Michael was an Iconoclast, but not an extreme one; and wrote a very plausible letter, in which he complains of the superstitious excesses of the image-worshippers at Constantinople. He represents himself as the friend of peace and harmony, anxious to repress the excesses of both the extreme parties; and he beseeches his brother Lothaire to lend him his aid, especially by his influence with the Pontiff of the old Rome, to whom he sends several presents with a view to gain his good will and co-operation for the same laudable purpose. Lothaire, ignorant of the real facts of the case, and misled by this most deceptive document, promised his assistance to the Greek ambassadors in Rome, and resolved to aid in the good work of reconciling the extreme parties in the East. He wrote to Pope Eugenius II. to that effect, and asked his permission to appoint a conference of the prelates of his empire, with a view to sift the question thoroughly. The Pope seems to have consented to this course; and the conference met at Paris on the 1st of November, A.D. 825.

These gentlemen issued a most elaborate production addressed to the emperor, by him to be forwarded to the Pope. They begin by attacking the letter of Hadrian to Constantine and Irene, in which letter, as they allege, he ordered images to be superstitiously adored—quod superstitiose eas adorari jussit. In support of his doctrine he cited the Fathers, but according to them it was valde absona what he cited, and ad rem non pertinentia.

Then they attack the Second Council of Nice which gravely erred by ordering images to be worshipped, as the Great Charles had clearly proved in the books sent to Rome by the Abbot Angilbert. And Hadrian, too, in his answer to this treatise, when defending the Synod, wrote what he liked, not what he ought—quae voluit, non tamen quae debuit.

This was not enough for this Paris Conference; they had the assurance to dictate to the Pope what he was to write in reply to the Greek emperor; and to Lothaire himself they recommended what he ought to write to the Pope. On the point of doctrine they declare that nothing made by the hands of man is to be adored or worshipped; and to prove their position they quote St. Augustine, who, according to them, says that image worship had its origin with Simon Magus, and a meretricula called Helen!

When the Emperor Lothaire received these precious documents from the two prelates, Halitgar and Amalarius, deputed to present them, and ascertained their contents, he told them, as might be expected from a sensible man, that the letter to the Pope especially contained some things that were superfluous and more that were impertinent. He therefore commissioned Jeremias of Sens, and Jonas of Orleans, to make extracts from the report which would be more to the point and less likely to give offence in Rome; telling them, at the same time, to show every respect to the Pope, as they were bound to do; that although much might be gained by deference, nothing could be effected by exasperating the Pontiff. If, he adds, the pertinacia Romana will make no concessions, but the Pope is prepared to send an embassy to Constantinople, then let them try at least to induce him to allow the emperor also to send an embassy in conjunction with that of the Pope.

The emperor himself wrote a respectful and plausible letter to the Pope, urging upon him to send ambassadors to the Greek court, adding that he might send with them the two bishops who bore the report of the Paris Conference to His Holiness; and that thus he might be instrumental in restoring peace to the distracted Churches of the East.

Things were at this pass when Dungal appears upon the scene. The prelates of France were, many of them at least, not quite sound on the question of image worship; but Claudius of Turin, just about this time, brought things to a crisis.

This Claudius was a Spaniard, educated in his youth by Felix, Bishop of Urgel, in Spain, one of the leaders of the Adoptionist heretics. The mind of Claudius was infected with this as well as several other errors; but especially with the most extreme form of Iconoclasm.

Like Dungal, he seems to have been in high favour at court; but he kept his errors at that time to himself, at least in their extreme form. When appointed to the See of Turin he threw off the mask. On his first or second visitation he removed the crosses from his cathedral, he broke the images of the saints, and the holy pictures on the walls; he declaimed from the pulpit even against the worship of the saints themselves, or their relics in any shape or form; and finally, heartily denounced the pilgrimage to Rome, which even then was customary with the faithful, as unnecessary and superstitious.

These rash and violent proceedings gave great scandal to the faithful of the diocese. They were divided into two factions; for the bishop had numerous partisans of his own, but they were in a minority; and on one occasion the prelate very narrowly escaped being torn to pieces by the mob. The wily Claudius, however, by his representations to the emperor, in which he threw all the blame on the turbulence of the superstitious Lombards, succeeded in maintaining his ground.

About A.D. 824 a friend of his, the pious Abbot Theodemir, wrote a remonstrance to Claudius on his proceedings, in which he adjured him, by the memory of their former friendship, to discontinue these odious proceedings, reminding him how unworthy it was of a Christian bishop to dishonour the Saints of God, to insult the Cross of Christ, and break the images of His saints and martyrs.

This gentle remonstrance only made the Iconoclast more furious. He wrote a reply to the holy abbot, a considerable portion of which has come down to us, and shows Claudius in his true colours.

It is entitled—“Apologeticum atque Rescriptum Claudii Episcopi adversus Theutmirum Abbatem.”

It was this work brought out Dungal. He had hitherto been much pained at the proceedings of Claudius; for being then in Pavia he could scarcely be ignorant of what took place in Turin. Most of the French prelates, however, themselves more or less infected with unsound doctrine, held aloof; and even Agobard of Lyons wrote in favour of Claudius, so Dungal, although probably only a deacon, if, indeed, at all in holy orders, felt it his duty to come forward as the champion of the truth. He got his teaching not in France or Germany, but in Ireland; so he was not tainted with the errors of the Frankish theologians.

Dungal’s treatise against Claudius is entitled: “Dungali Responsa contra Perversas Claudii Taurinensis Episcopi Sententias.”

In the prologue of the book Dungal declares that for God’s honour, and with the sanction of Louis and his son Lothaire, he undertakes to defend, on the authority of the Holy Fathers, the Catholic doctrine against the frantic and blasphemous trifling of Claudius, Bishop of Turin. Many times since his arrival in Italy he had just cause to complain, whilst he saw the field of the Lord oversown with tares, yet he held his peace in grief and pain. He can, however, do so no longer, when he sees the Church distracted, and the people seduced by deceivers. He first sets forth very clearly the points at issue between the rival parties, and then proceeds to refute Claudius, and prove the Catholic doctrine, observing at the outset that it was astonishing insolence for any man to presume to “censure and blaspheme that doctrine and practice which for 820 years or more was followed by the blessed Fathers, by most religious princes, and by all Christian households up to the present time.”

After proving that these practices were not only not forbidden, but sanctioned by God Himself in the Pentateuch, he goes on to establish this tradition of the Catholic Church, quoting most of the Greek and Latin fathers, the poems of Paulinus, Prudentius, and Fortunatus, the Acts of the Martyrs and the Liturgy of the Church. He quotes, moreover, the Apocalypse, the Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles, at great length, to prove the same doctrine, and alleges that it was the universal belief and practice in the East and in the West from the days of the Apostles down to his own time. The Greeks lately erred; but their errors were retracted and condemned.

It is impossible not to admire the great knowledge of Sacred Scripture and Patristic literature displayed by the author. He reasons, too, clearly and cogently; and writes in a limpid and flowing style. Indeed, we know no writer of that age who excels Dungal in Latin composition, whether in poetry or prose; and this is generally admitted by those acquainted with the Latin literature of the period. Muratori observes that this work shows that Dungal was a man of wide culture.[311] This is high testimony from such an authority. Papirius Massonus, in his address to the prelates and clergy of Gaul prefixed to the treatise of Dungal, calls him an excellent theologian—Theologus excellens—and Alzog declares that the sophistical reasoning of Claudius, Bishop of Turin, was refuted by Jonas, Bishop of Orleans, but much more ably by Dungal, an Irish monk of St. Denys, and subsequently by Strabo and Hincmar of Rheims.

Dungal’s was not only the ablest, but also the first work that was written on the subject; for in it he alludes to the Synod or Conference of Paris in A.D. 825, as held two years before. So it must have appeared in A.D. 827, long before the refutations published by Jonas, Eginhard, Strabo, or Hincmar. Henceforward Iconoclasm began to lose ground in the West; and soon entirely disappeared, until revived in the sixteenth century.

As was observed before, towards the close of his life, Dungal retired to the monastery of Bobbio, to which he bequeathed his books. From Bobbio they were transferred to Milan, in A.D. 1606, by Cardinal Frederic Borromeo, and are now in the Ambrosian Library of that city. Among them were three Antiphonaries, one of which seems to have been the famous Bangor Antiphonary. Dungal, no doubt, procured these ancient rituals in order to quote them against Claudius in support of the Catholic doctrine. He appropriately dedicated the work to his countryman St. Columbanus.[312]

Columba, as Lanigan observes, was the real name of Columbanus, the founder of Bobbio, and in all probability, when Dungal calls himself an incola of the saint, he rather means fellow-countryman, than inmate of his monastery.[313]

We cannot stay to criticise the poetry of Dungal. His best poem is an elaborate eulogy on Charlemagne, written in hexameter. Some critics have questioned if Dungal were the author; the style, however, even of the opening lines of the poem, compared with the first lines of the epitaph which he wrote on himself leaves no doubt that the “Irish Exile” was Dungal. The smaller poems that survive, are written in elegiac metre, and display considerable taste, although not much imagination.

There is every reason to think that Dungal, who died about the year A.D. 834, was buried in the crypts of Bobbio. He sleeps well with the friendly saints of Erin; and we earnestly join in his own humble prayer, that he may live for ever with those saints in heaven, even as their dust has long commingled in their far-off graves under the shadows of the Appenines.[314]

IV.—St. Malachy.

We cannot close the history of the School of Bangor without giving a sketch of the life of its greatest abbot, St. Malachy, who may, indeed, be regarded as its second founder. We refer to him here, not because he was a great scholar or a distinguished writer, but rather because the Abbot of Bangor was the great reformer of the Irish Church in the twelfth century—a man pre-eminent for the zeal, energy, and holiness of his apostolic career in the face of the greatest difficulties and dangers. He was, says the Chronicon Scotorum, the man who restored the Monastic and Canonical rules of the Church of Erin; and that sentence is really a summary of his whole life.

St. Malachy—in Irish Maelmeadhog—was born probably in the neighbourhood of Bangor or Armagh in the year A.D. 1095. The family name was O’Morgair, or O’Mongair, which it is said was afterwards changed into O’Dogherty. His father was a lay professor or lecturer in the School of Armagh; but his mother seems to have come from the neighbourhood of Bangor, of which her brother, the uncle of Malachy, was afterwards titular abbot or perhaps airchinnech. The boy was thus fortunate not only in having the advantages of a famous school and a learned father; but also in attaching himself as a personal friend and disciple to the great and holy Imar O’Hagan, who then lived as a recluse in Armagh. It was doubtless under his holy guidance that Malachy acquired that fund of solid virtue which he afterwards exhibited throughout his life.

In consequence of his eminent virtues whilst still very young, Malachy was promoted by Celsus of Armagh to deacon’s orders; and shortly afterwards, before he had attained the then canonical age of thirty, he was ordained a priest by the same great prelate.

Wishing to perfect himself in sacred learning, and especially in the laws and discipline of the Church, St. Malachy next went to the great College of Lismore, which was at this period under the presidency of the venerable Malchus, Bishop of Waterford, and apparently also of Lismore. St. Bernard describes him as then an old man full of days and virtues, and richly endowed with divine wisdom. He was an Irishman by birth, but had been trained in the monastery of Winchester to a more accurate knowledge and observance of ecclesiastical discipline than were to be found at that time in Ireland. Under the influence and direction of this prelate the School of Lismore became, perhaps, the first in Ireland,[315] and St. Malachy fully availed himself of its great advantages.

On his return from Lismore in A.D. 1125, he was at once appointed to the Abbacy of Bangor. His uncle, the lay or titular abbot, gave up to Malachy peaceable possession of the ruined monastery and its wide domains, and became himself an humble monk of the new community—yes, a new community—the abbey lands were there, and a nominal abbot who enjoyed the revenues, but no church, no school, no community.[316] The ancient home of the saints had become a wilderness, the stones of the sanctuary were scattered, no sacrifice was offered on its altars.

It was the work of the Danes, who made a more complete ruin of Bangor than of any monastery elsewhere; because it was on the sea-shore of that narrow channel between Down and Galloway, which was the highway of the pirates. St. Bernard says that it was reported that in one day they slew nine hundred monks at Bangor.

Malachy now took twelve brethren with him and began to build an oratory once more at Bangor. It was finished in a few days, for it was an humble building in the Irish style—opus Scoticum—constructed of planed boards, but closely and firmly put together. Cells for the monks were built around it, and thus Bangor again began to flourish.

Then Malachy most unwillingly was taken from his infant monastery and made Bishop of Connor, that is of the entire County Antrim. At this time things were in a dreadful state in Antrim. There is no reason to question the testimony of St. Bernard. He is an independent and impartial witness, who got his information from St. Malachy and the disciples, whom he had left at Clairvaux. No doubt St. Bernard is rhetorical in style, but he is definite in statement. The natives were indocile and immoral. They neglected to go to confession, contracted illegitimate marriages, paid no tithes or first fruits. There were few priests, and no preaching in the churches. Malachy girt up his loins for the work before him. He went amongst the people on foot, accompanied with a few disciples. He admonished, he instructed, he ordained priests, he preached the Gospel everywhere. He had to endure much, but in the end he succeeded. The face of the country was soon changed, the desert bloomed as a garden, and the people that were not the Lord’s became once again the chosen people of God.

It was during these years that Malachy went to the south of Ireland on a visit to his friend Cormac Mac Carthy, King of Cashel, and there founded the monastery which St. Bernard calls monasterium Ibracense, on land given him by King Cormac for that purpose. St. Celsus, Archbishop of Armagh, had been driven by usurpers out of his See and was now in the south of Ireland, at Ardpatrick, in the co. Limerick, over which, as heir of St. Patrick, he claimed certain rights. Feeling his end approaching, and knowing that St. Malachy was, of all others, best fitted to succeed him in the Chair of St. Patrick, he sent him his crozier as a token of his wish to have Malachy as his successor.

But Malachy was unwilling to be transferred to the primatial See, and not without good reason. First of all he wished the translation to be made in a canonical way by the bishops of the province with the sanction of Gilbert the Papal Legate. This, however, was soon accomplished, the temporal princes also giving their cordial adhesion to the proposal. Then Malachy consented on one condition, that when things were put in order in Armagh, he might be free once more to return to his own diocese and his beloved monastery of Bangor.

Malachy now found that he had even a more difficult and dangerous task to accomplish in Armagh than had awaited him in the County Antrim.

For more than two hundred years a family of usurpers had established themselves at Armagh, and held the land and See of Armagh, transmitting it from father to son, or grandson, in regular hereditary succession. Most of them were laymen and married men; but they paid regularly ordained prelates to perform all necessary episcopal functions, keeping for themselves the lands, the nomination to the churches, and even the titles of Bishops and Abbots of Armagh.

It has been said that some of these married men were regularly consecrated prelates duly recognised by the Irish Church. There is not a shadow of evidence for the statement, except the name of bishop which is given to some of them. On the other hand, we have unexceptionable testimony that these men were laymen, and that the title of bishop was given to them, although they were laymen. St. Bernard settles the question. He says that this wicked and adulterous generation were so obstinate in asserting this right of hereditary succession, that although clerics of their blood were wanting, bishops were never wanting—that is bishops who were not even clerics. Of these, he says, before Celsus there were eight married men, learned enough but without orders.[317] “Denique jam octo extiterant ante Celsum viri uxorati, et absque ordinibus, litterati tamen.” Gerald Barry tells exactly the same story—that various churches in Ireland and Wales had lay abbots.[318] He explains too, how it came to pass. Certain powerful men in the parish, who were at first the stewards of the church lands, and defenders of the clergy, afterwards usurped the ownership of the lands, and in order to secure them for themselves, their children, or their relations, they called themselves abbots and owners of the lands, leaving only to the clergy such chance offerings as they might happen to receive.

Such a system was of course the fruitful root of many evils. St. Malachy resolved to expel these usurpers from the See of Armagh. It was a long and difficult task; and frequently his life was in deadly peril. But God visibly protected him; he was patient, too, and prudent, as well as zealous; and in the end was completely successful. After three years of patient toil, he was universally recognised as Primate; and having thus banished the usurpers, he resigned the See to the care of the learned and saintly Gelasius, and retired once more to his beloved Bangor, keeping only the charge of the episcopal Church of Down.

We cannot follow St. Malachy through his subsequent glorious career. He went to Rome and was specially honoured by Pope Innocent II., who put his own mitre on his head, and his own stole around his neck in presence of his court, and appointed him his Legate for all Ireland. On his way to Rome he stopped at Clairvaux, where he had the good fortune of meeting St. Bernard, who became his dearest and most intimate friend. In him too, St. Malachy, more fortunate even than St. Columba, found a biographer who made the virtues and merits of the Irish saint known to posterity, and to the entire Church of God.

The saint also left at Clairvaux four of his disciples to be trained there under the eyes of St. Bernard himself in the discipline of the great Cistercian Order. It is to them we owe the introduction of that order into Ireland in A.D. 1142, and all the great religious houses which the Cistercians founded throughout the length and breadth of Ireland.

After his return home, armed with the plenary powers of Papal Legate, Malachy devoted himself with even more zeal and success than before to the reformation of his own diocese, and the general restoration of ecclesiastical discipline throughout the kingdom. He was ably supported by the Irish prelates both in the North and in the South; and he would have changed the face of the Church before many years, but it pleased God to call him to Himself all too soon for Ireland. In A.D. 1148 he went to France to meet Pope Eugene III., who was then at Clairvaux. Before Malachy, however, arrived, the Pope had departed, but he was consoled by the warm welcome which he received from St. Bernard and his monks. Shortly after the Irish saint fell sick to the great sorrow of the community, but Malachy consoled them, and told them that there was no chance of his recovery for it was God’s will that he should die at Clairvaux. Feeling his strength failing he caused all the brethren to be summoned to his bedside. At once they came—St. Bernard at their head. “With longing I have longed,” said the dying man, “to eat this pasch with you”—that is the holy Viaticum—“before I die, and I thank my God that my longing has been gratified.” Blessing them one by one he said, “Remember me, and please God I will not forget you.” So saying he rested a little; but towards midnight the community was summoned again, and while they wept and prayed around his bed, he fell asleep in the Lord, and “the Angels carried his soul to Heaven.” It was at midnight between the 1st and 2nd of November, but the latter being All Souls’ Day, his Feast is kept on the 3rd of November. He was canonized by Pope Clement III., about the year A.D. 1190.

CHAPTER XVII.

Clonenagh, in Irish, Cluain Eidnech, the Ivy Meadow, is situated about four miles south-west of Maryborough, in the Queen’s County. At one time, it is said, there were no less than seven churches there, and the fact that there are at least four distinct old grave-yards, quite convenient to each other, shows that there were at least several distinct churches around Clonenagh in ancient times. From the sixth to the twelfth century, it was not only a great school and monastery, but also the seat of a bishop, who appears to have exercised jurisdiction over the western portion of the ancient Leix (Laeghis), the territory of O’Moore.

It was indeed a secluded spot, almost surrounded by bogs, but the rounded slopes of its verdant knolls gave picturesque variety to what would otherwise be a very dreary scene. Its founder, St. Fintan, was a very remarkable man—in fact an extreme type of the asceticism of the age; yet he was greatly beloved in his own time, and his influence was felt for many centuries after his death. Clonenagh, too, derives a special interest from the fact that it was the Alma Mater of Ængus the Culdee, the most ancient and reliable authority we have on the history of the early saints of Ireland.

Fintan was the son of Gabhren, of the race of Eochaidh Finnfuathairt, and is said to have been born in the territory of Leinster. Leinster at that time was, roughly speaking, bounded on the west by the River Barrow, and did not include Leix. This Eochaidh was a brother of Conn the Hundred-Fighter, who came to help the Leinster King to expel the men of Munster from Leix and Ossory. For this service he received the Seven Forthartha in Leinster, in which he and his descendants settled. The Barony of Forth in Wexford was one of these districts, and still retains the name. There is a local tradition that Fintan was born near Clonenagh,[319] but this can hardly be reconciled with the express statement of his Leinster origin. His mother was Findath, probably of the same race. She was warned by an angel to retire to a secret place until after the birth of her son, who would be holy to the Lord. On the eighth day the child was baptized by a certain holy man, who dwelt in Cluain Mac Trein; and hence it would appear that it was near this place the child was born. It is supposed that the place takes its name from Trein, or Trian, son of the celebrated Dubthach Mac Ua Lugair, who rose up to do honour to St. Patrick at Tara. The Hy-Trian, his descendants by this Trian, seem to have been located at Limbrick, in the Barony of Gorey, county Wicklow, and it is not unlikely that Fintan was born there about the year A.D. 525. We know that he was a little younger than Columcille, and as the latter was born about A.D. 521, Fintan must have been born a few years later.

During his youth Fintan studied under the care of the holy man who baptized him; but the place is not indicated in his life. It must have been some place not very far from Clonard, for we are told that on one occasion as Columcille was passing not far off, he stopped and invited his companions to visit the master and his pupil. Fintan already filled with the spirit of prophecy, had told his master to prepare for guests, as Columcille was coming to visit him. The master doubting the boy, and probably a little jealous of the favour shown him, sharply rebuked Fintan for his presumption; but when Columcille arrived, he rebuked the master, and told him that both himself and his place of abode would belong to Fintan for ever. This would seem to imply that this incident took place somewhere in the neighbourhood of Clonenagh.

Shortly afterwards Fintan was placed under the care of Columba Mac Crimthann, better known as Columba of Terryglass; but he had yet not founded that celebrated establishment on the shores of Lough Derg. With Fintan there were two others, St. Caemhen of Annatrim, not far from Clonenagh, and St. Mocumin, or Mochocma, who succeeded Columba at Terryglass. These were both half-brothers of the great St. Kevin of Glendalough; and very naturally were placed under the care of St. Columba, son of Crimthann, who was their first cousin. Fintan was probably also connected with these saints by family ties, as they all came originally from the same district of Leinster. At first it seems Columba wished to settle with his disciples at some place in their native territory—in finibus Lageniensium—and actually had chosen a beautiful spot for their monastery, where they hoped to live together in holiness and peace; for, says the Life, they had only one heart, and in the gladness of their united souls they cried out to their master, “Oh! it is good for us to be here.” “Not so,” said Columba; “God reserves this place not for us, but for one not yet born, Mobhi Mac Calde,”[320] or, as it is elsewhere, Mobhi Mac Cumalde. The true reading is probably Mobhi Mac Colmaidh, who was the son of Caeltigerna, a sister of St. Kevin, and a nephew (yet unborn) of the two brothers, Mocumin and Caemhen; but the place of his Church has not been ascertained. Thereupon they left the territory of Leinster and came to the place now called Clonenagh, where they remained for an entire year without, however, founding there as yet any permanent establishment. It was surrounded by bogs, but sheltered by great oak woods festooned with clustering ivy. Great crowds of people, however, and amongst them numbers of their own friends, continued to crowd in upon the saints, and disturbed their repose, so that Columba resolved to seek some more retired place in which to serve God. They saw the wild solitudes of Slieve Bloom rising over them to the north-west, and thither Columba now directed his steps, followed by his faithful disciples. On the mountain side they met several boys who were herding cattle, one of whom, Setne, was voiceless from his mother’s womb. Columba made the sign of the cross upon his mouth, and bade him tell them the place of their resurrection. Then the dumb boy spoke plainly, and told each of them where he was to die, and arise from the dead. Hereupon Columba looking down the mountain saw Clonenagh, which they had left, filled with God’s angels, and he was much saddened at the sight. Upon inquiry he told them the reason—how he saw the place they had deserted filled with ministering angels, and how anxious he was that some of them should return to the holy spot. So Fintan promptly volunteered to return, and thus became the real founder of that great monastic establishment, which ever since bears his name.

Numbers of disciples now gathered round him, for the fame of his sanctity was very great. He wrote a Rule for his community which unfortunately has been lost; but we are told that it was very strict, even beyond the monastic rules of that time. His monks worked with hands and feet, digging the soil with spade and hoe, as hermits usually do. They had no cattle—not even a single heifer—and therefore no milk; they even refused to take the milk which their neighbours, pitying their poverty, used to bring them. Fintan would not allow it.

Cainnech, however, of Aghaboe, and other saints in the neighbourhood came to Fintan, and begged him to remit a little of the extreme rigour of their lives. Fintan, divinely admonished, yielded to their suggestions—remitting the severity of his rule in favour of others—but still himself adhering to his own practices of mortification.

It is no wonder that such a man was filled with the spirit of prophecy, and performed many wonderful miracles, that were much noised abroad. One miracle is recorded, which illustrates the spirit of filial affection that prevailed in the midst of all this rigour of discipline. The saint went out to see his monks, who were working in the field. When they saw their father, like children, the half-starved monks ran up to him, and catching hold of him, they besought him to give them something better than usual for their refection, as great folk do, who visit the workmen. Fintan smiled on his children, and told them he had nothing to give them; but that God was good, and might give in his stead. Next day certain men came from Leinster, bringing to the monastery waggon loads of provisions, as much as eighty men could carry, so that the poor famished brethren, living almost entirely on herbs, got more than one good meal from these supplies.

One of the most distinguished pupils that issued from this great school was St. Comgall of Bangor. So great was the fame of Clonenagh at this period that Comgall came all the way from Dalaradia to place himself under the guidance of its holy abbot. As Clonenagh was founded about the year A.D. 548, when Fintan was not more than twenty-five years of age, Comgall can hardly have arrived there earlier than A.D. 550, and in that case the master was probably eight or ten years younger than the disciple—a not unusual occurrence in those days. Comgall at first felt all the severity of the discipline at Clonenagh, and was greatly tempted to abandon his purpose; but by God’s grace, and the advice of Fintan, he persevered, and then found his soul filled with great spiritual joy. He remained some years at Clonenagh, where he formally received the monastic habit, though he was not yet admitted to Holy Orders. By Fintan’s advice he then returned home to found the celebrated monastery on the southern shores of Belfast Lough, which will be for ever connected with his name.

On another occasion, a certain cruel and heartless king, Colman, son of Cairbre, the ruler of North Leinster, kept in bonds a noble youth, Cormac, the son of Diarmaid, king of Hy-Kinsellagh, with the intention, it appears, of putting him to death. Fintan, who was himself connected with the royal race of the Hy-Kinsellagh, set out with twelve companions for Rathmore, where Colman then lived and kept his prisoner. This is more likely to be Rathmore, about four miles east of Naas, where the great rath still exists, than Rathmore, east of Tullow, in the county Wicklow. In the Salamanca MS., the place is called Rathmoin, and there is a Rathmoon close to Baltinglass, which possibly may have been the scene of the miracle. When Colman heard of Fintan’s approach, he locked his gates, and doubled the guards over the prisoner; but it was all in vain. The gates opened of themselves to admit Fintan, and the terrified guards ran off to tell their still more affrighted master, who quickly consented to release young Cormac. One of Colman’s sons wished to slay the late captive before he could get away; but Fintan threatened him with Divine vengeance, a threat that was speedily fulfilled, for he was slain before the end of a month, whilst Cormac, the captive, became a monk, and ended his days in peace and holiness in the monastery of Bangor. It may be that he was a fellow-student of Comgall at Clonenagh, and was thus induced to go to the monastery of his old fellow-student. We find, indeed, that an intimate friendship and intercommunication existed between these two monasteries; and very frequently the monks of Clonenagh paid a visit to St. Comgall at Bangor, by whom they were always most kindly received.

On another occasion Fintan was sojourning at the monastery of Achad-Finglass, most likely founded by himself at Idrone, in the County Carlow. The old church of Agha, about four miles east of Old Leighlin, probably marks the site of this monastery. A holy bishop, called Brandubh, of the Hy-Kinsellagh, came to ask permission of the saint to be allowed to end his days at Clonenagh. The saint readily consented, but advised the bishop rather to remain where they then were, and where the rule was not so strict, and would not be so severe as at Clonenagh. The bishop followed Fintan’s counsel, but induced him to promise that in case Fintan died first, he would soon come to meet him, and bring his soul to heaven. Fintan promised, and kept his word; for three weeks after his own death, he came with seven spirits, clothed in white, to bring to heaven the holy soul of the venerable bishop. May not this Agha monastery be that religious house founded by Columba and his three disciples in the territory of the men of Leinster before they came to Clonenagh?

“No one,” says the writer of his Life, “can describe the charity, meekness, humility, patience, abstinence, watchings, and other virtues of this blessed man.” He constantly watched over his community with the most tender and devoted care. He was always ready to succour the afflicted, and to protect the oppressed; his was a name which good men loved, and bad men feared throughout all the territory of Leinster. Towards the close of his life he chose one of his own monks, named Fintan Maeldubh, as his successor, and ‘placed him in his chair.’ Then calling all the members of the community around him, he raised his hands to heaven, and solemnly gave them his blessing. After which he received the “Sacrifice,” and went to sleep in the Lord. He died on the 17th February, about the year A.D. 592, some time before the death of St. Columba in A.D. 597.

A young man from Leix went to Iona, and when there asked St. Columba’s advice as to the choice of a spiritual director, when he should return home. Columba recommended Fintan as the best and holiest director he knew. We are told, however, that shortly after this young man’s return to Ireland, Fintan was called to his reward; which shows that he must have died at Clonenagh before St. Columba died at Iona. He was buried at Clonenagh; but there is now no trace of his tomb.

St. Fintan has been called by many old writers the Father of the Irish Monks, and he has been likened in his manner of life to St. Benedict, the great founder of western monasticism—at least on the Continent of Europe. He was not, indeed, the oldest, nor even the most celebrated of the Second Order of Irish Saints, who devoted themselves to the monastic life. But he founded his monastery when very young; his own life was extremely ascetic; and he had amongst his novices and disciples several of the most celebrated founders of religious houses in Ireland. In this way it came to pass that as Finnian of Clonard was the tutor of the Saints of Ireland, so Fintan came to be described as the Father of the Irish Monks. And as Clonard was looked upon as a great school, so Clonenagh, like Aran, came to be regarded during the life of its holy founder as a kind of noviciate for the training of monks, many of whom went to Bangor, and elsewhere; and thus diffused through Erin his discipline and his spirit.

The most remarkable scholar of Clonenagh was St. Ængus, the Culdee.

II.—St. Ængus.

Ængus was a student at Clonenagh during the prelacy of the Abbot Melaithgen or Melaithgenius.

The materials for a Life of St. Ængus are very scanty. We have no original Life, and only two documents that tell us anything about him—the Scholiast’s Introduction to his writings, and a poem in praise of the saint, written by a namesake, apparently not very long after his death. From these two sources we gather the following facts:—

Through his father, Oengoba, son of Oblen, he derived his descent from Coelbach, King of Ireland, who belonged to the royal race of the Dalaradians of Ulster. He was probably born in the neighbourhood of Clonenagh, about the middle of the eighth century. From his earliest youth he seems to have been trained to sanctity and learning in the monastic school of Clonenagh, which, as we have seen, was then ruled by the learned and pious Melaithgen. Under this holy master the young Ængus made very great progress. He not only became, as his writings prove, an accomplished scholar, but also a model of every virtue. He seems to have been devoted to ascetical practices even from his earliest youth; and he loved to spend most of his time in prayer and solitude. Hence he came to be called by excellence the Culdee, that is, the Ceile De, or servant of God. He was probably the first to whom this appellation was given, as a kind of surname in recognition of his great sanctity and self-denial. Afterwards the name was given to other ascetic solitaries, who, though not a religious order in the proper sense of the word, still formed communities of anchorites living apart, but yet frequently meeting in the same church for devotional purposes, and recognising a common superior to whom they were duly obedient. Later on numbers of the secular clergy formed themselves into somewhat similar communities, and came to be known by the same name. They were in reality, however, what is known as Canons secular, that is a body of secular clergy, living apart, but subject to a common rule, which was generally the rule of St. Augustine.

The Ceile De of the earlier period divided his time between prayer, manual labour, and literary employment, if he were a man of learning and ability. He was never a burden to others, for he and his brethren contrived to procure from their little farms not only their own scant and meagre fare, but also the means of hospitable entertainment for the poor and the stranger.

Ængus seems to have spent, many years in this kind of solitary life, living alone in his little cell, and finding sustenance in the roots of the earth, or the produce of his garden. His first cell was probably at Disert-beagh, which is not more than a mile from Clonenagh, and likely got its name from having been the desertum, or solitary abode of the saint. He had not yet forsaken his beloved community of Clonenagh on the banks of the infant Nore; and he loved them dearly to the end, if we may believe his poetical namesake in the Leabhar Breac—

“Pleasant to sit here thus
Beside the cold pure Nore.”

And then follow the stanzas which, Mr. Matthew Arnold declared, show as fine a perception of what constitutes propriety and felicity of style as anything to be found in a Greek epitaph—

“Ængus out of the assembly of Heaven,
Here are his tomb and his bed,
It is hence he went to death,
On Friday to the holy Heaven;
It is in Cluain Eidnech he was reared,
It is in Cluain Eidnech he was buried,
It is in Cluain Eidnech of many crosses
He first read his psalms.”

But Disert-beagh was not lonely enough for Ængus—it was too near the great monastic school, and doubtless his solitude was often disturbed by truant youth, or inquisitive strangers. So he put his books in his satchel, took his staff in his hand, and made his way as best he could through the bogs and morasses, where the railway now runs, until he came to the place called after him, Dysert Enos or the Desert of Ængus. It is about eight miles from Clonenagh, and two to the south-east of Maryborough on the slope of a broken ridge of bluish gray limestone, that relieves to some extent that dreary and featureless plain. The present grave-yard, surrounding the roofless Protestant Church, probably marks the site of the primitive oratory founded by Ængus; and shows that though dead to the world, like most of his countrymen the self-denying ascetic had an eye for the natural beauty of a picturesque landscape. It afforded him too what he no doubt prized much, a distant prospect of his beloved Clonenagh, beyond the swampy moorland, under the shadow of Slieve Bloom.

In this lonely retreat Ængus practiced the severest penitential observance. He made three hundred genuflections every day; and moreover recited the entire psaltery. But not in ordinary fashion; he divided his self-imposed office into three parts. Fifty psalms he said in his cell; fifty more he recited in the open air under the shade of a spreading tree that embowered his little oratory; the last fifty, if we can credit his biographer, he repeated with his neck chained to a post, and his body half plunged in a huge tub of cold water.

Penance like this showed that Ængus was a saint; so in spite of his efforts to conceal himself the world soon found him out, and strangers began to disturb him once more. Before all things he loved to be alone, and so once again he resolved to make his escape from men, and hide himself for ever from their foolish admiration and applause. This time he resolved to adopt another plan, and strove to escape from the crowd not so much by shunning their presence, as by concealing his identity.

It is doubtful if Ængus when setting out knew what was to be his final destination. He left his cell at Dysart Enos, trusting solely to the guidance of Providence; and Providence never deserts those who put their trust in God.

Shortly after setting out on his journey, as we should now say towards Dublin, Ængus entered a way-side church to pray to God, and ask His guidance and protection. This was probably the first church which he met on his way; it is now called Coolbanagher, about four miles from Dysart Enos, beyond the Heath of Maryborough, and not far from Portarlington. There he saw a vision of angels hovering around a newly-made grave. He asked the priest, who served the little church, whose was that new grave. The priest told him it was the grave of a soldier who had served God faithfully for many years. Then Ængus asked him was he in the habit of practising any special mortification, or any peculiar devotion. The priest knew of nothing special, or unusual, in his case, except that he made it a constant practice every day to invoke the intercession of all God’s saints, whom he could call to mind. This incident made a very deep impression on Ængus. He saw how meritorious it was to invoke the saints; and so he resolved thereafter, if he could find time and place, to compose a metrical catalogue of the saints, which devout souls might more easily remember and recite for their own spiritual welfare.

Afterwards Ængus went his way, and at length came to St. Maelruain’s monastery at Tallaght, near Dublin, then, and almost ever since, a favourite home of religious men. He was quite unknown to the inmates of the monastery, so, concealing his name and learning, he sought admission into the community as an humble lay-brother. His pious request was readily granted; but, of course, the novice was put to the meanest and hardest work in the monastery. He reaped the corn in the field; carried it to the barn on his back; threshed it; winnowed, dried, and ground it in the mill for the use of the brotherhood. He wore the poorest rags he could find during his rounds of daily toil; his hair was so unkempt that it was as if the ears of corn grew in it; his hands were horny with the flail, and his face black with sweat and dust. So he lived unknown to all, labouring with his hands, but praying to God in his heart.

At length it pleased Providence to uncover this shining light, so that it might be seen by men. A truant scholar of the monastery, who was either unable or neglected to learn his lesson, fearing to present himself before the abbot in class, took refuge in the barn where Ængus was working. He sympathised with the poor boy, bade him lie down in the straw, and rest himself, and that all would be well. The boy did so, and soon fell fast asleep in the barn. When he awoke refreshed, Ængus asked him to repeat the lesson; he obeyed, and partly, no doubt, by the instructions, and partly by the kind encouragement of the good monk, he completely succeeded in mastering his lesson. Ængus then told him go to the school, but to say nothing of what happened in the barn. The boy went to his class, and astonished his master by having his lesson perfectly—which seems to have been in his case quite an unusual occurrence. The abbot, suspecting something, made inquiries, and insisted on learning the whole truth. Then the boy confessed what took place in the barn, and how the lay-brother had gone over his lesson with him. The truth at once flashed upon the mind of Maelruain; he had probably heard of the disappearance of Ængus from Dysart Enos, and now felt certain that the hard-working lay-brother was no other than the great scholar of Clonenagh. So he went at once to the barn, and embracing Ængus most tenderly, reproached him for so long concealing himself from the community. Ængus humbly asked pardon of the abbot, which, of course, had been already granted, and was at once received into his most intimate friendship—a friendship that endured until Maelruain’s death.

The abbot now resolved to utilize, for God’s glory, the great learning and talents of the distinguished scholar, whom Providence had bestowed on the community of Tallaght. Ængus, on his part, was most anxious to co-operate with Maelruain; and so these two holy men set about the composition of those works which have contributed so much to the glory of God, and of the ancient Church of Ireland.

The Martyrology of Tallaght was probably their first work: and is supposed to have been the joint production of Ængus and Maelruain. If so, it must have been written before the year A.D. 792, when Maelruain died. It is described by O’Curry as a catalogue in prose of the saints of Erin, and their festival days, with brief notices in some instances of their fathers and of the churches which they founded. It is considered to be the oldest of our Irish Martyrologies; and according to Michael O’Clery—no mean authority—it furnished the materials for the great poem called the Felire, or Festology of the Saints, which Ængus subsequently composed. Nor is it difficult to explain O’Curry’s objection to this hypothesis—namely, that it contains the names of several saints who lived longer than Ængus himself—as, for instance, of Blathmac, who was martyred in Hy by the Danes in A.D. 823, and Felimy MacCriffan (Crimhthainn) King of Munster, who died in A.D. 825—for these names may have been added by a later hand, or by the first copyist. The oldest copy of this Martyrology is found in the Book of Leinster, but Brother Michael O’Clery made a more complete copy, which is now in the Burgundian Library at Brussels. It was borrowed from the Belgian Government in 1849, and copied for Dr. Todd by the late lamented Eugene O’Curry. The same text was translated and published, with notes, by Dr. Mathew Kelly, of Maynooth, in 1847.

The most celebrated, however, and by far the most valuable of the writings of Ængus is his Felire, or Festology of the Saints. He conceived the idea of this work from the vision of Angels which he saw in the old Church of Coolbanagher, over the grave of the poor soldier, who used to invoke the saints of God. Doubtless, as an aid to the memory, it is written in verse, and in what O’Curry pronounces to be the best and purest style of our language—the Gaedhlic of the eighth century. The same authority declares that it is the oldest and the most important of all our Martyrologies. One of the best copies is that contained in the famous compilation called the Leabhar Breac, or Great Book of Duniry, in the county Galway. In the preface or introduction to the work there is a short notice of the writer, and of the time, place, and purport of his composition.

The time of its composition was during the reign of the monarch Aedh Oirnidhe, who reigned from A.D. 793 to 817, so that though planned during the abbacy of Maelruain, it was not written until after his death. It appeared probably about the year A.D. 800, with the approbation of one of the greatest scholars of the time, “Fothadh of the Canon.”

O’Curry conjectures that at this period Ængus had left Tallaght and returned to his first cell at Disert-beagh, near Clonenagh. Aedh, the King, just at this time made an incursion into Leinster, and pitched his camp not far from Monasterevan, in the Queen’s County. It seems that up to this period the clergy were compelled to follow the native princes in battle, and even sometimes took an active part in the conflict. This, however, was altogether against the Canon Law; and on the present occasion Conmach, the Primate-Archbishop of Armagh, and his clergy protested against the practice, and appealed to the king to allow them to return home and confine themselves to the discharge of their spiritual functions. The king took this remonstrance in good part, and as they were encamped in Leix, offered to refer their complaint to the decision of Fothadh, his own poet, tutor, and adviser. Fothadh thus appealed to, gave his decision in favour of the clerics and against the king, and being a poet gave it in rhyme. His decision thus given, exempting the clergy from military service, was known as the Canon, and he himself came to be called Fothadh-na-Canoine.

Fothadh showed the stanzas in which he expressed his decision to Ængus, who entirely approved of it both as to matter and form. Ængus on the same occasion showed his own poem on the Saints of Erin to Fothadh, for he was fully sensible of the great importance of securing for his own work the approbation of the royal Bard. That approval was warmly and generously given, accompanied with a strong recommendation to the faithful generally to use the poem in their public and private devotions.

The Felire is divided into three parts: the first part is introductory to the body of the work, and consists of five quatrains, invoking in very beautiful language the gift of heavenly wisdom from the King of the White Sun, that the poet may, with a pure heart, fitly celebrate the praises of the royal hosts of the great and good all-righteous King. He then alludes to the consolation which he himself found in celebrating the praises of the saints. He describes the various torments which the soldiers of Jesus suffered, and which they endured with joyful heroism. Now they enjoy their reward for ever with Mary’s Son; while their bodies here below are enshrined in bright gold. Herod and Pilate are then contrasted with Christ, Nero with Peter and Paul, Pilate’s queen with the Virgin Mary. Earthly power and glory are fleeting in comparison with the love of ‘Mary’s Son,’ and earthly princes are less than the lowly soldiers of Jesus. Tara has perished, but Armagh is still crowded with the sons of wisdom. King Laeghaire’s glory is gone, but Patrick’s name still lives and will live for ever.

The body of the work contains 365 quatrains, in which the writer celebrates on every day the praises not only of our principal Irish saints, but also commemorates several saints of the Universal Church. The text is interlined with a very ancient gloss and commentary, as well as with notes fixing the sites of the churches of several of the saints referred to. This gloss and the accompanying notes, whilst adding much to the difficulty of editing the work itself, render it an invaluable aquisition to the historian and archæologist.

In the third part the author recapitulates his poem, explains its construction and arrangement, directs the faithful how to use it, and apologises for the fact that of necessity he could only introduce the chiefs and princes of the saints into his poem. Yet he spared no pains to make it as complete as possible, consulting for the foreign saints, Ambrose, Jerome, and Eusebius; and for the Irish saints, he not only consulted “the countless hosts of the illuminated books of Erin,” but he himself travelled throughout the entire country visiting their churches and collecting the local traditions regarding them. Lest, however, any might be jealous for being omitted, he invokes them in this third part under certain general heads—patriarchs, prophets, virgins, martyrs, etc., etc.—so that not a single one of the heavenly host at home or abroad can complain of the want of some reference to his or her memory. It is not too much to say that the Felire of Ængus is on the whole the most valuable of the Irish ecclesiastical treatises that have happily been preserved down to our own times.

Another valuable work which we owe to the indefatigable industry of Ængus is the collection of Pedigrees of the Irish Saints—the oldest, and therefore the most authentic collection that we possess, and enriched moreover with valuable topographical notes and references to many of our ancient churches. The fifth part of this work is the Book of Litanies, which has been published in the third volume of the Irish Ecclesiastical Record. It affords conclusive proof of one fact, that the invocation of the saints was not only a well recognised, but quite a common form of devotion in the early Church of Ireland. Indeed there is scarcely a single folio of any portion of the writings of Ængus that does not afford conclusive evidence of the same fact.

The last work of Ængus is the Saltair-na-Rann, which Eugene O’Curry describes as “consisting of 150 poems on the history of the Old Testament, written in the finest style of the Gaedhlic language of the middle of the eighth century.” Probably it got its name from its resemblance, at least in number, to the Psalms of David. It is, according to the same authority, altogether a different work from the comparatively modern poem of the same name in the British Museum.

In the year 1880 the Felire, or Metrical Calendar of Ængus, edited and translated by Dr. Whitley Stokes, was published by the Royal Irish Academy. In a paper read before the Academy so early as 1871, and prefixed to this work, Dr. Stokes asserts that Ængus cannot have been the author of the Felire; that similar linguistic reasons prove that he cannot have been the author of the Saltair-na-Rann, and that there is not a particle of trustworthy evidence to show that Ængus ever wrote either the Pedigrees of the Irish Saints, or his celebrated Litany of the Irish Saints. Dr. Stokes is a conscientious and painstaking writer, but with a love of originality in his views. We carefully examined the reasons which he gives in favour of these very original views, and we must say we thought them exceedingly hollow. As to his linguistic reasons for asserting that the Felire and the Saltair could not have been written before the close of the tenth century, we may confidently set the opinion of an Irish scholar like Eugene O’Curry against that of Dr. Whitley Stokes, whose knowledge of Irish is purely book knowledge. There is not a single linguistic form in the MSS., which he alleges to be later than the eighth century, that cannot be explained by the well-known custom of the copyists modernizing the language of the MSS., so as to make their copies more intelligible to those for whom they wrote.[321] We have already explained how in a similar way the names of a few saints, and of the author himself, might have been added to the Felire by a copyist who wished to pay honour to a favourite saint of his own church. Flimsy reasons of this kind manifestly cannot outweigh the explicit testimony of the Scholiast’s Introduction—written before the twelfth century in very ancient Irish—that these were the works of Ængus, and giving us the time, the place, and the circumstances of their composition, with the few facts that are known to us concerning the life of the writer.

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.

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.