OMNIUM SANCTORUM HIBERNIAE

Author: Michele Ainley

  • Irish Missionaries

    As we approach the Feast of All the Saints of Ireland on November 6, below is a brief reminder of the part Irish saints played in the evangelization of other countries. These missionary saints were a source of great pride to the writers of the nineteenth century cultural revival, including Irish expatriates like Monaghan man John Joseph Lynch, C.M. (1816-1888), Archbishop of Toronto. At a time when mass emigration had aroused anti-Irish and anti-Catholic feeling it was no doubt comforting to take refuge in the achievements of an earlier golden age, when the Irish made a substantial contribution to European Christian civilization. This piece appeared in the New Zealand press in 1878 which syndicated items likely to be of interest to its own Irish population:

    IRISH MISSIONARIES.

    St. Patrick’s bishops and priests were so ardent in their zeal that they carried the light of the gospel into England, Scotland, Germany, France, and even into Italy, regaining to the Church many of those people who had lost the faith on account of the incursions of barbarians, and the breaking up of the Roman Empire. These holy missionaries from Ireland are invoked as patron-saints in these countries. We have venerated their relics in cathedral churches, in monasteries, in rural parishes on the continent of Europe. We found St. Cataldus, the Apostle of Tarentum, near Naples; St. Sedulius famous for his fourteen books of commentaries on the Epistles of St. Paul; St. Fridolin, who instituted religious houses in Alsace, Strasbourg, and Switzerland, and who is interred on an island in the Rhine, in a monastery built by himself; St. Columbanus, the founder of the celebrated monastery of Bobbio, near Milan, in Luxan; and Fontaine St. Gall, near Lake Constance, famous to the present time for its learned men and holy monks, the admiration of all travellers St. Fiacre, the Patron Saint of many churches in the diocese of Meaux and through Picardy, and whose relics are the objects of pious pilgrimages to the present day; St. Aidan, who preached the gospel to Northumbrians in England, and who was the first bishop of the See of Lindisfarne; St. Colman, who preached the gospel to the Northern Saxons, St. Fursey, especially invoked in numerous chapels built by him near Paris; St. Abrogast, Bishop of Strasbourg, buried on Mount Michael, where there was a monastery dedicated under his patronage; St. Maidulphus, who established the famous school of Ingleborne, now Malmsbury; St. Cuthbert, son of an Irish Prince of Kells, in Meath, Bishop of Lindisfarne, now invoked as an English saint; St. Killian apostle of Franconia, and first Bishop of Wirtzburg, who gained the crown of martyrdom, like St. John for having reproached the incestuous adulteress, Goilana, St. Virgilius, Bishop of Fiesole, preacher of the gospel to the Etruaians; St. Findin, Abbot of Richew, on the Rhine; St. Buo and St. Ernulphus, who carried the Gospel to Iceland and founded a church under the patronage of St. Columba. We have mentioned enough of illustrious names of the Irish nation to show how they fulfilled their mission on the continent of Europe in early ages. — Archbishop Lynch of Toronto.

    IRISH MISSIONARIES.,New Zealand Tablet, Volume VI, Issue 271, 12 July 1878
     

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  • Irish Saints' Names – November

     

     
    Time for another instalment of the 1914 series on Irish saints’ names as suggestions for naming children. The November selection contains some well-known saints, Columbanus, Malachy  and Lorcan O’Toole, for example but also many who are rather more obscure, including all of the female ones:
     
    IRISH SAINTS’ NAMES.
     
    There
    are many who think that the Irish saints are only a few, and so their
    choice of names for their children is very small. Week by week, a list
    will be given. The name will be spelt as in Irish and the English
    equivalent will be given in brackets. The sex is marked m. for males,
    and f. for females. Only one name is given for each day, but more could
    be given. Year of death as below.
     
    NOVEMBER.
    1. Alltin (Eltina), f., Killinchy.
    2. Bolcan (Bolcan), m., Lens, France, 650.
    3. Maolmaodog (Malachy), bp., Armagh, 1148.
    4. Tigearnac (Tigernach or Tierna), m., Killachy, Cavan, 806.
    4. Colman (Colman), m., Glen Delmaic, Kells, Kilkenny.
    6. Cronan (Cronan), m., Bangor, 688.
    7. Fionntan (Fintan or FIorentius) m., Strasburg, 687.
    8. Barrfinn (Finnbar or Barrinthus), m., in  Idrone.
    9. Benen (Benen or Benignus), bp., Armagh, 467.
    10. Aed (Aedh or Aidus), m., Killair, Westmeath. 589.
    11. Coirpre (Carbry), m., Coleraine, 540.
    12. Lioban (Livin), m., Ghent, Belgium, 656.
    13. Cillin (Kilian), m., diocese of Arras, France, 7th century.
    14. Lorcan or Labras O’Tuatail (Lawrence), bp., Dublin, 1180.
    15. Connait (Connat or Kenneth), m., Lismore, 759.
    16. Fionntan (Fintan), m.
    17. Duileac (Doolagh), m. Baldoyle.
    18. Ronan (Ronan), m., Drumiskin, Louth.
    19. Aoldobar (Aeldore), m.
    20. Froecan (Fraechan), bp., Bo-cluain. near Cloncany.
    21. Columban (Columbanus), m., Bangor and Bobbio, Italy, 615.
    22. Maedb (Meave), f., Ardagh. 
    23. Roinne (Renna), m.
    24. Ciannan (Cianan or Kianan), m., Duleek, 489.
    25. Finnen (Finchu or Finchan), m., Brigown, Mitchelstown.
    26. Siric (Siric), m., Fereall, W. Meath.
    27. Feargal (Virgilius), m., Saltzburg, 785.
    28. Laidgenn (Laidgen), m.
    29. Fiadnot (Feenata), f.
    30. Toman (Toman), m.

    Southern Cross, Friday 6 November 1914, page 18

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  • St Colman's Ducks

    October 27 is the feast of Saint Colman of Seanbotha. He is associated with a miraculous flock of  ducks and a holy well which fed a lake where the ducks continued to thrive for centuries after his death. The story was told that the ducks could not be harmed and were impossible to use as a food source, although that didn’t stop the foolish, the ignorant or the profane from trying!  I have already looked at the account of P.W. Joyce from 1911 here, but below is another telling of the legend of Saint Colman’s ducks, this time from a 1920s newspaper. Here the story has been updated and repackaged for an Irish expatriate audience to feature an old wise woman called Brigid (what else?) and presented in the best Hiberno-English dialect:

     
     
    ST. COLMAN’S DUCKS.
     
    Old Brigid
    Heffernan lived in a little cabin that stood among the ruins of the old
    abbey on the edge of the lake. There was a hole in the thatch of her
    roof, and yellow ragwort and house leeks growing round it, and there was
    not a neighbour to be heard or seen within an ass’s bawl; but Brigid was not lonely. She was such a wise adviser that people would travel for
    miles to buy charms from her for the toothache, or to make the butter
    come, so  that she always had something in her pocket. As for
    company, after her customers had gone, she had the black Kerry cow, the
    chickens, and, choicest of all, a wild duck, a tiny teal, which had its
    nest among the rushes which fringed the dark crystal waters of the lake.
    When she called it it would come flying from far away, to follow her
    like a child.   
     
    Brigid had a greater
    regard for the creature than she would tell, for hundreds of years ago
    the old hermit St. Colman used to live in the abbey, and he had flocks
    of teal which he tamed and blessed, and wonderful stories were told of
    them. “Who can tell whether my little pet is not a
    great-great-descendant of the Saint’s blessed ducks?” Brigid used to say. 
     
    One night very late someone came tapping at Brigid’s
    door, and who would it be but a red-coated soldier. “I was told you
    were the most knowledgeable Wise Woman in the Four Provinces,” said he,
    “and our regiment has need of your services. We have pitched our camp by
    the other end of the lake, and the curse which St. Patrick laid upon
    the kettles of the heathen seems to be on ours too. Our fires won’t burn
    and our pots won’t boil.  “Or maybe it’s a fairy spell which is set
    upon them. Anyway, if you would come and bring them back to their duty
    it’s yourself that would be welcome, and rewarded too.” “I will come,
    but so will Christmas,” said Brigid,
    shaking her head. “It’s too old and lame I am to be shortening the way
    to the camp with you at this time of night.” “Sure, it is not to be
    expected, said the soldier. “To-morrow I shall come with a side-car and
    the Captain’s mare, and be driving you in style.” 
     
    At break of day he was
    there, still black with contending with the fires and the kettles. Before Brigid took the lead into the car
    she looked round and saw that the clear, glassy surface of the lake
    was muddy and a mist rising from it, and that the wild duck’s nest in
    the reeds was empty. 
     
    When they drew rein at the camp they took Brigid
    to the only fire they had got to burn. A big covered cauldron was
    swinging over it. “Do you see that pot?” asked the soldiers. “It has
    been hanging over the fire for an hour, and never a bubble has it let
    out of itself.” “Take the cauldron from the fire,” said Brigid.
     She lifted up the lid, and there in the midst of the cauldron floated a
    little yellow water-lily and the little teal. The flower was not faded
    and the bird was alive and well, for the water  was as ice-cold as when
    the soldiers dipped the cauldron into the lake in the dark, taking in
    as well, unbeknown to themselves, the little teal asleep on the ripple
    and the water-lily, folded in sleep, underneath. Brigid picked up the teal and held It between her hands, while it looked at her with jewels of eyes, keeping up a tender twittering.
    “Sleepy
    head, to be caught napping like that I” said the Wise. Woman. “Your
    lake is troubled for the want of its guardian spirit. Away with you now
    to where you belong, St. Colman’s blessed duck, and let the decent
    soldier boys’ kettles come to the boil!” And she set it free.
     
     With a
    clapping of wings, as if a child were laughing, the little teal, so the
    old legend says, rose in the air and flew away.

    Waikato Times, Volume 103, Issue 17314, 28 January 1928

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