St. Patrick’s nephew, St. Lumanus, being desirous of taking a journey by sea when wind and tide were against him, he hoisted the sails, trusted in the merits of St. Patrick, and, “O, miracle till then unheard and unknown! the ship, without any pilot, sailed against wind and stream,” and he made a prosperous voyage. At another time, St. Patrick seeing a hundred men unable to stir a large stone, he, alone, raised it up, and placed it where it was wanted. He was accustomed to stop and erect a cross at the head-stone of every christian who was buried outside of a burial-place; one day, coming to the graves of two men newly buried, and observing that one of the graves only had a cross over it, he stopped his chariot, and speaking to the dead man below, asked him what religion he had been, the dead man answered a pagan, St. Patrick inquired why then a cross was put over him, the dead pagan replied, he who is buried near me was a christian, and one of your faith coming hither placed the cross at my head; the saint stepped out of his chariot, rectified the mistake, and went his way. One Foylge, an idolator, strangled the driver of St. Patrick’s chariot, in his seat, wherefore the saint cast his “holy curse” at Foylge, who pierced thereby, fell dead into hell; but the devil entering the dead body, walked about in it, and seemed as if he were Foylge himself, till one day St. Patrick called at the dead man’s house, and asking the family where Foylge was, they answered he was at home, when the saint told them of Foylge’s death, and that Satan “had entered into his corpse and occupied it as his own proper vessel,” then St. Patrick gave notice to the devil to leave his lodging in Foylge’s body, which he did immediately, and Foylge was buried. Preaching on a journey to 14,000 men, “he first fed them all with spiritual food,” then commanding a cow to be killed, with two stags, and a couple of boars, the people ate abundantly, the remnants were gathered up; and “thus with the flesh of five animals, did St. Patrick plenteously feed 14,000 men.” Once when he was preaching, by way of a strong argument, he raised to life nineteen dead men, one of whom had been buried for ten years. After that, St. Patrick passing over a river one of his teeth dropped into the water, and his disciples could not find it till night, when the tooth in the river shone as a radiant star, and being so discovered was brought to St. Patrick, who on that spot built a church, and deposited his tooth beneath the altar. Desiring to pass an impassable river, and no boat being at hand, St. Patrick prayed, and dividing the river, made himself and followers a free passage, then “he blessed the river, and being so blessed, it abounded in fishes above all others.” St. Mel being denounced unjustly to St. Patrick, and preferring to prove his innocence by a miracle rather than by an oath, he ploughed up the earth on a certain hill, and took by the ploughshare many and large fishes out of the dry land; thereupon St. Patrick absolved him, but lest St. Mel should continue to work miracles presumptuously, “he bade him that he should thenceforth plough on the land, and fish in the water.” St. Patrick had a goat, a thief stole it, and ate it, and when accused, denied it; but the goat bleating in the stomach of the thief, proclaimed the merit of St. Patrick; and, to increase the miracle, by the sentence of the saint, all the posterity of the man were marked with the beard of a goat. St. Patrick having labored to convert a tyrant, who laughed him to scorn, he immediately converted the tyrant, against his will, into a fox; which fox went off with a hard run, and could never be found. Another time being benighted in the open air, violent rain fell around St. Patrick and his companions, but did not wet them a drop. On the same night, the driver of his chariot could not for the darkness find the horses to re-yoke them, on which St. Patrick, drawing his right hand from his sleeve, and lifting up his fingers, they “shone even as sun-beams, and wonderfully illumining the whole country, turned darkness into light, and night into day—then by the aid of the radiant miracle, the chariot-driver found his steed.” After the death of St. Patrick, there was no night for twelve days.
These are some of the miracles attributed to St. Patrick by Jocelin, whose life of him published in “Dublin, Printed for the Hibernia Press Company, By James Blyth,” is sold in London by Messrs. Keating and Brown, Catholic Printers and Publishers, No. 38, Duke-street, Grosvenor-square, in one volume 12mo. containing 264 pages, price 2s. 6d. in boards.
To what extent Catholics believe such miracles, as have been just related is unknown to a Protestant; but the publication of Jocelin’s works by catholic booksellers in a cheap form, seems to signify that it it held in repute by Catholics in a humble rank of life. To what extent the catholic clergy have instructed this class of their flocks, or rather to what extent they design to instruct them, is also unknown to a Protestant; but should the higher classes of catholics enjoy the civil rights, which the most wise and enlightened of their Protestant fellow-subjects deplore they do not possess, and most anxiously desire they should possess, it is not too much to hope that it will become the anxious wish, as it is the positive duty of the catholic clergy to inform the ignorant of their community. An union between the church of England, or any other protestant church, and the church of Rome, never can take place; but protestant churchmen, and Protestants of all denominations, can and will unite with Catholics, if Catholics can and will unite with them, to enlighten the Egyptian darkness, which ensures the mind worse than Egyptian bondage. The education of helpless infancy, and the fixation of just principles in youth, form the best security against criminal manhood. In this, surely, both Protestants and Catholics will concur, and their earnest cooperation to obtain this security will be a firm pledge that each desires the welfare of each. The marked separation of churches and doctrines cannot much longer separate man from man. In the bigotted and selfish interests that dam the social affections, there are incurable and daily widening breaches: the issues alternate and vary, but the first high tide of mutual kindness will burst the restrictions, and sweep them away for ever.
St. Patrick’s Day.
This being the anniversary of the day whereon St. Patrick died, it is commemorated as a high festival in the catholic church; and it is celebrated to his honour in that country, with every demonstration of affection for his memory as the apostle and patron saint of Ireland, that a warm-hearted, enthusiastic, joyous people, can possibly express. An eye-witness represents to the editor of the Every-Day Book that St. Patrick’s day in Dublin is a scene of festivity and mirth unequalled by any thing observable in this country. From the highest to the lowest, all hearts seem inspired by the saint’s beneficence. At day-break flags fly on the steeples, and the bells ring out incessant peals till midnight. The rich bestow their benevolence on the poor, and the poor bestow their blessings on the rich, and on each other, and on the blessed St. Patrick. The “green immortal” shamrock is in every hat. Sports of manly exercise exhibit the capabilities of the celebrated “shillelah,” and before night many a head gives token of the application of its wonderful powers, by a muscular hand. Priestly care soothes querulousness; laughter drowns casualty; innumerable bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, jaunty lasses dance with their mirth-loving lads; old women run about with children in the hoods of their cloaks, to publicly share care-drowning cups of sweet consolation with each other; and by the voice of wit, humour, and frolic, this miraculous day is prolonged till after the morning dawn.
A popular song on this festal occasion contains these verses:
Saint Patrick’s, the holy and tutelar man;
His beard down his bosom like Aaron’s ran:
Some from Scotland, from Wales, will declare that he came,
But I care not from whence now he’s risen to fame:—
The pride of the world and his enemies scorning,
I will drink to St. Patrick, to-day, in the morning!
He’s a desperate big, little Erin go brah;
He will pardon our follies and promise us joy.
By the mass, by the Pope, by St. Patrick, so long
As I live, I will give him a beautiful song!
No saint is so good, Ireland’s country adorning;
Then hail to St. Patrick, to-day, in the morning!