{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_36065/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_36065","id":"gutenberg_36065","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36065","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: History - Medieval/Middle Ages","Category: History - Religious","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Columba, Saint, 521-597"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by David McClamrock\n\n\n\n\nTHE LIFE OF SAINT COLUMBA\nAPOSTLE OF SCOTLAND\n\nBY\nF.A. FORBES\n\nSECOND EDITION\n\nR. & T. WASHBOURNE, LTD.\nPATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON\nAND AT MANCHESTER, BIRMINGHAM, AND GLASGOW\n\n1919\n\nAll rights reserved\n\nNihil Obstat.\nFRANCISCUS CANONICUS WYNDHAM\nCensor Deputatus\n\nImprimatur.\n+ EDM. CAN. SURMONT\nVic. Gen.\n\nWESTMONASTERII,\n_die 7 Octobris_, 1913.\n\n\n\nSTANDARD-BEARERS OF THE FAITH\n\nA SERIES OF LIVES OF THE SAINTS FOR YOUNG AND OLD\n\nSAINT COLUMBA\n\n\"The Kingdom of Heaven, O man, requireth no other price than thyself:\nthe value of it is thyself: give thyself for it and thou shalt have\nit.\"--ST. AUGUSTINE\n\n\n\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE\n\nTHOUGH more than 1300 years have gone by since the death of St.\nColumba, there are few saints whose memory is so living and so strong.\nThis is partly due to his vivid and attractive personality, but in a\ngreat measure also to the fact that we have his Biography or Life\nwritten at great length by Adamnan, ninth abbot of Iona, who was born\nonly twenty-seven years after Columba's death. Adamnan, who was very\nyoung when he entered the community at Iona, could have gathered the\nmaterials for his book from the lips of those who had personally known\nthe great Apostle of Scotland, and who had been eye-witnesses of the\nevents recorded. We know that these friends were many, and drawn from\nall classes, for Columbcille, above all the men of his time, had the\ngift of being loved, and many instances are related of the passionate\ndevotion of the monks of Iona to their great abbot, no less than that\nof the multitudes with whom in his long and busy life he had come in\ncontact. Adamnan is considered to be a sober and trustworthy author,\nand has not exaggerated, as many of the later writers undoubtedly have,\nthe miraculous element in the life of the Saint.\n\nCarlyle, who cannot be considered as an advocate of the supernatural,\nremarks of the Life of St. Columba: \"You can see that the man who wrote\nit could tell no lie. What he meant you cannot always find out; but it\nis clear that he told things as they appeared to him.\"\n\nThere are many interesting relics of Columba still in existence. An\nancient stone chalice which he is said to have used at Mass is still\npreserved in Ireland, together with the flagstone which formed the\nflooring of Eithne's room the night that he was born. A pathetic custom\nexists amongst the poor Irish emigrants of sleeping the night before\nthey leave their country on this stone, in the hope that he who made\nhimself an exile from his country for the love of God will by his\nprayers make the burden of their sorrow easier to bear. The stone which\nhe used for so many years as a pillow is still to be seen amongst the\nruins of the cathedral of Iona, which was erected in the twelfth\ncentury near the site of the old abbey church of Columba's building,\nwhile the ruins of St. Oran's chapel near at hand enclose the very spot\nwhere the Saint breathed his last upon the altar steps.\n\nBut perhaps the most interesting of all the Columban relics are the\nthree manuscripts which are said to have been written by the Saint's\nown hand. That Columbcille was an indefatigable scribe we know from the\nwitness of many of his contemporaries, and one of the greatest of\nmodern authorities (Mr. Westwood) sees no reason for setting aside the\ntradition that the \"Book of Kells\" and the \"Book of Durrow\" are both\nmainly, if not altogether, Columba's work. The \"Book of Durrow,\"\nindeed, bears an inscription stating that it was written by \"Columba\nthe scribe in the space of twelve days,\" while the \"Book of Kells\" has\nalways borne the title of the \"Great Gospel of Columbcille.\" To the\nobjection that a busy man like Columba would not have had leisure to\nexecute the exquisitely minute decorations which are the astonishment\nof all admirers of Celtic art, it can be urged that many old\nmanuscripts which still exist in an unfinished condition bear witness\nto the fact that it was customary for the initial letters and\nornamental parts of the manuscript to be sketched roughly in, and\nfinished by another hand. This is especially to be noted in the \"Book\nof Kells,\" the decorative work of which is certainly of a later date.\nBoth the \"Book of Durrow\" and the \"Book of Kells\" are to be seen in the\nLibrary of Trinity College, Dublin.\n\nThe third manuscript, the famous Psalter which gave Columbcille to\nScotland and which is preserved in the Royal Irish Academy, fell, after\nthe battle of Cuil Dreimhne, into the hands of the O'Donnells,\nColumba's own clan, who treasured it as their most precious possession.\nIt was called the \"Cathach\" or \"Battler,\" and if borne into battle by\n\"one of pure heart and of clean hands\" was believed to ensure them the\nvictory over their enemies. It is the least ornamental of the three,\nand bears traces of the haste with which it was executed. The existence\nof these pages, written with laborious care by the hand which has long\nsince mouldered into dust, makes a living link across the centuries\nwith Columbcille the Beloved, the great Apostle of Scotland.\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nCHAP.\n\n   I. CHILD OF THE MOUNTAIN AND THE LAKE\n\n  II. THE SCHOOLING OF A SAINT\n\n III. DERRY AND DURROW\n\n  IV. THE COW AND THE CALF\n\n   V. A BITTER PENANCE\n\n  VI. THE ISLE IN THE WESTERN SEAS\n\n VII. THE APOSTLE OF SCOTLAND\n\nVIII. THE CONVENTION OF DRUM-CEATT\n\n  IX. FOR CHRIST AND HIS LOVE\n\n   X. THE GIFT OF VISION\n\n  XI. THE LIGHT ETERNAL\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nCHILD OF THE MOUNTAIN AND THE LAKE\n\nFOURTEEN hundred years ago, in the sweet days of autumn, when the woods\nof Gartan are clothed in crimson and gold, and the still waters of\nLough Veagh reflect the deep blue of the skies above, Eithne, the wife\nof Fedhlimidh, Prince of Tir-Connell, had a strange dream. It seemed to\nher that an angel of God stood beside her, bearing in his hands a veil\nscattered all over with the Bowers of Paradise, and that, spreading it\nout, he bade her admire its beauty. Eithne was a daughter of kings, but\nnever before had she seen so marvellously fair a web; she stretched out\nher hands to grasp it, but even as she touched it, it rose and\nfluttered lightly into the air. Over hill, mountain, and lough floated\nits shadowy loveliness, till it rested at last on the moors and\nmountains of a land that lay far away in the moaning seas. Then Eithne\nwept for the loss of the beautiful veil, but the angel comforted her.\n\n\"It is but a symbol,\" he said, \"of the son that shall be born to thee\nin the days to come. He shall be a prince and a prophet; the world\nshall be perfumed by his holiness; and he shall bear the flower of the\nfaith among the heathen far over land and sea.\"\n\nWhen morning came Eithne told her husband of the dream, and the two\ntook counsel together. That his son should be a great prince in no way\nsurprised Fedhlimidh. Was not he himself a grandson of the great king\nNiall of the Nine Hostages, so called because he had subdued nine Kings\nof Ireland to his will and made them his vassals, and was not the\nreigning king of all Ireland his near kinsman? No strange thing would\nit have been in those turbulent days, when the lives of kings were\nshort and uncertain, were the son of Fedhlimidh himself to be set on\nthe throne as High King of Ireland.\n\nBut Eithne's dream seemed to point more to a heavenly supremacy than an\nearthly; was it an indication of God's will that they should dedicate\ntheir child to Him? They thought it was, and a few months later, when\nheaven sent them a fair and beautiful little son, they earnestly prayed\nto the Giver of all good gifts that He would take the child, if it\nseemed well to Him, for His service.\n\nAt Teampall-Douglas, a few miles from Gartan, there lived a holy old\npriest called Cruithnechan; to him they took the babe that it might\nreceive at his hands the holy rites of Baptism. He was given the name\nof Columba, a not uncommon name in Ireland at the time, and while yet a\nlittle child was sent back to the saintly Cruithnechan that the old man\nmight train him in the ways of wisdom and holiness.\n\nIn this Columba's parents but followed the custom of the time, for it\nwas usual for the sons of chiefs to be brought up from their earliest\nyouth by some great bard, soldier, or priest, according to their\ndestination in life; and it was the duty of these foster parents to\ntrain their charges in all that had to do with their future profession.\n\nThe little Columba was an apt pupil. It was his delight to accompany\nhis master to the Church, there to listen to the chanting of the Divine\nOffice; and so keen of ear and quick of memory was the boy that he had\nlearnt some of the psalms by heart before he could spell them out in\nthe Psalter--the lesson-book of every young reader of his time.\nCruithnechan himself was unaware of this until one day when he took the\nchild with him on a visit to a brother priest near Derry. The two\nclerics went together to the Church to chant the Divine Office, and\nColumba, as was his wont, knelt to pray before the altar.\n\nNow it came to pass that Cruithnechan lost his place, and was in great\ndistress because he could not find it again. The office came to a\nstandstill, and the pause would have been a long one had not the boy's\nclear treble voice taken up the psalm Where the old man had halted, and\nchanted sweetly the alternate verses until the missing place was found.\nIt was Columba's love of the Church that won for him among his\ncompanions the name by which he became famous in after-days--\n\"Columb-cille\" or \"the dove of the Church.\" He would slip away from\ntheir games whenever he could, but they always knew where to find him.\n\"He nestles beside the altar like a dove in its nest,\" they would say.\n\nIn spite of the boy's name, however, underneath the strong faith and\nlove, the true and deep devotion that were always his chief\ncharacteristics, lay a nature that was in no wise dovelike. Loyal,\ngreat-hearted, and compassionate as he undoubtedly was, the blood of\nthe fierce and haughty Hy-Nialls flowed in his veins. To be quick to\ntake offence and slow to forgive an injury is a characteristic of the\nCeltic race all the world over, and Columba was no exception to the\nrule. Long and sharp was to be the struggle before that quick and\nimperious nature was wholly conquered by the grace of God, but great\nwas to be the victory at last.\n\nTo Cruithnechan it was evident that the blessing of God rested in no\nsmall degree on the child of his fostering. Returning home one night he\nsaw his house lit up as it were with a great fire, and fearing for the\nsafety of his little charge he entered in haste. All was in darkness\nwithin, save over the head of the sleeping child, where there hung a\nglobe of fire. The old man fell on his knees, not knowing what the\nportent might mean; but God reassured him, showing that the light of\nHis Holy Spirit had been poured out abundantly upon Columba, who was to\nlabour fruitfully in His service.\n\nIt has always been acknowledged by the Celtic races that among the\nchildren of men there are a chosen few who are gifted with the second\nsight. Strange instances are given of mortal eyes that have seen the\ninvisible, and of men and women who have known things that are not to\nbe discerned by the senses. A little corner of the veil that hides the\nspiritual world from the world of sense has been lifted. From the\nearliest ages, to those who are exceptionally pure of heart and holy,\nthis contact with the spiritual world has been given in a supernatural\ndegree. The materialist may scoff, but the voice of the Ages is louder\nand clearer in our ears than his.\n\nFrom his childhood Columba seems to have possessed this gift in a very\nmarked manner. His guardian angel, we are told by his biographers,\nappeared to him frequently, and the child would talk to him familiarly,\nand ask him if all the spirits in heaven were as radiant and beautiful\nas he. One day the angel bade the boy tell him what he would choose if\nany virtue might be his for the asking.\n\n\"I would choose purity and wisdom,\" answered he.\n\n\"Well hast thou chosen, Columba,\" said the angel, \"they shall be\nthine, and God will add to them yet another gift.\"\n\nSo it came to pass in the course of time that there appeared one day\nbefore Columba three beautiful maidens, who would have embraced him,\nbut he pushed them roughly away.\n\n\"Dost thou not know us, Columba?\" asked one of them, and a celestial\nradiance shone from her face and garments as she spoke. \"We are three\nsisters sent to thee from our Father, that we may abide with thee for\never.\"\n\n\"I know you not,\" said Columba. \"Who is your father?\"\n\n\"Our Father is God, the Lord and Saviour of the world,\" answered the\nmaiden, and her voice was like the music of heaven.\n\n\"Truly a noble parentage,\" said the boy. \"By what names do men call\nyou?\"\n\n\"Our names are Purity, Prophecy, and Wisdom,\" she answered, \"and we\nhave come never to leave thee more, and to love thee with an\nincorruptible love.\"\n\nSo among the peaceful hills and lakes of Donegal the boy Columba grew\ninto manhood. Tall and fair and straight of limb was the son of Eithne\nand Fedhlimidh, with a voice clear and sweet as a trumpet-call, and a\nheart that was fearless, pure, and true. Cruithnechan had done his work\nwell; he had taught Columba all that he knew of earthly lore and of\nheavenly; but the time of his fostering was over. He must go forth now\ninto the great world that lay beyond the quiet mountains, the world of\nstrife and of tragedy, of joy and of sorrow.\n\nA strange world and one of many contrasts, that of Ireland in the sixth\ncentury. To the unanimous voice of Christianity she owed her name of\nthe \"Island of the Saints.\" From the days of St. Patrick the monastic\nschools, veritable cities of God in the midst of the strife and\nbarbarism of those early days, exerted their influence on the life\naround them in favour of piety, learning and civilization. Here were\nbeing formed a whole population of writers, theologians, architects,\nsculptors, poets, historians, and above all of missioners and\npreachers, who were to carry the light of the Gospel far and wide into\nother lands. The founders of these schools were mostly of the noblest\nblood in Ireland, and kings and princes did not disdain to come to them\nfor advice and help, or even to listen to their reproofs. Most powerful\nfor good was the influence of the Church in Ireland, and well for her\nthat it was so, for the times were wild and lawless.\n\nTo the Hy-Nialls, the kinsmen of Columba, belonged the whole north-west\nof Ireland. The sovereign rule over the entire country was theirs, in\nthe Irish colony of Dalriada in Caledonia over the seas, as well as in\nthe mother-country of Erin.\n\nThey exercised authority over the provincial kings, but an authority\nthat was often hotly contested, and stormily maintained at the cost of\nmuch bloodshed. The king was elected from either branch of the great\nNiall family or clan, the Hy-Nialls of the North, to which Columba\nbelonged, or the Hy-Nialls of the South, and the two branches were\ncontinually at war. Into the midst of these discordant elements the law\nof Christ brought peace and justice, and the Saints of Ireland were the\npillars of the law of Christ.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE SCHOOLING OF A SAINT\n\nWHILE Columba was growing into manhood among the mountains of\nTir-Connell, St. Finnian, \"Finnian of the Heart Devout\" as the old\nwriters love to call him, was founding his great monastic school of\nMoville on the northern side of Lough Cuan.\n\nNot on his piety and sanctity alone did the renown of Finnian rest. He\nhad been educated at the famous monastery of Whitehorn, founded by St.\nNinian in the fourth century in the British kingdom of Galloway across\nthe sea. St. Ninian was the friend of St. Martin of Tours, and it was\nfrom him that he obtained masons to build the Candida Casa or White\nHouse, the first stone church erected in Britain. Later, St. Finnian\nwent on pilgrimage to Rome, a difficult and dangerous undertaking in\ndays when ships consisted for the most part of a framework of willow\noverstretched with ox-hide; and famine, pestilence, wild beasts and\nbarbarians were only a few of the perils that beset travellers by land.\nThere he remained for three months, when he returned to Ireland,\nbringing with him a precious and priceless treasure.\n\nThis was a copy of the sacred Scriptures, translated and corrected by\nthe hand of St. Jerome himself, and formally sanctioned by the Pope as\nthe authentic text. No copy of this first edition of the Vulgate had as\nyet found its way into Ireland, and to the scholars and scribes of the\nday it was of untold worth.\n\nThe school of Moville was founded in 540, and St. Columba must have\nbeen one of its earliest scholars, for he was born in the year 521, and\nwas about twenty years of age when he left Tir-Connell. Here he was\nordained deacon, and here also, at his prayer, was worked the first of\na long series of miracles that were to continue throughout his life.\nOne festival day, to the consternation of St. Finnian, it was found\nthat there was no wine for the Holy Sacrifice. It was the turn of\nColumba to draw the water that was to be used in the sacred mysteries,\nand kneeling at the brink of the well he prayed earnestly to that Lord\nwho had changed water into wine at the marriage feast of Cana to have\npity on their distress. His prayer was heard; even as he carried the\nwater to the church the miracle was worked.\n\n\"Here, my Father, is wine that God has sent us from heaven,\" said the\nyoung deacon, as he gave the vessel to his master, and Finnian\nmarvelled greatly and gave praise and glory to God.\n\nFrom Moville, Columba went to the great school of Clonard, there to\npursue his studies under another St. Finnian--Finnian the Wise, the\n\"Tutor of the Saints of Erin.\" Clonard was the most famous school in\nIreland at the time, and even bishops and abbots, old in years and\nexperience, did not disdain to come to learn wisdom at the feet of its\nholy founder. St. Finnian of Clonard had been himself the pupil of\nthree great saints, St. David, St. Gildas, and St. Cadoc, at the\nCollege of Llancarvan in Wales. When Columba came to the school of\nClonard it numbered, as the old writers tell us, three thousand\nscholars.\n\nThe problem of accommodation was very simple in an Irish school of the\nsixth century. A few precious manuscripts formed the whole library. The\ninstruction was mostly oral, and given in the green fields round the\nmoat of Clonard. A little hill or eminence formed the professor's\nchair, and the scholars sat on the slopes about his feet. They built\ntheir own little huts of clay and wattles in the surrounding meadows,\nand took their turn at herding the sheep and grinding in the quern, or\nhandmill, the corn for the daily bread. They prayed and studied, learnt\nthe exquisitely fine transcription that gave to the world the only\nbooks that were then to be had, and listened to the interpretation of\nthe Holy Scriptures expounded by St. Finnian with a power and eloquence\nthat drew men from all parts of Ireland to listen.\n\nThe son of the Hy-Nialls took his turn with the rest at grinding the\ncorn in the quern and in the humble daily labours, but he accomplished\nhis task so rapidly and skilfully that his fellow-scholars, who may\nhave heard the story of the celestial companion of his boyhood, would\nassert that he had been helped by an angel. When the daily work was\nfinished, he was always to be found, as of old, before the altar,\nabsorbed in prayer. Even the elders treated him with deference. There\nwas something so noble and commanding in his bearing, so high and holy\nin the glance of his keen grey eyes, so strong and compelling in the\nclear tones of his voice, that half unconsciously men bowed before him.\n\nBut there was one at Clonard who long withstood his influence. To the\ngentle-hearted Ciaran \"Mac In Tsair,\" or the son of the carpenter,\ntemptation had come in the shape of an envious thought.\n\nWhy should Columba, he asked himself resentfully, be loved and\nprivileged above all the other scholars? He was the son of the Prince\nof Tir-Connell it was true, but in a monastic community such as Clonard\nwere not they all equal before God? He began to be jealous of the\ninfluence exercised so unconsciously by his young companion, and\nharboured bitterness in his heart. Ciaran's guardian angel grieved over\nthe havoc that was being wrought in that pure and gentle soul. He\nappeared to him one day in a radiant vision, carrying the tools of a\ncarpenter in his hands.\n\n\"See, Ciaran,\" said he, \"what thou hast left for the love of God, to\ngive thyself to Christ in the monastic life; but Columba has sacrificed\nthe throne which would have been his, had he not, forsaking the world,\nchosen rather to follow his Lord in poverty and humiliation.\"\n\nHis words scattered the mist of envy from the heart of the carpenter's\nson, who humbly asked pardon for his sin. From henceforth he became one\nof the warmest friends of Columba, who in his turn loved the\ngentle-hearted Ciaran with a true and tender affection. It was while\nthe two were at Clonard together that their master St. Finnian dreamt\nthat he saw two moons, one of gold and one of silver, shining in the\nsky. The golden moon illuminated the north of Ireland, and its beams\nshone over the sea as far as distant Alba, while the moon of silver\nshed its soft light in the centre of the land. It was made known to\nFinnian that the golden moon represented Columba, who was to carry the\nlight of the Gospel to another people, while that of silver typified\nCiaran, whose holiness was to be a light to many in his own country.\n\nIt was at this time that Columbcille showed the first signs of that\ngift of prophecy that was to make him so famous in after days.\n\nThere came to Clonard an old bard called Gemman, who was a Christian.\nColumba, who had a passionate love for poetry, put himself under his\ntuition that he might not only study the old minstrel lore of Ireland,\nbut learn also to pour out his own heart in song. One day when the old\nman sat reading at a little distance from his pupil in the green\nmeadows near Clonard, a young maiden, crying piteously for help, and\nhotly pursued by one of the bloodthirsty barbarians who were the terror\nof the more peaceful inhabitants of the country, fled towards him for\nprotection. Gemman called to Columba for help, but it was too late.\nEven as he tried to hide the child under the folds of his long cloak\nher savage assailant pierced her to the heart with his spear.\n\n\"How long, O Lord,\" moaned the old man, as he gathered the body of the\nlittle maiden into his arms, \"how long shall the blood of this innocent\ncry unavenged to heaven?\"\n\nColumba turned to him with flashing eyes.\n\n\"Thus long,\" he cried in a voice that rang like the trumpet of the\navenging angel:\n\n\"Thus long, and no longer. The soul of that innocent child shall\nscarcely have entered heaven before the soul of her murderer shall be\ncast into eternal fire.\"\n\nThe words had scarcely left his lips when the barbarian, who was not\nyet out of sight, fell dead, struck down by the sudden judgment of God.\n\nOn leaving Clonard, Columba went in company with the gentle-hearted\nCiaran to visit the school of another great master of the spiritual\nlife, St. Mobhi of Glasnevin. There they met St. Comgall and St.\nCannich, and formed with them a lifelong friendship. It was during his\nstay at Glasnevin that Columba was sent by St. Mobhi to Etchen, Bishop\nof Clonfad, to be ordained a priest, and it is characteristic of the\nsimplicity of the times that the holy bishop, who was Columba's own\ncousin, and the son of a reigning prince, was found in the fields\nguiding the oxen of his plough.\n\nIt must have been also about this time that Ciaran and Columba\njourneyed together to the rocky Isle of Aran in the west, to visit St.\nEnda the Holy, the tutor of both Finnian of Moville and Finnian of\nClonard. Aran was indeed a very nursery of sanctity, and Enda was\nreverenced as a father by all the saints of Ireland. They learnt from\nhis lips the virtues and duties of a true monk, but they learnt still\nmore from his example. He and his community slept on the bare ground in\ntheir stone cells, never warmed by a fire even in the coldest days of\nwinter. Their frugal food was the fruit of the labour of their hands,\nbut it was little enough that the barren rocks of Aran could furnish.\nTo these men, whose hearts were on fire with the love of God, their\ndesert island was a little paradise, where they lived in close\ncommunion with the unseen world, and from whence the voice of praise\nwent up incessantly to the throne of God.\n\nWe are told that the gentle-hearted Ciaran, the son of the carpenter,\nwas beloved by Enda above all his disciples, and that when the time\ncame for him to leave the Isle of Aran to found his own great monastery\nof Clonmacnoise on the banks of the Shannon, the old man knelt and wept\nbitterly on the rocky shore. Perhaps he may have foreseen the early\ndeath of his beloved pupil, the sudden quenching of that light that was\nto shine so brightly during the few years that remained to him of his\nearthly pilgrimage.\n\nFor a few years after his departure from Aran the holy Ciaran exercised\nhis apostleship in his native country, and then founded the monastery\nof Clonmacnoise, which in after days was to become the greatest and\nmost learned community in Ireland. Four months later a terrible\npestilence broke out, and the gentle Ciaran was amongst its victims. He\nasked the brethren to take him out into the open air that his eyes\nmight see the blue sky once again before he died. The skin on which he\nused to sleep was spread on the ground and they laid him on it, weeping\nbitterly the while. The dying man then asked to be left alone with St.\nKevin of Glendalough, his soul's friend (the beautiful old Celtic name\nfor spiritual father--still in use among the Catholics of western\nScotland), who blessed him and gave him the Holy Communion.\n\nCiaran bade him a tender farewell, for, says the old chronicle, he\nloved him much. Then, lifting his eyes to heaven with a smile on his\nlips, the pure and holy Ciaran breathed his last, and white angels came\nand carried his soul to Paradise.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nDERRY AND DURROW\n\nTHE terrible outbreak of plague that carried off young Ciaran in the\nflower of his age found Columba at Glasnevin. St. Mobhi bade his\ndisciples disperse to their homes, and Columbcille went northwards to\nTir-Connell. When he reached the stream of Moyola he prayed earnestly\nthat God might stay the plague on the southern bank of the river, and\nspare the country of his people. His prayer was heard, and the terrible\nscourge forbore to cross the water.\n\nColumba was now twenty-five years of age, and his friends and kinsmen\nearnestly desired that he should found a church and monastery in their\nown country. His cousin the Prince of Ailech even offered him a piece\nof land on the northern coast, but Columba was deaf to their\nentreaties. His master, St. Mobhi, had given him no permission to\nfound; and without it, so great was his reverence for the holy old man,\nhe would take no steps in the matter. But Mobhi had fallen a victim to\nthe pestilence and was sick unto death. One of his last acts was to\nsend messengers in search of his beloved disciple, to take him his\nblessing and his girdle in token that the time had come for him to\nfound his monastery.\n\nThe spot that Ailech had offered to Columba was altogether after his\nown heart and was now most gratefully accepted. The so-called \"island\"\nof Derry or Daire, surrounded as it was on two sides by the Foyle\nwater and on the third by a marsh, consisted of a gently rising green\nhill, crowned on the summit with a beautiful wood of oaks. So dear was\nthe oak grove of Derry to Columbcille, that rather than cut down one of\nits trees, he preferred to build his church in the space that remained\nbetween them.\n\nThe cells of the monks were placed at the foot of the hill by the\nwater's edge, and it was not long before the young men of Tir-Connell\ncame flocking to Daire to give themselves to the service of God under\nthe rule of their young kinsman.\n\nIt was in this beloved church of Derry that it was given so often to\nColumba to behold the angels adoring their Lord on His altar throne,\nand to hear the melody of their voices as they sang the eternal song of\npraise.\n\nPrayer, labour, and study divided the hours of the day, and young as\nwas the abbot, the hand that governed, though gentle, was very firm.\nColumba had learnt from his holy masters in the spiritual life to lead\nhis monks by example even more than by precept. He slept on the bare\nground, with a skin for covering and a stone for pillow. Three times in\nthe night he rose to pray, and his food was of the scantiest and\npoorest description. \"Though my devotion is great,\" he would say, \"I\nsit in a chair of glass, for I am frail and fleshly.\" No work was too\nmenial for him, and he would carry the sacks of grain on his strong\nshoulders from the mill to the kitchen like the humblest brother. His\nausterities were the admiration of his monks, who strove in all things\nto follow the example set before them.\n\nOf all the foundations of Columba, and we are told of no less than\nthirty-seven, Derry was the one that remained always the dearest to his\nheart, and many of the sweet songs of his making celebrate its praises.\n\n    The reason I love Daire is\n    For its peace and its purity,\n    And for its crowds of white angels\n    From one end to the other.\n\n    My Daire, my little oak grove,\n    My dwelling, my dear little cell;\n    O Eternal God in Heaven above,\n    Woe be to him who violates it,\n\nsings the Saint in the soft Erse or Gaelic of his native land. \"On\nevery leaf of the oaks of Derry,\" he would say, \"there sits a white\nangel listening to the brethren as they sing the praises of God.\"\n\nThe dear oak trees of Derry were never to be cut down, and if one were\nuprooted by the storm it was to lie for nine days before it was divided\nbetween the poor and the guest-house of the monastery.\n\nThere was a hamlet on the northern side of the hill, and a hundred poor\nwere fed every day by the monks of Derry. Once during a thunderstorm\nsome of the wretched little houses caught tire. The people hastened to\nColumba, who went at once to the church. There with outstretched arms\nhe poured forth his soul in supplication before the altar, and the fire\nceased at his prayer.\n\nA fragment of the rule in use amongst the old Celtic monasteries has\nbeen preserved, in which we can see the spirit of the monks of\nColumba's time:\n\n\"Yield submission to every rule--that is devotion.\n\n\"A mind prepared for red martyrdom--that is death for the faith.\n\n\"A mind fortified and steadfast for white martyrdom--that is the trials\nand mortifications and crosses of earthly life.\n\n\"Forgiveness from the heart to everyone.\n\n\"Constant prayers for those who trouble thee.\n\n\"Love God with all thy heart and all thy strength, and love thy\nneighbour as thyself.\"\n\nStrong and simple, like the saints of the time, to whom the \"red\nmartyrdom\" might come at any moment, and to whose fiery natures the\nforgiveness of injuries was not always the easiest of precepts.\n\nBut Derry, with its oak grove and its angels, was not the only spot\nthat was dear to Columba.\n\nForemost in his affections amongst the other religious houses of his\nfounding was Durrow--in Irish Dair-nagh, or the plain of oaks. It was\nalso known as Druin-Cain, or \"the beautiful hill,\" and well did it\ndeserve its name. The land, as was the case with so many of the old\nmonasteries, had been given to Columba by a reigning prince, probably a\nkinsman of his own. Of Durrow the story is told that there was in the\norchard of the monastery an apple tree noted for the abundance as well\nas the bitterness of its fruit. But Columbcille blessed the tree, and\nthenceforward, says the old chronicle, its apples became sweet and good.\n\nWhile Columba was at Durrow he wrote the celebrated copy of the Gospels\nknown as the \"Book of Durrow.\" An ardent lover of the Sacred\nScriptures, and a skilful and patient scribe, he is said to have\nwritten with his own hand no less than thirty copies of the Gospels and\nthe Psalter. The \"Book of Durrow\" is a transcription of the four\nGospels, exquisitely illuminated with the intricate designs of the\nCeltic school. On the back is to be deciphered a petition for prayers\nfrom \"Columba the scribe, who wrote this evangel in the space of twelve\ndays.\"\n\nThe poet-saint could sing the charms of Durrow as well as those of\nDerry:\n\n    There the wind sings through the oaks and the elms,\n    The joyous note of the blackbird is heard at dawn,\n    The cuckoo chants from tree to tree in that noble land.\n\nAnd again he calls it:\n\n    A city devout with its hundred crosses,\n    Without blemish and without transgression.\n\nIn the years to come, when Columba was in Iona, one cold winter's day\nthe brethren noticed that their beloved abbot was sad and silent.\n\n\"What ails you, Father?\" asked Diarmaid, his faithful companion.\n\n\"My soul is sorrowful,\" said Columbcille, \"for my dear monks of Durrow.\nBitter is the weather, and their abbot keeps them hard at work, fasting\nand a-cold.\"\n\nAt the same moment Laisren, the abbot of Durrow, felt a sudden\ninspiration to bid his monks get their dinner, and take a little rest,\non account of the severity of the weather. Another day about the same\ntime, when the monks of Durrow were building their new church, Columba\nin his cell at Iona saw one of them falling from the roof. He cried to\nGod for help, and his guardian angel--such is the flashlike speed of an\nangel's flight--caught the monk ere he touched the ground.\n\nMore famous even than the \"Book of Durrow\" is the celebrated \"Book of\nKells,\" the most wonderful monument of the art of the Sixth Century\nthat has come down to us. It was written also by the hand of\nColumbcille for Kells, his third foundation, though some of the\nillustrations were probably added at a later date.\n\nThe story runs that not long after the foundation of Durrow, Columba\nwent to Kells, one of the royal seats of Diarmaid, High King of\nIreland. Now Diarmaid belonged to the southern branch of the Hy-Nialls\nand was regarded by the northern branch with no great favour. When\nColumba arrived the King was absent, and the Saint was treated with\nscant ceremony by the soldiers of the royal guard, to whom he was\nprobably a stranger. When Diarmaid returned and heard of the insult\nthat had been offered in his royal palace to the greatest and most\nbeloved of the Saints of Erin, one of the royal blood and his own\ncousin, he was ready to make atonement by any means in his power. He\noffered to give Columba Kells itself and the surrounding country for\nthe founding of a monastery and a church.\n\nIt is possible that Diarmaid, whose seat on the throne was anything but\nsecure at the time, was not unmoved by the thought that the powerful\nclan of the Hy-Nialls of Tir-Connell would not be slow in avenging the\ninsult to one of their clan. However that may be, Columba accepted the\ngift with gratitude, and so the monastery and the church of Kells came\nto be built.\n\nThe great Gospel of Columbcille, or the \"Book of Kells,\" has been the\nadmiration of all ages. The patience and the delicate skill required\nfor such an undertaking is to be wondered at. Certainly the old monks\nbelieved that if a thing were worth doing at all it was worth doing\nwell, particularly if that thing happened to be a copy of the Gospels\nof Christ.\n\nThe untiring zeal and the labours of Columba had indeed brought forth\nfruit throughout the whole country. His friends and kinsfolk were\ngenerous, and churches and monasteries built by the Saint and owning\nhim as their patron and head sprang up in every direction. Derry,\nDurrow, Kells, Raphoe, Sords, Drumcliff, Kilmacrenan, Drumcolumb,\nGlencolumbcille are but a few of his foundations. More than ever might\nit have been said of St. Columba that he was beloved of God and of man.\n\nBut God shows His love for His Saints in ways which are not the ways of\nmen, and the chastening fires of sorrow and of suffering were to purify\nthat ardent and impulsive nature. The haughty spirit of the descendant\nof Niall of the Nine Hostages had yet to be conformed to that of his\ngreat Master Who is meek and humble of heart.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE COW AND THE CALF\n\nWE have already spoken of the pilgrimage to Rome of St. Finnian of\nMoville, and of the treasure that he had brought back with him from\nover the sea--a copy of the Scriptures translated and corrected by the\nhand of the great St. Jerome himself. Columba, when at Moville, must\noften have seen and perhaps even have handled the precious volume. In\nlater days, so great was his desire that each of his monasteries should\nhave its copy of the Word of God, that he would seek out and transcribe\nwith his own hand all the most carefully written and most authentic\nmanuscripts to be found in Ireland.\n\nThe love of these old books, regarded by the Saints of Ireland as their\nmost precious treasure, amounted almost to a passion with Columba, so\nthat we are hardly surprised to find him journeying to Moville to ask\npermission from his old master to make a copy of his rare and valuable\nmanuscript. But he was met by an unexpected rebuff; St. Finnian guarded\nhis treasure with a jealous eye, and feared to trust it in any hands\nbut his own. He firmly refused the request of his old pupil, and no\nentreaties of Columba could move him from his decision. But the\ndetermination of Columbcille was equal to his own, and he resolved to\nobtain the object of his desire in spite of St. Finnian's prohibition.\n\nHe waited until all had gone to rest, and then, armed with parchment\nand pigments, went softly to the church, where the precious book was\nkept. Night after night, in spite of weary hand and eye, he laboured at\nhis self-imposed task until the day broke, and men began to stir. To\nundertake the transcription of the whole book would have been an\nimpossibility, working thus secretly in the night; he therefore\nconfined himself to copying the Psalter. To Columba, poet as he was by\nnature, the psalms of the \"sweet singer of Israel\" were particularly\nclear, and the wording of the new version gave the force and the melody\nof the original more perfectly than any rendering up till then in use.\n\nThe lonely vigils in the church passed quickly, in spite of the\nweariness that assailed but could not daunt the enthusiastic scribe.\nOne night, one of the scholars of Moville, happening to pass the door\nof the church, was astonished to see a bright light shining through the\ncrevices of the door. He stooped and looked through the keyhole.\nKeyholes as well as keys were on a large scale in the sixth century,\nand he obtained a good view of the interior, and of Columba bending\nover the reading desk with a pile of parchment before him, copying with\nskilful hand the treasure of Moville. The whole chancel was shining\nwith a brilliant light which fell directly across the page on which the\nwriter was at work.\n\nThe young man, awestruck at the sight, crept softly away, and warned\nhis master of what was taking place. St. Finnian knew Columba's skill\nin transcription. He made no move until the Psalter was completed, and\nhis old pupil was preparing to depart. Then he accused his guest of\nhaving taken a copy of his book without his permission and against his\nwill, and claimed the work as his rightful property.\n\nThis was to touch Columba in a tender spot. His nocturnal labours had\ncost him many weary vigils, but he had borne the weariness gladly for\nthe sake of the prize--to give up the fruit of so much toil was more\nthan could be expected of him. He flatly refused to yield to Finnian's\nclaim. The old man was determined; Columba was firm; neither would give\nway. It was agreed in the end to appeal to the King at Tara, and to\nhold his judgment as final. Diarmaid might be considered as a fit judge\nin such a matter. The friend and patron of the great monastery of\nClonmacnoise, founded by Ciaran in his presence and with his help, the\nKing was looked upon by all the Saints of Ireland as their friend.\nMoreover, he was Columba's own cousin, and had treated him on a former\noccasion with reverence and consideration. Columba himself had no doubt\nthat the judgment would be in his favour, and went readily at Finnian's\nsuggestion to lay the matter before him.\n\nBut Diarmaid's position on the throne was more secure than it had been\nin former days. He may have thought that he had less reason to fear the\nenmity of the Hy-Nialls of Tir-Connell. He had heard much of the\nsanctity of Columba, and may have supposed that in spite of his high\nlineage he would be ready to bear with patience an adverse judgment. He\nmay have been actuated by the old enmity between the two branches of\nthe family; or he may have decided according to his own conscience as\nhe thought right and just. Be that as it may, the judgment came as a\nthunderclap to Columbcille.\n\n\"To every cow,\" said the King, \"belongs its own calf.\" Since the copy\nof Columba was the \"son-book\" of the manuscript of Moville, it belonged\nby rights to its mother, and therefore to Finnian.\n\nColumba's indignation knew no bounds. The judgment was unfair and\nunjust, he declared; Diarmaid should bear the penalty. With dashing\neyes and burning heart he turned his back on King and courtiers, and\nstrode from the royal presence.\n\nHe was now a man with a grievance, who considered that he had been most\nunjustly treated, but the resentment which was as yet but smouldering\nin his heart was soon to be fanned into a flame.\n\nIt came to pass that Diarmaid made a great feast at Court and invited\nall the princes and nobles of Erin to attend. Games were held for\nseveral days in the green meadows of Tara, that the young athletes\nmight show their skill in wrestling. Now brawling and quarrelling at\nthese royal games had been strictly forbidden by the King on account of\nthe serious accidents that had happened on former occasions. But the\nblood of young Ireland was hot and undisciplined, and in a moment of\nanger, Curnan, the heir of the Prince of Connaught, struck the son of\nthe King's steward and felled him to the ground. The act was altogether\nunpremeditated, but the blow had struck the lad in a vital spot; when\nthey tried to raise him, they found that he was dead. Young Curnan\ndared not face the wrath of Diarmaid, and fled for protection to\nColumba, who was his kinsman.\n\nIt was an acknowledged thing that an abbot or the founder of a\nreligious house had the right to give sanctuary even to great\ncriminals, and the claim was universally respected. But Diarmaid was\nvery angry and sent messengers who dragged the boy from the very\npresence of Columba and`put him to death on the spot.\n\nThis fresh insult was more than Columbcille could bear. The rights of\nthe Church had been violated in his person. His own people, the\nHy-Nialls of the north, should judge between him and Diarmaid, he\ndeclared, and set forth on his journey northwards, breathing vengeance\nas he went. The King himself was not a little apprehensive as to what\nmight be the results of his arbitrary action; he stationed guards on\nall the roads that led northwards, and even tried to detain the\nfugitive in prison. But Columbcille successfully evaded the traps\nthat had been set to catch him, and by a lonely path across the\nmountains went his way to Tir-Connell. As he journeyed he sang a song\nof confidence in the God in whom he trusted to protect the right.\n\n    I am alone upon the mountain\n    Do Thou, O God, protect my path.\n    Then shall I have no fear,\n    Though six thousand men were against me.\n    What protection shall guard thee from death?\n    The Son of Mary shall cause thee to prosper.\n    The King who has made our bodies\n    He it is in whom I believe.\n    My Lord is Christ the Son of God,\n    Christ, the Son of Mary, the great abbot,\n    Father, Son and Holy Ghost.\n\nSo singing he went speedily and in safety to his own country, where he\nrecounted his wrongs to the men of his own race.\n\nAedh, Prince of Connaught, the father of the lad who had been so\ncruelly put to death, was already preparing for vengeance. The chiefs\nof Tir-Connell joined him, hot in Columba's cause. The men who gathered\nto avenge the insult made a formidable army, and Diarmaid on his side\nlost no time in gathering his forces for battle.\n\nThe encounter took place at Cuil-dreimhne, between Balbulbin Mountain\nand the sea, and the fight was long and bloody. Columba, say some of\nthe old writers, was himself present, and prayed with outstretched arms\nfor the victory of his people.\n\nThree thousand of Diarmaid's men fell on the field of battle, while the\nlosses of the Hy-Nialls of the north, such was the efficacy of the\nprayers of Columbcille, were comparatively slight. The victory was\ncomplete, but Diarmaid was not the man to take his defeat meekly.\n\nHe appealed to the Church to judge the conduct of Columba. Did it seem\nright and good, he asked, that a priest and an abbot, the founder of\nreligious houses, and one who had dedicated his life to the service of\nChrist, should have provoked a bloody war which had been the death of\nthousands of innocent men? The churchmen looked grave. The case thus\nstated did not promise well for Columba.\n\nHe was the friend of all: the zeal and fervour of his life, the charity\nand generosity of his heart were known throughout the length and\nbreadth of Erin. There was but one weak point in that noble nature--the\nhaughty spirit that had come to him with the hot blood of the\nHy-Nialls; and certainly he had been sorely tried by circumstances.\nYet--the fact was incontestable--his conduct as an abbot and as a\npriest was open to the gravest censure. He was ordered to appear before\nan ecclesiastical council which was summoned to meet at Teilte in the\nheart of the King's domains to hear the judgment that should be\npronounced upon him by the Saints of Erin.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nA BITTER PENANCE\n\nMANY of the holiest men in Ireland were present at the Synod of Teilte.\nSt. Enda of Aran had passed from his life of penance to the glory which\nis eternal; but St. Brendan of Birr, and probably his namesake the\nBishop of Clonfert, with his assistant St. Moinen, Oena of\nClonmacnoise, successor of the saintly Ciaran, and St. Kevin of\nGlendalough, formed part of the Council.\n\nWhen Columba was seen approaching in the distance, St. Brendan of Birr\nalone arose and went forward to receive him. The Fathers objected to\nhis action. It was not fitting, they said, that one who was under the\ngrave censure of the Church should be greeted with marks of deference\nand honour.\n\n\"If you saw what I see,\" replied the holy Brendan, \"you would hasten to\ndo likewise. I see Columba, as he climbs the hill, surrounded by a\ncolumn of light, and angels going before and after him. I bow before\nthe Hand of God which destines him to convert a whole nation to the\nfaith of Christ.\"\n\nHis words made a powerful impression on the assembly, for the wisdom of\nBrendan was known to all; and there was a deep silence as Columba\nentered.\n\nAfter a short pause one of the elders arose and stated the case in\nwords that were brief and simple. Columba, he said, was under the\ncensure of his brethren for having stirred up strife in the King's\ndominions, which had led to a fierce and bloody battle.\n\n\"The King's behaviour was unjust,\" replied Columba, \"and it is hard for\na man to bear injustice patiently.\"\n\n\"Truly, as you say,\" answered the speaker, \"it is hard for a man to\nbear injustice; yet judge yourself if it is more fitting that one who\nhas dedicated his life to the service of Christ should bear injuries\npatiently, or that he should avenge them at the point of the sword.\" He\nwent on to speak of the duties of a Christian and of a priest; of the\ninsults and humiliations offered to Jesus Christ, their Master and\ntheir model. The words were of one who had himself striven and\nconquered--of one who had a right to speak. The silence deepened, for\nthe Spirit of God was with him.\n\nAlone in their midst stood Columba, but his head was bowed upon his\nbreast, and the grey eyes that had dashed so stormily at the Court of\nTara were dim with tears. The cry that burst from his heart when the\nold man ceased to speak was the cry of another great penitent--one who\nin spite of human frailty had deserved to be called a \"man after God's\nown heart.\"\n\n\"Against Thee only have I sinned and done this evil in Thy sight: For I\nacknowledge my fault, and my sin is ever before me.\"\n\nThe fault had been great, but the sincerity of the repentance was\nevident to all.\n\n\"Go in peace,\" was the verdict of the Council, \"and for every man that\nfell on the field of Cuil-dreimhne win a soul to the faith of Christ.\"\n\nSentence had been given, but Columba was not content. He had grieved\nthat Lord Who from his childhood had been the sole love of his heart,\nand no penance was great enough to satisfy him. Moreover the fate of\nthe men who had fallen at Cuil-dreimhne was an intolerable burden on\nhis soul. Through his fault they had been hurried--perhaps altogether\nunprepared--before the judgment-seat of God. The thought that they\nmight be lost for all eternity was a perpetual torture to him, and he\nwent from one to another of the Saints of Erin seeking advice and help.\n\nIn due time he went to St. Abban, like himself a monk, and the founder\nof many religious houses. Men called him the \"Peacemaker,\" such was his\npower over turbulent and violent men. Not long before, he had gone\nalone and unarmed to meet one of the fiercest barbarians of the land,\nthe heathen chief of a reigning clan, and the terror of the surrounding\ncountry. Such was the influence of Abban that the marauder laid down\nhis arms, and became in course of time not only a Christian, but also a\nmonk of exceptionally holy life.\n\nColumba found St. Abban in the Church of one of his religious\nfoundations, known amongst the people as the \"Cell of Tears\" on account\nof the contrition of the penitents who frequented it. He besought the\nholy abbot to pray for the souls of those who through his fault had met\ntheir death, and the thought of whose fate had destroyed his peace. He\nentreated Abban also to pray to God that He would reveal to him through\nthe angel who spoke to him continually of the things of heaven, whether\nthey were saved or lost.\n\nThe humility of the holy abbot would not allow him for a long time to\naccede to this last request; but in the end, so moved was he by the\nanguish of Columba, that he fell on his knees and implored of God to\ngive this comfort to a soul in pain. The knowledge that he asked was\ngiven him; he returned with great joy to his visitor to tell him that,\nthrough the infinite mercy of God, the souls of all who had fallen on\nthat fatal day had been saved. The chief solicitude of Columba was now\nat rest, but the future was not yet clear before him. How was he to\nmould his life that the days to come might be an atonement for the\nfault that was past? He had learnt his own weakness, he must lean more\nthan ever on the Strength that cannot fail, and the desire for a more\nperfect expiation was strong in his heart. He determined to seek out\nSt. Molaise, his \"soul's friend,\" in the lonely isle of Inishmurry and\nto ask his counsel.\n\nSt. Molaise knew well the character of his penitent. The penance that\nwould satisfy that great heart must be full and complete. To Columba\nthe love of country came next to the love of God; the decision was\ntaken ere the penitent had ceased to speak.\n\nIt had been decreed, said he, by the Synod that Columba was to win to\nthe faith of Christ as many men as had perished at the battle of\nCuil-dreimhne. Let him do so; but that the atonement might be more\nperfect let him go forth from his own people and his own land, and\nnever look upon the hills of Erin again.\n\nColumba bowed his head before the sentence. \"It shall be done,\" he\nanswered, and none but God was to know what the doing cost him. It only\nremained to break the news to his friends and kinsfolk. A wail of\nsorrow rang through Tir-Connell at the tidings.\n\nIt is not surprising that the land of Alba over the sea suggested\nitself at once to Columba as the place of his exile. The little kingdom\nof Dalriada on the Argyllshire coast was ruled by one of his own\nkinsmen, and reports of the condition of the surrounding country had\npossibly reached his ears. The Christianity introduced by St. Ninian\ntwo hundred years before had almost disappeared. The ruling chiefs were\ncompletely under the influence of the Druids, and heathenism and\nidolatry were supreme throughout the land. There his apostolic spirit\nwould be able to find ample scope. We are told by some of the old\nwriters that the thought of a missionary journey to Caledonia had been\nfor years one of his dearest projects. If that were so, the time had\nnow come to put it into execution.\n\nColumba chose the companions who were to share in his great undertaking\nfrom amongst the monks of Derry. Two cousins of his own, Baithen, who\nwas to succeed him in after years as abbot of Iona, and his brother\nCobthach, were amongst the number. But the disciple who loved him the\nmost was Mochonna, son of the King of Ulster, whom Columba considered\ntoo young for an enterprise that involved so many dangers, and to whose\nentreaties he refused to yield. It was not fitting, said he, that the\nyoung monk should leave the country of his birth and the parents to\nwhom he was so dear; but Mochonna would not be gainsaid.\n\n\"Thou,\" he cried, \"art the father of my soul, and Holy Church is my\nmother, and my country is the spot where I can work most fruitfully for\nChrist.\"\n\nThen, that it might be impossible for his beloved master to leave him\nbehind, he made a vow before all who were present to quit his native\nland and to follow Columba to the death. It was in this wise that the\ndetermined and devoted Mochonna overcame all opposition and obtained\nhis heart's desire. He was to become one of the most active and zealous\nof the little band of missionaries, in Alba, where he was venerated for\nmany centuries under the name of St. Machor, as the patron and founder\nof the See of Aberdeen.\n\nThus, with only twelve companions, in the wicker-work \"curraghs\"\ncovered with oxhide that were the only boats of the Celtic races at the\ntime, the future apostle of Scotland set sail from his native land. A\ngreat crowd, gathered from all the surrounding country, stood on the\nshore, and as the light skiffs sped out into the sea, and the green\nhill of Derry faded slowly from the eyes of the mariners, the sound of\na bitter wailing was borne to them on the breeze. The best beloved of\nthe Saints of Erin had left her, and she mourned for him as one lost to\nher for ever.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE ISLE IN THE WESTERN SEAS\n\nIT must have taken the little band of missionaries, even if the wind\nwere in their favour, fully a day to make the coast of \"Calyddon\" or\n\"the Land of Forests,\" as Scotland was then called by the Britons south\nof the Clyde.\n\nThey landed first, we are told, on the island of Oronsay, but on\nclimbing a hill to look out over the waste of waters, Columba caught\nsight of the far faint coast of Ireland lying like a blue cloud on the\nhorizon. It was more than he could bear, and the mariners put out to\nsea again, sailing northwards till they reached the little island of Hy\nor Iona, off the coast of Mull. (Hy or Hii means \"the island\"; Iona\n\"the blessed island.\") The bay where they landed still bears the name\nof Port'a Curraigh or \"the Bay of the Wicker Boat.\" No trace of the\nhills of Erin was to be seen from the low-lying rocks of Iona, nothing\nbut the blue mountains and the dark crags of the Hebrides and the\nwhite-capped waves of the sea. Here, therefore, the ambassadors of\nChrist resolved to build their little monastery and to make their home.\n\nIt was a happy choice. No better quarters could have been found for a\nmissionary station. Iona, separated only by a narrow channel from the\nisland of Mull, lay exactly opposite to the friendly kingdom of\nDalriada, and the missionaries had only to sail up the chain of lochs,\nnow united by artificial means and called the Caledonian Canal, to find\nthemselves in the heathen country of the Picts. The weird and austere\nbeauty of the Hebrides with their wild rocks and foaming seas did not\nat first appeal to the Gaels of Ireland, fresh from the green hills and\nsmiling landscapes of their native land. The bare crags and the dark\nmountains, the grey skies and the hollow waves that beat perpetually on\nthose bleak shores,\n\n    and bring\n    The eternal note of sadness in,\n\nthe wailing of the wind through the caves and the narrow channels\nfretted into weird shapes by the ocean tide, made a music which was\nalien to their ears, and strangely melancholy to their warm Irish\nhearts. Again and again the passionate note of longing for the dear\nmother-country breaks out in the writings of Columba.\n\n    'Twere sweet to sail the white waves that break on the shores of Erin,\n    'Twere sweet to land 'mid the white foam that laps on the shores of\n        Erin,\n    My boat would fly were its prow once tumed to the dear land of Erin,\n    And the sad heart cease to bleed.\n\n    There's a grey eye that ever turns with longing look to Erin,\n    No more in life again to see the men and maids of Erin.\n    There's a mist of tears in the melting eye that sadly turns to Erin,\n    Where the birds' songs are so sweet.\n\nHy, he calls the \"land of ravens\"; it was only after many years that he\nwas to sing of the place of his exile as\n\n    Hy of my love, Hy of my heart,\n\ndear then as the land of his labours and of his apostolate for Christ,\nand very close in his affections to the country of his birth.\n\nThe poet-heart of Columbcille could sing of his regret for the island\nof his birth; but he was not the man to let it interfere with his work\nfor God in the island of his adoption. Iona consisted for the most part\nof barren and desert moor. Columba asked and obtained it as a gift from\nConal, King of the Dalriadan Scots, and set his monks at once to\ncultivate the soil. The huts of the brethren were built in a circle\nround the church, with a guest-house and a simple refectory adjoining.\nThe building was of wood and wattles, and the work proceeded rapidly.\nThe hut of Columba was in the most elevated spot of the monastic\nenclosure, and here, during the short intervals between his missionary\njourneys, he spent his time in prayer, study, and the transcription of\nthe Holy Scriptures. Iona had its writing school for the training of\nthe younger monks, and became famous later for the excellence of its\nscribes. Adamnan in his Life of St. Columba mentions the scriptorium\nwith its waxen tablets and the styles for writing, the inkhorns and the\npens, with the brushes and the colours for illuminating the manuscripts.\n\nIn all the labours of the day Columba took his part; no work was too\nhumble for the holy abbot, and he exacted from others the same cheerful\ndiligence as he himself practised. No one was allowed to be idle, there\nwas work enough for all, and each was expected to take his share. When\nthe manual labours were ended for the day, the monks betook themselves\nto prayer, reading, or writing, while the less expert could always\nemploy themselves in works of charity for the common good. Even while\nthe brethren were engaged in active labour, they strove to occupy their\nminds with thoughts of God, so that their work might be hallowed by\nprayer and bring its blessings on their mission. When the toils of the\nday were at an end they took their rest on their hard pallets of straw;\nbut Columba slept on the bare ground with a stone for pillow, as had\nbeen his custom from his earliest years.\n\nThe rule of a Celtic community recommended hospitality to guests as\nstrongly as personal austerity, and nowhere was this rule more\nfaithfully observed than at Iona. No sooner were the monks settled in\ntheir new home, than pilgrims came from every quarter to ask counsel of\nColumba or to embrace the religious life under his direction. The holy\nabbot, who sought in every action of his life to make atonement by true\nhumility for the movement of pride that had cost him so dear, would go\nhimself to meet them. Kneeling before them he would loosen their\nsandals and wash their feet, which he kissed with reverent devotion;\nperforming for them, in imitation of his Divine Master, this lowliest\nof services. At every hour of the day or night shouts might be heard\nacross the narrow channel that divided Iona from the island of Mull. At\nthis signal the brethren would leave their work to go down to the shore\nwhere, stepping into their \"curraghs,\" they would row across the Sound\nto fetch the pilgrims.\n\nSome of these were merely moved by a desire to see and speak to the\nholy man whose fame had already reached their ears. Some were in need\nof advice, some of material help. Some had a load of sin and sorrow on\ntheir souls, and desired the Saint's absolution; some were suffering\nfrom diseases, and sought his prayers and blessing; while others wished\nto leave the world and join the brethren in their life of penance.\nThere was no sorrow to which the loving sympathy of Columbcille did not\nextend, no necessity which did not appeal to his charity. He dealt with\nthem all in turn, and gave to each according to his need.\n\nIt was on one of these occasions that Columba, engaged at the moment in\ntranscribing the Scriptures, foretold sadly that one of the pilgrims\nwho was heard shouting lustily on the seashore, would shortly upset his\ninkhorn. The visitor, a too enthusiastic admirer, in his eagerness to\nembrace the Saint, fulfilled the prediction to the letter. Luckily the\nsleeve of Columba's tunic was the only thing that suffered. He had\nprobably put the precious manuscript in a place of safety.\n\nHe was careful with those who desired to embrace the religious life,\nand would make trial of their vocation with wise severity. He knew well\nthat in those wild days it was no uncommon thing for men who had led\nevil lives to desire to make atonement for their sins in a monastery.\nGiven that the repentance were sincere, he wholly approved their\ndesign, for many of the Saints of the Church have been converted\nsinners. But he knew also the weakness of human nature and the strength\nof the evil habits of a lifetime, and demanded that such penitents\nshould go through a long probation and prove their sincerity by\nhumility and obedience to those in charge of them before they were\nadmitted to the religious life.\n\nFor these would-be monks he founded communities on some of the\nneighbouring islands, where wise and saintly men might try their virtue\nby a probation which lasted sometimes for seven years or even longer\nwhen necessary.\n\nOn one occasion when Columba was visiting one of these foundations on\nthe island of Himba, he ordered that in honour of his presence, some\nsavoury addition should be made to the frugal midday meal. The brethren\ngratefully partook of the holiday fare in the spirit in which it was\ngiven--with one exception. This was one of the penitents who was\nundergoing his probation and who seemed to think it more perfect to\nrefuse the proffered dainty. Columba with kindly insistence offered the\ndish with his own hands to the reluctant brother, and pressed him to\npartake of it, thinking that some scruple might be distressing him. But\nhe was met with an abrupt refusal. For a moment Columbcille was silent,\nthen looking at the man sternly he said: \"You refuse the comfort which\nI and your superior think it right to offer you. The time will come\nwhen you will become a thief again as you were of old, and will steal\nvenison for your own pleasure in the forests of your native place.\" The\nprophecy was fulfilled. Not long after, the man returned to his evil\nlife, and died unrepentant in his own country.\n\nIn spite of these precautions the community at Iona increased so\nrapidly that the island soon became too small to hold it, and little\nbands of devoted men were sent forth to found other monasteries on the\nmainland, to spread the faith and love of Christ. There are more than\nninety churches in Scotland that can trace their foundation to the time\nof Columba; and each church, according to the custom of the time, had\nits neighbouring monastery.\n\nThe first missionary journey of Columba was to the Scots of Dalriada.\nThey were Christians it is true, but living as they did surrounded on\nall sides by a heathen population, they were apt to be influenced more\nor less by the customs of their neighbours. It was necessary that\nfriendly relations should be established with these men, themselves\noriginally of Irish extraction, before attempting the conversion of the\nPicts. The monks of Iona were hardy mariners as well as tillers of the\nsoil. The holy island had its little fleet of curraghs which varied in\nsize according to the number of ox-hides used in their construction. In\nthese frail barks the missionaries would brave the stormy seas of the\nHebrides and all the dangers of the deep, secure in their trust in God\nand the prayers of their holy abbot. There were sharks, and whales too,\non the coasts of Caledonia in those days, and the curraghs were small\nprotection against such monsters; but the hearts of the mariners were\nstout and their faith was strong. They sailed northwards to far St.\nKilda and the Orkney and Shetland Isles, where the ruins are still to\nbe seen of churches which they founded.\n\nThe holy abbot would take his turn at the oars with the rest, and when\nhe was not with the missioners on their travels would follow them in\nspirit from his cell at Iona, shielding and protecting them by his\nprayers. He knew by the supernatural light that God had given him when\nthey were in danger, and suffered with them in all the hardships they\nendured. The interests of the last and least of them were as dear to\nhim as his own. Small wonder then that the memory of the holy life\nlived more than thirteen hundred years ago is fragrant and living\nstill, and that the name of Columba is cherished in the land of his\nadoption even to the present day.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE APOSTLE OF SCOTLAND\n\nIN the mountain fastnesses of Caledonia beyond the Grampian Hills,\nlived a wild and hardy race of men known to their British neighbours as\nthe Picts or \"Painted People.\" The name had originally been bestowed on\nthem by the Romans in allusion to their habit of going into battle with\ntheir bodies tattooed all over with strange devices. They were a brave\nand warlike tribe, who had resisted the landing of Agricola and his\nlegions, and after several pitched battles had driven the Roman eagles\ntriumphantly before them to the sea. In later days they became the\nterror of the Britons of Strathclyde and Northumbria, descending upon\nthem in wild hordes and raiding their country without mercy. These men\nwere the original ancestors of the Highlanders of Scotland, in whom the\ncourage and the fighting spirit, typical of the race, have survived\nthrough all the vicissitudes of their country, and who to this day are\nacknowledged to be the bravest and hardiest of the soldiers of the\nEmpire.\n\nIt was to this people, like himself of Celtic origin, that Columba was\nto carry the priceless gift of the faith, entering with a handful of\nunarmed men into the heart of the country which the Roman legions had\nfeared to penetrate. Brude or Bmidh, the Pictish King, was entrenched\nin his fortress on a rocky hill near the site of Inverness. The little\nband of missionaries wound their way up the hill, chanting as they went\na psalm of confidence in God. At their head was Columba, bearing aloft\nthe cross. The tidings of their approach was brought to the Pictish\nKing, who ordered that the gates of the fortress should be barred\nagainst them and admittance refused.\n\nBroichem, the high-priest of the Druids, the foster-father and chief\nadviser of King Brude, was probably responsible for the order, for, the\nChristians once admitted, he feared that his influence would be no\nlonger supreme. Columba, however, was not in the least daunted by this\ninhospitable reception. He made the sign of the Cross before the barred\ngates and struck them strongly with his clenched fist. Bolts and bars\nshot back at his touch, and silently the great gates rolled open to\ngive the Saint and his companions passage. The King, who had seen the\nmarvel together with all his Court, was struck with fear, and went to\nmeet Columba with fair and peaceful words. From henceforth he treated\nhim with reverence and courtesy, confirming to him the gift of Iona,\nwhich might be considered to lie as much in his territory as in that of\nthe Dalriadan king, and remaining throughout his lifetime a true friend\nand protector.\n\nIt was not until some time later that he became a Christian, but the\nDruids could foresee the results of his friendly intercourse with the\nmissionaries, and resolved not to lose their influence without a\nstruggle. Their bitter enmity was to follow Columba for years, and to\nbe the chief hindrance to his work amongst the Picts.\n\nThe religion of the Druids of Caledonia differed in some degree from\nthat of the Druids of Britain. The people were taught to worship the\nsun, the rivers and the forests. Certain of the streams and wells which\nwere, said the Druid priests, under the influence of a beneficent\nspirit, were wholesome and good to drink, while to taste of others\nwhich they declared to be under the rule of evil spirits, would be\nfollowed by instant death.\n\nThe first thing to be done was to convince the people of the falsity of\ntheir belief and to make them cease the idolatrous practices connected\nwith it. Columba drank in their presence of the water that was supposed\nto be deadly, to prove to them that no evil effects would follow. The\nDruids pursued him wherever he went, interrupting him continually in\nhis preaching, holding him up to the derision of the people, and\nmisrepresenting what he said. Columba bore all their insults with\npatience; but when it came to trying to drown the missionaries' voices\nin the singing of the psalms of the Church with shouts and mocking\ncries, his zeal for God's glory overcame for once his meekness, and he\nintoned the holy chant in such a voice of thunder that his adversaries\nwere silenced, and the King and his people trembled with fear.\n\nIn spite of the Druids, crowds flocked to hear the preaching of\nColumba, and many were converted to the faith. On one occasion, shortly\nafter the conversion to Christianity of a whole family, the eldest son\nfell ill and died. The Druids were of course at hand to assure the\nsorrowing father that the loss of his child was a well-merited\npunishment indicted by the gods of his country in consequence of his\napostasy. The man's faith wavered, but Columba was watching over his\nconverts; and after doing what he could to console the grief of the\nboy's parents, asked to be left alone beside the bier to pray. With\ntears and entreaties he besought of God to show forth His almighty\npower, and the Heavenly Father heard the prayer of His servant and\nraised the child to life. Columba led him to his parents, and their\nfaith in the true God was confirmed for ever. The prayer of\nColumbcille, says Adamnan his biographer, was as powerful with God as\nthat of Elias and Eliseus in the old law, and Peter, John, and Paul in\nthe new.\n\nOne day when the Saint was preaching the Gospel in the island of Skye,\nhe had one of those flashes of supernatural insight of which we have\nspoken several times before. He told his companions that there would\ncome to them that very day an old Pictish chief who was at the point of\ndeath, and who had tried to lead a good life according to the natural\nlaw of God and the light of his own conscience.\n\nIt happened as he had foretold. Towards evening a boat was seen\napproaching the coast of Skye, manned by Pictish warriors supporting in\ntheir arms an old man whose trappings proclaimed him to be of noble\nbirth. Drawing their boat to the shore, they landed and formed a rude\nlitter with their shields, on which they carried the old chieftain up\nthe hill and laid him down at Columba's feet. The Saint spoke to the\ndying man of the faith of Christ and baptized him, and shortly\nafterwards he gave up his soul to God.\n\nOn another occasion when they were crossing the mountains, Columba saw\na vision of angels, and exhorted his companions to hasten on their way.\n\"For,\" said he, \"there is a man of good and honest life waiting beyond\nthe hills to receive baptism before he dies.\" They quickened their\npace, and when they reached Glen Urquhart, found, as Columba had\npredicted, an old man awaiting their arrival. The holy abbot baptized\nhim and bade him depart in peace, and the angels whom he had seen on\nthe mountains carried his soul to heaven.\n\nThe chief Druid Broichem had a young Irish slave-girl, taken captive in\ntime of war, for whose freedom Columba had several times petitioned.\nThe Druid, who was not likely to look favourably on any request of the\ngreat Christian missionary, even refused to accept the ransom offered\nfor the girl, though she was pining her heart out for her family and\nher home.\n\nColumbcille warned him that if he persistently refused to show mercy to\nhis captive, the punishment of God would overtake him, and he would die\nbefore Columba himself left the country, but Broichem was not to be\nmoved. Not long afterwards Columba set out on his return journey to\nIona, but he had hardly reached Loch Ness when he was overtaken by two\nmessengers from the high-priest beseeching him to take pity on their\nmaster, who had been suddenly taken ill and was in danger of death.\n\nThey were assured that the Druid would recover, but only on condition\nthat he set the Irish maiden at liberty. She was at once sent to\nColumba, who found means for her return to her country and her people.\nAs for Broichem, he was more incensed than ever against the Christians,\nand considered how he could best check their growing influence with the\npeople.\n\nThe Druids seem to have had a certain power over the elements, perhaps\nthrough the evil spirits whom they worshipped. They had heard of and\nseen the miracles worked by Columba, and resolved to show how superior\ntheir powers of magic were to his.\n\nOn the day fixed for the departure of the missionaries, Broichem\nthreatened that he would cause a thick fog and a contrary wind to\narise, so that it would be impossible for them to embark.\n\nThe people were gathered in crowds to bid farewell to Columba, when to\ntheir great consternation the Druid's threat was fulfilled. The fog was\ndense and the unfavourable wind blew stormily. This time at least they\nhad triumphed, or so they thought, and they did not attempt to conceal\ntheir joy.\n\nBut Columba, nothing daunted, bade the mariners spread their sails, and\nthe awe-stricken crowd on the shore beheld the boat flying swiftly\nwestwards to Iona in the teeth of the contrary wind, as if it had been\naltogether in their favour.\n\nThe departure was not to be for long. Again and again Columba revisited\nthe mainland to strengthen and confirm the faith of his converts; and\nin course of time churches and monasteries sprang up amongst the\nforests and the mountains of Caledonia, little strongholds of\nChristianity the beneficent influence of which was soon to penetrate\nthroughout the length and breadth of the land.\n\nColumba had many faithful helpers in his missionary labours. Malruve, a\nkinsman and countryman of his own, soon followed him to Iona to share\nin his work among the Picts. He became abbot of Appercrossan, now\nApplecross, on the north-west coast of Caledonia, and suffered the \"red\nmartyrdom\" some years after the death of Columbcille, at the hands of\nNorwegian pirates. St. Canice, the companion of Columba and Ciaran at\nClonard and Glasnevin, also followed his old friend across the sea. He\nfounded a monastery and a church on the shore of Loch Lagan, and\nanother in Fifeshire. St. Kenneth, as the Scotch called him, was noted\nfor his eloquence and learning, and wrote a commentary on the four\nGospels which was much valued in his day.\n\nDrostan, one of the most beloved of the first companions of Columba,\nwas chosen to govern a monastery founded on the east coast in the\npresent district of Buchan. When he realized that the breadth of\nScotland would henceforward separate him from the brethren whom he\nloved, and the father of his soul, he wept so bitterly that Columba\ndeclared that the new foundation should be called the \"place of tears,\"\nand Dear (Deer) it remains to this day, to prove to us that the\nreligious life has not the effect, as some people suppose, of hardening\nthe hearts and freezing the affections of those who embrace it, but\nasks only that love go hand in hand with sacrifice in order that it may\nbe conformed to the love of Christ.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE CONVENTION OF DRUM-CEATT\n\nCOLUMBA had been eleven years at Iona when Conal, the King of the\nScottish Dalriada, died. He was succeeded by Aidan, his cousin, whose\nlove and veneration for Columbcille led him to choose him for his\n\"soul's friend,\" and to beg him to come himself to place the crown upon\nhis head and to pray that the grace of God might be with him in his\ngoverning. Columba assented to his request, and so it came to pass that\nthe solemn rite of the consecration of a king was performed for the\nfirst time in the British Isles.\n\nAidan was crowned on the famous \"Stone of Destiny\" which was afterwards\nremoved to Scone and was used as the coronation chair for the Kings of\nScotland, until Edward I, \"the Hammer of the Scots,\" carried it away\nand set it up in Westminster Abbey. Perhaps it was as well for the\npeace of mind of the ruthless oppressor that he could not look into the\nfuture, and see how the royal line of Scotland would in course of time\nfollow the Stone of Destiny, and, crowned once more upon it, rule over\nthe United Kingdom.\n\nFor Aidan was the ancestor of Macbeth and Malcolm Canmore, and through\nthe female line, of the Bruces and the Stuarts, while many of the old\nHighland families, such as the Mackenzies, MacKinnons, Mackintoshes,\nMacgregors, Macleans and Macnabs, count their descent from the\nDalriadan kinsmen of Columba.\n\nThe little kingdom had become powerful, and the yearly tribute to\nIreland was galling to the pride of the Scots. They would fain have\ncast off the Irish yoke, and were quite ready to fight for their\nindependence, but Columba bade them have patience, and all would be\nwell. Diarmaid, his old enemy, had died a violent death, and Aedh\nMacAinmire, who was of Columba's own branch of the Hy-Nialls, now sat\non the throne of Ireland: the time seemed ripe for the Saint to use his\ninfluence on behalf of Dalriada.\n\nA large assembly or convention was about to be held at Drum-ceatt near\nDerry, to decide several important questions, some of which interested\nColumba nearly. It was a fitting moment, he thought, to obtain what\nthey desired; and taking the King of Dalriada with him he set sail for\nIreland.\n\nThe chief question which the Irish parliament had met to discuss, was\nthe abolition or the banishment of the Bards. This ancient order of\nnational poets dated from the earliest times, and in olden days had\nshared the power of the Druids. They were the guardians of the poetry,\nthe history and the music of Ireland, and were held in such honour that\nthe first place at table, after that reserved for the King, was theirs\nby right. A chief poet was entitled to a retinue of thirty men, and the\nBards of a lower grade to fifteen. They had been loaded with honours by\nthose of the princes and kings of Ireland who desired to have their\nbrave deeds in battle handed down to their children or held up to the\nadmiration of their rivals in the songs of the country.\n\nMany abuses had arisen from such an exercise of power. The Bards in\ncourse of time had become thoroughly unpopular, and had only themselves\nto blame for the change of feeling towards them, for even their best\nfriends could not defend their conduct. People had grown weary of an\ninsolence that refused to sing the praises of the heroes and warriors\nof Erin unless at a price that few could afford to pay, and the Bards\nthreatened to hold up those who displeased them to the contempt and\nridicule of the nation.\n\nThe King went so far as to drive them from his palace, but so secure\nwere they of their own power that they had the boldness to come back,\nand to demand of him the royal brooch that he wore upon his breast, the\nvery token of his kingship. Beside himself with anger, the King\nannounced his intention of doing away completely with the order of the\nBards at the great Convention which was about to be held at Drum-ceatt,\nand their enemies, who were not few, resolved to see the threat carried\nout.\n\nThe Bards realized at last that they had gone too far, they could\nscarcely find a friend to speak for them, the situation was wellnigh\nhopeless. In their distress they thought of Columba, who had always\nbefriended their order, and sent him a piteous message that their ruin\nwas certain unless he would use his influence in their favour.\n\nThe Convention was largely attended. The two kings presided, and the\npresence of Columba, in company with many other abbots and bishops,\ngave dignity and order to the councils. The first question raised was\nthat of the supremacy of Ireland over the Scots of Dalriada. Columba\nwas asked to give his opinion, but fearful of being unduly influenced\nby his affection for Aidan, he asked his friend St. Colman to plead the\ncause of liberty. It was decided that Dalriada should cease to pay\ntribute and become an independent kingdom, on the condition that she\npromised a perpetual alliance with Ireland. The great question of the\nBards came next, and on this subject the King himself was the first to\nspeak. Their insolence, their idleness, and their greed, he said, had\nmade them odious in the eyes of the whole nation. He therefore appealed\nto the assembly to banish them and to do away with all their privileges.\n\nNot a voice was raised in their defence, and in another moment their\nfate would have been decided, when Columba rose to speak. The whole\nassembly did him reverence, and his clear voice rang out with all its\nold charm over the hearts of his countrymen.\n\nIt was true, he said, that the Bards had greatly abused their power;\nlet therefore the abuses be corrected, let their power be diminished,\nlet the guilty be punished. But if the great Bardic order were\nabolished, who would be left to make the records of the nation, to sing\nthe noble deeds of its heroes or to lament the death of the brave?\nWhere would be the glory of Erin? Why should the good grain be torn up\nwith the tares? The poetry of Ireland, which was dear to her as her\nlife, would perish for ever, were the order of poets to be destroyed.\n\nThe eloquent pleading of Columba carried all before it. It was decreed\nthat the order should be reformed and that regular schools should be\nfounded for the study of the literature of the nation, where the young\npoets might be brought up to devote their lives to their art, and to\navoid the bad habits that had made the order so unpopular with the\npeople. The Bards, who were themselves present at the assembly under\nthe leadership of their chief, Dallan Forgaill, showed their gratitude\nto Columba by composing a poem in his praise. They wisely allowed\nthemselves to be guided by his advice in their plans for reform, and in\nthe establishment of the schools to which Ireland owes the preservation\nof the old chronicles and of the ancient literature in which she is so\nrich. They justified the plea of their protector and became faithful\nauxiliaries of the clergy, singing in the times of persecution the\nglory of the heroes and the Saints of Erin, and the beauty of the\nancient faith.\n\nWhen the assembly broke up, Columba paid a visit to Aedh in his royal\npalace, when he sought and obtained the freedom of Scandlan Mor, son of\nthe King of Ossory, whom the High King of Ireland had unjustly detained\nin prison. The eldest son of Aedh was perhaps a little uneasy at the\nprospect of the visit, for he had received a severe reproof from the\nSaint for holding the monks of Iona up to ridicule; but Domnal, his\nyounger brother, attached himself to Columbcille with a boy's\nenthusiastic admiration for all that is great and noble. Columba was\ndelighted with the manly young prince, and prophesied that his reign\nwould be a long and happy one, on condition that he \"received the Holy\nCommunion every week, and tried to keep his promises.\" He would also,\nhe said, \"die on his own feather-bed,\" a rare enough thing in the days\nwhen a King of Ireland was pretty sure to fall on the field of battle\nor to perish by the hand of an assassin.\n\nAedh himself had reason to be uneasy about the state of his soul, and\nasked Columba if any of the princes who had died during his reign were\nin heaven. He was told that three only had escaped the pains of\npurgatory and had entered into everlasting bliss.\n\n\"And I,\" asked the King, \"shall I save my soul?\"\n\n\"Not unless you repent heartily of all your sins and lead a better\nlife,\" replied Columba; and Aedh resolved to take his advice.\n\nTo all the princes of Ireland, especially to those who were of his own\nblood, Columbcille preached compassion and mercy towards their enemies,\nthe forgiveness of injuries, and the recall of exiles. Many of the\nlatter had passed by Iona as they went to seek shelter in a strange\nland, and his heart had grieved with them in their sorrow.\n\nHe resolved also to visit his religious foundations in Ireland before\nhe returned to the country of his adoption, and we can imagine the joy\nof the monks of Derry and Durrow who had never thought to look upon\ntheir beloved father's face again. The people came out in crowds to\nwelcome him and carried a canopy of green branches over his head.\nAdamnan tells us of the miracles worked by the Saint on his journey,\nand how the labourers would leave their work as he passed and go before\nhim singing hymns of joy.\n\nAs he was about to enter one of the monasteries, a poor little boy, who\nwas looked upon by everybody as an idiot on account of his stammering\ntongue and vacant eye, crept through the crowd and took hold of the\nborder of Columba's cloak. The Saint turned round, and taking the child\nin his arms embraced him tenderly.\n\n\"Show me your tongue,\" he said to the little boy, who was trembling\nwith fear; and then, making the sign of the Cross over him, he turned\nto the bystanders, who were vexed that he should pay so much attention\nto an idiot.\n\n\"This child whom you despise so much,\" he said, \"will grow daily in\nwisdom and virtue; God will give to him eloquence and power; and when\nhe has grown to man's estate he will be counted amongst the great ones\nof his country.\"\n\nThe Saint's prophecy came true. The little idiot boy grew into the\ngreat St. Ernan, venerated both in Ireland and Scotland; and it was he\nhimself who told the story to the abbot Adamnan who wrote the great\nlife of Columbcille.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nFOR CHRIST AND HIS LOVE\n\nTHE visitation of the Irish monasteries completed, Columba returned to\nIona. But it was no longer as an exile that he left the shores of Erin.\nThis time it was to \"Hy of his love, and Hy of his heart\" that he was\nbound--to the country that had become dear to him as the land of his\nadoption and of his mission; where he had suffered and striven for his\nMaster's sake, and where his work had been blessed beyond all that he\nhad hoped or dreamed.\n\nIt is especially during the last few years of Columba's life on earth\nthat we can see how the natural fire and arrogance of his nature had\nbeen gradually transformed into the gentleness and charity of Christ.\nIt was not without many a struggle that the transformation took place;\nbut Columbcille was a man of great heart and of determined will; what\nhe set himself to do was sure to be done. Now he had set himself--with\nGod's grace--to self-conquest, and the work, though not to be completed\nin a day nor yet in a year, was at last by dint of prayer and patience\ngloriously achieved. The gentleness of a naturally strong and fiery\ntemperament won--so to speak--at the sword's point, is always an\nextraordinary force in the world, and we find the power of Columba over\nhis fellow-men and his influence with them for good increasing every\nyear.\n\nSt. Fintan, one of the Saint's first companions in Iona, was asked once\ntowards the end of Columba's life to describe him to one who had heard\nmuch of his holiness, but who did not know him.\n\n\"He is a king amongst kings,\" answered Fintan, \"a sage amongst wise\nmen, a monk amongst monks. He is poor with God's poor; a mourner with\nthose who weep, and joyful with those who rejoice. Yet amidst all the\ngifts of nature and of grace that have been so liberally showered on\nhim by God, the true humility of Christ is as royally rooted in his\nheart as if it were its natural home.\"\n\nHe was the father, the brother and the friend of all who were in want\nor distress; the dauntless champion of the oppressed and of the weak,\nthe avenger of all who suffered wrong. His prayers and blessing were\nsought by all the navigators of the stormy seas of the Hebrides as a\ndefence against the dangers of the deep; while during his journeys on\nthe mainland the people would bring out their sick and lay them in his\npath, that they might touch the hem of his cloak or receive his\nbenediction as he passed. Their simple faith was not in vain: many were\nthe miraculous cures wrought by the Saint, whose prayers were as\npowerful with God as those of St. Peter and St. John, and with whom he\nmight have said \"silver and gold I have none, but what I have I give\nthee.\"\n\nHe would visit rich and poor alike, and it was often in the houses of\nthe latter that he met with the truest hospitality. He would find out\nwith gentle tact what were the means of his humble hosts, and plan ways\nof increasing their little store. Once when he was passing through\nLochaber on his way to visit King Bruidh in his royal palace, he was\noffered a lodging in the house of a poor peasant and kindly entertained\nwith the best that the poverty of the house could furnish. In the\nmorning when the little Highland cows of his host were being driven out\nto pasture, Columbcille blessed them, and foretold that they would\nincrease until in course of time they would number five hundred, and\nthat the blessing of a grateful traveller would rest upon the man and\nhis family.\n\nColumba took an observant interest in all the things of nature, and was\noften able to advise the peasants how to improve the simple methods of\nfarming, hunting, and fishing on which their daily food depended. On\none occasion he profited by the hospitality shown to him by a rich\nHighland chief to put an end to a deadly feud which in true Highland\nfashion had existed for many years between his host and one of his\nneighbours. The enemies were reconciled, and both became fast friends\nof the peacemaker.\n\nTender-hearted as Columba was to all who were in sorrow and distress,\nto none did his ready sympathy extend more fully than to those who were\nexiles from their native land, for he remembered the early days of his\nown sojourn in Iona. One of his special friends was a Pictish chief of\nnoble birth who had received him on the occasion of his first\nmissionary journey to Caledonia and treated him with generous\nhospitality. Some time after he fell into disgrace and was banished\nfrom the country. Columba appealed in his favour to Feradagh, the chief\nof the island of Islay, whom he begged to give shelter and protection\nto the exile, while he tried what his influence could do with the\nPictish king to obtain his friend's recall. Feradagh, after promising\nhospitality to the fugitive, murdered him treacherously for the sake of\nhis possessions. The news was brought to Columbcille, who cried out in\nindignation that the punishment of God would overtake the traitor\nbefore he had tasted of the flesh of the boars that he was fattening\nfor his table.\n\nFeradagh laughed at the threat but was not a little uneasy, for he had\nheard of the strange way in which Columba's prophecies were wont to\ncome true. He had a boar killed without loss of time and roasted, in\norder to reassure himself that this time at least the Saint had been\nwrong. As he sat down to table, he fell down from his seat and died, to\nthe fear and consternation of his followers.\n\nA certain chief named Donnell, who with his sons and followers feared\nneither God nor man, was the terror of all the neighbouring country.\nAlthough he could claim kinship with the King of Dalriada, Columba\nexcommunicated him for his deeds of violence, and he and his family\nvowed vengeance on the Saint. Taking advantage of a journey that\nColumba was making to a neighbouring island with only one or two\ncompanions, one of the sons of Donnell resolved to murder him as he\nslept. But one of Columbcille's companions, a monk named Finn Lugh, was\nbeset that night with an unaccountable fear for the safety of his holy\nabbot, and begged him to lend him his cowl, in which he wrapped himself\nand lay down to sleep. In the dead of night the assassin crept upon the\nlittle band of travellers, and, seeking out the monk who wore the\nabbot's cowl, stabbed him, and fled to a place of safety. But the\ngarment of the Saint protected the man who was ready to give his life\nfor his master, and Finn Lugh escaped without a wound.\n\nAnother lawless member of the same family fell upon and robbed a man\nwho lived upon the rocky peninsula of Ardnamurchan, and had constantly\nshown hospitality to Columba on his journeys. The blessing of the Saint\nhad brought him good fortune, and his little patrimony had increased\nyear by year. The people, in honour of the affection shown him by the\nholy abbot, called him \"Columbain\" or \"the friend of Columba.\" As the\nrobber was returning, laden with the spoils of the poor man, to the\nboat that was awaiting him at the water's edge, he met Columba himself,\nwhom he had supposed to be safely distant at Iona. The Saint reproved\nhim sternly for his crimes, and bade him restore the goods that he had\nstolen. The robber chief maintained a grim silence until he was safely\nin his boat and well out from the shore. Then he stood up, and bursting\ninto a storm of insults and evil words, shouted defiance and derision\nat Columbcille as long as his voice could be heard. The oppression of\nthe helpless never failed to rouse Columba's wrath. He strode out into\nthe water after the retreating boat, and, raising his arms to heaven,\nprayed that justice might be done on the robber. Then returning quietly\nto his companions he said to them, \"That wicked man who despises Christ\nin His poor will return no more to these shores. The cup of his iniquity\nis full.\" Shortly afterwards a storm arose, and the boat with all that\nwere in it sank like a stone between Mull and Colonsay.\n\nBut it was not only to the poor and the oppressed that Columba's\ncharity was shown. We find him at the Court of King Aidan, holding his\nyoung son Hector \"the Blond\" in his arms and praying that his life\nmight be as fair as his features. To the nobles who kept the laws of\nGod he was as devoted a friend as he was a steadfast opponent of those\nwho outraged them. To the penitent he was full of mercy and hope, and\nmany sinners were persuaded by his eloquence and power to forsake their\nevil ways.\n\nBut nowhere was his charity more clearly shown than with his own\ncommunity at Iona. He foresaw the needs of all, and watched over his\nspiritual sons with a fatherly love and care. During one of the last\nsummers of his life when the monks were coming back in the evening\nafter a day of harvesting, they stopped short at a little distance from\nthe monastery to enjoy the sense of peace and consolation that seemed\nto come to meet them as they approached their home.\n\n\"How is it,\" asked one of the younger brethren, \"that at this spot\nevery night when we return from our daily labours, our hearts rejoice,\nour burdens grow light, and the very perfume of heaven seems borne to\nus on the breeze?\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" said Baithen, the beloved friend and successor of\nColumba. \"Our saintly abbot, whose heart is with us in our work, is\npraying for us and longing for our safe return. His heart is heavy with\nour weariness, and, having no longer the strength to come in the body\nto meet us and help us with our burdens, he sends forth the blessing\nand the prayer of his soul to refresh and console us on our way.\"\n\nNot only his fellow-men but all the creatures of God were dear to\nColumba for their Creator's sake. One day he bade a certain monk at\nIona go down to the seashore and watch.\n\n\"For,\" said the Saint, \"ere the night falls a weary guest will arrive\nto us from Ireland, faint and ready to die. Succour her and tend her\ncarefully for three days, and when she is rested and refreshed let her\ngo, that she may return once more to her native land.\" The guest was a\npoor storm-driven crane which fell on the shore exhausted at the\nbrother's feet. He bore it tenderly to the monastery and cared for it\nas his master had bidden. In the evening Columba met the monk and\nblessed him for his compassion to the weary stranger; and, as he had\nforetold, on the third day, strengthened and refreshed the bird took\nits flight back to Erin.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE GIFT OF VISION\n\nWE have already seen how it was often given to St. Columba to know of\nevents that were happening far away from the place where he might be,\nand how by his gift of prophecy he could sometimes foretell what would\ncome to pass in the future. As he grew older it seemed to those who\nknew him intimately that these flashes of supernatural insight became\nmore frequent, and that the things of the next world were growing daily\nmore familiar to him as the time of his earthly pilgrimage drew to an\nend. Many instances of this have been recorded by his biographers.\n\nOne morning at Iona when the Mass was about to be celebrated, Columba\nsent word to the priest whose turn it was to offer the Holy Sacrifice\nthat day, to do it in honour of the glorious birthday of St. Brendan.\nThe monk could not understand his abbot's behest as no word had reached\nIona of the holy Brendan's death. Columba then told him that during the\nnight he had seen in a vision the soul of Brendan ascending to heaven\nsurrounded by a great company of rejoicing angels; he knew therefore\nthat he had entered into his rest.\n\nOn another occasion he ordered that the Mass for the feast of a bishop\nshould be sung. Now there was no feast marked in the calendar for that\nday, and the monks asked their holy abbot to tell them the name of the\nbishop in whose honour the Holy Mysteries were to be celebrated.\n\n\"Last night,\" he replied, \"I saw the soul of Columban, the Bishop of\nLeinster, in heaven, surrounded with the glory of the blessed; it is in\nhis honour that we must offer the Holy Sacrifice to-day.\"\n\nColumba had a deep love and reverence for all honest labour done for\nGod. One night he told his monks that he had just seen entering into\nheaven the soul of a blacksmith whom he had known long ago in Ireland.\n\n\"He has bought eternal life,\" he said, \"with the labours of the\nearthly. He was charitable and gave of his poverty to the poor,\ntherefore the Lord of the Poor has rewarded him.\"\n\nIn the course of his travels in the Highlands he met one day in a\nlonely gorge a countryman in great distress. He was returning from a\njourney, and had heard that during his absence from home, a band of\nSaxon marauders had laid waste his little farm and burnt his house to\nthe ground. He was in an anguish of fear lest his wife and children\nshould have perished. Columba comforted him with kind words.\n\n\"Go in peace, my good man,\" he said, \"your cattle and all your\npossessions have, it is true, been carried off by the robbers; but God\nhas been merciful. Your dear little family is safe; go, for your loved\nones are waiting for you, and comfort their sorrowing hearts.\"\n\nAgain, a year after the attempt had been made to murder Columba and the\nmonk Finn Lugh had saved his life, the Saint asked his companion if he\nremembered the occurrence.\n\n\"It is just a year ago to-day,\" he said, \"since Donnell tried to murder\nme, and our dear Finn Lugh would have given his life for mine. At this\nvery moment the would-be murderer has been struck down by an enemy in\npunishment for his evil deeds.\"\n\nOne of the Saxon converts of the Saint had joined the community at\nIona, and had been given charge of the bakehouse. Columba would often\ngo to encourage him in his labours and to speak to him of the things of\nGod. One day the Saxon saw him suddenly raise his eyes to heaven and\njoin his hands in prayer. \"Happy, happy woman,\" he cried, \"to whom it\nis given to enter into the heavenly kingdom, carried by the hands of\nthe angels.\"\n\nA year afterwards when speaking to the same man, he said to him, \"Do\nyou remember the woman whose soul I saw a year ago ascending into\nheaven? I see her now coming to fetch the soul of her husband who is\njust dead. She is fighting with her prayers for that beloved soul\nagainst the powers of evil, and the angels are praying with her. See!\nshe conquers, she bears him off, for he has led a good and upright\nlife, and the two who loved each other so dearly on this earth are\nunited for ever in the joy and glory of heaven.\"\n\nColumbcille seems indeed to have had some such intimation from God of\nthe death of the greater number of his friends; a vision of the glory\nof that celestial country into which he was himself soon to enter, and\nafter which he sighed with such ardent longing. If the angels had been\nwith him in his youth, much more did they surround him in his later\nyears.\n\nMany stories are told of his celestial visions as he prayed in the\nforests of Skye, dear to him for their loneliness and silence. One dy,\nwhen he was at Iona he went out, giving orders that no one was to\nfollow him. He was going to pray, he said, on a little hill to the west\nof Iona, which was one of his favourite retreats. One young brother,\nmore curious than the rest, had heard strange tales about the holy\nabbot, and followed him carefully from afar to see what was going to\nhappen. When he had come within a short distance of the place of\nprayer, he saw the Saint standing with arms raised to heaven,\nsurrounded by a troop of white-robed angels. The young monk, trembling\nlest he should be discovered, made his way back to the monastery as\nquickly as he could.\n\nWhen Columba rose during the night as was his habit to kneel in prayer\non the cold floor of his cell, his heavenly visitors would throng\naround him, mingling their praise with his. It was not surprising that\nthe things of heaven should be so near to one who cared so little for\nthe things of earth. He would go out on a winter's night, says his\nbiographer, and stand in the waters of an icy stream during the time it\ntook him to recite the Psalter, that he might obtain grace by his\nsufferings for the souls of the obstinate sinners who refused to amend\ntheir lives. One day when he was praying in a lonely spot, a poor woman\ncame in sight gathering wild herbs and nettles. Columba spoke to her\nand asked her what she was doing.\n\n\"I am gathering herbs for food,\" she replied, \"for I have but one cow\nand it gives no milk; the poor must live as they can.\" Columba\nreproached himself bitterly that this poor woman should fare worse than\nhe did. \"We seek to win heaven,\" he cried, \"by our austerities, and\nthis poor woman, who is under no such obligation, outdoes us.\"\nHenceforward he declared he would make his meal of the wild herbs and\nnettles that he had seen her gathering, and gave strict orders that\nnothing else should be served to him. He even reproved Baithen, whom he\nso dearly loved, with unwonted severity, because, unable to bear the\nsight of his abbot's wretched fare, he had put a little piece of butter\ninto the pot in which it was being cooked.\n\nThe heavenly light that the holy Brendan had seen surrounding Columba\non that memorable day at Teilte was now frequently beheld by his\ncompanions. At night it could be seen shining through the chinks in the\nrough door of his little cell when all was in darkness, and the silence\nof the night was only broken by the voice of the holy abbot praying and\nsinging the praises of God.\n\nOne winter's night, one of the younger brethren had remained in the\nchurch to pray after all had gone to rest. At midnight the door opened\nsoftly and Columba entered. A glory of golden light came with him,\nilluminating the church from wall to wall and from floor to roof. The\nlittle chapel where the brother knelt was flooded with the strange\nradiance and his soul was filled with a heavenly consolation. Columba\nknelt for many hours in prayer, and still the heavenly light shone\nround him as he prayed; while the brother watched him awestruck,\nscarcely daring to move for fear of being heard. The next day he was\nsent for by the abbot, who blessed him and gently bade him say nothing\nof what he had seen during the night.\n\nTwo of his religious, Baithen the beloved, and Diarmaid his faithful\nattendant, who were often in his cell to help him with his work and to\ncarry out his instructions, noticed one day a sudden ray of joy shining\nfrom their master's eyes. A moment later the joyful expression gave\nplace to one of intense sadness, and they begged Columba to reveal to\nthem what it was that caused him grief.\n\n\"My children,\" said the Saint, \"it is twenty years to-day since I\nfirst set foot in Caledonia. Earnestly I have been beseeching our\nHeavenly Father to bring my days of exile to an end, and to receive me\ninto the heavenly country after which our hearts must ever yearn. It\nseemed to me that God had heard my prayer, and that I already saw the\nholy angels coming to bear my soul to its eternal Home, when suddenly\nthey faded from my sight, and I saw them no more. It has been revealed\nto me that by reason of the prayers of those who love me on earth, the\ntime of my sojourning has been prolonged. Therefore am I sad, beloved\nof my heart, because four long years must elapse before those heavenly\nmessengers return. Then they will come once more and I shall depart\nwith them to rejoice for ever in the presence of my God.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHE LIGHT ETERNAL\n\nIT was towards the end of May, when the late northern springtime was\ncasting its veil of beauty over the rugged islands of the Hebrides,\nthat Columbcille knew that the time of his departure was at hand. He\nbade his faithful attendant Diarmaid harness the oxen into the rude\nwooden cart of the monastery, and taking his seat in it set out for the\nfields that lay to the west of the island where all the monks were\nworking. At the sight of the abbot in his humble chariot they left\ntheir work and crowded round him, and the old man addressed them\ntenderly with touching words of affection.\n\n\"A month ago,\" he said, \"I had a great desire to depart from this\nearth, that I might keep the happy festival of Easter in heaven; but,\nunwilling to cast a gloom over your joy at that glad time, I was\ncontent to remain with you a little longer. But now the time of my\nearthly pilgrimage draws near its end.\" At these words the monks broke\ninto bitter weeping, for the thought of losing their beloved father was\nmore than they could bear, and Columba tried to comfort them. Then\nstanding erect in the waggon he raised his hands and blessed the\nisland, the monastery and all its inhabitants.\n\nA few days later, leaning on Diarmaid's arm, he went to the barn and\nrejoiced to see the great heaps of corn laid up for the winter. \"It is\na comfort to me to know,\" he said, \"that when I am no longer there my\nchildren will not go hungry. For this year at least there is plentiful\nprovision.\"\n\n\"Why do you break our hearts, dear Father, in this sweet season of the\nyear,\" said Diarmaid, \"by speaking so often of your departure from us?\nGod will surely suffer us to keep you with us yet awhile.\"\n\n\"I will tell you a secret, Diarmaid,\" replied the old man; \"but first\nyou must promise to keep it faithfully till I am dead.\"\n\nAnd when Diarmaid had promised, kneeling at the abbot's feet,\n\"To-morrow, Sunday, is the day of rest,\" he said, \"but before the\ndawning of that day, I shall have entered into the rest which is\neternal. To-night at midnight I shall depart from this world; it has\nbeen revealed to me by our Lord Jesus Christ Himself.\"\n\nThen Diarmaid could no longer control his grief and wept aloud while\nthe Saint did his best to comfort him, speaking words of hope and\nconsolation. On their way home from the barn to the monastery Columba\ngrew weary, and sat down to rest by the wayside, at a spot where there\nis now a great stone cross. As he sat there waiting until he should\nhave strength to continue his journey, the old white horse that used to\ncarry the milk pails from the farm to the monastery came up and laid\nits head upon the Saint's shoulder, looking at him as if he knew that\nit was for the last time, with eyes so full of dumb grief that they\nseemed to be shedding tears. Diarmaid would have driven him away, but\nColumba checked him.\n\n\"Let him be,\" he said; \"he is wiser than you, Diarmaid, for he knows by\ninstinct that I shall never pass by this way again. The old horse loves\nme, let him grieve for his friend.\"\n\nThen the faithful animal nestled his head closer against the shoulder\nof the old man, who caressed him gently and gave him his blessing. \"It\nis God,\" he said, \"who has made known to this poor beast that he will\nsee me no more.\" When continuing their journey they had reached the\nlittle hill that overlooked the monastery, Columba raised his hands in\nblessing over his beloved island home.\n\n\"This place will be famous in the days to come,\" he said, \"and saints\nand kings will come from other lands to do it honour.\"\n\nWhen he reached his cell he sat down to write the copy of the Psalter\non which he was engaged, for the old man's hand had not lost its skill.\nHe wrote until the church bell rang for the first vespers of the\nSunday; then, having reached the verse in the thirty-third Psalm where\nit is written \"They that seek the Lord shall not be deprived of any\ngood,\" he laid down the pen.\n\n\"Let Baithen write the rest,\" he said.\n\nBaithen was the cousin of Columba, and one of the monks who had come\nwith him from Derry. He had been his pupil, and was scarcely less\nskilful with the pen than his master. Holy, charitable, and beloved by\nall, he was chosen to succeed Columbcille as abbot of Iona. When he\ntook up the pen that the Saint had laid down to go on with the work of\ntranscription, the words that came next were, \"Come ye children,\nhearken unto me, and I will teach you the fear of the Lord,\" with which\nwords he began his ministry as abbot.\n\nWhen Vespers were over, Columba went back to his cell and sitting down\nupon his bed--the naked rock with a stone for a pillow that was still\nthe only couch on which this monk of seventy-seven would rest his aged\nlimbs--he bade Diarmaid listen while he gave him his last instructions\nfor the brethren.\n\n\"My last words to you are these,\" said he. \"Cherish true and unfeigned\ncharity ever amongst yourselves, and God will never leave you in need,\nbut will give you all that is necessary for your welfare in this world,\nand His glory in that which is to come.\"\n\nAfter these words he was silent, and seemed to be lost in the\ncontemplation of the glory of which he had spoken, and Diarmaid forbore\nto interrupt his prayer. When the bell rang for matins shortly before\nmidnight, Columba arose, and went swiftly to the church. Diarmaid\nfollowed more slowly, and as he approached the door, the whole church\nseemed to him to be lit up with a strangely radiant light which\nvanished as he entered. \"Where are you, Father?\" he whispered, struck\nwith a sudden fear, as he groped his way through the building. There\nwas no answer. He made his way through the darkness as best he could to\nthe altar.\n\nThere in his accustomed place of prayer was the holy abbot, but\nstretched apparently lifeless on the ground. Diarmaid raised him in his\narms, and sitting down beside him laid the beloved head upon his\nshoulder. Presently the brethren came in with lights, and broke into\nbitter lamentation at the scene before them. Columba lay on the altar\nsteps leaning on Diarmaid's breast, his eyes raised to heaven, and his\nface shining with a wondrous joy as if he already saw its gates opening\nbefore him. Diarmaid then raised his master's right hand, and for the\nlast time the holy abbot blessed his little flock who knelt weeping\nround him, while his eyes spoke the words that his voice was too weak\nto utter. Then with one last upward look his head sank gently back on\nDiarmaid's shoulder and he gave up his pure soul to God. They could\nscarcely believe that he was dead, for his face was still so bright\nwith joy that he looked like one who rested in a happy and peaceful\nsleep. The matins for that Sunday were sung with bursting hearts, for\nthe strong clear voice that had always been foremost in the holy chant\nwas silent for ever ....\n\nDuring that night a vision came to a holy old man in one of the\nmonasteries of Ireland. He saw the island of Iona all aflame with a\nglorious light and a multitude of angels descending from the skies. He\nheard them singing as they bore the blessed soul of Columbcille back\nwith them into heaven, and the celestial melody filled his heart with\njoy.\n\nAt the same hour a boy named Ernene who was fishing by night in the\nRiver Finn in Donegal saw the whole sky suddenly break into light. In\nthe east where Iona lay, there rose a great pillar of fire, so that for\none moment the night was as bright as the noonday when the sun is\nshining. Then it vanished into the heavens and all was dark again.\n\nIt might have been expected that the little island would be crowded\nwith men thronging from all directions to the funeral of Columbcille,\nbut it was not so. While the Saint was yet alive one of the monks had\nsaid to him that Iona would be scarcely large enough to hold the\nnumbers that would come to pay him the last honours.\n\n\"No, my son,\" replied Columba, \"no one will be there but those of our\nown household;\" and so it came to pass.\n\nOn the night of the Saint's death a violent storm arose, and continued\nuntil the burial was over; the sea was so wild that no boat could put\nout from the mainland or the surrounding islands. The simple rites were\nperformed in the presence of the monks of Iona alone, to the sound of\nthe wailing of the wind and the moaning of the sea. Was it the last\nrevenge of the evil one, they asked themselves, on the Saint who had\ntorn a nation from his grasp?\n\nBut Columbcille had passed\n\n    To where beyond these voices there is peace.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"The Life of Saint Columba, Apostle of Scotland","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":20951}