The sight of Aran peopled by this host of saints forcibly recalls to mind that other island, where, in an age of wild and fierce passions, the arts of peace, religious learning, and the highest Christian virtues, found a sanctuary. At the beginning of the sixth century, Aran may, with truth, be styled the Lerins of the Northern seas. True, its bare flags and cold grey landscape contrast sadly with "the gushing streams, the green meadows, the luxuriant wealth of vines, the fair valleys, and the fragrant scents which," according to S. Eucherius, "made Lerins the paradise of those who dwelt thereon."[79] However, its very wildness did but make it richer in those attractions so well described by S. Ambrose, which made the outlying islands so dear to the religious men of that time.[80] They loved those islands, "which, as a necklace of perils, God has set upon the bosom of the sea, and in which those who would fly from the irregular pleasures of the world, may find a refuge wherein to practise austerity and save themselves from the snares of this life. In it these faithful and pious men find incentives to devotion. The mysterious sound of the billows calls for the answering sound of sacred psalmody; and the peaceful voices of holy men, mingled with the gentle murmur of the waves breaking softly on the shore rise in unison to the heavens."
On a summer's day in the year 1870, says the Bishop of Ardagh, we set sail to visit the remote Aran, which the virtues of S. Enda had changed from a Pagan isle into Aran of the Saints. And as the faint breeze bore us slowly over the waters that lay almost motionless in the summer calm, we gazed with admiration upon a scene which was but little changed since S. Enda and his pilgrim band had first looked upon it. Before us there lay stretched out the same expanse of sea, fringed on one side by the dark plains of Iar-Connaught, along which the eye travelled from the white cliffs of Barna to where the Connemara mountains, in soft blue masses, stood out in fantastic clusters against the sky. On the other side ran the Clare coastline, now retreating before the deep sea-inlets, and now breasting the Atlantic with bold promontories like that of gloomy Black-Head, or with gigantic cliffs like those of Mohir. And as the day closed, and we watched the evening breeze steal out from land, crisping the water into wavelets that rippled against the vessel's side; and as we saw the golden glory of the sunset flush with indescribable loveliness, earth, and sea, and sky, we thought how often in bygone days, the view of Aran rising, as we then saw it, out of the sunlit waves, had brought joy to the pilgrim who was journeying to find rest upon its rocky shore.
The Aran isles are three in number, named respectively, Inishmore (the large island), Inishmain (the middle island), and Inisheen (the eastern island). The eastern island is the smallest of the three, and is about two-and-a-half miles long; the middle island is three miles long; the largest is about nine miles in length, and twenty-four in circumference.
Our chief interest was naturally centred in the group of buildings which exist at Killeany, and consist of the church of S. Benignus, the church of S. Enda, the round tower of S. Enda, and the stone houses in its immediate vicinity. Our readers will have remarked that the first six churches named in Dr. Keely's list, all stood near each other, and to the north of the present village of Killeany. Out of six churches which existed here as late as 1645, four have almost entirely disappeared. They were demolished by unholy hands for the sake of materials to build the castle of Arkin.
The church known as Teglach Enda, wherein S. Enda was laid, still exists on the shore; it is in good preservation, and is a fine specimen of the single church without chancel. It is twenty-four feet in length and fourteen in breadth. All the walls now standing are by no means of an equal antiquity. The eastern gable and part of the northern side wall are the only parts belonging to S. Enda's time, the remainder of the building being the work of a later period. Around the church spreads the cemetery, now almost completely covered up by the sands, in which the body of S. Enda, and those of one hundred and fifty other saints, are interred.
On the hill side, are S. Enda's well, and altar; the latter surmounted by a rude cross. S. Enda's well, and indeed all the other wells we saw in the island, are carefully protected by the Araners; the scarcity of water rendering the possession of a well almost as precious to them as it was to the Eastern shepherds in the days of Rebecca. At a short distance to the left of the well, stands the remnant of the round tower of S. Enda. Once its height was worthy of the cluster of sacred temples which stood within the circle traversed by the shadow it projected in the changing hours; but now it is little more than thirteen feet high. An aged man who joined our group, told us that in S. Enda's time the mass was not commenced in any of the churches of the island, until the bell from S. Enda's tower announced that S. Enda himself had taken his place at the altar in his own church.
With the permission of the excellent priest who has charge of the island, we resolved, on the last morning of our stay on Aran, to celebrate mass in the ruined church of Teglach-Enda, where in the year 540 or 542, S. Enda was interred. The morning was bright and clear, and the rigid outlines of the rocks were softened by the touch of the early sunshine. The inhabitants of Killeany, exulting in the tidings that the Holy Sacrifice was once again to be offered to God near the shrine of their sainted patron, accompanied or followed us to the venerable ruins. The men, young and old, were clothed in decent black, or in white garments of home-made stuff, with sandals of undressed leather, like those of the peasants of the Abruzzi, laced round their feet; the women were attired in gay scarlet gowns and blue bodices, and all wore a look of remarkable neatness and comfort. The small roofless church was soon filled to overflowing with a decorous and devout congregation.
We can never forget the scene of that morning: the pure bright sand, covering the graves of unknown and unnumbered saints as with a robe of silver tissue; the delicate green foliage of the wild plants; on one side, the swelling hill crowned with the church of S. Benignus, and on the other the blue sea, that almost bathed the foundations of the venerable sanctuary itself; the soft balmy air that hardly stirred the ferns on the old walls; and the fresh, happy, solemn calm that reigned over all.
The temporary altar was set up under the east window, on the site where of old the altar stood; and there, in the midst of the loving and simple faithful, within the walls which had been consecrated some twelve hundred years before, over the very spot of earth where so many of the saints of Ireland lay awaiting their resurrection to glory, the solemn rite of the Christian Sacrifice was performed, and once more, as in the days of which S. Columba wrote, the angels of God came down to worship the Divine Victim in the Churches of Aran.