Now there was no trick of deviltry, druidism, witchcraft, or black art in his heart, which he did not work for all he was able, trying to gain the victory over Saint Patrick, but it was all no use for him, for the words of God were more powerful than the deviltry of the fairy sweetheart.
With the dint of the fury that was on Crom Dubh and on Téideach his son, they began snapping and grinding their teeth, and so outrageous was their fury that Saint Patrick gave a blow of his crozier to the cliff under the base of the gable of the house, and he separated that much of the cliff from the cliffs on the mainland, and that is to be seen there today just as well as the first day, and that is the cliff that is called Dún Briste or Broken Fort.
To pursue the story. All that much of the cliff is a good many yards out in the sea from the cliff on the mainland, so Crom Dubh and his son had to remain there until the midges and the scaldcrows had eaten the flesh off their bones. And that is the death that Crom Dubh got, and that is the second man that midges ate, and our ancient shanachies say that the first man that midges ate was Judas after he had hanged himself. And that is the cause why the bite of the midges is so sharp as it is.
To pursue the story still further. When Clonnach saw what had happened to his father he took fright, and he was terrified of Saint Patrick, and he began burning the mountain until he had all that side of the land set on fire. So violently did the mountains take fire on each side of him that himself could not escape, and they say that he himself was burned to a lump amongst them.
Saint Patrick returned back to Fochoill and round through Baile na Pairce, the Town of the Field, and Bein Buidhe, the Yellow Ben, and back to Clochar. The people gathered in multitudes from every side doing honorable homage to Saint Patrick, and the pride of the world on them that an end had been made of Crom Dubh.
There was a well near and handy, and he brought the great multitude round about the well, and he never left mother’s son or man’s daughter without setting on their faces the wave of baptism and the seal of Christ on their foreheads. They washed and scoured the walls of the well, and all round about it, and they got forked branches and limbs of trees and bound white and blue ribbons on them, and set them round about the well, and every one of them bowed down on his knees saying their prayers of thankfulness to God, and as an entertainment for Saint Patrick on account of his having put an end to the sway of Crom Dubh.
After making an end of offering up their prayers every man of them drank three sups of water out of the well, and there is not a year from that out that the people used not to make a turus or pilgrimage to the well, on the anniversary of that day. And that day is the last Sunday of the seventh month, and the name the Irish-speakers call the month by in that place is the month of Lughnas, and the name of the Sunday is Crom Dubh’s Sunday, but the name that the English-speakers call the Sunday by is Garland Sunday. There is never a year from that to this that there does not be a meeting in Cill Chuimin, for that is the place where the well is. They come far and near to make a pilgrimage to the well; and a number of other people go there too, to amuse themselves and drink and spend. And I believe that the most of that rakish lot go there making a mock of the Christian Irish-speakers who are offering up their prayers to their holy patron Patrick, high head of their religion.
Cuimin’s Well is the name of this well, for its name was changed during the time of Saint Cuimin on account of all the miraculous things he did there, and he is buried within a perch of the well in Cill Chuimin.
There does be a gathering on the same Sunday at Dún Padraig or Downpatrick at the well which is called Tobar Brighde or Brigit’s Well beside Cill Brighde, and close to Dún Briste. But, love of my heart, since the English jargon began a short time ago in that place the old Christian custom of the Christians is almost utterly gone off.
There now ye have it as I got it, and if ye don’t like it add to it your complaints.
SAINT BRIGIT
GALWAY
LADY GREGORY 1906
Now as to Brigit she was born at sunrise on the first day of the spring, of a bondwoman of Connacht. And it was angels that baptized her and that gave her the name of Brigit, that is a Fiery Arrow.
She grew up to be a serving girl the same as her mother. And all the food she used was the milk of a white red-eared cow that was set apart for her by a Druid.
And everything she put her hand to used to increase, and it was she wove the first piece of cloth in Ireland, and she put the white threads in the loom that have a power of healing in them to this day. She bettered the sheep and she satisfied the birds and she fed the poor.
And when she grew to be strong and to have good courage she went to her father Dubthach’s house in Munster and stopped with him there.
And one time there came some high person to the house, and food was made ready for him and for his people; and five pieces of bacon were given to Brigit, to boil them. But there came into the house a very hungry miserable hound, and she gave him out of pity a piece of the bacon.
And when the hound was not satisfied with that she gave him another piece. Then Dubthach came and he asked Brigit were the pieces of bacon ready; and she bade him count them and he counted them, and the whole of the five pieces were there, not one of them missing. But the high guest that was there and that Brigit had thought to be asleep had seen all, and he told her father all that happened.
And he and the people that were with him did not eat that meat, for they were not worthy of it, but it was given to the poor and to the wretched.
After that Brigit went to visit her mother that was in bondage to a Druid of Connacht.
And it is the way she was at that time, at a grass-farm of the mountains having on it twelve cows, and she gathering butter.
And there was sickness on her, and Brigit cared her and took charge of the whole place.
And the churning she made, she used to divide it first into twelve parts in honor of the twelve apostles of our Lord; and the thirteenth part she would make bigger than the rest, to the honor of Christ, and that part she would give to strangers and to the poor.
And the serving boy wondered to see her doing that, but it is what she used to say: “It is in the name of Christ I feed the poor; for Christ is in the body of every poor man.”
When she was a poor girl she was minding her cow one time at the Curragh of Lifé, and she had no place to feed it but the side of the road. And a rich man that owned the land came by and saw her and he said: “How much land would it take to give grass to the cow?” “As much as my cloak would cover,” said she. “I will give that,” said the rich man.
She laid down her cloak then, and it was spreading out miles and miles on every side. But there was a silly old woman passing by and she said: “If that cloak goes on spreading, all Ireland will be free.” And with that the cloak stopped and spread no more.
And Brigit held that land through her lifetime, and it never had rent on it since, but the English Government have taken it now and have put barracks upon it. It is a pity the old woman spoke at that time. She did not know Brigit to be better than any other one.
On the day of the battle of Almhuin, Brigit was seen over the men of Leinster, and Columcille was seen over the Ua Neill; and it was the men of Leinster won that battle.
And a long time after that again, when Strongbow that had brought great trouble into Ireland and that was promised the kingdom of Leinster was near his end, he cried out from his bed that he saw Brigit of the Gael, and that it was she herself was bringing him to his death.
But if Brigit belonged to the east, it is not in the west she is forgotten, and the people of Burren and of Corcomruadh and Kinvara go every year to her blessed well that is near the sea, praying and remembering her.
And in that well there is a little fish that is seen every seven years, and whoever sees that fish is cured of every disease. And there is a woman living yet that is poor and old and that saw that blessed fish, and this is the way she tells the story:
“I
had a pearl in my eye one time, and I went to Saint Brigit’s well on the cliffs. Scores of people there were in it, looking for cures, and some got them and some did not get them.
“And I went down the four steps to the well and I was looking into it, and I saw a little fish no longer than your finger coming from a stone under the water. Three spots it had on the one side and three on the other side, red spots and a little green with the red, and it was very civil coming hither to me and very pleasant wagging its tail. And it stopped and looked up at me and gave three wags of its back, and walked off again and went in under the stone.
“And I said to a woman that was near me that I saw the little fish, and she began to call out and to say there were many coming with cars and with horses for a month past and none of them saw it at all.
And she proved me, asking had it spots, and I said it had, three on the one side and three on the other side. “That is it,” she said.
And within three days I had the sight of my eye again. It was surely Saint Brigit I saw that time; who else would it be? And you would know by the look of it that it was no common fish. Very civil it was, and nice and loughy, and no one else saw it at all. Did I say more prayers than the rest? Not a prayer. I was young in those days. I suppose she took a liking to me, maybe because of my name being Brigit the same as her own.”
SAINT COLUMCILLE
HUGH NOLAN FERMANAGH
HENRY GLASSIE 1977
Columcille.
Well, do ye see, he was a native of Donegal.
There’s a place in Donegal they call Glencolumcille, and I think maybe that’s where he’s from.
You see,
he had to leave this country
over a book.
I don’t know what’s this man’s name was, but he wrote this religious book.
(I’m just not well up on this story.)
And I think that Saint Columcille got the book for to read.
And he took a copy of the book, do ye see.
So when he was giving back the book, as far as I can remember, he wanted to keep the copy, do ye see, that he had wrote.
So the man that owned the book, he wouldn’t agree to that.
And they wrangled and wrangled and wrangled for a long time about this.
So finally the case was referred to the high king.
There was a king in this country at that time.
So the way he decided it was:
that
to every cow belongs her calf,
and
to every book belongs its copy.
So he give judgment in favor of this man that owned the book.
So then Saint Columcille, of course, naturally enough, he was vexed.
And any man would be vexed
about being deprived of his own writings
and what he considered to be his own.
So anyway, he decided that he would put it to a battle,
and whoever would win the battle that
this copy of this book would be his.
So anyway, both men prepared for the battle.
And there was a day appointed.
And a battle took place.
And Saint Columcille’s men won the battle.
And he had to get a copy of the book.
So whenever it was over, he got sorry for what he done, for putting it to that fellow.
And he went to some holy man to get his advice on it.
And what this man told him was that he’d have to do a little penance for the loss of what life was in the battle, that he’d have to try and convert as many as was killed in this battle.
So anyway, his sentence was
that he’d have to leave Ireland
for all time
for to never return,
and that he’d have to go to some pagan land
and convert as many to Christianity
as was killed in the battle
that was over the book.
So anyway, he started.
And it was in Scotland he landed.
And he wrought in Scotland till he died in preaching and converting.
All the time that ever he came back to Ireland was—and he had to come back blindfolded because the penance that was left on him was that he’d never see Ireland more and that he’d have to leave it.
So he came back blindfolded on an errand.
And the errand was:
There was at a time and there was a section of the Irish people used to go about in bands: they were the bards.
There was an instrument, there are instruments to this day yet in places in Ireland: the harp.
These ones played on harps and others sang and they went round from one town to another, and noted places like Arney and Derrylin and Enniskillen, and put in nights and amused the people.
So there was some kind of a law that these people were all going to be banished out of the country.
So Saint Columcille was informed about it in Scotland that that was coming to pass in Ireland.
So he came back to Ireland blindfolded.
And he made an appeal to the authorities for not to banish these because he was a lover of music and stuff like that.
So that was all the time he got back to Ireland from he had to leave it.
So he died in Scotland at a very big age.
He was a great, a great man, and wonderful for bringing people to the knowledge of God and Christianity.
And then he had his own troubles too.
COLUMCILLE’S COFFIN
PÁDRAIG MAC AN LUAIN DONEGAL
SÉAMAS Ó CATHÁIN 1972
After Colm was sentenced to exile, he sailed away from Derry for Scotland. He wasn’t even allowed to look back as he went. He came to Iona and spent his life converting pagans over there.
Colm had a lovely big white horse of which he was very fond and when Colm grew old and lay on his deathbed, the horse came into the house and over to the bed where he lay. It sniffed and nosed all around him and then went out again. Colm died that night. But before he died, he asked that his name be put on his coffin and that the coffin should be cast out into the sea. And so it was done.
Down at the lower end of Inishowen, there was a man who had a lot of cattle and he had a boy hired to herd them. The boy used to take them down to the shore every day to graze. But there was one cow which never ate any grass and was forever down on the sands licking at something or other.
The boy never paid much attention to her, but the farmer noticed that this particular cow was beginning to give more and more milk, far more than the rest of them, so much so, in fact, that there weren’t enough vessels about the place to hold it all.
“What’s that cow eating more than any of the rest of them?” asked the farmer.
“She’s not eating anything at all,” said the boy. “But she’s always down on the sands licking at something or other.”
Down they went to see what the cow was licking and, sure enough, there was Columcille’s coffin sticking up out of the sand on the shore with his name on the lid and orders for him to be buried in Downpatrick. And so it was done.
SAINT KEVIN
MR. WYNDER WICKLOW
MR. AND MRS. S. C. HALL 1841
One day in spring before the blossoms were on the trees, a young man grievously afflicted with the falling sickness fancied that an apple would cure him, and the dickens an apple tree at all at all was about the place. But what mattered that to the Saint! He ordered a score of fine yellow pippins to grow upon a willow, and the boy gathered and ate and was cured.
The Saint was one day going up Derrybawn, and he meets a woman that carried five loaves in her apron.
“What have ye there, good woman?” says the Saint.
“I have five stones,” says she.
“If they are stones,” says he, “I pray that they may be bread. And if they are bread,” says he, “I pray that they may be stones.”
So, with that, the woman lets them fall, and sure enough, stones
they were, and are to this day.
The Saint managed to get from King O’Toole a grant of the land upon which he built his churches.
The king was old and weak in himself, and took a mightly liking to a goose, a live goose. And in course of time the goose was like the master, old and weak.
So O’Toole sent for his Holiness. And his Holiness went to see what would the pagan—for King O’Toole was a heathen—want with him.
“God save ye,” says the Saint.
“God save ye kindly,” says the king.
“A better answer than I expected,” says the Saint.
“Will ye make my goose young?” says the king.
“What’ll ye give me?” says the Saint.
“What’ll ye ask?” says the king.
“All I’ll ask will be as much of the valley as he’ll fly over,” says the Saint.
“Done,” says the king.
So with that Saint Kevin stoops down, takes up the goose, and flings him up, and away he goes over the lake and all round the Glen, which in course was the Saint’s hereditary property from that day out.
SAINT FINBAR
DONNCHA Ó CRÓINÍN CORK
SEAN O’SULLIVAN 1937
Long long ago, before Saint Finbar came to Gougane, the little lake was between the mountains, and on a calm day you would like to be looking at it, the water was so still. At that time there was a small house there and a widow and her son lived in it. They had one cow, and every day the son would mind the cow while his mother was busy around the house.
One day when he went down to the lake, what did he see, instead of the water, but an ugly serpent that was almost as big as one of the hills around. The boy was terrified and he ran home. They didn’t know from where the serpent had come or why she came, so there was great excitement around the place. The serpent remained there and came out every day and swept off anything she met. At last the people of the district were ruined, and were afraid to go outside their doors.
Irish Folk Tales Page 8