The most religious Columkill The child was baptized by the name of Criomthan, and he was always attended by a guardian angel, named Axall, and an evil genius, or demon, called Demal. He was sent to school at a monastery, and his master allowed him a weekly holiday, to play with the children in a neighbouring town. His amiable disposition made him so great a favourite with his youthful companions that when they saw him coming from the gate of the convent they used to lift up their hands in a transport of joy, exclaiming, Here comes Collum na Cille,' which in Irish means • The Pigeon of the Church.' The Abbot Florence, therefore, directed that his gifted pupil should be always called by this name. 6 Notwithstanding this pleasing promise of his youth, it seems that Columba manifested when he grew up a very quarrelsome and revengeful disposition, which, no doubt, was the work of his indwelling demon. He was the promoter of three or four bloody battles between his countrymen. The first battle happened on this wise. During the sitting of the Royal Parliament, one member killed another against the established laws and privileges of that convention.' The murderer took refuge in a monastery, and was committed to the protection of Columba. But justice or vengeance pursued him, and put him to death, disregarding the sanctuary. This sacrilegious violence so enraged the saint that his passion urged him on to revenge, and roused by him the northern clan O'Neill took up arms in his defence.' In an outrageous manner they demanded satisfaction of King Dermod for violating the holy asylum, and putting the offender to death. The King thought to chastise their sedition with the sword, and marched against them with his forces; a terrible engagement followed, and after a bloody conflict, the royal army, supported by the provincial troops of Counaught, was defeated; and that martial clan, the O'Neills, obtained a complete victory, "not a little owing to the fervent prayers of Columkill." There is another account, called the Black Book of Molaga,' which represents the cause of this war differently. It was a dis pute about a copy of the New Testament, transcribed by an unknown hand. Columkill took possession of it, alleging that as the copyist was unknown, he had as good a right to it as any one else. The matter was referred to the King of Ireland, who decided against the claimant, quoting the proverb, that the cow and the calf should always go together,' and, therefore, that the proprietor of the original had an undoubted right to the copy until the true owner appeared. This decision was resented by the dove-like saint, and he found means to engage the king in the war which ended in the memorable battle of Cuill Dreimme. He excited the other wars to avenge affronts which he received from different persons, so that his vindictive temper caused the shedding of an immense quantity of Irish blood. Taking these facts into consideration, St. Molaise imposed upon Columkill a very severe penance: namely, that he should quit his native land and never more behold Ireland with his eyes, hoping that exile would be an effectual cure for his vindictive nature. He humbly submitted to the cruel penance. This is the reason why he never rested till he had got out of sight of the island.' But he returned many years after as Abbot of Iona, to assist in the decision of the great question about the threatened banishment of the Bards. How was he to do this without looking at his beloved country and breaking his vow? Quite easily; by wearing a close bandage over his eyes all the time he was in it. And thus, as the old chronicles record, Columkill religiously observed the commands of St. Molaise, and never was refreshed with a glimpse of light till the assembly broke up, and he returned into Scotland.' St. Molaise wrote a poem upon this occasion, wherein are these lines: The pious Columkill with his retinue The country. The retinue mentioned consisted of twenty bishops, forty presbyters, fifty deacons, and thirty students of divinity. The fact that twenty bishops came in the train of an abbot sorely perplexed the chroniclers, a proof that they lived five or six centuries after the events they undertook to describe. Having imbibed their ecclesiastical ideas under the Roman hierarchy, which first brought diocesan episcopacy into Ireland, they could not understand that the bishops' of the monastic times were nothing more than doctors or professors—the title implying simply, that they had been authorised or designated by some abbot to go forth as teachers or missionaries. Father Keating endeavours to get out of the difficulty by quoting a passage from the history of the Venerable Bede, who says that the island of Iona had an abbot for its governor, to whom not only the whole province, but also the bishops, by an unusual order, owed submission.' But the case of Iona was not at all exceptional. Every abbot in Ireland had supreme jurisdiction over the clergy in his district, and these were generally called 'bishops,' of whom there were several in the same convent, engaged either as tutors and professors, or as preachers. But when the illustrious Abbot of Hy (as the island was anciently called) made his appearance at the assembly, convened at Drumkeat, he met a very strange reception, which is instructive as showing, at least, what the chroniclers and the writers of the Ancient Manuscripts thought likely and credible, as happening in Ireland in the golden age of Christianity.' We are told that when Columkill came near Drumkeat-where the kings, princes, prelates, and nobles were assembled the wife of Hugh, King of Ireland was incensed at his arrival, and commanded her son Conall to treat those religious foreigners' with contempt, to disregard their office, and not give them the least countenance or protection. The news of the evil design having reached the saint, he refused to enter the assembly till he had obtained satisfaction. Therefore he addressed himself to Heaven and importunately petitioned for an exemplary stroke of vengeance.' His prayer, which was granted, was this: that the queen and her waiting lady might be punished with a disease, which, though not incurable, should afflict them with long and lingering pains, and confine them to their apartments.' During the time the distemper continued, the superstitious people of the country about imagined that they had been turned into cranes. But this ungallant retaliation for a singular example of Irish from carry hospitality did not deter the wicked son of the queen ing out his mother's instructions in a most outrageous manner. The abbot was received with profound respect by the royal and noble assembly, and seated beside Conall, son to the King of Ireland. But this graceless prince gave the signal to his accomplices, a gang of roughs, whereupon they immediately began to insult the bishops from Iona,' pelting them with tufts and dirt till they were covered with filth, and some of them very much bruised by this violent and barbarous treatment.' St. Columba was amazed at the outrage, and demanded at whose instigation it was perpetrated. Finding that the king's son was the director and principal cause of this barbarity, 'he warmly represented to the prince the heinousness of the act; and, as the Chronicle goes on, he caused twenty-seven bells to be rung, and by these bells he laid the most heavy curses and dreadful imprecations upon him, which had the effect of depriving Conall of his sense and understanding, and in the end caused the loss of his estate, and of the succession to the crown of Ireland. This cruel prince, from the curse laid upon him by the ringing of the bells, was afterwards distinguished by the name of Conall Clogach.' Another son, however, was respectful to St. Columba, and so he prayed for him as effectually as he had prayed against the other. He then paid an unwelcome visit to the Monarch of Ireland, who sat in a room apart from the rest of the assembly. His Majesty had great awe upon him when the saint came into his presence, for by the constant success of his prayers, he became a terror to the Irish court.' Columba's next visit was to the King of Ossory, whom the King of Ireland had cast into prison, where, loaded with chains, he was kept under a strong guard. Here the old Chronicle records a most miraculous event. A large pillar, as it were of fire, appeared in the air at night, exceedingly bright and terrible, lighting up the castle as at noonday; it hung directly over the apartment where King Scanlan was confined. Groaning under the weight of his irons, he heard a distinct voice, which called aloud, Scanlan, stand up! fear nothing! give me your hand, and leave your chains and fetters behind you.' The King obeyed, and the chains fell of their own accord.' The soldiers, who had fallen flat on their faces when they saw the bright pillar, now summoned courage to demand who had dared to force open the prison. The angel replied, that Scanlan, King of Ossory, was free, which answer confounded them, for they thought it impossible that any human power could make such a desperate attempt. The King of Ireland had churlishly refused the earnest request of the saint to set his Royal prisoner at liberty, when St. Columba said he should be liberated, and that he would that very night ' untie the strings of his brogues,' while engaged in his midnight devotions.' This prediction was accomplished; for King Scanlan, staying with his deliverer at his lodgings, the latter being disposed to sleep, intended to take off his brogues, but was prevented by the king, who untied them. The saint, in surprise, demanded who had loosened his strings. The king replied that he had done it; which gave the saint great satisfaction, because he had frustrated the design of Hugh, the King of Ireland, upon that prince, and procured his delivery from a cruel imprisonment.' Let us have one more exploit of the Dove of the Church before he returns in peace to his paradise, Iona, which his austerities made for him a purgatory. An old chronicle relates, that when St. Columba was in Ireland there lived a pagan priest in the 'county' of Tyrconnel, who erected a temple of great beauty and magnificence, and among other curiosities of art and workmanship he made an altar of fine glass, which he adorned with the representation of the sun and moon. It happened that this priest was seized with a sudden distemper, which took away his senses, and he was without motion, as if in a swoon. The Devil, who it seems had a particular resentment against the man, took advantage of the opportunity, seized him with his talons, and was hurrying him away through the air. St. Columba looking up, perceived the fiend upon the wing bearing his prey, and when he was flying over him, the saint made the sign of the cross in the air above his head, which so astounded the Devil that he let go his hold and dropped the priest, who providentially fell at St. Columba's feet.' This deliverance was so gratefully received by the priest, that after a short discourse he became a convert to Christianity; when he had dedicated his temple to the Christian faith, he bestowed it upon St. Columba, and entered himself into a 'reli |