name is still retained as that of an old

parish church, about four miles north-east of Parsonstown. Drumcullen is

about three miles east of Eglish old church at the foot of the mountain.

It cannot be more than ten miles from Rahan, and thus marks the extent of

the first day's journey.

But the saint was now in his native Munster, and could proceed with

greater leisure and more security. The second night he rested in the

famous old monastery of St. Ciaran of Saigher. This was one of the cradles

of Christianity in Ireland. If we may accept the statement in the _Life of

St. Ciaran_, he was directed by God's Angel to go to a well in the middle

of Ireland, and found his church at the place where his bell would ring of

itself. The saint obeyed, and travelled onward until he came to the place

now called Bell Hill, near the fountain Huaran. There his bell tolled, and

close at hand he founded his church, at Saigher, now called Seir Ciaran,

which is not more than two miles south of Drumcullen, under the western

shadow of the mountain. There was every reason why St. Carthach the

Younger should rest at Seir Ciaran. His old master, St. Carthach the

Elder, to whom he owed so much, had been once bishop of that ancient See,

in succession to Ciaran himself. It was about the year A.D. 540, before

Carthach the Younger was born, for it appears that it was after leaving

Seir Ciaran, about A.D. 560, that Carthach the Elder came to his native

Kerry, and there met with his younger disciple of the same name.

There was reason why Carthach should love that old monastery, under the

shadow of the morning sun when rising over Slieve Bloom, where his beloved

master had spent so many years, and where the first-born of the Celtic

Saints of Erin had gone to his rest.

It was a short stage from Seir Ciaran to Roscrea--some seven or eight

miles; but Roscrea had become even then, in A.D. 635, so famous a retreat

for saintly men, that it could not be passed by without a visit. There was

no town of Roscrea there at the time; all the low-lying lands were

constantly flooded, and formed the _Stagnum Cre_ frequently mentioned in

the Lives of the Saints of that district. The _Ros_, or wooded promontory,

on which St. Cronan founded his monastery, rose up from these flooded

lowlands. At first he established himself at Seanros, a wooded hill in

Corville Demesne, where his church is still to be seen; but afterwards,

about the year A.D. 606, he founded a second monastery on the Ros of Lough

Cre, the site of which is now occupied by the Catholic Church of the town

of Roscrea. It is probable that he was dead before the visit of St.

Carthach; but all the same, his monastery and his spirit were there on the

great Munster highway.

Leaving Roscrea the saint seems to have made his way to the royal rath of

Failbhe Flann, King of Magh Femhin, as he is called in the _Annals of

Ulster_. Magh Femhin was the fertile and picturesque plain stretching from

Cashel to Slievenamon on the east, and on the south to the Knockmealdown

Mountains, which separated it from the territory of the Desii. It was a

rich and fertile land, watered by swelling rivers, and bounded towards the

south and east by bold and savage mountains.

Failbhe Flann, the ancestor of the MacCarthys, was then king at Cashel,

and kindly received Carthach, who showed his gratitude by curing the

king's son of a sore eye. The king offered Carthach a site for a monastery

in his own territory of Magh Femhin; but Carthach knowing that this was

not God's will in his regard, declined the prince's generous offer, and

resolved to go further southward. It is likely that the saint met at the

court of Failbhe that prince's son-in-law, Maeloctraigh, Chief of the

Desii of Waterford, who offered to Carthach a large territory beyond the

mountain (of Knockmealdown), where he might establish himself and his

brother monks in peace beside the Great River, and without any fear of

further disturbance during the brief span of his remaining life.

The saint gladly accepted this offer, and stopping for a brief rest at

Ardfinnan, which was destined for another saint later on, he crossed the

rugged hills that rose up before him, probably by the pass leading

southward from Clogheen, and coming down the southern slopes of the hill

he saw stretched before him that beautiful valley through which the

Blackwater forces its way from Lismore to Cappoquin. "Here shall be my

rest, for I have chosen it," exclaimed the saint, and crossing, not

without miraculous aid, it is said, the swelling waves of the Avonmore, he

crept up the wooded heights that overhung the southern bank of the stream,

and sat down on Magh Sciath--the Plain of the Shields--close to what

Keating calls Dunsginne--the great rath surmounting the height to the east

of the present town of Lismore.

Many writers have asserted that there was a monastery at Lismore before

St. Carthach's arrival there. Mention is certainly made of the death of

Lugaid of Lismore in the _Ulster Annals_, A.D. 591; and the Four Masters

record the death of Neman, Abbot of Lismore, in A.D. 610. In A.D. 634 the

_Annals of Ulster_ tell us that Eochaidh of Lismore died. O'Donovan thinks

these entries refer to Lismore on the Blackwater; it is more probable,

however, that the reference is to Lismore--an island near Oban in

Scotland--where an Irish saint called Molua or Moluag had founded a famous

monastery much celebrated in later times.

Assuming with the _Ulster Annals_ that Carthach came to Lismore after

Easter of the year A.D. 635, he cannot have lived there more than two

years--and probably died on the 14th of May, A.D. 637. The _Ulster Annals_

fix his death in A.D. 636; but from the statements in his Life we gather

that he must have spent at least two years at Lismore. We are told that on

his arrival there he at once proceeded to mark out the site of his

monastery, surrounding it as usual with a strong fence and ditch.

Thereupon the holy virgin Coemell, whose cell was not far off, came to see

the saint, and finding him at work she inquired what the saint and his

monks were doing. They replied that they were building for themselves a

small habitation--_Lios-beg_, it would be in Irish. "Not so," replied the

virgin saint; "this place will be called Lios-mor," "which," says the

writer of the Life, "means in Latin atrium magnum," or Great Hall; "and

her prophecy," adds the author, "was verified by the event. For Lismore is

now a large city, half of which is an asylum where no female is allowed to

enter, for it is full of cells and other monastic buildings, and a great

number of holy men always dwell there. For they come there in great

numbers, these saintly persons, not only from every part of Ireland, but

also from England (Anglia), and from (Britannia) Britain." This

distinction between Anglia, or Saxon land, and Britannia, or the country

from the Clyde to the Severn inhabitated by the native Britons, shows that

this Life was written at a very early date--probably in the seventh or

eighth century.

Having founded his monastery, the saint wished to retire from community

life for some time to prepare himself for death by undivided communion

with God. The great fame of Carthach was attracting numbers of monks and

students to this new foundation, so that he was frequently disturbed by

this great influx of pious visitors. Labour and old age too were telling

on his emaciated frame, and he knew that the end was not far off. Then he

retired to a lonely cave, which was under the monastery, and there for one

year and six months gave himself up to the service of God in solitude. The

monks, however, especially the older ones, were still allowed to visit

their beloved father; and he seeing the difficulty they had in reaching

the high ground on which the monastery was built, resolved to return to

the community once more. So the brethren came to carry him up the steep

ascent, and now they had reached the middle of the ravine, when the old

man seeing a ladder reaching up to the open heavens told the brethren to

lay him on the ground and administer to him the last sacraments. Tenderly

and piously they did so, "and having partaken of the sacrament of the

Lord's Body and Blood and given his last injunctions to the brethren, he

bade them all a tender farewell, and giving to each of them the kiss of

peace he died in their arms on the day before the Ides of May," in the

year A.D. 637, which seems to be the true date.

Like St. Ciaran of Clonmacnoise, Carthach spent only a very short time

with his monks in this monastery that was afterwards to become so famous.

He laid, however, the foundations of the spiritual edifice as well as of

the material building. During his long residence at Rahan, he wrote a Rule

for the guidance of his monks, which no doubt was the same that was

adopted at Lismore. Many of the monks of Rahan, too, when expelled by the

Hy-Niall, accompanied their beloved father to Lismore. These were no doubt

the holy 'Seniors,' who used to visit him in his cell in the lonely

valley; and who ruled the community after his death in the same spirit and

in obedience to the same Rule.

Many striking miracles are recorded in the _First Life of St. Carthach_,

to only one of which we shall make reference here.

When Carthach and his companions were coming to Lismore--the place given

by the prince of the Desii, "where they might live on the fruits of their

own labour, and serve God in peace, without becoming a burden to

anyone"--they saw from the high lands a great impetuous river, swollen by

the tide of the neighbouring estuary, barring the way, so that there was

no means of crossing to the southern bank. Then, whilst the others were in

doubt what to do, Carthach, with his friends, Colman-elo and Molua (of

Kyle), bent their knees in earnest prayer to God, and lo! the waves were

divided on the right hand and on the left, opening a passage for the

saints to cross over on dry ground. And so these true Israelites, with

hymns of praise to God, crossed the bed of the Avonmore, and came to

Lismore, as it was afterwards called--the place which God himself had

prepared for them. The word _lis_, anciently _les_, properly signifies the

mound surrounding the buildings, and also by a secondary signification,

the space enclosed within. Here it includes both--the defending mound and

the enclosed space which contained all the ecclesiastical buildings--the

church, the cells, the refectory, the stores and other necessary adjuncts

to a great monastery. In those early days these buildings were of rude

materials and simplest structure; but all the same they were the choice

abodes of learning and holiness.

The most interesting literary monument connected with Lismore is the Rule

of St. Carthach. It is one of the eight Monastic Rules of our early Church

still extant in Dublin manuscripts, and, in the opinion of O'Curry, is

certainly authentic. The language, the style, the matter, are all such as

might be expected from the person to whom they are attributed at the time

it is supposed to have been composed. We know, too, from other sources

that these saints really did compose what are called Monastic Rules, and

hence, when we find these Rules in ancient MSS. bearing their names, we

are not justified in rejecting their authenticity without some tangible

reason.

It is to be regretted, although it is an additional proof of their

authenticity, that almost all these ancient rules have been written in

verse. The construction of these verses is very intricate and artificial,

and as a consequence, the matter was, to some extent, sacrificed to the

form--we lose in precision what we gain in harmony.

The Rule of Carthach, or Mochuda, is much more than a Monastic Rule in the

ordinary sense. It gives precepts for the spiritual guidance of almost all

classes of persons. The entire poem, as translated by O'Curry, consists of

135 four-lined stanzas. The first eight of these stanzas contain a

general exhortation addressed to all Christians, urging on them the

observance of the great law of charity, as well as of all the other

commandments of God.

The next nine stanzas are addressed to 'Bishops,' and contain some

judicious and wholesome admonitions. The Bishop is responsible to Christ,

and must be a vigilant shepherd and an orthodox teacher, checking the

pride of kings, resisting evil-doers, and conciliating the lay multitude.

He is to be skilled in Holy Scripture, for if he is not a learned man he

is only a step-son of the Church. He is bound to condemn all heresy and

crime, for it is certain that on the Day of Judgment he will have to

answer not only for his own faults, but for the sins of those under his

government.

Then the Rule for an abbot is prescribed. It is a noble office to be

'Chief of a Church,' but the holder must be worthy of it, and set his

subjects a good example by his own deeds. He is to exhort the aged, and to

instruct the young; to reprove the silly, and censure the disorderly--but

in all patience, modesty, and charity. He must be constant in preaching

the Gospel, and "in offering the Sacrifice of the Body of the great Lord

upon the altar." Otherwise he will be the enemy of God, and cannot become

the Heir of the Church of God.

The "priest," as distinct from the abbot, is enjoined to lead a truthful,

laborious life, and to offer up worthily the BODY OF THE KING. His

learning should be correct, and he should be accurate in the observance of

the rule and of the law. When he goes to give Communion, at the awful

point of death, he must receive the confession without shame and without

reserve.

The 'soul's-friend' is admonished not to be a blind leader of the blind,

but to teach the ignorant, to receive their confessions, not their alms,

candidly and devoutly; and not lead them into sin in imitation of himself.

If he has not Mass on every day, he will, at least, on Sunday and

Thursday, to banish every wickedness far from him.

Still more minute prescriptions are given to regulate the conduct of a

"monk." All the faults he is to avoid, and all the virtues he is to

practise are described in great detail; but as they really contain nothing

new, we need not further refer to them here.

The special duties of the _Cele De_, or Culdee, are also defined, and, if

we may judge from this Rule, they were not 'recluses' living alone, nor

yet monks, supporting themselves by the labour of their hands in the

fields; but regular clergy, living in community, engaged in the

celebration of Mass, the recitation of the Divine Office, the instruction

of the ignorant in the church, and the teaching of the novices and

students in their schools. The statements, however, are so vague that, to

some extent at least, they would apply to all the clergy, whether secular,

regular, or monastic.

"The order of the Refectory" is prescribed with great minuteness, but as

we have already referred to this subject, we shall not deal further with

it here. Taken in all its parts this Rule of St. Carthach is a highly

interesting, and most important monument of the early Irish Church.

II.--ST. CATHALDUS OF TARENTUM.

The great glory of the School of Lismore was St. Cathaldus. Like many

other Irishmen, who left home and died abroad, he has been almost

forgotten by our native writers. But the country of his love and of his

adoption has not been ungrateful to Ireland. With one accord all foreign

writers, following the testimony of Tarentum itself, proclaim that

Cathaldus, its second apostle and patron saint, was an Irishman and a

scholar of the great School of Lismore.

Lismore is far away from Taranto, as it is now called. It was a city of

ancient Magna Graecia, frequently hostile to Rome, and at the best of

times yielding only a reluctant obedience to the Queen of the Seven Hills.

She preferred Pyrrhus and Hannibal to the Curii and Scipios. Seated on the

southern sea that looks towards Greece, its cultured and pleasure-loving

inhabitants had more affection for their ancient motherland than for their

stern mistress by the Tiber. Even in the days of the Empire they were more

loyal to Byzantium than to Rome. Strange that this Greek-Italian city,

situated in the very heel of Italy, should get its apostle from a Munster

monastery. Yet such is the fact, to which its own writers bear unanimous

and grateful testimony.

The _Life of St. Cathaldus_ has been written by two Tarentines--the

brothers Bartholomew and Bonaventure Morini--of whom the former wrote his

account of the saint in prose, and the latter in poetry. Both being

citizens of Taranto, were acquainted with all the traditions of the place

in reference to their patron saint, and, moreover, formally appeal to the

testimony of the ancient public records of the Church and of the city in

all those things to which these ancient records could bear witness, and

also to the Office for the Feast of St. Cathaldus, which was published at

Rome in the year A.D. 1607, by the Cardinal Archbishop of Taranto, with

the sanction of the Holy See. The brothers Morini shortly afterwards wrote

the Life of the Saint. The poetic Life by Bonaventure Morini was first

written in eight books; and is greatly and justly praised for the elegance

of its Latin style. Bartholomew Morini gives a briefer, but more authentic

narrative in prose, which he hoped would help to make known beyond the

bounds of their own city the labours, and virtues, and miracles of the

saint, whom his brother had already celebrated in verse, and whom

Providence had sent from the remotest shores of Ireland (Hibernia) to be

the patron and protector of their native city. Unfortunately we have, as I

observed before, no account of St. Cathaldus in our domestic Annals; and

we must, therefore, follow the guidance of those foreign writers, who,

whilst unanimous as to the place of birth and education of our saint, so

render the uncouth Irish names in the Latin tongue, that it is very

difficult to identify the persons and places to whom they refer. The

substance of their account is as follows:--

Cataldus, or Cathaldus, which is the Latin form of Cathal, a very common

Irish name, "came from Hibernia, which is an island beyond Britain, in the

western sea, smaller in area, but fully equal to it in fertility of soil

and productiveness of cattle; whilst in the warmth of the land, in the

temperature of the climate, and the salubrity of the air, it is even

superior to Britain."

Some say, continues Morini, that Rachau was the Irish city in which he was

born, because in many books he is called Cathaldus of Rachau; but the

writer rather thinks his native town was Cathandum, which by a change of

letter would be Cathaldum, the town of Cathal. He was, he thinks, called

Cathaldus of Rachau, because he was bishop of that place in Ireland; but

the name Cathaldus he got from his native town, so that the saint's name

would be a patronymic.

It is very difficult to ascertain where these two places were. Colgan, a

very high authority, seems to think that Cathaldum or Cathandum was

Baile-Cathail (_i.e._, Ballycahill) in Ormond, which was the birthplace of

the saint, and that Rachau was the foreign way of expressing Rahan, the

original monastery and See of St. Carthagh, and of which Cathaldus might

have become bishop on the expulsion of its holy founder by the Hy-Niall.

On the whole, we think this is a probable explanation, and not

inconsistent with the facts narrated in the Lives both of St. Carthagh and

of St. Cathaldus.

For all the accounts agree that the native place of Cathaldus was in

Momonia, or as some call it, Mumenia, which in the Office of the saint is

changed by mistake of a letter into Numenia. But the reference is clearly

to Munster, in Irish Mumhan, which is usually latinized Momonia, or more

accurately, perhaps, Mumonia. There are three townlands in North Tipperary

called Ballycahill, one of which gives its name to the parish of

Ballycahill, west of Thurles, in the barony of Eliogarty. Seeing that this

church took its name from Bally-Cahill, it is highly probable that the

village itself got its name from a saint who was a native of the place,

and under whose protection, too, the church of his native village would

naturally be placed. There is every reason to assume that Cathaldus was of

the royal blood of the Munster kings, and that he lived not very far from

Lismore; both of which circumstances would very well apply to Ballycahill.

Cashel, the royal residence of the Munster kings, is about twelve miles

further south; and Ballycahill itself was on the highway from north to

south Munster, the very road that Carthagh and his monks would follow in

their flight from the North to the court of Failbe Flann at Cashel, on

their way to Lismore.

His father's name was Euchus, and his mother's name is rendered Achlena or

Athnea. Euchus is an attempt at latinizing the Irish Eochaidh. Achlena was

a not unfrequent Irish female name, which was borne by the mothers of St.

Fintan and St. Columbanus. More likely, however, the original name was the

Irish form Ethnea--a very common name--which the Tarentines, with their

Greek tastes, would very naturally render Athnea in Latin.

As to the date of the saint's birth there is more difference of opinion.

The Morini, who speak, however, doubtingly, seem to think the saint was

born in the reign of the Emperor Adrian, and came to Tarentum during the

reign of Aurelius, or Antoninus Pius. In this, however, they appear to

have merely made a conjecture, having no ancient authority to follow. They

were anxious to make this second foundation of the Tarentine Church after

St. Peter and St. Mark, who were said to have first preached the Gospel

there, as ancient as possible. It is evident, however, even from their own

narrative that a much later date must be assigned to the advent of

Cathaldus to Tarentum. For he came there on his return from Jerusalem,

where with his companions he had been to visit the Holy Sepulchre of our

Lord. But the Holy Sepulchre was not discovered until the time of St.

Helen, in A.D. 336, after which this pilgrimage became common in

Christendom, so that we cannot assign by any possibility this early date

to the mission of Cathaldus at Tarentum.

Of course, too, the history of the Irish Church is entirely inconsistent

with so early a date for the apostolate of this Irish saint. For we are

told that he studied and taught at Lismore; that he was Bishop of Rachau;

that he preached the Gospel successfully in Ireland before he left for the

Holy Land--facts which more clearly mark the seventh than the second

century as the period during which he lived and flourished.

The young Cathal, who seems to have been born about the year A.D. 615,

grew up in holiness and grace before God and men; and, according to the

author, was whilst yet a youth sent to study in the great monastic school

of Lismore (Lesmoria). It was, as we have seen, founded by St. Carthach in

the year A.D. 635. Indeed, Morini's account of our saint at Lismore would

seem to imply that he was a professor there as well as student, for he

tells us that the fame of his learning and virtues attracted many

disciples to the new college,[333] and what is more, raised up against

himself some powerful enemies. He not only taught in the schools, but he

preached the Gospel most successfully in all the country of the Desii,

working many miracles too, and building churches--one of which dedicated

to the Blessed Virgin Mary, is specially mentioned in his Life as the

glory of Lismore. The author even exaggerates his labours, for he adds,

that no one was left throughout all Ireland whom Cathaldus did not

instruct in the saving truths of the Gospel.

Now the king (of Munster no doubt), was jealous of the great popularity of

the saint, and fearing that Cathal, relying on the good will of the

people, might aspire to the throne, he _sailed_ to Lismore, intending to

seize and imprison the saint. But God protects His own. This evil-minded

prince was warned by two Angels in a vision not to touch Cathaldus at his

peril; but rather to make him successor to Meltrides, the regulus of the

Desii, who had inflamed by evil counsel the king's mind against Cathaldus;

and lo! whilst the king was narrating this vision in the morning to his

counsellors a messenger came to announce the sudden death of this

Meltrides, the king's evil counsellor. The king, now filled with terror,

asked pardon of Cathaldus, who was then a deacon, and was going to make

him ruler over the Desii; but Cathaldus modestly refused the honour,

preferring to serve God in religion. Thereupon he was made bishop, and the

king assigned him mensal lands around Lismore, in the territory of

Meltrides, and he became not only bishop, but even an archbishop, with

twelve suffragan sees subject to him as metropolitan! The facts here seem

much exaggerated, but were probably quite true in substance.

Meltrides seems to have been that prince of the Desii, who gave Lismore to

St. Carthach in A.D. 635. His death is recorded under date A.D. 670. If

Cathaldus were a deacon, in A.D. 670, he can hardly have been a disciple

of St. Carthach, who died thirty-three years before. Colga, son of Failbe

Flann, was King of Munster at this period, for his death is noticed, in

A.D. 674 by the accurate _Chronicon Scotorum_. It is not unlikely then

that Cathaldus, the professor of Lismore, who was supposed to be aiming at

the crown of Munster, was a member of the rival line sprung from Fingin,

the elder brother of Failbe Flann. Fingin died in A.D. 619, leaving the

crown to Failbe; but of course his sons would have a better claim than

Failbe's, when they grew up to man's estate. These two princes, Fingin and

Failbe Flann, were respectively the heads of the great rival families of

Munster, the O'Sullivans and M'Carthys; and although the latter rose to

greater power, the former was, it is said, the senior branch of that royal

stock, and retained their lands in the Golden Vale down to the advent of

the Anglo-Normans, when they were driven to the mountains of Kerry. It was

Colga, therefore, King of Munster, in A.D. 670, who caused Cathaldus the

deacon to be elected Bishop, and not only endowed his See of Rachau with

the lands of the Desii, but also subjected to his authority all the

Bishops of the South, whose sees were within the kingdom of Cashel. In

this way we can explain the statement in the Life that Cathaldus was made

an archbishop with twelve suffragan prelates subject to his authority.

Colga would lend himself all the more readily to this project, because

there would be now less danger of Cathaldus, after he became a bishop,

aiming at the crown of Munster.

But where was the See of Rachau? We cannot agree with Colgan that it was

Rahan. Rahan was in Meath in the territory of the Southern Hy-Niall, and

we may assume it as certain that the spirit of jealousy, which in A.D.

635, drove St. Carthach from Rahan would never tolerate the appointment of

this Munster prince as bishop in any part of Meath. It is, of course,

still more improbable that the same jealous rivals would consent to give

him metropolitan jurisdiction over the princes and prelates of their own

race.

From the narrative in the saint's Life, if it can be relied upon, it is

quite evident that Rachau was not far from Lismore, that it was in the

territory of the Desii, and like the see of Sletty, it may, for a while,

have attained to a certain pre-eminence in Munster in consequence of the

learning and virtue of Cathaldus. Still it is very difficult to ascertain

the exact locality of this 'city of Rachau.' There was, as we know from

the Four Masters, a mountain in this district, about six miles north of

Dungarvan, which was called Slieve Cua, now Slieve Gua. There must have

been an old church in the district also, for there is a parish called

Slievegue; and if there was a rath named from the territory, it would be

Rath-cua, or Rachau, as any Irish scholar will readily admit. There was a

pass through the valley beneath Slieve Cua, which, as it led from Magh

Femhin into Decies without the Drum, was in ancient times the scene of

many a bloody battle. We are inclined to think that Rachau of the saint's

Life is simply another form of Rath-cua, which was doubtless the ancient

name of the residence of the family of Cathaldus, who were probably the

rulers of the district. The old church might have once had the same

appellation, although so far as we know it is now lost. After the

departure of Cathaldus, this church would lose its pre-eminence like many

another church in Ireland which was once the seat of a bishop, and at

present does not rank even as a parochial church. Clonenagh is an example,

as we have seen when treating of its history. However, we merely offer

this as a conjecture, for we can find no reference to the church or

district of Rachau in our domestic Annals.

After Cathaldus had ruled the See of Rachau for some years, with his

brother Donatus and several companions, he went on a pilgrimage to

Jerusalem--a journey that it was by no means unusual for the fervent

saints of Erin to accomplish even at that early period. On their return

from Palestine, their vessel was wrecked in the Gulf of Taranto, not far

from the city of the same name.

Taranto, the classical Tarentum, was an ancient and famous city,

beautifully situated on the northern shore of the bay. It was founded by a

Spartan colony of young men, who left their native country because they

were branded with the stigma of illegitimacy. But they selected a

beautiful site for their city, under the shadow of the Iapygian hills, and

surrounded by the sun-lit waters of that spacious bay. The climate was

delightful, the air bracing and salubrious; for the summer's heats were

tempered by the sea breezes, and the mountains sheltered them from the

biting winds of winter. The hills were clothed with olive trees and

vineyards, which were specially prized; the wool of their sheep was of the

finest quality; the inner harbour was filled with shell-fish; and their

honey was equal to that produced by the bees of Hymettus. Horace, in a

well-known Ode, extols its mild winter and lingering spring; and declares

that its rare products and smiling bowers woo him to make his sojourn in

that happy land.[334]

But its inhabitants, even in the days of Pyrrhus, were said to be an

effeminate and licentious people, more devoted to the pleasures of peace

than to the arts of war. They had heard the Gospel from the lips of the

Apostles St. Peter and St. Mark; but during the disturbances succeeding

the fall of the Western Empire, they became once more practically pagans.

Such was the state of things when Cathaldus and his companions were

wrecked on the shore of the Tarentine Gulf.

When the Irish bishop saw this beautiful city thus given over to pleasure

and to vice, like St. Paul at Athens, his spirit was moved within him, and

in burning language he implored the inhabitants to return to the service

of the God whom they had forgotten. He performed also many striking

miracles in the sight of all the people, healing the sick, and even it is

said, raising the dead to life. It happened at this time that there was

no bishop in the city; so the Tarentines besought the Irish saint to

become their bishop, and promised to obey his commands, and follow all his

counsels. Reluctantly he consented, in the hope that he might thus be able

to win them back to the service of God. His efforts were crowned with

complete success. Once more Tarentum became a christian city in reality as

well as in name; and Cathaldus was venerated as the second apostle and

patron saint of the city.

Cathaldus spent some years in his new see; then feeling his end

approaching, the saint once more exhorted the people and the clergy, in

language of the most tender affection, to be true to the profession and

practice of the Christian faith. He died, shortly after, in his city of

Tarentum, towards the close of the seventh century, on the eighth day of

March, which is his festival day. The holy remains, by which many miracles

were wrought, were buried in a marble tomb, which up to this day is

preserved in the sacristy of the Cathedral of Tarentum. For a long period

the identity and position of the tomb were unknown, until the time of the

Archbishop Drogonus, by whose orders the old cathedral was restored. The

workmen in excavating the old walls came upon the marble tomb; and the

Archbishop having been sent for, caused the tomb to be opened, when the

sacred relics were discovered, with a golden cross on which the name of

Cathaldus was inscribed. So Archbishop Drogonus, full of joy, caused the

holy relics to be translated, and the tomb itself to be rebuilt close to

the high altar of the new Cathedral Church, where they are preserved with

great honour down to the present day. In the year A.D. 1150, Archbishop

Giraldus caused the holy relics to be enclosed in a silver shrine, richly

adorned with gold and jewels. A large silver statue of the saint was also

erected in the church, and a portion of the skull was placed within the

figure. The feast of the Invention of the saint's Relics is celebrated on

the eighth day of May, and the Translation is kept on the tenth of the

same month. Both these festivals, as well as the Natalis of the saint on

the eighth of March, are celebrated with much pomp by the Tarentines even

to the present day. The silver-gilt cross found within the tomb is hung

around the neck of the silver statue of the saint, and on the cross may

still be seen, engraved in characters quite legible and

distinct--CATHALDUS RACHAU, which identify so conclusively the prelate of

Lismore and Tarentum with the sacred relics that were discovered by

Archbishop Drogonus.

Certain writings have been attributed to Cathaldus by Colgan, and others;

but it is difficult to regard them as genuine.

There is a short treatise, given by Colgan, containing an account alleged

to be taken from the Records of the Church and City of Tarentum, of the

principal miracles of the saint. It is a very striking enumeration of most

wonderful cures effected through the intercession of the saint, and bears

intrinsic evidence of authenticity--at least such is Colgan's opinion.

There is also extant a prophecy attributed to the saint, which he uttered

shortly before his death, and which was by his order, if not by his own

hand, inscribed in certain leaden tablets, and hidden within a column in

the Church of St. Peter without the eastern walls of the city. It is said

that in the year A.D. 1492, the saint appeared to a certain deacon of

Tarentum, by name Raphael Crurera, and commanded him to tell the

Archbishop that he would find in the said church the figure of a boy

painted on the column with the hand pointing out the spot where the leaves

of the leaden record containing the prophecy would be found. The

Archbishop sought the place indicated, and found the two sheets of lead

inscribed with the prophecy. But the whole thing looks very like a forgery

concocted for political purposes.

III.--OTHER SCHOLARS OF LISMORE--ST. CUANNA.

It does not appear that St. Cathaldus was ever Abbot or Bishop of Lismore,

although he was certainly a student of that great seminary. St. Carthach

appears to have been succeeded in the government of Lismore by St. Cuanna,

who is said to have been his uterine brother. As Cuanna, or at least one

who bore that name, was also the author of an ancient book of Annals, he

is worthy of special mention in this place. Colgan is of opinion that St.

Cuanna, the Abbot of Lismore, is the same as that Cuanna, who has given

his name to Kilcooney, near Headfort, on the shores of Lough Corrib; and

he thinks it highly probable that he was also the original author of the

_Book of Cuanach_, cited in the _Annals of Ulster_. It is not quoted after

A.D. 628; and we know that St. Cuanna of Lismore died about A.D. 650, so

that this fact of itself lends some probability to Colgan's view. The

facts of his history, however, will clearly show that Cuanna of Lismore

was the founder of Kilcooney, near Lough Corrib.