Insula Sanctorum et Doctorum; Or, Ireland's Ancient Schools and Scholars

by John Healy

St. Moling was one of the most celebrated of the holy and learned men who were trained in Glendalough during the lifetime, or shortly after the death of the founder. His name is still preserved in the parish and barony of St. Mullins, on the left bank of the Barrow, in the extreme south-west of the county Carlow. Moling’s first name was Daircell or Taircell. He came of the royal race of Cathaoir Mor, a celebrated king of Leinster in the third century of the Christian era. His father’s name was Faolain, whence he is sometimes called Mac Faolain, and his mother Eamhnat, is said to have been a Kerry woman. Though sprung from the Ui Deagha, on the left bank of the Barrow, he was probably born in his mother’s country; and hence he is sometimes called Moling Luachra, from the mountain district in Kerry, where he was either born or fostered amongst the friends of his mother. The date of his birth is not known; but as he died in A.D. 697, it was probably some time in the early part of the same century.

Few particulars of his early life are preserved, except certain miraculous stories, which we need not refer to here. It is expressly stated, however, that he spent some time in the monastery of Glendalough, which was not very far from Hy-Kinsellagh, and was then the most celebrated establishment in Leinster. As St. Kevin died about A.D. 618, young Moling cannot have seen much of that great saint, if indeed he ever had an opportunity of meeting him at all. But the spirit of Kevin was there—his Rule and his discipline flourished in Glendalough; and hence in any case we may regard St. Moling as his disciple. It was most probably at Glendalough that the young saint acquired that great knowledge of the Sacred Scriptures which he afterwards manifested, as well as those exalted virtues which bore such lasting fruit on the banks of the Barrow.

The place where he founded his cell and monastery was then called Achadh Cainidh; but the name was soon changed into Teach Moling—the House of Moling—since corrupted into St. Mullins. He chose for his home a beautiful spot on a gentle eminence overlooking the noble river, which at this point mingles its waters with the rising tide between the green meadows and rich groves that crown its swelling banks. A small stream here joins the Barrow, and Moling built his monastery on the high ground, between the junction of the river and the stream. His own cell he built lower down, close to the river, for he loved to be alone with God as much as possible, although he frequently visited his monastery, and allowed his monks to confer with himself whenever it was necessary.

He had, too, that love of useful labour which pre-eminently marked the great Benedictine Order. Laborare est orare. To labour is to pray—when the labour is sanctified by its motive and its object. Moling wished to grind the corn for his monks, and for this purpose, with his own hands, he dug a mill-race from the stream already referred to, in such a way as to convey the water more than a hundred yards from the river, even through high ground, in order to get a fall for the water to turn the mill-wheel near his monastery. He kept a curragh, too, on the river, near his own cell, and was always ready to ferry strangers across the broad river, who came to pray and do penance at the monastery. During all this time his food was herbs and water; and according to some accounts—probably in imitation of St. Kevin—he lived a long time within a hollow tree.

His austerities and his virtues soon attracted around Moling a great number of disciples, so that a large community was formed under his guidance and direction. The ruins of four ancient churches are still to be seen on the slope of the hill overlooking the Barrow and the streamlet, some of which were certainly built in his time. It is said, too, that a portion of the mill-stone of Moling’s mill was found in the stream, and that the mill-race which he dug out can still be clearly traced.

St. Aidan, called also Mo-Eadan, which has been shortened into Moedog and Moque, the celebrated Bishop of Ferns, died A.D. 632. It is said that he wished St. Moling to be his successor, and that the princes and clergy of Leinster invited Moling to become the Bishop of Ferns. Reluctantly the saint complied with their wishes—for he loved Teach Moling much—and preferred to spend his life there in solitude, attending only to himself and the direction of the chosen souls, who placed themselves under his direction. But God willed it otherwise; and Moling became, at least for some years, Bishop, or High-bishop of Ferns—for at this period a certain kind of precedence was claimed for Ferns over the other bishoprics of Leinster. It is by no means certain, however, that Moling became Bishop of Ferns in immediate succession to Aidan in A.D. 632. If so he must have afterwards resigned his See, which is highly probable, and thus made room for other bishops of Ferns, whose names are mentioned in connection with that See during the seventh century, and during the lifetime of Moling himself. It cannot, therefore, be determined whether he became Bishop of Ferns in A.D. 632 or 691—the former is, however, the more probable date.

Moling procured for his tribesmen one signal temporal advantage—the remission of the celebrated cow-tribute, called the Borumha, which was levied by the King of Tara in Leinster every three years. It was an oppressive tax, originally inflicted for a great crime committed by the King of Leinster in A.D. 106, and was productive of much bloodshed, and mutual hatred between the men of Leinster and the Hy-Niall. Now King Finnachta the Festive had already twice exacted the tribute, and was coming to levy it a third time. The Lagenians resolved to fight rather than to pay; but first of all it was deemed expedient to get St. Moling to use his great influence in their behalf to have the tribute remitted. The saint succeeded beyond their expectations, although, it is said, he made use of an equivocation to effect his purpose. Failing to get a promise of the absolute remission of the tribute, he asked the king to grant him a stay of execution until luan. The king promised to grant this stay. Now luan means Monday; and so the king understood it, but it also means the Judgment Day, in which sense Moling understood[326] it, and insisted on the fulfilment of the promise in that sense. The king feared the saint, and moreover was unwilling to be deemed a pledge-breaker, so he was constrained to remit the tribute for ever. The remission, however, was a most unpopular act with his own northern subjects; and it is not unlikely that the story of the equivocation was invented by the king’s friends, who wished to please the saint, and yet to throw the odium of this unpopular measure on one who was much better able to bear it than Finnachta. Even the wise Adamnan is represented as counselling his royal master to assert the legal claims of the great Hy-Niall race to which he himself belonged; and he is said to have blamed the king for yielding so weakly to the Leinster saint. The remission was made about the year A.D. 693; and the cow-tax was never levied in Leinster afterwards.

St. Moling is said to have been a great scholar, and a great writer. More ancient Irish poems, several of which are still extant, have been ascribed to St. Moling than to any other of our Irish saints,[327] with the exception, perhaps, of Columcille. Some of these have reference to that Borromean Tribute of which we have already spoken; others purporting to be prophetical, give a list of the kings of Erin, their battles, victories, and death. In consequence of these and several other prophetical poems, St. Moling has been set down as one of the four great prophets of Erin. The others are St. Patrick, St. Columcille, and St. Berchan of Clonsast. One of Moling’s prophecies foretells the coming of the Anglo-Normans to Ireland, and the ‘conquest’ of the country by Henry II. Some of these poems are manifest forgeries written after the event. They were ascribed to St. Moling, because he was pre-eminently a holy man, who enjoyed in his own time the reputation of a prophet amongst all the people.

Keating had in his possession a work which he calls the Yellow Book of St. Moling, but which has since been unfortunately lost. Hence we know nothing of it beyond the name. It was probably begun by St. Moling and afterwards continued by his monastic successors as an authentic record of local and national events, like the Annals of Tighernach, or the Chronicon Scotorum at Clonmacnoise. Colgan observes that St. Moling had a great devotion for St. Kevin, and constantly invokes that saint in his poems and prophecies. He was probably privileged to see during his boyhood the venerable Kevin at Glendalough, and must have been greatly impressed by that saintly master. St. Moling died towards the close of the seventh century.

Notwithstanding its remoteness, the Danes frequently ravaged Glendalough during the ninth century; and again repeated their ravages during the tenth and following century. There could be no peace for the monks of St. Kevin whilst the fleets of foreigners were on the Boyne, the Liffey, and even at the mouth of the Bray River—if it be the Inner-na-mbarc referred to by the Four Masters in A.D. 836, as O’Donovan conjectures. Still the sanctuary retained at least to some extent its ancient fame even during these troubled times, for Cormac Mac Cullinnan before his death in A.D. 907, bequeathed to Glendalough an ounce of gold and an ounce of silver, as an offering to secure the prayers of the community. It contained ‘learned men’ and ‘anchorites,’ as we know, during this century, for the death of one of them is recorded by the Four Masters in A.D. 953 (recte 954); and the death of several other anchorites is noticed by the Masters in this same century. They were probably the same as the inclusi of whom we read later on—each of them living in his own little cell, or ‘kitchen,’ which was at once his house and his oratory. One of them was also what was called ‘Head of the Rule’ at Glendalough, and died in A.D. 965. The death of a lector or reader in theology is also noticed the previous year; both bore the surname of O’Manchan, and were probably members of the same family.