district in the county Donegal, not far from Letterkenny. He was a near
relation of the kings of Ireland of his time; for his father was
great-grandson of the mighty King Niall of the Nine Hostages (see p. 5):
and his mother was related to the kings of Leinster. He spent his
boyhood in a little village near Gartan; and when he was old enough, he
was sent away from his home to a school kept by a distinguished bishop
and teacher, St. Finnen, at Movilla, near the present Newtownards, in
Down. Though he belonged to a princely family, and might easily have
become rich and great, he gave up these worldly advantages for religion,
and resolved to become a priest.
[139-1] In books he is often called Columba; but in Ireland he is
best known by the name Columkille. This is derived from
_colum_ [pron. _collum_] a dove, and _cill_, or _kill_, a
church: the "Dove of the church." This name was given him
when a boy from his gentle, affectionate disposition, and
because he was so fond of praying in the little church of
Tullydouglas, near where he was born: so that the little
boys who were accustomed to play with him used often to
ask: "Has our little _Colum_ yet come from the church?"
The sketch given here is taken chiefly, but not
altogether, from Adamnan's "Life of St. Columba." Adamnan
was a native of Tirconnell or Donegal, like Columba
himself. He died in the year 703. He was the ninth abbot
of Iona, of which Columba was the first. His "Life of St.
Columba" is a very beautiful piece of Latin composition.
[Illustration: Ruins of the Monastery of Movilla, near Newtownards.
(Drawn in 1845.)]
Having spent some time at Movilla, the youthful Columkille went to
several other Irish Colleges, including that of St. Movi, at Glasnevin,
near Dublin; and as he was a diligent student, he made great progress in
all. The most celebrated of these was at Clonard, in Meath, in which
there were many hundreds of students under the instruction of another
St. Finnen, a great and holy man, who is styled in old Irish writings "a
doctor of wisdom and the tutor of the saints of Ireland in his time."
Here Columkille met many young Irishmen who afterwards became
distinguished saints and missionaries.
As soon as he was ordained priest, he set about the work of his
life--spreading the Gospel. At that time the high ridge over the river
Foyle, where now stands the old city of Derry, was an uninhabited spot,
clothed with a splendid wood of oaks, from which it got the name of
Derry, meaning an oak grove: this spot was presented to Columkille by
his cousin, prince Aed, afterwards king of Ireland. Here, when he was
twenty-five years of age, he built his first church, round which grew up
a monastery that continued to flourish for many hundred years, so that,
in memory of the saint, the place was long afterwards known by the name
of Derry-Columkille. At this period of his life he was a man of noble
presence, a worthy member of a kingly race, as one of the old Irish
writers describes him:--tall, broad-shouldered, and powerful: with long,
curling hair: luminous grey eyes, and a countenance bright and
pleasing: and he was always lively and agreeable in conversation.
[Illustration: Remains of a Round Tower at Drumcliff, 4 miles north of
Sligo town: built near the church founded by St. Columkille; but long
after his time.]
For fifteen years after the establishment of Derry, Columkille continued
to found churches all over the country, among many others those of Kells
in Meath, Tory Island, Swords near Dublin, Drumcliff in Sligo, and
Durrow in King's County, the last of which was his chief establishment
in Ireland. It is recorded that during these fifteen years he founded
altogether three hundred churches and monasteries. These establishments,
like all the other Irish monasteries, were the means of spreading not
only religion but general enlightenment: for in most of them there were
schools; and the priests and monks converted, and taught, and civilised,
to the best of their power, the people in their neighbourhood.
Many years before this, St. Patrick and the missionaries who worked
under his guidance, had converted the greatest part of the Irish people
to Christianity. But the time was too short and the missionaries too few
to instruct the newly-converted people fully in their faith: so that
although they were Christians, many of them had only a poor knowledge of
the Christian doctrine. In those times there were certain persons in
Ireland called Druids, who were the learned men among the pagans of the
day, and who taught the people the pagan religion known as Druidism.
They hated the Christian faith, and gave St. Patrick and his companions
great trouble by trying to persuade the pagan Irish not to become
Christians. They continued in the country till the time of St.
Columkille, as active as ever though much fewer; and St. Columkille and
the other missionaries of his time had often hard work to win over the
people from the false teaching of these druids, and make good Christians
of them.
A great part of the north of Scotland was then inhabited by a people
called the Picts. Those of them who lived south of the Grampian
mountains had been converted some time before by St. Ninian of
Glastonbury:[143-1] but the northern Picts were still pagans; and
Columkille made up his mind to leave Ireland and devote the rest of his
life to their conversion. In 563, in the forty-second year of his age,
he bade a sorrowful farewell to his native country, and crossing the sea
with twelve companions, he settled in the island of Iona, in the
Hebrides, which had been presented to him by his relative, the king of
that part of Scotland. Here he built his little church and monastery,
all of wood, and began to prepare for his glorious work. This little
island afterwards became the Greatest religious centre in Scotland: and
grand churches and other buildings were erected in and around the site
of Columkille's humble structures. For many centuries Iona was held in
such honour that most of the kings and chiefs and other great people of
Scotland were buried in it; and to this day it is full of venerable and
beautiful ruins, which are every year visited by people from all parts
of the British Islands.
[143-1] Glastonbury, a town in Somersetshire, in England, where in
old times there was a celebrated monastery, much reported
to by Irish students.
The most laborious part of St. Columkille's active life began after his
settlement in Iona. He traversed the Highlands of Scotland and the
Islands of the Hebrides, sometimes in a rude chariot, sometimes on foot,
visiting the kings and chiefs of the Picts, and preaching to them in
their homes; and he founded churches and monasteries all over that part
of Scotland, just as he had done in Ireland. After many years of
incessant labour he succeeded in converting the whole of the northern
Picts.
When Columkille was at home in his monastery resting from his
missionary labours, his favourite occupation was copying the Holy
Scriptures. We are told that he wrote with his own hand, in the course
of years, three hundred copies of the sacred books, which he presented
to the various churches he had founded; and this good work he continued
to the very last day of his life. Besides mere copying, he composed many
hymns and other poems, both in Latin and Irish. He was always employed
at something. Adamnan says that not an hour of the day passed by without
some work for himself and his monks--praying, reading, writing,
arranging the affairs of the monastery, or manual work: for he took his
own share in cooking, grinding corn, overseeing the men who were working
in the fields, and so forth.
XXXII.
SAINT COLUMKILLE: PART II.
During St. Columkille's residence in Iona he visited Ireland more than
once, on important business: and we may be sure that he was delighted
when the opportunity came to see again the land he loved so well. The
most important of these occasions was when he came over to take part in
a great Meeting--a sort of Parliament for all Ireland--which was held at
a place called Drum-Ketta in Derry. The proceedings at this meeting
will be found described in the "Child's History of Ireland."
Amidst all the earnest and laborious efforts of St. Columkille in the
cause of religion, he never forgot his native country. He looked upon
himself as an exile, though a voluntary exile in a great and glorious
cause; and a tender regret was always mingled with his recollections of
Ireland. We have in our old books a very ancient poem in the Irish
language, believed to have been composed by him, in which he expresses
himself in this manner:--
"How delightful to be on Ben-Edar before embarking on the foam-white
sea: how pleasant to row one's little curragh all round it, to look
upward at its bare steep border, and to hear the waves dashing;
against its rocky cliffs.
"A grey eye looks back towards Erin: a grey eye full of tears.
"While I traverse Alban of the ravens, I think on my little oak
grove in Derry. If the tributes and the riches of Alban were mine,
from the centre to the utmost borders, I would prefer to them all
one little house in Derry. The reason I love Derry is for its
quietness, for its purity, for its crowds of white angels.
"How sweet it is to think of Durrow: how delightful would it be to
hear the music of the breeze rustling through its groves.
"Plentiful is the fruit in the Western Island--beloved Erin of many
waterfalls: plentiful her noble proves of oak. Many are her kings
and princes; sweet-voiced her clerics; her birds warble joyously in
the woods; gentle are her youths; wise her seniors; comely and
graceful her women, of spotless virtue; illustrious her men, of
noble aspect.
"There is a grey eye that fills with tears when it looks back
towards Erin. While I stand on the oaken deck of my bark I stretch
my vision westwards over the briny sea towards Erin."
During his whole life Columkille retained his affection for his native
land and for everything connected with it. One breezy day, when he was
now in his old age in Iona, a crane appeared flying towards the island:
it was beaten about by the wind, and with much difficulty it reached the
beach, where it fell down quite spent with hunger and fatigue. And the
good old man said to one of his monks:--
"That crane has come from our dear fatherland, and I earnestly commend
it to thee: nurse and cherish it tenderly till it is strong enough to
return again to its sweet home in Scotia."
Accordingly the monk took the bird up in his arms and brought it to the
hospice, and fed and tended it for three days till it had quite
recovered. The third day was calm, and the bird rose from the earth till
it had come to a great height, when resting for a moment to look
forward, it stretched out its neck and directed its course towards
Ireland.
[Illustration: Round Tower of St. Canice, Kilkenny: 100 feet high, and
perfect, except that it wants the pointed cap. St. Canice was an
intimate friend of St. Columkille: but this tower was not erected till
some centuries after the death of the two saints.]
On the day before the saint's death he went to a little hill hard by the
monastery that overlooked the whole place; and gazing-lovingly round him
for the last time, he lifted up his hands and blessed the monastery. And
as he was returning with his attendant, he grew tired and sat down half
way to rest; for he was now very weak. While he was sitting here an old
white horse that was employed for many years to carry the pails between
the milking place and the monastery, first looked at him intently, and
then, coming up slowly, step by step, he laid his head gently on the
saint's bosom. And he began to moan pitifully, and big tears rolled from
his eyes and fell into the saint's lap: which, when the attendant saw,
he came up to drive him away. Put the old man said:--"Let him alone: he
loves me. May be God has given him some dim knowledge that his master is
going; from him and from you all: so let him alone." At last, standing
up, he blessed the poor old animal and returned to the monastery.
The death call came to him when he was seventy-six years of age. Though
his death was not a sudden one, he had no sickness before it: he simply
sank, wearied out with his life-long labours. Although he knew his end
was near, he kept writing one of the Psalms till he could write no
longer; while his companion Baithen sat beside him. At last, laying down
the pen, he said, "Let Baithen write the rest."
On the night of that same day, at the toll of the midnight bell for
prayer, he rose, feeble as he was, from his bed, which was nothing but a
bare flagstone, and went to the church hard by, followed immediately
after by his attendant Dermot. He arrived there before the others had
time to bring in the lights; and Dermot, losing sight of him in the
darkness, called out several times, "Where are you, father?" Perceiving
no reply, he felt his way, till he found his master before the altar
kneeling and leaning forward on the steps: and raising him up a little,
supported his head on his breast. The monks now came up with the lights;
and seeing their beloved old master dying, they began to weep. He looked
at them with his face lighted up with joy, and tried to utter a
blessing; but being unable to speak, he raised his hand a little to
bless them, and in the very act of doing so he died in Dermot's
arms.[150-1]
[150-1] This simple and beautiful narrative of the last days of St.
Columkille, including the two pleasing little stories
about the crane and the old white horse, with the
affecting account of the saint's death, is taken
altogether from Adamnan's Life. The circumstances of
Columkille's death are, in some respects, very like those
attending the death of the Venerable Bede, as recorded in
the tender and loving letter of his pupil, the monk
Cuthbert. But Adamnan's narrative was written more than
forty years before that of Cuthbert.
Baithen was St. Columkille's first cousin and his most
beloved disciple, and succeeded him as abbot of Iona.
XXXIII.
PRINCE ALFRED IN IRELAND.
It has been already stated (p. 47) that in early ages great numbers of
foreigners came to Ireland to study in the colleges. Among those was
Aldfrid or Alfred,[150-2] Prince of Northumbria, one of the Kingdoms of
the Saxon Heptarchy. His history is interesting to us as exhibiting an
example of the class of persons who came to Ireland for education in
those days, and as showing the close relations existing between many of
the royal families of England and Ireland.
[150-2] This Alfred must be distinguished from Alfred the Great who
lived two centuries later.
In the year 670, on the death of his father Oswy, who was king of
Northumbria, the throne was seized unjustly by Alfred's younger brother,
Egfrid: whereupon Alfred fled to Ireland. He was all the more ready to
choose this as his place of exile, inasmuch as he was fond of learning,
and he knew well that there were more learned and skilful teachers and
better opportunities for study in Ireland than elsewhere. But he had
another good reason; for his mother Fina [Feena] was an Irish princess
of the family of the kings of Meath. The Irish knew him by the name
"Flann," or more commonly Flann Fina, from his mother. He remained many
years in Ireland, studying with great diligence in various colleges,
till he had mastered most of the branches of learning then taught. He
became specially skilled in the Holy Scriptures, and he also learned to
speak and write the Irish language.
While he was in Ireland he was for a time under the instruction of St.
Adamnan, the writer of the life of St. Columkille (see p. 140, note);
and so close and affectionate was the intimacy between them, that the
ancient Irish writers often call Alfred Adamnan's foster-son.
In the year 684 a party of Saxons were sent from Northumbria by Egfrid
across the sea on a plundering expedition to Ireland. Having ravaged the
coast of Meath,[152-1] between Ben-Edar and the Boyne, these marauders
carried off a number of captives, who were held in bondage during the
short remainder of his reign. In the very next year Egfrid was killed in
battle, on which the Northumbrian nobles, who were well aware of
Alfred's virtues and great abilities, sent to Ireland inviting him to
take the throne: and accordingly he returned to England and became king
of the Northumbrians.
[152-1] Meath, one of the five Kingdoms into which Ireland was
divided. Ben-Edar, the old name of Howth, near Dublin.
[Illustration: Ancient Irish thin plate of gold, twice the size of the
picture. This is one of the bosses at the two ends of a gorget, like
that figured at page 19. Now in the National Museum, Dublin.]
The poor captives were still kept in slavery: but Adamnan, seeing now a
chance for their release, proceeded to the Northumbrian court to plead
with his friend and former pupil for their restoration. He was received
most affectionately; and at his intercession the king had the captives
set free. Adamnan then brought them back, to the number of sixty, and
restored them all rejoicing to their homes and friends.
As soon as Alfred had taken possession of the throne he took careful
measures to have his people instructed in learning, religion, and
virtue, in accordance with what he had himself seen and learned in
Ireland; and he governed his kingdom for nineteen years in peace and
prosperity.
In several ancient Irish manuscripts, including the Book of Leinster,
there is a poem in the Irish language in praise of Ireland, said to have
been composed by Alfred Flann Fina; of which the following are some of
the verses faithfully translated[153-1]:--
PRINCE ALDFRID'S ACCOUNT OF IRELAND.
I found in Inisfail the fair,
In Ireland, while in exile there,
Women of worth, both grave and gay men,
Many clerics and many laymen.
I travelled its fruitful provinces round,
And in every one of the five I found,
Alike in church and in palace hall,
Abundant apparel, and food for all.
Gold and silver I found, and money,
Plenty of wheat and plenty of honey;
I found God's people rich in pity,
Found many a feast and many a city.
I found in Munster, unfettered of any,
Kings, and queens, and poets a many--
Poets well skilled in music and measure,
Prosperous doings, mirth and pleasure.
I found in Connaught the just, redundance
Of riches, milk in lavish abundance;
Hospitality, vigour, fame,
In Cruachan's[154-1] land of heroic name.
I found in Ulster, from hill to glen,
Hardy warriors, resolute men;
Beauty that bloomed when youth was gone,
And strength transmitted from sire to son.
I found in Leinster the smooth and sleek,
From Dublin to Slewmargy's[154-2] peak;
Flourishing pastures, valour, health,
Long-living worthies, commerce, wealth.
I found in Meath's fair principality,
Virtue, vigour, and hospitality;
Candour, joyfulness, bravery, purity,
Ireland's bulwark and security.
I found strict morals in age and youth,
I found historians recording truth;
The things I sing of in verse unsmooth,
I found them all--I have written sooth.
[153-1] It was translated very exactly into prose in 1832 by the
great Irish scholar Dr. John O'Donovan: the Irish poet
James Clarence Mangan turned this prose with very little
change into verse, part of which is given here.
[154-1] Cruachan or Croghan in the north of the present Co.
Roscommon, the ancient palace of the kings of Connaught:
see page 52.
[154-2] Slewmargy, now Slievemargy, a low range of hills in Queen's
County.
XXXIV.
THE VOYAGE OF MAILDUNE.
AN ACCOUNT OF THE ADVENTURES OF MAILDUNE[155-1] AND HIS CREW, AND OF THE
WONDERFUL THINGS THEY SAW DURING THEIR VOYAGE OF THREE YEARS AND SEVEN
MONTHS, IN THEIR CURRAGH, ON THE WESTERN SEA.
In that part of Thomond[155-2] lying opposite the Aran Islands there
once lived a young chief named Maildune. When he was an infant, a band
of marauders landed on the coast, and plundered the whole district, and
slew his father by burning the house over his head. Maildune grew up
knowing nothing of all this, for his mother concealed it from him. But
one day, when he was now a young man, he was contending in certain games
of strength with a number of young persons of his own age, and he
obtained the victory in every contest. At last it came to throwing the
handstone: and when he had thrown it farther than all the others, an
envious foul-tongued fellow who was standing by said to him:--
"It would better become you to avenge the man who was burned to death
here, than to be amusing yourself casting a stone over his bare, burnt
bones."
[155-1] Only a few of his adventures are given here: but the whole
story of the voyage is in "Old Celtic Romances": see page
164, farther on.
[155-2] Thomond, North Munster, namely the present county Clare and
parts of Tipperary and Limerick.
"Who was he?" inquired Maildune.
"Your own father," replied the other.
"Who slew him?" asked Maildune.
"Plunderers from a fleet slew him and burned him in this house; and the
same plunderers are now living in an island far out in the sea, and they
still have the same fleet."
Maildune was disturbed and sad after hearing this. He dropped the stone
that he held in his hand, folded his cloak round him, buckled on his
shield, and left the company. And having made further inquiry and found
that the story was true, he resolved that he would never rest till he
had overtaken these plunderers, and avenged on them the death of his
father.
Then he sent for a skilful workman to whom he gave directions to make
for him a triple-hide curragh[157-1] large enough to hold sixty persons
and all things needed for a voyage. This was done: and Maildune chose
his companions; and having laid in a little stock of provisions, and
whatever other things were needed, he put to sea.
[157-1] Curragh, a boat made of basket or wicker work, covered with
hides. Curraghs were generally small and light: but some,
intended for long voyages, were large and strong, and
covered with two, or three, layers of hide one outside
another. Sometimes the hides were tanned into leather to
give additional strength.
THE FIRST ISLAND.--TIDINGS OF THE PLUNDERERS.
They sailed that day and night, as well as the whole of the next day,
till darkness came on again; and at midnight they saw two small bare
islands, with two great houses on them near the shore. When they drew
nigh, they heard the sounds of merriment and laughter, and the shouts of
revellers intermingled with the loud voices of warriors boasting of
their deeds. And listening to catch the conversation, they heard one
warrior say to another--
"Stand off from me, for I am a better warrior than thou; it was I who
slew Maildune's father, and burned the house over his head; and no one
has ever dared to avenge it on me. Thou hast never done a great deed
like that!"
"Now surely," said one of Maildune's companions to him, "Heaven has
guided our ship to this place. Here is an easy victory. Let us sack this
house, since our enemies have been revealed to us and delivered into our
hands!"
While they were yet speaking, the wind arose, and a great tempest
suddenly broke on them. And they were driven violently before the storm,
all that night and a part of next day, into the great and boundless
ocean; so that they saw neither the islands they had left nor any other
land; and they knew not whither they were going.
Then Maildune said, "Take down your sail and put by your oars, and let
the curragh drift before the wind in whatsoever direction it pleases God
to lead us": which was done.
XXXV.
AN EXTRAORDINARY MONSTER.
During the next few days, the wind bore Maildune's curragh along
smoothly, so that the crew had not to use their oars. The island they
now came to had a wall all round it. When they approached the shore, an
animal of vast size, with a thick, rough skin, started up inside the
wall, and ran round the island with the swiftness of the wind. When he
had ended his race, he went to a high point, and standing on a large,
flat stone, began to exercise himself according to his daily custom, in
the following manner. He kept turning himself completely round and round
in his skin, the bones and flesh moving, while the skin remained at
rest.