The Book of Lismore

Searching for Senan: The Life

I’ve been to Clare, on a three day trip with Amanda, both of us in search of St Senan. Our destination was Scattery Island, in the mouth of the Shannon, a boat trip from Kilrush. My intention with this post was to describe this marvellous trip to Scattery – HIGHLY recommended! But alas, I made the mistake of turning to Whitley Stokes translation of The Life of Senan, from the Book of Lismore.

As regular readers know I have turned to the Book of Lismore on other occasions (see The White Hound of Brigown and this piece on St Brigid) and I am entranced by the language of Whitley Stokes’ (below) imaginative and magisterial translation, so this post will be devoted to the Life of Senan, illustrated by the many stained glass depictions of him we found in South Clare. My main source for photographs, however, is the large depiction of Senan in the Robertstown (Co Limerick) Church, and the photography is by John Glynn. John has very generously shared his magnificent photograph of the window with me, for which I am very grateful. John is also the mastermind behind Clare’s Stained Glass – a work of great interest, beauty and erudition. Check it out!

Scattery Island is the spiritual home of St Senan. With the ruins of six churches (and hints of a seventh), a holy well, and echoes of gruelling pilgrimages, it is a fascinating island – but more of that next time.

For now, let’s talk about Saint Senan, one of the ‘apostles’ of Ireland. His name may have been originally pronounced Shennon: yes, quite like the river at whose mouth the island sits. Stokes uses the form Senán throughout (pronounced Shenawn), but I have kept Senan (Pronounced Senn-an) since that is the common pronunciation. Before I begin, here is the complete Robertstown window. It is the work of Kevin Kelly of Abbey Studios, done in 2003. Thank you, John, for these outstanding images.

The story starts with St Patrick, foretelling the birth of Senan (image below the quote).

‘And the island there in the west, in front of the sea, that is Inis Cathaigh, is there any dwelling in it?’ saith Patrick. ‘There is none,’ say they, ‘for there is a terrible monster therein named Cathach, who doth not allow it to be inhabited. ‘Marvellous,’ saith Patrick, ‘is the diadem of dignity, and the precious stone, and the venerable servant specially lovable to God and to men, even the child that will be born with you. For it is for his sake that the soil of yon island is preserved in virginity, for it is there that his resurrection will be, and the resurrection of a great host of saints along with him.’ Then said Patrick, prophesying Senán’s birth:

A manchild will be born in the west,

In the island over the ocean.

The Corco-Baiscinn will be under his hand,

Men and children and women.

He will be splendid, noble, dignified,

With God, and with men.

Happy the folk and the church

That will be under that child’s protection.

‘Renowned and revered will that child be,’ saith Patrick; ‘for he will bring to them peace with abundance of every good thing, and banishment of every unlawful disease, if they do the will of that child, even Saint Senán, with tithes, and first-fruits and alms to God and to Senán. But woe to his monks who shall not do that child’s will, for God will then inflict heavy vengeances upon them, so that there shall be ruin on their men and on their cattle. And corn and milk and every produce shall then be taken away from them, so that they shall abide in famine and ruin, and every one will sell his son and his daughter in far-off territories that they may be fed, unless they are obedient to Senán. Wise and dignified will their children be in the present world if they are obedient to him.’ The stake of rowan that was in her hand when she was bringing forth her son took the earth, and burst at once into flower and leaf; and still that tree remains.

Senan performs lots of miracles as a child: like transporting his family’s whole farm through the air to a new location (I could have done with Senan when I moved house in January!); emerging unharmed in a barn conflagration; blessing spoiled food so “their proper flavour went to them;” reading while the corn grinds itself; bringing a dead boy to life. However, in a story that reminds us that old Irish saints were full-blooded creatures capable of behaving badly, he does not hesitate to use his powers in vengeful and destructive ways.

On another day Senan went with his father’s oxen out of Irrus in the west to bring them eastward to Magh Lacha ; and he saw the sea full in before him. Now night was then near, so he went to Dun Mechair (Mechar s fortress), which was at hand, to ask for a guest-house.  Now Mechar was not in his fort on that night, and in his absence his household refused Senan. So Senan went back to the sea to await the ebb, and there was no other house near him to which he might then go. As his oxen went before him, on the shore of the sea, he saw the sea-strand before him. Then he drives his oxen over the strand. Then as Senan lifted his feet up over high-water-mark on the land, he heard the wave behind him striking against his heels. His mind changes then, and this he said, Sufficient for me is the length of time that I have been at this layman’s work. Then he breaks the spear that was in his hand, and makes a cross thereof, and sets it into the ground, and thrice he prostrates himself by it to God. Then a troop came, and that night destroyed Mechar s fortress, and they slew his son, and his wife was carried off in the plunder. And the fortress has not been inhabited from that to this, and this will never be done.

Another version of this story has it that the staff in the shape of the crucifix parts the sea so the cattle can get through. (Hmmm, what does that remind you of?). By now he is a novice in the Monastery of the learned Notal, and as Senan’s fame spreads Notal’s monastery is overrun with supplicants so he tells Senan it is time to set up his own house. The first of these is at Enniscorthy, near Ferns, where Maedhoc of Ferns turns the Abbey over to him.

From there he goes to Rome (above right, meeting the Pope. On the left is the young Senan with his mentor, Cassidus), and onward to Tours, to learn from St Martin of Tours, who gives him a book, “today called Senan’s Gospel.” St David of Wales, on his way home, gives Senan his crozier. That’s what’s being depicted below, along with a lovely impression of the Scattery Island ruins.

Once he gets back to Ireland there are many more adventures and miracles. There’s a long poem about Inis Cara, and several more houses to establish, and monks and holy virgins to gather, and wells to spring forth, and miracles to perform. But still he has not found the place of his resurrection. I am giving the story of how he came to Scattery in full, as it so central to the legend of Senan. Inish Cathaigh (pronounce inish cohig) is derived from Island of the Battle, and Scattery is likely derived from a local pronunciation of that name.

Then came Raphael the Archangel to commune with Senan, and he said: ‘Come with me, and I will shew thee the place in which thy resurrection will take place; for unto God it seems time for thee to reach it.’ Then Senan and the angel went till they were on Mullach Feis. Then said the angel to him: ‘Behold the island there. Thy resurrection shall be therein, and the resurrection of a great host of saints along with thee. In the west of the world there is no more sacred island. No outrage to God hath ever been committed there. God sent an awful monster to keep it, so that neither sinners nor sons of cursing should dwell therein, but that it should remain in holiness awaiting thee. Yonder monster shall be put forth from the island before thee, so that dwelling along with it may not annoy thy community. For unto God it seemeth time for thee to go and build a church in that island. Noble and venerable will that church be. It will be a head of devotion and a well of wisdom of the west of the world. It will be a protection of prayer to foreigners and to Gael.’

Said Senan to the angel: ‘What seems timely to God seems timely to me; for this is what I seek continually, that which is the will of God.’ With that the angels lift him up along with the flagstone on which he was sitting, from Mullach Fessi, and set him down on a high hill in the middle of the island; and thence is Ard na n-Aingel ( the Angels Height ), and Lee na n-Aingel (the Angels Flagstone ) in Inis Cathaigh. They sing praise to God in that spot, even Senan and the angels, and then they went to seek the monster, to the place in which it abode.

When the monster heard them, it shook its head, and its hair stood up upon it, and its rough bristles; and it looked at them, hatingly and wrathfully. Not gentle, friendly, mild, was the look that it bestowed upon them, for it marvelled that any one else should come to visit it in its island. So it went to them strongly and swiftly, insomuch that the earth trembled under its feet. Hideous, uncouth, ruthless, awful, was the beast that arose there. Longer was its body than Inis na h-Urclaide. A horse’s mane had it; an eye gleaming flaming in its head, and it keen, savage, froward, angry, edged, crimson, bloody, cruel, bounding. Any one would think that its eye would go through him when it looked upon him. Two very hideous, very thick feet under it; behind it a mane. Nails of iron on it which used to strike showers of fire out of the rocks of stone wherever it went across them. A fiery breath it had which burnt like embers. A belly it had like the bellows of a furnace. A whale’s tail upon it behind. Iron, rending claws upon it, which used to lay bare the surface of the ground on the path they came behind the monster. Equally did it traverse sea and land when it so desired. Then the sea boiled from the greatness of its heat and from its virulence when it entered it. No boats could catch it: neither from that day to this has any one escaped from it who could tell tidings of it.

Above, an image of Senan and the Monster from Monmore Church in Clare, by the Murphy-Devitt Studios

Now, when the monster came savagely to the place where Senan was biding, it opened its maw so that, as it drew nigh the cleric, its entrails were clearly seen over the maw. Thereat Senan lifted up his hand and made the sign of Christ’s Cross in its face. Then the monster was silent, and this is what Senan spake to it: I say unto thee,’ saith he, ‘in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, leave this island and hurt no one in the district over which thou wilt go, nor in the district unto which thou wilt come. The monster went at once at Senan’s word out of the island till it reached Dubloch of Sliab Collain. And it did no hurt to any one, till it came there, nor after arriving; for it durst not oppose Senan’s word.

Now after that Senan and the angels went righthandwise round the island till they came again to the Height of the Angels, after they had consecrated the island. Senan said to the angel: Savage is the sea that there is around the island: there seemeth a troubled people therein.’ ‘Though it be savage,’ saith the angel, ‘whatever monk with humbleness of heart shall go from thee, he will not be drowned until he shall come back to thee again. God hath granted to thee,’ saith the angel, ‘that he over whom the mould of this island shall go, shall not be after Judgment an inhabitant of hell.’

Once Senan was safely in charge of the Island there were, of course, many more miraculous happenings: men sent to haul him away left empty-handed and died soon afterwards; a wizard is drowned by what sounds like a tidal wave; horses are swallowed up by the land (in the place known ever after as Fan na n-Ech); an evil king is killed (by a hornless swarthy sheep) and his land then belongs to Senan; two small boys die but come back to let their parents know they are happy in heaven and will stay there; food is provided for a feast by a King who then converts; a drought is cured by means of a holly tree. (In the section below, monks travel safely on the left and sailors are saved from drowning on the right.)

The visit of St Canair (Pronounced Canner, and also often given as Canaire, pronounced Canner-ah), a holy woman who is also associated with Bantry on West Cork, is almost the last story in the Life of Senan. She comes to Scattery but Senan refuses to allow her to land and they have this exchange

‘Women enter not this island’, saith Senan.

‘How canst thou say that?’ saith Canair. ‘Christ is no worse than thou. Christ came to redeem women no less than to redeem men. No less did  He suffer for the sake of women than for the sake of men. Women have given service and tendance unto Christ and His Apostles. No less than men do women enter the heavenly kingdom. Why, then, shouldst thou not take women to thee in thine island?’

For thus had she been while they were in converse, standing up on the wave, with her staff under her bosom, as if she were on land. Then Canair came on shore, and the Sacrament was administered to her, and she straightway went to heaven.

God granted unto Canair that whoso visits her church before going on the sea shall not be drowned between going and returning.

I think that’s enough. Or rather, as Stokes translates it: Overmany, now, to reckon and set forth are the miracles and marvels which God wrought for Senan. 

But let us not neglect the wonderful summation of his life and worth that Stokes renders in this gorgeous language. I will just give you a taste of it.

He is the glassy well whereby all the folks which God entrusted to him are washed by the purity of his teaching.  He moreover is the heavenly cloud whereby the earth of the Church and the souls of the righteous are illumined by the rain of his teaching with the holding fast of virtues. 

He is the mayor and steward and spencer,  whom the Heavenly Overking sent to exact tribute of virtues and good deeds from Goedel’s many clans.

He is the precious stone whereof the heavenly palace is built for the hosts of the earth. He is the pure vessel by which the wine of God’s word is dealt out to the people. He is the great and happy hospitaller of goodly teaching, who used to satisfy the poor and naked. He is the branch of the true Vine which prepareth life and satisfaction for the world. 

He is the true leech that healeth the ailments and diseases of the soul of every faithful man in the Christian Church.

There is a final story about Senan’s death involving the relics of his tutor, Cassidan; holy virgins who ask for the body of one of his monks (for relics); Martin of Tours uplifted on a cloud for a final meeting with Senan; and various saints and clerics coming to bury him before ‘angels carried his soul to the eternal rest in the union of the holy Trinity and heaven’s household.’

A final note, just in case you though Senan was all work and no play . . .

St. Brandanus: A 14th Century Graphic Novel. Part 2

There are several versions of the Brendan story (that’s a Harry Clarke Brendan, above, from Tullamore), and some of the stories in one version might not be present in another. This particular version is told in a series of illustrations, each one captioned in what Biedermann calls “faulty monastic Latin.” It is contained in a much larger work, the Krumauer Bilder-Codex (or Illustrated Codex), and occurs at the end after many other stories of saints. A Codex, by the way, is a book, rather than a scroll. In the 14th century, vellum was used as the main writing material. The drawings are line drawings in pen and ink. They are simple, but in Biedermann’s opinion ‘joyful.’ I agree. Here’s one of the stories.

While they were walking on the island with Saint Brendan, a certain young man met them, filled with the radiance of the sun.

And that young man boarded the little ship with them and vanished from their sight.

I love the way you see only his legs disappearing up into the clouds.  St Brendan, although happy to see the radiant youth in the first illustration, is looking a little grumpy in this one. “What did we do wrong, that he left us”, I can hear him say. You may note, by the way, that in some illustrations the monks are depicted in a curved shape, like Brendan in the first line drawing above. This convention, known as the S-curve, is also seen in medieval stained glass windows, such as this one from the Exeter Museum.

Here’s another one, from St Helen’s Church in York. This S-curve was a way of introducing some sense of movement into a figure of a saint or monk, and was a typically gothic element, perhaps an attempt to make the figure less rigid.

The illustrations are laid out on facing pages, so you read top left, top right, bottom left, bottom right. Although the Brendan story has four illustrations per two-page spread, most of the stories in the Krumauer Bildercodex have six, or occupy three horizontal spaces instead of two. Here’s an image of a typical lay-out, although I don’t know what story is being told in it.

At some point there is a need for a new boat. No problem – Brendan sticks his staff in the ground and immediately a tree springs up. The monks set to work on it and in no time have carved out a boat.

In the next illustration they are at sea and raising a sail. Aha – I hear you cry, but now there are only three of them. And what kind of sail is that? And also – surely they were in an Irish curragh – what about all the hides? Alas – the Codex provides no answers to our urgent questions, although the story-teller who used the illustrations as he narrated to an eager audience may have done all that. We don’t know who commissioned the Krumauer Bildercodex, although since a production like this was time-consuming and expensive, it may have been a noble patron or a monastery. 

One of the most famous of the Brendan stories is that of the giant fish, sometimes called Jasconius, and often referred to as a whale. 

The caption reads: Here they found an island which stood upon a fish, and they hung a pot over a great fire, wanting to boil a sheep, and the fire began to burn the fish, and the fish moved the island. 

Here is Whitley Stokes’ translation of the story from the Book of Lismore

Now after the Easter had come the great sea-beast raised his shoulder on high over the storm and over the wave-voice of the sea, so that it was level, firm land, like a field equally smooth, equally high. And they go forth upon that land and there they celebrate the Easter, even one day and two nights.

After they had gone on board their vessels, the whale straightway plunged under the sea. And it was in that wise they used to celebrate the Easter, to the end of seven years, on the back of the whale, as Cundedan said :

Brenainn loved lasting devotion

According to synod and company :

Seven years on the back of the whale :

Hard was the rule of devotion.

For when the Easter of every year was at hand the whale would heave up his back, so that it was dry and solid land.

Since this is one of the most celebrated of the Brendan legends, it is not surprising that it is the story we see most often depicted in stained glass windows. Above is a beauty by Ethel Rhind of An Túr Gloine, in St Brendan’s College in Killarney. And of course, below, one by George Walsh, this one from St Brendan’s Church, the Glen, in Cork.

I will conclude this post with five illustrations for the story of the Golden Bridle, called the Silver Bit in the account I am using. This version is from the esteemed Canon O’Hanlon, (below) from his Life of St Brendan, in Volume 5 of his Lives of the Irish Saints (available online at https://archive.org/).

It is obvious, since the illustrations track so closely, that O’Hanlon was using the same translation as the Bilder-Codex. But I should warn you that in his translation the demon is cast in the form of a black child, an ‘Ethiop,’ as it is in other versions too. In the Codex it is simply referred to as a demon and depicted as a horned beast with a tail.

But, while they slept, Brendan saw a child, black as an Ethiop, holding a bit, and playing before the unfortunate brother, in whose eyes he made it glitter. The saint arose, and he passed that night in prayer till day. When morning dawned, the monks rose as usual, to give praise to the Almighty, and afterwards to regain their ship. Once more, the table was found furnished, as on the day preceding; and thus, for three days and for three nights, the Lord prepared food for his servants. There, too, for three whole days, by the Divine will, they rested on that isle. 

Then they returned to their ship, when Brendan said: ” See, brethren, doth not one of you carry off something from here?” “God forbid,” they replied, “that a robbery should dishonour our voyage.” “Then,” said St. Brendan, “behold, our brother, whom I warned yestereve, has now in his robe a silver bit, that the devil gave him this night.” The brother instantly flung that bit en the ground. . .


. . . and fell at the feet of the man of God, crying: “Father, I have sinned: pardon! pray for the salvation of my soul.” And, at the same moment, all fell down to pray for their brother’s salvation. 

Rising up, they saw the wretched Ethiop escape from the guilty man’s bosom, howling and crying : “Why drive me, O man of God, from my abode, where for seven years I have dwelt, and thus expel me from my inheritance. Brendan immediately turned to the brother, and said: “Receive promptly the Body and Blood of Christ, for thy soul is about t leave thy body, and this is the place of thy burial. But, thy brother, who came with you from the monastery, shall find his place of sepulture in hell.” Whereupon, that penitent monk received Holy Eucharist . . .

. . . and his soul departed; but, it was received by Angels, in the sight of the other monks. His body was then buried. Also, St. Brendan had ordered the expulsed demon, in God’s name, to hurt no person, until the Day of General Judgment.

There’s more of course, and I am undecided whether to continue next time or come back to it later. I’ll sleep on it, and dream of the Land of Promise and of picnicking on the back of a whale.

Part 1 is here and Part 3 is here

St. Brandanus: A 14th Century Graphic Novel. Part 1

I am fond of telling people (because I read it somewhere) that the Voyage of St Brendan the Navigator was a “medieval best seller.” But I have just acquired a book (above) that made me look more closely at that claim. And yes, it’s a true statement, and my book is part of a sprawling tradition of stories about our own beloved St Brendan, that were written across medieval Europe in many languages over several centuries.

This statue of Brendan dominates the town of Bantry. It’s by Ian and Imogen Stuart

I’m mainly illustrating this post with images of St Brendan in stained glass or other art forms. Since he’s one of our favourite Irish saints here, this isn’t hard. But the next post will be illustrated by images from the book, St Brandanus: Der Irische Odysseus. This post is mainly background about St Brendan and his legendary journey.

Willy Earley’s Brendan, St Brendan’s College, Killarney

Brendan’s Navigatio is perhaps best understood as one manifestation of the deep well of mythology that many of our stories have come from. St Brendan sets out from Ireland with several companions (the number changes from version to version) and journeys over the sea for several years. Along the way he encounters wonderful islands, strange creatures, demons and whales, colonies of feathered men and beautiful women. Many miracles keep him and his companions alive and moving onwards towards the Land of Promise.

This window by Ethel Rhind of An Túr Gloine is also in St Brendan’s College in Killarney

This great Irish tradition of seafaring pilgrimage is called Immram and is part of a wider-world mythological treasury that includes Sinbad the Sailor and Odysseus, as well as some other Irish saints. Brendan’s tale is based on a pre-Christian legend called Immram Brain (the full text of which can be read here). Here’s a good summary, courtesy of (unlikely as it seems) the University of Texas in Austin.

The text relates how a mysterious woman appearing in the fort of the protagonist, Bran son of Febal, tells him about a magic apple-tree on the island of Emain Ablach, a terrestrial paradise far away to the west of Ireland and abode of the sea-god Manannán mac Lir, which she describes as a place Without sorrow, without grief, without death, without any sickness, without debility from wounds.

Subsequently, Bran sets out to find this island with three times nine companions: on their way they encounter the sea-god, who directs them to an island inhabited by laughing people, after which they reach a different island inhabited exclusively by women. There, Bran and his retinue spend many blissful years, not noticing the passing of time. When finally Nechtan, one of Bran’s companions, is overcome by homesickness, they decide to return to Ireland but are warned by the queen of the island not to set foot on Irish soil. Upon their arrival, Nechtan disregards the warning and immediately crumbles to dust, as they had spent so many years on the magic island that they were well past their dying age; Bran on the contrary remains on the boat and, after telling their adventures to some onlookers on the shore, sets out again for new adventures.

Readers who are familiar with Irish mythology will immediately recognise the similarity of Nechtan’s story to that of the famed warrior Oisín, who goes to live with the beautiful Niamh of the Golden Hair in TIr na nÓg (the Land of Youth), and to whom the same fate befalls when he returns to Ireland. 

The muscular statue of a mature Brendan in Fenit, Co Kerry, which is the work of Tadgh O’Donoghue. Below is another image of this wonderful work

But to get back to Brendan – the story of his voyage became the principle Immram of the Middle Ages. Originally written in Latin as early as the 9th century, by the 12th century, it was one of the most popular medieval legends, with versions in many languages: French, Italian, English, Dutch, German, Irish, Welsh, and more. In fact, more than a hundred manuscript versions survive. That does not include the Life of Brendan from the Book of Lismore, compiled in the 1480s, and wonderfully translated by Whitley Stokes, even though that Life contains the voyage within it.

Just to give you a flavour of Stokes’ language, here a little extract from the Life:

So Brenainn, son of Finnlug, sailed then over the wave-voice of the strong-maned sea, and over the storm of the green-sided waves, and over the mouths of the marvellous, awful, bitter ocean, where they saw the multitude of the furious red-mouthed monsters, with abundance of the great sea-whales. And they found beautiful marvellous islands, and yet they tarried not therein.

Brendan and his foster-mother, St Ita. In Killorglin, by George Stephen Walsh

The thing about all these manuscript versions of Brendan’s Navigatio is that none except a couple is illustrated. My recent acquisition (thank you, Innana Rare Books!) is a book about one of only two fully illustrated versions, although isolated illustrations crop up here and there. The book was published in 1980 and is a work of scholarship by Hans Biedermann. Biedermann was a highly respected Austrian academic and an expert on symbolism and mythology. A professor at the University of Graz, he died in 1990, aged only 60. This is the only photograph of him I have been able to find.

This means, of course, that the book is in German, and no English translation exists. I turned to my favourite AI tool, Perplexity, to help me with the translations and it provided me with a page-by-page summary. 

This window is in KIllorglin and is by James Cox. It emphasises the scholarly monk in the main panel, leaving the seafarer to the predella

A digression – I am as concerned as you all are about the use and mis-use of AI. For the purpose of this project I used Perplexity as an AI-powered search engine, translator and research assistant, asking it to fact-check items for me, and to dig deeper into sources and references. Because the book is in German, and some of the sources I consulted are in European libraries, I couldn’t have done it without this kind of help. Perplexity also ‘fixed up’ the photograph of Hans Biedermann above, from the tiny fuzzy image which was all I could find online. The writing, however, is all my own – don’t worry, none of this was written by a chatbot.

A detail from a George Walsh window

I am also painfully aware that I am many words in and I haven’t actually shown you what the book is all about. It contains facsimile reproductions of 62 plates from the Krumauer Bildercodex, Codex 370, which is a manuscript kept at the Austrian National Library. The plates illustrate the voyage of St Brendan. There is a minimum of text, in the form of captions in Latin in Gothic script. It is, in essence a graphic novel – and it dates to 1360!

Caption reads: Here the holy abbot Brendan, serving God and the blessed Mary with all his strength, had under him nearly three thousand monks

Next week we will get into the illustrations and look at what may have been the origins and the purpose of the manuscript. They are all pen and ink line drawings – above and below is a foretaste.

Caption reads: Here they set out upon the sea, sailing, and came to an island.

Part 2 is here and Part 3 is here

St Brigid: Dove Among Birds, Vine Among Trees, Sun Among Stars

Starting next year, we’ve been given a new National Holiday! It falls on Feb 1, which is celebrated as St Brigid’s Day in Ireland. (Also Imbolc but that’s another story.) Although in my far-off youth I had a devotion to St Brigid and took her name as my Confirmation Name (is this just a Catholic thing?) I realised I knew very little about Brigid herself. So I set out to do some digging, using my own photographs of her image in stained glass to illustrate. That’s Harry Clarke’s take on Brigid above, from the Honan Chapel in Cork, and another one of his below, from Castletownshend.

Note the lamp, which is one of her attributes, since she is associated with a perpetual fire that miraculously never went out. Given this is Harry Clarke, the lamp looks suspiciously like something from the Arabian Nights.

For the life of Brigid, although there are many, many versions, I have turned to two sources. The primary source is The Life of Saint Brigit by Cogitosus*. Almost unbelievably, this Life dates from about 650 and is written in Hiberno-Latin. Cogitosus may have been a monk in Kildare, steeped in the cult of Brigid. Part of this cult was to claim the highest status for Kildare of all the Irish monastic settlements and therefore the Primacy over all Ireland – a claim that was eventually won by Armagh, which trumped Kildare by its appropriation of St Patrick. Cogitosus’s story is told in the form of 32 miracles, each of which leads us through Brigid’s life. 

Instead of an image of the saint, this window by George Walsh focusses on the Brigid’s Cross, another of her attributes, based on a story where she picked up rushes from the floor and wove them into a cross which healed a dying man. We like to make them every St Brigid’s Day and then hang them in the house to prevent damage by fire

My second source is the Life of Brigit from the Book of Lismore**, translated by Whitley Stokes. I love Stokes’s language, a form which he seems to have invented himself to convey something of the Medieval Irish he was translating (see this post on The White Hound of Brigown for more on this). The Book of Lismore dates to the fifteenth century and it is thought that the Lives of the Saints within it, or some of them, were written in the Abbey at Timoleague in West Cork. In both versions her name is given in translation as Brigit, rather than Brigid which is the more usual modern spelling used in Ireland.

In this window, Brigid brings the winding sheet for the dead St Patrick, a story that does nor feature in either of the Lives I am using here. This is the lower section of a paired window in Killarney Cathedral, part of a series that draws parallels between the Life of Christ and the Lives of Irish Saints. In this case, Brigid is being compared to Mary Magdalene anointing the body of Christ

Many of the same stories occur in both lives. Significantly, though, Patrick is not mentioned in the earlier Life by Cogitosus, although he appears frequently in the Book of Lismore as if she and he were living contemporaneously. There are other differences, showing how the stories grew through the ages, but both agree that Brigid was the daughter of Dubhtach and a bondswoman called Broicsech. Like all good Irish saints, her birth and her greatness is foretold. From the Book of Lismore: 

The wizard went to meet him, and asked whose was the woman who was biding in the chariot. Mine, saith Dubthach . . .The wizard asks if she was pregnant by anyone. She is pregnant by me saith Dubthach. Said the wizard, Marvellous will be the child that is in her womb, her like will not be on earth. My wife compels me, saith Dubthach, to sell this bondmaid. Said the wizard, through grace of prophecy, the seed of thy wife shall serve the seed of the bondmaid, for the bondmaid will bring forth a daughter conspicuous, radiant, who will shine like a sun among the stars of heaven. Dubthach was thankful for that answer, for till then no daughter had been born to him.

This image of a young Brigid is by Evie Hone and is in Blackrock, Co Dublin. Evie Hone’s windows are pared-to-the-bone, deeply spiritual depictions inspired often by ancient Irish carvings.

I love the fact that Dubhtach rejoices to have a daughter since most of these stories glorify the birth of male babies. Brigid accomplishes many miracles as a child, mostly having to do with her charity and her faith. Here’s one such from Cogitosus: 

So, when she was old enough, she was sent by her mother to do the work of churning so that she could make up the butter from the cow’s milk which had been dashed; she too was meant to carry out this work, in the same way as other women were accustomed to do, and to deliver for use the complete yield of the cows and the customary weight and measure of butter at the appointed time with the others. However, this maiden with her most beautiful and generous disposition, preferring to obey God rather than men, distributed the milk and butter liberally to the poor and the guests. So, when as usual the appointed time came for all to hand in what the cows had yielded, her turn came. And when her workmates presented the finished result of their work, the aforementioned blessed maiden was also requested to hand in her work in like manner. 

In dread of her mother since she had nothing to show because she had given the lot away to the poor without a thought for the morrow, strengthened and inflamed with an ardor of faith so intense and unquenchable, she turned to the Lord and prayed. Without delay the Lord heard the maiden’s voice and prayers. And, being a helper in the hour of need, he came to her assistance with the generous bestowal of a divine gift, and lavishly restored the butter for the maiden who had confidence in him. Astonishingly, the very moment after her prayer, the most holy maiden proved that she had fulfilled her task by showing that nothing was missing from the fruit of her work, but that it was even more abundant than her workmates.

A rather sumptuous Brigid from the Harry Clarke Studios, in Ballinrobe

Eventually, determining to be a virgin and devote her life to God’s work, she took the veil. Cogitosus relates that 

Brigit, inspired from above and wanting to devote herself as a chaste virgin to God, went to the most holy bishop MacCaille of blessed memory. Seeing her heavenly desire and modesty and seeing so great a love of chastity in this remarkable maiden, he placed the white veil and white garment over her venerable head. 

However, by the time the author of the Lismore life wrote his account, MacCaille had been relegated to inferior status and the Bishop who confers the veil is Mel, who is depicted in the window above, in Armagh Cathedral, performing the ceremony. By now, the story has acquired one of its most-quoted aspects – that Brigid, through divine intercession, is actually made a bishop. The next image, the lower panel of the previous window, shows Mel handing Brigid a crozier, symbol of episcopal authority. This large window is by Mayer of Munich.

Brigit and certain virgins along with her went to take the veil from Bishop Mel in Telcha Mide. Blithe was he to see them. For humility Brigit stayed so that she might be the last to whom a veil should be given. A fiery pillar rose from her head to the roof-ridge of the church. Then said Bishop Mel: Come, O Holy Brigit, that a veil may be sained on thy head before the other virgins. It came to pass then, through the grace of the Holy Ghost, that the form of ordaining a Bishop was read out over Brigit. Mac-caille said, that a bishop’s order should not be conferred on a woman. Said Bishop Mel: No power have I in this matter. That dignity hath been given by God unto Brigit, beyond every (other) woman. Wherefore the men of Ireland from that time to this give episcopal honour to Brigit’s successor.

Although she is associated with many places in Ireland (there are numerous townlands called Kilbride or Kilbreedy) it is the great city of Kildare that is most closely hers. She managed the city, the Lismore Life says, in partnership with Conleth, a hermit whom she persuades to join her. Cogitosus tell us:

And as by her wise administration she made provision in every detail for the souls of her people according to the rule, as she vigilantly watched over the Churches attached to her in many provinces and as she reflected that she could not be without a high priest to consecrate churches and confer ecclesiastical orders in them, she sent for Conleth, a famous man and a hermit endowed with every good disposition through whom God wrought many miracles, and calling him from the wilderness and his life of solitude, she set out to meet him, in order that he might govern the Church with her in the office of bishop and that her Churches might lack nothing as regards priestly orders. Thus, from then on the anointed head and primate of all the bishops and the most blessed chief abbess of the virgins governed their primatial Church by means of a mutually happy alliance and by the rudder of all the virtues. By the merits of both, their episcopal and conventual see spread on all sides like a fruitful vine with its growing branches and struck root in the whole island of Ireland. It has always been ruled over in happy succession according to a perpetual rite by the archbishop of the bishops of Ireland and the abbess whom all the abbesses of the Irish revere. 

This window by Watsons of Youghal is in St Carthage’s Catholic church in Lismore and is a great example of the Celtic Revival decoration they specialised in. Note the proliferation of oak leaves above her – Kildare is from Cill Dara, meaning Church of the Oakwood, and the oak leaf is one of her attributes, along with the lamp and the crozier, also shown

Cogitosus goes on to say this of Kildare and her establishment (and don’t forget he was writing in or around 650!): 

And who can express in words the exceeding beauty of this church and the countless wonders of that monastic city we are speaking of, if one may call it a city since it is not encircled by any surrounding wall. And yet, since numberless people assemble within it and since a city gets its name from the fact that many people congregate there, it is a vast and metropolitan city. In its suburbs, which saint Brigit had marked out by a definite boundary, no human foe or enemy attack is feared; on the contrary, together with all its outlying suburbs it is the safest city of refuge in the whole land of the Irish for all fugitives, and the treasures of kings are kept there; moreover it is looked upon as the most outstanding on account of its illustrious supremacy. 

Today we honour St Brigid as one of the founding great women of our culture. She is often shown with Patrick and Columcille as one of the three great Patrons of Ireland. In the window above, also from Killarney Cathedral, Brendan has been added in because, well, we’re in Kerry.

This window is in the Church of the Most Holy Rosary at Kilcoe, near us in West Cork. It’s a bit of a mixed metaphor – we see her holding her church, which is clearly based on the 12th century Cormac’s Chapel at Cashel, and surrounded by her oak leaves. However, she is also holding a set of rosary beads, something that doesn’t appear in Catholic imagery before the 13th century. It’s beautifully executed, though, by Catherine O’Brien of An Túr Gloine.

Brigid’s end was peaceful. As it is related in the Book of Lismore:

Now when it came to the ending days for Brigit, after founding and helping cells and churches and altars in abundance, after miracles and marvels whose number is as the sand of sea, or stars of heaven, after charity and mercy, then came Nindid Pure-hand from Rome of Latium. The reason why he was called Nindid Pure-hand was that he never put his hand to his side, when Brigit repeated a paternoster with him. And he gave communion and sacrifice to Brigit, who sent her spirit to heaven. Her relics are on earth with honour and dignity and primacy, with miracles and marvels.

A conventional image of Bridget in the church in Goleen, West Cork, by Watsons of Youghal. She’s looking very saintly indeed. By now, you no doubt recognise all her attributes

Summing up her life and legacy, the anonymous author of her Life in the Book of Lismore says:

For everything that Brigit would ask of the Lord was granted her at once. For this was her desire: to satisfy the poor, to expel every hardship, to spare every miserable man. Now there never hath been anyone more bashful, or more modest, or more gentle, or more humble, or sager, or more harmonious than Brigit. She never washed her hands or her feet, or her head among men. She never looked at the face of a man. She never would speak without blushing. She was abstinent, she was innocent, she was prayerful, she was patient: she was glad in God’ s commandments: she was firm, she was humble, she was forgiving, she was loving: she was a consecrated casket for keeping Christ’s Body and his Blood: she was a temple of God. Her heart and her mind were a throne of rest for the Holy Ghost. She was simple (towards God): she was compassionate towards the wretched: she was splendid in miracles and marvels: wherefore her name among created things is Dove among birds, Vine among trees, Sun among stars. . . . She is the prophetess of Christ: she is the Queen of the South: she is the Mary of the Gael.

Brigid by Michael Healy, in the stained glass room at the National Gallery, holding her church with the round tower that can still be seen in Kildare.

It is entirely appropriate that a new National Holiday is named for Brigid. About time, in fact!

*Cogitosus’s “Life of St Brigit,” Content and Value. Author(s): Sean Connolly and J.-M. Picard. The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland , 1987, Vol. 117, pp. 5-27 
**Lives of Saints from the Book of Lismore, Edited with a Translation, Notes and Indices by Whitley Stokes, Oxford, 1890.

Posts about St Brigid

St Brigid and AI

Brigid 1500: Mary of the Gael

Brigid: A Bishop in All But Name

St Brigid: Dove Among Birds, Vine Among Trees, Sun Among Stars

Book of Lismore

This is a topical post, as only this week we heard the news that the Book of Lismore has been donated to University College, Cork to become the centrepiece of the library there. It will be accessible to students and will contribute to the knowledge and study of Gaelic manuscripts dating from the 15th century.

When we think of ancient Irish manuscripts we might visualise the Book of Kells, which is on display in Trinity College, Dublin. It’s remarkable to think that the Book of Lismore is over 500 years old, but that the Kells manuscript predates it by 600 years: it was created around 800AD. Here’s a scribe (from Finola’s window by George Walsh) who could be from any of those medieval periods when monks and lay brothers worked away in their scriptoriums making, copying and illuminating beautiful works which have become our most precious historical documents:

The Book of Lismore is written on vellum, and was compiled for Fínghin Mac Carthaigh, Lord of Carbery (1478–1505) and his wife Caitlín. It became known as Leabhar Mhic Cárthaigh Riabhaigh. It is entirely in Irish. What has really excited us is that, in introducing the installation of the book at Cork, UCC Professor of Modern Irish Pádraig Ó Macháin mentioned our own locality:

[The book] belongs to a period of creativity which was centred on the coastline of Cork. It is difficult to imagine those seats of learning and literature today when you look at the remote rural landscapes . . . In Rossbrin Castle – the O’Mahony stronghold – translations, treatise and journals were being made using contemporary European resources: it was a proto-university in pre-urban Ireland, paralleled by the vibrant poetic tradition of the O’Daly family in nearby Mhuintir Bháire [The Sheep’s Head] . . .

Pádraig Ó Macháin, 2020 (paraphrased)

Rossbrin (above) was only one of many castles occupied by the Gaelic nobility along the coastline here in the 15th century and beyond: this ties in with my post of last week when I explored a 1612 map and identified many centres of occupation and scholarship which surely made West Cork so vibrant and cosmopolitan in earlier times. Books are known to have originated here – including the first to be written in Ireland on paper – and some of them survive to this day.

All the page illustrations in this post come from the Book of Lismore. It has a complex history and is likely to be by many hands. One – Aonghus Ó Callanáin – is certainly identified within its pages, and another – a friar named O’Buagachain is suggested. Tradition has it originating from the lost Book of Monasterboice and associates it with Kilbrittain Castle, Cork – reportedly the oldest inhabited castle in Ireland, dating from as early as 1035 and possibly built by the O’Mahonys – but also with the Franciscan Friary at Timoleague.

Upper – Kilbrittain castle in the present day: the original building is a thousand years old. Lower – the Friary at Timoleague, a foundation attributed to the MacCarthys in 1240, and plundered in the 17th century

The book fell into the hands of Richard Boyle, First Earl of Cork, during the Irish civil war in June 1642 and ‘vanished’ until its rediscovery in Lismore Castle in 1814. Apparently it was walled up together with the Lismore Crozier. By then the castle was owned by the Cavendishes, Dukes of Devonshire. It is this family that has donated the book to Cork and the nation, through the Chatsworth Settlement Trust.

Upper – Lismore Castle by TS Roberts, Aquatint and etching 1795 print by Samuel Alken. Lower – The Book of Lismore and the Lismore Crozier celebrated in this Celtic Revival stained glass window of St Carthage in Lismore Cathedral. The window is by Watsons of Youghal, and you can read more about them in Finola’s post here

One further thought: today is ‘All Saint’s’ – November 1st. The contents of the Book of Lismore include a section on the lives of the Irish Saints: these lives were translated by Whitley Stokes in 1890 and are available to read online. Finola has used this source in her post about Saint Fanahan, or Fionnchú. We look down on Rossbrin Cove and the ruins of the medieval O’Mahony castle – sometimes described as the greatest centre of learning in Europe! We feel excitement and gratitude that here in West Cork we are linked to this treasure from that age, now in the responsible hands of UCC.

Watsons of Youghal – Revivalist Masters Part 1

The stained glass firm of J Watson & Co of Youghal not only represented a new type of Irish-based business when it started to operate in the 1880s but developed a uniquely Irish style of stained glass (see above). I introduced this topic in my post Symbols and Stories: Looking at Stained Glass, but I want to develop it properly in this post and provide further illustrations in the next. Watsons was first opened by Michael Buckley, who had Irish connections, as a branch of Cox, Sons, Buckley and Co of London but was eventually bought out by James Watson, a Yorkshire stained glass artisan who had come to work there a decade earlier. Members of the Watson family continued to make windows right up to 2012.*

This St Eltin window in Gougane Barra has been attributed to Michael Buckley. Note the Revivalist elements

Based in Youghal, the firm supplied stained glass all over Ireland, but especially in Munster. They competed with other new firms which had set up church supply and decorating businesses, mostly in Dublin. These included Joshua Clarke (father of Harry), James Pearse (father of Patrick and Willy) and the Earley Brothers, Thomas and John. All of them had learned the trade in Britain and some started as agents for such companies as Mayer of Munich and London or Hardman of Birmingham, but eventually employed their own artists and glaziers.

This is one of many Light of the World windows that Watsons produced, in St Brendan’s of Bantry Church of Ireland. Note the conventional Gothic canopies . This was a universal favourite, especially in Protestant churches and all the stained glass manufacturers had a version

This was a boom period for Irish church building and stained glass windows were, of course, one of the expressions of faith that could enliven and decorate the interiors. They also offered an opportunity for both clerical and lay people to contribute to the church and to commemorate deceased family members (and occasionally to commission an ego-stroking window for themselves).

Catherine O’Brien of An Túr Gloine painted this window for Kilcoe Church of the Most Holy Rosary in West Cork. Note the introduction of some interlacing as a minor element in the design. Patrick and Brigid, as the male and female patron saints of Ireland were always in demand for church windows

The choice of iconography for the window was dictated either by didactic imperatives (e.g. the Holy Family as a model to be emulated by the faithful) or by devotion to a particular saint, international, Biblical or local, or by church politics (e.g. Papal authority).  This was also the period when the Celtic Revival was in full swing and artists of all kinds were busy crowding graveyards with Celtic crosses, stitching Book of Kells symbols onto vestments, and painting illuminated addresses with complicated knotwork. Buying from Irish firms, once they were able to supply the orders, quickly became preferred.

Harry Clarke did not incorporate much interlacing into his windows, but this one, of St Fachtna, in Castletownshend Church of Ireland, shows that he knew well how to do it

Nowadays the term Celtic is suspect: we no longer believe that the evidence exists for an Iron-Age invasion of a tall blonde race from the continent. Archaeologists and Art Historians often now use the term Medieval Insular Art, however Celtic Revival, as shorthand for the domination of a certain decorative style (as well as the re-discovery of a great literary tradition and the craze for antiquarianism) at the end of the nineteenth century and into the Irish Arts and Crafts period, is so well understood that I use the term, and ‘Revivalist’,  here in that spirit.

Contrast the canopies in this window, with its intricate interlacing, with the conventional Gothic canopies of the Light of the World window above. Watson’s executed this one for Charleville Catholic Church

In her in-depth analysis of the Watson Archives, art historian Vera Ryan has demonstrated that orders for stained glass often stipulated that instead of the gothic canopies favoured by the English and German manufactures, windows should contain Celtic (or even ‘Keltic’) artwork. While other firms included some minor elements of interlacing in a design (see the Brigid and Fachtna windows above), no Irish stained glass firm delivered on this request better than Watsons of Youghal – it became one of their hallmarks and a real selling point for Irish clergy of both Catholic and Church of Ireland persuasions.

Models artists could learn from: Upper – a detail from St Manchan’s shrine, a replica of which was housed in the National Museum. Lower – The Christ Enthroned Page from the Book of Kells

This was the most popular style of art at the time for all kinds of objects and it’s not hard to understand why. First of all, the interlacing itself is delightful, quirky and complex and full of tiny surprises. Secondly, the Revivalist motifs were taken from a rich treasury of sacred and secular Medieval objects that formed the nucleus of the displays in the National Museum, which opened its doors in 1877. The Tara Brooch (below), for example, created a sensation when it was found it 1850 and became instantly iconic, with thousands of copies being made.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, here was now a truly indigenous art of which we could be justly proud. In an era of evolving nationalism, images conjuring up a glorious Christian past, replete with our own saints, literature and high art, was a reminder of what we had once been and what we had lost as a nation.

The Shrine of St Patrick’s Bell – not only a beautiful object but a potent symbol of what was seen as a Golden Age in Ireland of learning and piety

While their figurative designs remained conventional – think bearded men in long robes or saintly women in nuns’ habits, all in the style of renaissance paintings – the artists at Watsons had fun developing increasingly elaborate frames and canopies to surround their figures. Added to this was a mastery of Irish lettering styles, deployed to great effect whether the text was in Irish, English or Latin.

The use of interlacing and an Irish lettering style. Two continuous ribbons link the upper and lower surrounds, with the corner interlacing twisting around them. The Irish script was still being taught to us in school in the 1950s and 60s 

The net result was the development, in the hands of the expert and talented designers and painters at the Watson studio, of a hybrid style of stained glass window unique to Ireland – the overlayering of conventional objects of worship with the originally pre-Christian and later Early Christian/Early Medieval decorative style that came to be labelled ‘Celtic Revival’ at the end of the nineteenth century.

St Carthage, from his eponymous Catholic church in Lismore, Co Waterford. Details include the Book of Lismore, the Lismore Crozier (on display at the National Museum) and a whole galaxy of interlace motifs for the clothing and decorative surround

Next week – examples of Watsons’ use of Revivalist motifs and where to go to see them, as well as some original cartoons, now housed in the Crawford Gallery in Cork. I leave you with a detail from one of the windows employing interlace and lettering – but can you spot the signature?

*Much gratitude to Vera Ryan who has generously shared her Watson expertise with me, and to the Crawford Art Gallery for allowing access to the Watson Archive. I recommend Vera Ryan’s article Divine Light: A Century of Stained Glass in the Summer 2015 edition of the Irish Arts Review for those who would like to learn more about Watsons of Youghal.

Part 2 is here.