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

by John Healy

This seems to be an accurate and truthful narrative of what really happened, and shows that the enshrining took place afterwards in his own church of Cork. It appears to show, too, that the church already referred to as Cill-Cluana was really the famous church of Cloyne; but St. Colman, its founder, had been dead for some time, and St. Barry, who, according to other accounts, was educated there by Mac Cuirp, or Curporius, as he is called in Latin, always retained a great predilection for that holy ground. St. Barry’s death is generally recorded as having taken place about the year A.D. 630; but the exact date cannot be ascertained.

Both during the life of St. Finbarr, and after his death, great crowds of holy and learned men continued to come to his monastery of Cork; and many of them, it seems, elected to make it the place of their resurrection. Ængus invokes “seventeen holy bishops, and seven hundred favoured servants of God, who rest in Cork with Barre and Nessan, whose names are written in heaven.” Elsewhere he invokes three hundred and fifty holy bishops, three hundred and fifty priests, three hundred and fifty deacons, and as many lectors, and ostiarii, with other saints, who, with God’s blessing, rest in Lough Eirce,[349] in the territory of Muskerry. Numerous, says the annexed quatrain, as the leaves on the trees are the saints who dwell around it. “Them all I invoke to my aid through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

There is no reference made to any writings left by St. Finbarr, except a copy of the Gospels, written by his own hand, which was afterwards encased, like other precious relics of our great saints, in a shrine richly adorned with gems and gold. One of the most tragic events recorded in our annals took place in connection with this shrine. It is told with many graphic details in the Wars of the Gaedhill with the Gaill, p. 89.

Mahoun, the elder brother of Brian Boru, by combined skill and valour had raised himself to supremacy over all Munster about the year A.D. 970. He defeated the Danes in seven successive battles, and succeeded in driving Imar, their leader, for a time from Limerick. He also took hostages from all the chiefs of Desmond, and became undisputed sovereign of Munster. Then the heads of the rival Eoghanacht clans grew jealous; and Donovan, son of Cathal, chief of the Hy-Fidhgente in the South and West of Limerick, together with Molloy, the chief of Desmond, and Imar the Dane, entered into a conspiracy to destroy the gallant leader of the Dalcassians of Thomond. Pretending friendship, Donovan invited Mahoun to his house at Bruree, and Mahoun foolishly accepted the invitation; but he safeguarded himself, as he thought, by putting himself under the protection of the clergy, and the Gospel of Barry, which was brought from Cork for the purpose by Columb, son of Ciaragan, comarb of Barry. However, when Donovan got the king in his power, he made him a prisoner; and then sent him on to Molloy, who had undertaken to have him assassinated. Molloy was waiting with the Bishop of Cork, who had no suspicion of his purpose, at Sliabh Caein, near Fermoy. It is supposed that they were standing on the eastern ridge overlooking the gap through which the road now passes from Kilmallock to Cork, a little south of the church of Kilflin. When Mahoun’s escort reached the spot agreed upon, the assassin drew his sword to slay the king at the place called Redchair, on the side of the pass opposite to where Molloy was waiting. Mahoun had on his person, for his own protection, the Gospel of Barry; but when he saw the fatal blow descending, he flung the holy shrine from him to a priest standing at some distance, that it might not be stained with his blood. At the same moment Molloy saw the gleam of the sword from the place where he was with the Bishop of Cork on the opposite side of the hill, and called for his horse, which stood ready saddled to carry him off. “What am I to do?” said the Bishop, not understanding Molloy’s movements. “Cure yonder man,” said Molloy, ironically, “if he is able to come to you.” The horrified priest, who accompanied Mahoun, caught up the Gospel shrine, which Mahoun had flung towards him, and found it stained with the blood of the murdered man. Then in sorrow they buried the noble-souled Mahoun on the southern slope of the hill where he had fallen, and sent word to Brian Boru of the assassination of his brother. Then Brian Boru resolved on stern vengeance, and soon accomplished his purpose. The murderous conspirators were banned by the Church, and deserted by their allies. Imar and his son were slain by Brian; Donovan fell in battle; and Molloy, the actual assassin, was tracked for two years, and at length taken prisoner and slain close to that very pass where he had planned and witnessed the murder of the chivalrous Mahoun. He was buried like a dog on the northern side of that same hill where Mahoun was buried; but “the sun,” says the Annalist, “never shines on his grave,” and the infamy of his dark deed will hover round his resting-place for ever. There is nothing known at present of this Gospel of St. Barry, nor for some hundred years has anything been heard of it.

Nessan, a disciple of St. Barry, succeeded him in the See of Cork, and in the government of the monastery and monastic school. He, too, was remarkable for his learning and holiness, but of his personal history nothing is known. His festival day is the seventeenth of March—the feast day of our national apostle, and his death is supposed to have taken place about A.D. 651.

It is manifest that Cork continued to be a flourishing monastic school, at least down to the time of St. Ængus (A.D. 800), who speaks of it as if it were still a flourishing institution, filled with monks and scholars. In spite of the repeated devastations of the Danes, who plundered it four times between A.D. 822 and 840, we find the death of Domhnall, a scribe of Cork recorded in A.D. 874, and of Soirbreathach, son of Connadh, “scribe, wise man, bishop, and abbot of Cork,” in A.D. 891. It is evident, therefore, that even during the stormy period of the ninth century the succession of prelates was maintained in Cork, and the monastic school still continued to flourish. The proper business of the scribe was, as we have seen, to transcribe books in the scriptorium of the monastery for the use of the monks and students. The term egnaidh, or wise man, shows that this prelate was especially skilled as a moral teacher and adviser.

During the subsequent centuries, down to the Anglo-Norman invasion, a regular succession of bishop-abbots was preserved, and recorded in the church of Cork. But beyond the list of their names we know nothing of interest concerning them. We do not find that any amongst these later comarbs of Barry were specially distinguished either as scholars or as writers; and hence it is unnecessary to make any special reference to them here.

In the twelfth century the ancient monastery, which had fallen into decay, was refounded about the year A.D. 1134 by Cormac Mac Carthy, the celebrated King of Munster, from whom Cormac’s Chapel at Cashel takes its name. Imhar O’Hagan, who died at Armagh in that very year, a most holy and learned man, had some years previously introduced a much needed reform in the monastery of Armagh by placing the monks and clergy under the rule of St. Augustine. This reform was very generally adopted throughout Ireland by such of the ancient monasteries as had survived the ravages of the Danes. It was thus introduced at Cork by King Cormac, who also in refounding the monastery required that it should always afford hospitality and refuge to strangers from Connaught, because its original founder, St. Barry, came himself from that province. In A.D. 1172, according to the Four Masters, died Giolla Aedha O’Muidhin, of the family (or community) of Errew of Lough Conn, in Connaught. He was, according to Ware, Bishop and Abbot of Cork, from A.D. 1152, when he was present at the Synod of Kells, to A.D. 1172. It was from this prelate’s name Giolla or Gille, that Gill Abbey came to be so called. It was previously known as the Abbey of the Cave, or the Abbey of St. Finbarr’s Cave, which was the saint’s place of retirement on the south side of the river, near to which St. Finbarr’s Abbey was built. This prelate was regarded as a man of great piety, and more than any of his predecessors sought to renew the ancient spirit as well as the ancient walls of his monastery. The fact that he came all the way from Lough Conn, near Ballina, in the County Mayo, and though a stranger, was chosen to rule over this great diocese and monastery, shows that he was a man of great fame for holiness and learning. It is most likely that this Giolla Aedha O’Muidhin was that prelate of whom St. Bernard speaks in his Life of St. Malachy. Cork was, he says, then without a bishop, and there was much discord amongst the supporters of the rival candidates. St. Malachy begged them all to leave the choice to him; and they agreed to do so. Then St. Malachy chose for bishop not anyone of the nobly born of the land, but a poor man and a stranger, who happened to be on his sick bed in the city, and was a man remarkable for sanctity and learning. Malachy bade him arise in the Lord’s name, and said that obedience would make him strong again. He did so, and ruled the see with much vigour until his death in A.D. 1172. The Four Masters described him as “Gilla Aedh O’Muidhin (of the family of Errew of Lough Conn) Bishop of Cork. He was a man full of the grace of God, the tower of the virginity and wisdom of his time.”

II.—School of Cork—St. Colman Mac Ua Cluasaigh.

It was during the abbotship of St. Nessan in Cork, or shortly afterwards, that St. Colman Mac Ui Clusaigh, as he is called in the Liber Hymnorum, flourished in the school of that monastery. He is the only scholar of that ancient school, whose writings have in any shape come down to us. What we have written by St. Colman is not indeed much, but it is highly interesting, and was published for the first time by Dr. Todd in the second volume of the Liber Hymnorum, page 121.