Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland 9789048542994

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Sacred Sisters

Hagiography beyond Tradition The study of sanctity in medieval Europe is starting to elicit cutting-edge, innovative and genuinely interdisciplinary scholarship that destabilizes what people have conventionally considered to be hagiography. This is demonstrated in the topic range of panels sponsored by the Hagiography Society at recent landmark medievalist conferences. While hagiography has traditionally been understood only in religious terms, recent scholarship moves beyond such frameworks to consider alternate ways of identifying and representing exemplary people. So doing, such research emphasises modern cultural analogies and resonances with medieval figures. It is not enough, however, to approach saints’ lives with a “sexy” modern framework. The best scholarship is rooted in analytical rigour, close attention to context(s), and a keen awareness of the potential pitfalls of anachronism, all the while accepting that anachronism can often be productive. This series provides a home for the kind of work that negotiates that border between the traditional and the contemporary and encourages scholarship enhanced by interventions drawn from celebrity studies, trans studies, crip theory, animal and monster studies, the history of senses and the emotions, media studies, and beyond. Rather than considering hagiography as a single genre, the series is open to expanding the ways in which we imagine how people come to be offered for veneration, as well as the media and genres in which they are fashioned, represented, and celebrated. Series Editor Alicia Spencer-Hall, Queen Mary, University of London Editorial Board Martha Newman, University of Texas Sarah Salih, King’s College London Bill Burgwinkle, University of Cambridge Virginia Burrus, Syracuse University

Sacred Sisters Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland

Maeve Brigid Callan

Amsterdam University Press

Cover illustration: Manisternagalliaghdufff (Photo: M. Callan) Cover design: Coördesign, Leiden Lay-out: Crius Group, Hulshout isbn 978 94 6372 150 9 e-isbn 978 90 4854 299 4 doi 10.5117/9789463721509 nur 684 © M. B. Callan / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2020 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book. Every effort has been made to obtain permission to use all copyrighted illustrations reproduced in this book. Nonetheless, whosoever believes to have rights to this material is advised to contact the publisher.

For all my sisters, everywhere and always And especially Lorna Healy, taken from us far too soon

“Our heritage is our power; we can know ourselves and our capacities by seeing that other women have been strong. To reclaim our past and insist that it become a part of human history is the task that lies before us, for the future requires that women, as well as men, shape the world’s destiny.” Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party “History isn’t just what happens in the past. It is what later generations choose to make of it.” Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, Well-Behaved Women Seldom Make History “I raise up my voice—not so I can shout, but so that those without a voice can be heard […] We cannot succeed when half of us are held back.” Malala Yousafzai to the United Nations



Table of Contents

Preface

11

Introduction A Golden Age of Gender Relations? A Responsible Usable Past Book Overview Memories of the Future

15 20 23 27 32

1 “Founded upon the Rock Which Is Christ”: What Patrick and His Promoters Reveal about Women in the Early Irish Church Patrick in His Own Words Women in Patrician Propaganda Syneisaktism Conclusion

41 43 46 52 58

2 “A New and Apostolic Band of Virgins Arose”: Darerca, an Exceptionally Learned Abbess Untangling the Sources Doctissima Abbatissa, an Exceptionally Learned Abbess Community Gender Dynamics Diversity within Community Conclusion

61 63 65 69 74 78 83

3 “The Safest City of Refuge”: Brigid the Bishop Many Lives, Little Certainty Brigid, the Early Years Consecration and Ordination Double Monasteries Meeting Women’s Needs Secunda Brigida Conclusion

85 88 91 94 97 100 104 108

4 “God Is Always Present with Those Who Exemplify Such Devotion”: Íte, Foster-Mother of the Saints of Ireland The Path to the Holy Life Prophecy and Patronage

113 115 119

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Asceticism (Warning: It Gets Nasty!) Conclusion 5 “Do Not Harass My Sisters”: Samthann, an Abbess Not to Be Crossed Urney Constructing Clonbroney Cáin Adomnáin (Adomnán’s Law, a Minor But Relevant Digression) The Mercy of Samthann Female Solidarity Wisdom The Célí Dé Conclusion 6 “I Place Myself under the Protection of the Virgins All Together”: Sister Saints with Something Like a Life Lasair, “Hell Thereafter from Me” Attracta, “Wise in Words and Honorable in All Things” Cranat, “My Body to Be Thus under [My] Control” Gobnait, “How Many Years Make Up a Nameplace” Dígde, “They Shall Never Be without Some Wonderful Glorious Nun/Old Woman among Them” Conclusion

127 132 135 137 139 141 144 146 148 148 154 157 161 164 167 170 174 185

Conclusion

187

Appendices Appendix A Appendix B Appendix C Appendix D Appendix E

199 199 212 276 284 286

Bibliography Primary Sources Secondary Works

289 289 293

Index

305



List of Figures

Image 1 Map 1 Image 2 Image 3 Image 4 Image 5 Image 6 Image 7 Image 8 Image 9 Image 10 Image 11 Image 12 Image 13 Image 14 Image 15 Image 16 Image 17 Image 18

Codex Salmanticensis 197v (Royal Library of Brussels, MS 7672-7674) Sanctae’s Sites (Retrieved from Google Maps. Accessed 26 April, 2019) Scattery Island (Photo: M. Callan) Killevy (Photo: M. Callan) Killevy, Darerca’s grave (Photo: S. Andersen) Faughart, Brigid’s well (Photo: M. Callan) Kildare Round Tower and Fire House (Photo: M. Callan) Killeedy (Photo: M. Callan) Killeedy altar (Photo: M. Callan) Clonbroney (Photo: M. Callan) Kilronan (Photo: M. Callan) Killaraght (Photo: M. Callan) Kilgobnait (Photo: M. Callan) Kilgobnait interior (Photo: M. Callan) Ballyvourney (Photo: M. Callan) Ballyvourney interior (Photo: M. Callan) Ballyvourney sheela (Photo: M. Callan) Beara (Photo: M. Callan) Manisternagalliaghduff (Photo: M. Callan)

101 200 201 201 202 202 203 204 204 205 205 206 206 207 208 208 209 210 211

Preface Over twenty years ago, during my first days at Northwestern University, Richard Kieckhefer suggested I research the Latin Lives of Ireland’s female saints for my master’s thesis. I was intrigued; I had already chosen the topic for my doctoral dissertation—the Guglielmites, a thirteenth-century Italian heretical sect who believed Christ had come again but this time as a woman, Guglielma of Milan—and had chosen Northwestern especially because of the brilliant work by Richard’s wife, Barbara Newman, in this area. Due to Barbara’s sabbatical for part of my first year, I worked with Richard for my Master’s research—a twist of fate with career-changing implications. I had recently returned from Ireland, where I had earned my Master’s in Women’s Studies at Trinity College Dublin but with little formal discussion of Irish saints. The books I had read about medieval Ireland had led me to conclude that its denizens were among the worst misogynists of the lot—and given the degree of medieval misogyny in English and Continental sources with which I was all too familiar, that is saying something. But with Richard’s encouragement and support I tried to bracket my assumptions and read the original sources on their own terms as much as possible. Exploring medieval Ireland through the primary lens of these women’s Lives, I discovered different gender dynamics than I’d come to expect both in Continental and English medieval sources and from dominant studies of medieval Ireland, and indeed from living in 1990s Ireland. Sexist attitudes occasionally surfaced, but these medieval authors more commonly depicted partnership and cooperation between the sexes and regularly celebrated women for their characters and accomplishments—not in spite of their sex, but sometimes because of it. Reading these sources was like finding a supply of fresh air in a room in which I had been slowly suffocating without realizing it. Just for the suggestion alone I would be eternally grateful to Richard. But he followed his suggestion with meeting with me virtually every day to work through the Latin, discuss my findings, help me piece together the chaotic and often confusing context, and challenge my conclusions; after I submitted the final draft of my thesis, he offered me the highest praise of all, recommending that I publish it. In the decades since, Richard’s advice and assistance have remained constant; he has become not just an esteemed mentor but a treasured friend, as has Barbara. I owe countless debts of gratitude for this book, as for my first, The Templars, the Witch, and the Wild Irish; the greatest for both belongs to Richard, without whom neither book would have been written.

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As the research periods for this book and my first (which began as my doctoral dissertation) overlap, the thanks and praise I give at the start of Templars generally apply here as well. Rather than repeat myself, I’ll single out a few who truly went above and beyond in relation to this book specifically, starting with some of my colleagues at Simpson College: Kristen Graham for her legendary interlibrary loan skills, Jodi Eubank for her accounting prowess and patience, and Daryl Sasser for his unparalleled collegiality; thanks also to Simpson’s Faculty Development Committee for helping fund my research trips to Europe. Among the many scholars whose work has informed my own and who so graciously and generously share their wisdom, I especially thank Dorothy Africa, Diane Auslander, Dorothy Bray, and the late and much lamented Donnchadh Ó Corráin. Our research depends upon librarians and archivists at places like Belgium’s Royal Library (Koninklijke Bibliotheek van België/Bibliothèque royale de Belgique) in Brussels, the Bodleian Library of Oxford University, and Trinity College Library and Archbishop Marsh’s Library in Dublin; many thanks to them for helping to preserve our past. I could not have envisioned a more ideal forum for Sacred Sisters than Amsterdam University Press’s “Hagiography Beyond Tradition” series. My profound gratitude to the series editor, Alicia Spencer-Hall, the editorial board, and the commissioning editors Shannon Cunningham and Erin Dailey for their excellent work with this series, and to everyone whose feedback and assistance helped improve my manuscript, including the anonymous reviewers and especially Jennifer Edwards. Sacred Sisters builds upon several of my previous publications, and I appreciate those publishers’ permission to draw on them as necessary. I have presented much of this material in various forms at multiple conferences, including the medieval congresses in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and Leeds, England; the Celtic Studies Association of North America conference at the University of California, Berkley; the Berkshire Conference of Women Historians, held at Hofstra University; and the Southeastern Medieval Association annual conference in Charleston. My thanks to all who attended and especially those who asked questions and gave me valuable food for thought. I am deeply grateful to the guardians of these historic sites as well as to those who helped us find the more obscure ones, especially Mr. Frawley, who spent several minutes trying to make sense of my descriptions of Manisternagalliaghduff, also known as Kilcatherine, after my husband and I had followed him and his tractor home (farmers generally have an excellent sense of the land and we had repeatedly met only with blank stares in this search). When he realized I was talking about what he knew as “the Old Abbey,” he insisted on hopping in his car and leading us to the site, which

Preface

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we reached several winding kilometers later, as he was doubtful we would find it on our own (and was likely right). At Manisternagalliaghduff, nature fuses with the remnants of medieval faith into a glorious, hallowed ruin that recalls Tolkien’s Númenor, and Mr. Frawley’s generosity made our visit even more meaningful. Thanks also to those at “the Old Abbey” who gave us permission to explore and photograph the site. To my litany of beloved friends and family,1 I add a few more: Jill, Dave, Jennie, Lora, Colleen, Mara, Michael, Joel, Louise, Mike, Barb, Todd, Eric, Meghan, and my O-family throughout the world, especially Val, Tracy, and Dan. You make the mundane that much more marvelous. Michael Larsen again did outstanding and deeply appreciated work processing my photographs of medieval Ireland’s magnificence. Profound thanks and praise to my seven sisters who read drafts and warned me when academic discourse overwhelmed my writing: Nathalie Foy, Michelle Bolton King, Christine Donnelly, Danya Good, Eileen Gallagher Loranger, Michelle Coyle, and especially Barbara Kearney, who also repeatedly and most graciously hosted me, her home a short walk from Belgium’s Royal Library, the current location of the Codex Salmanticensis. No words could possibly convey the depths of my gratitude for or debts to my parents, Clair and Sean, who among so many other things gave me a home in both Ireland and the United States and raised me to appreciate the power of saints and stories (Mom and Dad, respectively). To my husband, Seth, my partner in all things, who has read draft after draft and traveled this ground almost as much as I have, and to our sons, one named for an Irish saint and the other for an American story-teller: you are my glory and my joy, and I give thanks for you each day, even those when I retreat into the Middle Ages. Last but never least, I give thanks to and for my students, including MacKenzie Bills, Maddy Kersten, Nick Laning, Jacob McLain, Molly Monk, Tatianna Riesenberg, Brett Roes, Jailyn Seabrooks, and Jasmine Ward. Your strength of character and commitment to creating a more compassionate, inclusive, just, and sustainable world fill me with hope for the future and constantly renew my passion for this profession. I chose the path of a professor when I was fifteen because of my love for learning; it wasn’t until ten years later that, thanks to Mary Condren’s Institute for Feminism and Religion in Dublin, I discovered that I also relished teaching, my first experience in that role and one that relates to this book’s basic aims and inspiration. The trepidation that filled me at the start—especially since the class had about a hundred students, including 1 Maeve Callan, The Templars, the Witch, and the Wild Irish: Vengeance and Heresy in Medieval Ireland (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2015), xii.

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several nuns—gradually gave way to ease and then enthusiasm as I shared the histories and writings of medieval religious women, our discussion of the students’ questions and our various perspectives on the material the most enjoyable part of all. Afterwards, the nuns came up to thank me for teaching them, all older than my parents at the time. The fierceness of one as she held my hand and my gaze stays with me still. “Why didn’t they ever teach us this?” she asked with a mixture of sorrow and indignation. “This is our history!” The nun’s words have strengthened me in the years since, as I have sought to recover women’s religious history, and offered invaluable counter-perspective to a contemptuous dismissal of Ireland by an internationally respected medievalist I heard a few years later. During a discussion of the transformative impact the rise of vernacular literature had on twelfth-century Europe, I mentioned that the Irish had been writing in the vernacular for over half a millennium by that point, to which this venerated authority peremptorily replied, “Ireland is a marginal country with little to no historical significance.” At first I heard this dismissal only as prejudice and ignorance fueled by pride—he didn’t know much about Ireland or its early use of the vernacular, thus it could not be important. I soon realized, however, that his words reflected the reality of how European history is taught in the U.S. and in mainstream medieval studies. Repeatedly after I teach an aspect of Irish history, my students echo the words of the nun in my first class, asking, “Why didn’t we ever learn this before?” Over ten percent of the U.S. population claims Irish ethnicity, “the nation’s second-most frequently reported European ancestry,” but Americans generally learn little about Ireland in their schools.2 The countless books I read about medieval Europe as I pursued my graduate degrees rarely mentioned Ireland unless they specifically focused on it. At my first major medievalist conference, the International Congress on Medieval Studies at Western Michigan University, my paper was one of a handful about Ireland, amid several thousand (a ratio that fortunately no longer holds, especially since scholars from Ireland increasingly attend the conference). The words of the nun and the world-renowned medievalist both rang in my ears, inspiring me to switch my academic focus to where my heart already belonged, from Italy to Ireland, helping me recover more of my history. For that gifted yet still quite ignorant medievalist, for the nun and all she represents, and for everyone who seeks to discover more about Irish and/or women’s history, no matter how marginal or insignificant others’ ignorance and bias may deem it, I am forever grateful. This book is for you. 2 United States Census Bureau, Press Release February 21, 2017, https://www.census.gov/ newsroom/facts-for-features/2017/cb17-ff05.html (accessed July 10, 2017).

Introduction As Canair the Pious, a holy virgin of the Benntraige, prayed in the dark of night, she saw a pillar of fire erupt from the roof of every church in Ireland, one blazing brighter and higher than all the rest. “Inis Cathaig,” Canair murmured, recognizing it as the place of her resurrection. She arose at once and followed the fiery beacon, visible even in the day. For three days and nights she walked toward it without rest, until at last she crossed the waters surrounding Inis Cathaig, or Scattery Island, as it is now known. Senán, the head of a community on Inis Cathaig, came to the shore to deny her entry, stranding her on the waves. “Women are not allowed on this island. Go stay with the woman who lives on the isle to the east,” he declared. “I have come for no isle but this one,” Canair replied. “Women are not welcome here,” said Senán. “How can you say that?” asked Canair. “You’re not better than Christ. Christ came to redeem women just as much as men. No less did Christ suffer for the sake of women than for the sake of men. Women served with and ministered unto Christ and his apostles. No less than men do women enter the heavenly kingdom. Why, then, should you not admit women to this island?” “You sure are stubborn,” Senán said, then moved aside. Stepping off the waves onto the shore, Canair’s heart leapt with joy as she at last felt the promised land of her resurrection beneath her feet.1 This tale, found in the Irish Life (biography) of Senán in the fifteenth-century Book of Lismore, seems remarkably contemporary in its defense of women’s equality in Christianity. I’d like to say that after Senán allowed Canair entry he recognized the incompatibility of sexism and Christian faith, that together they created a truly egalitarian community, one in which people of all sexes, ages, classes, temperaments, ethnicities, et cetera, were welcome 1 Whitley Stokes, ed. and trans., Lives of Saints from the Book of Lismore (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1890), 219-20.

Callan, M. B., Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463721509_intro

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to worship and serve God equally. And perhaps they did. But that’s not what the sources say. According to Senán’s Irish Life (Canair has no Life of her own, at least not one that survives), Canair had little time to continue discussing the matter with Senán or anyone else, let alone to help build a model Christian community. Immediately after setting foot upon Inis Cathaig, she received the eucharist and promptly died. Since her journey began with the goal of reaching her resurrection site (a common calling in medieval Irish sources, signifying the place one will be buried and hence arise again to heaven), this fate is not surprising, but it is disappointing, given the potential inherent in Canair’s words. More discouraging still is Senán’s Latin Life in the Codex Salmanticensis, which tells the same tale but renders Canair anonymous and drastically weakens her argument. Instead of proclaiming Christ’s egalitarianism and reminding Senán of women’s assistance to Christ and the apostles, the now nameless woman simply asserts that Senán should not reject her in the flesh if he grants, as he does, that her spirit can receive Christ. Senán retorts that though she may be chaste in heart, she still has sex in her female body. The woman’s only reply is to avow her faith that Christ will release her spirit from her flesh rather than make her leave the island. So he does, and so she dies, leaving her scorned, sexed body in an anonymous grave by the Scattery shore.2 Despite being so muted in the Latin Life and deprived an extant (surviving) Life of her own, Canair calls to us still, reminding us of women’s full participation in critical aspects of Christian history. Yet in this history women often seem marginal at best, occasionally pushed so far to the fringes as to be virtually invisible. Canair is quite literally on the island’s margins, remaining only as relics “on the brink of the waves,” her life reduced to her death. This book, however, places such margins at the center. Instead of relying on fragments like the one above, in texts written by, for, and about men, men ostensibly dedicated to chaste celibacy who might regard females as a threat to that celibacy and their relationship with the divine and thus portray women accordingly, I focus on the experience of medieval Irishwomen in the sources in which women play the starring role, the Lives of Ireland’s female saints, and contextualize these portraits with evidence from related sources, especially other religious texts as well as annals and archaeology. Many caveats need to be considered, including that most if not all of these texts were written by religious men with their own perspectives 2 W. W. Heist, ed., Vitae sanctorum Hiberniae, Subsidia Hagiographica 28 (Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, 1965) (hereafter HVSH), 317.

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and agendas, and those texts have passed through centuries of revision, again possibly entirely at men’s hands, more often than not in historically ambiguous contexts. The above exchange between Senán and Canair, for example, supposedly occurred in the sixth century, but the earliest extant account dates from nearly a thousand years later; who knows how many times it changed in the telling before it made it to a page that survived. Moreover, the saints celebrated in these texts are unknown degrees removed from the historical people they once were, recast as pinnacles of human perfection. Patrick offers a warning for those who seek the person behind the saint, although he is infinitely more inspiring and compelling in his own words than as the character created by his biographers. The saints’ idealized images cannot be taken as accurate accounts of their own lived experiences, let alone the experiences of the untold and uncountable men and women who shared their time and place. Yet, for all the emphasis on the miraculous aspects of hagiography, or biography of saints, it also reveals to us what is possible. Not in the sense of hanging a cloak on a sunbeam or restoring the dead to life, but regarding how women were perceived and portrayed, how men and women interacted with each other, what social expectations they had to navigate and in what ways might they do so, and much more. History, it must be remembered, is not the past. It is our understanding of the past based on interpretations of available evidence. That evidence is sparse, complex, and contradictory. It is also inherently biased, reflecting the interests, attachments, aspirations, fears, and resentments of those who created it, if we can even interpret their perspectives accurately. The Indian tale of the blind men and the elephant illustrates the point: each man touched part of the elephant and thought he had the whole; the one with the tusk thought he had a plow, the one at the tail a rope, the one by the leg a pillar, and so on. Our subjective realities shape our perceptions, and we too rarely recognize their limitations, succumbing to what Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie calls “the danger of a single story.”3 In addition, historians are several degrees removed from the blind men; we are outside observers, trying to interpret what those individuals believed based on whatever outward clues have survived the centuries. This is not to suggest we should give up on history in relativist resignation—it is too essential to our understanding of ourselves, our present, and our possibilities, and at least part of the elephant, the past, is ultimately knowable. It is rather a reminder that while our 3 Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, “The Danger of a Single Story,” TED talk, July 2009, https://www. ted.com/talks/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story (accessed March 17, 2017).

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understanding of history is incomplete and what remains has been written largely by the dominant, we can still detect diverse voices and perspectives. We need to cultivate a deeper understanding of that diversity to gain a more meaningful sense of the past. People often insist “you can’t change history,” but historians change it all the time, based on new evidence, broadening perspectives, and expanding understanding of what was already known. Our perceptions of the past depend on what has survived, and the vast majority of extant early medieval Irish evidence is assumed or known to have been produced by men. Thus, even before social class or any other factor is considered, half of the population can be seen only in whatever shadows the dominant male elite allowed them to occupy, and for centuries that skewed view has determined history. In an effort to restore more balance and help break free of a sexist version of history that denies women access to an empowering heritage, it is tempting to heed novelist Monique Wittig’s call, “remember [women’s powerful past]. Make an effort to remember. Or, failing that, invent.”4 But historians cannot rely on memories of a culture that has been lost for most of a millennium or more, and inventing evidence defeats the purpose of history, useful as it may be in fiction. Yet we can take extant evidence and shift our perspectives. Instead of restricting women to the margins, confined to the role of the shunned, distrusted, feared, inherently inferior Other, in this book they stand at the center. With women at the center rather than the margins of their own history, a more complete and meaningful picture of the past and its relevance for the future can emerge. Given the current state of surviving evidence, we can offer little more than tentative steps in that direction; this book aims to help us find our footing. For too long, perspectives like that attributed to Senán have dominated discussions of medieval Ireland, barring women from explicit consideration or defining them as defective, deficient, subordinate, servile, traitorous sexual temptresses who had to deny their own sex and strive to become honorary males if they had any hope of personal progress.5 Scholars who paint such portraits have multiple sources for coloring their brush, yet tremendous diversity still survives within the historical record. Moreover, study after 4 Monique Wittig, Les Guérillères, trans. David Le Vay (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969), 89. 5 Among the most informed and sensitive treatments are Lisa M. Bitel, Land of Women: Tales of Sex and Gender from Early Ireland (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996), and Elva Johnston, “The ‘Pagan’ and ‘Christian’ Identities of the Irish Female Saint,” in Celts and Christians: New Approaches to the Religious Traditions of Britain and Ireland, ed. Mark Atherton (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2002), 60-78. Helen Oxenham’s Perceptions of Femininity in Early Irish Society (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2016) offers some important correctives to their arguments.

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study shows that even when people witness the same event, they frequently see it quite differently, directly contradicting each others’ accounts.6 “What actually happened” remains elusive, determined by whatever attorney or other authority makes the most compelling case, with or without a reasonable doubt. Similarly, people regularly misunderstand each other, even when speaking for themselves with those who know them and share their culture, and they often misrepresent each other, unintentional though it may be. Contrasting medieval women’s own writing with even the most positively inclined and informed male accounts of their experiences reveals glaring discrepancies that demonstrate gender ideology’s impact on those portrayals. For example, men emphasized women’s bodily and mystical triumphs and cast them as Christ’s brides, whereas women themselves downplayed their bodies and sought to imitate Christ rather than simply wed him, encouraging others to strive to do the same.7 Women knew and rejected male expectations; their words “suggest studied resistance to the forms of female religiosity and subjectivity prescribed for them within male-authored texts,” though the sheer volume of male portraits of female sanctity continues to mute women’s voices.8 Unfortunately, such comparisons cannot be made for medieval Ireland, as no text has been proven to have been written by a woman, although female authorship seems likely in several cases, including the celebrated poems “The Lament of the Old Woman of Beara,” Líadain’s “Lament for Cuirithir,” and St Íte’s “Ísucán.” All testimony should be recognized as inherently limited and potentially unreliable, especially if it cannot be contextualized or substantiated. And when we contextualize Senán, even by just reading the rest of his Life, we see that sex segregation was by no means a primary principle. For example, he supposedly spent his own last days visiting with some of his female disciples, the daughters of Ner. Similarly, Molua is reputed to have refused a possible location for his monastery, because it apparently included a field frequented by sheep and, he declared, “where there are sheep, there are women; where there are women, there is sin; where there is sin, there is the devil, and where there is the devil, there is hell.”9 Yet 6 E.g., Gary Wells, Amina Memon, and Steven D. Pemrod, “Eyewitness Evidence: Improving Its Probative Value,” Psychological Science in the Public Interest 7 (2006): 45-75. 7 Gendered Voices: Medieval Saints and Their Interpreters, ed. Catherine M. Mooney (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999), especially 1-15, 52-98, 136-67. 8 Amy Hollywood, “Inside Out: Beatrice of Nazareth and Her Hagiographer,” in Gendered Voices, 78-98, at 79. 9 Ubi enim fuerit ovis, ibi erit mulier, et ubi fuerit mulier, ibi peccatum; ubi vero peccatum, ibi erit dyabolus, et ubi dyabolus, ibi infernus erit [HVSH, 137 (quotations from HVSH are my translation)]. The women presumably would be shepherdesses.

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he too had signif icant relationships with females, including his mute sixteen-year-old cousin, Cainer, who gained the power of speech after sucking the breath from his mouth; she eventually became a saint and the founder of the unidentified Cluan Clarith, “where she had many holy females under her rule.”10 He also restored to life Buoan, Queen of Ossory, and her infant son, both of whom had died during childbirth and who subsequently gave themselves to his service.11 Such apparent contradictions well represent attitudes towards women in Irish hagiography, which is not unique to Ireland. As Barbara Newman has commented regarding medieval Christendom generally, The strength of misogynist taboos and patriarchal strictures should never be underestimated; their power to constrict human lives and psyches could be enormous. But […] [their] endless iteration […] quickly fades into a kind of ground bass—always present, sometimes annoyingly loud, but easy to tune out if one is intent on the more interesting harmonies and discords that are woven above and around it.12

While acknowledging that misogyny certainly exists in the record, this study focuses on “the more interesting harmonies and discords” that too easily can fade into the background, especially when so many others hear only bass.

A Golden Age of Gender Relations? Intriguingly, one text suggests that the “ground bass” of sexism and misogyny is a reflection of how far the holy have fallen. The Catalogus Sanctorum Hiberniae, or Catalogue of the Saints of Ireland, outlines Irish Christianity’s successive stages in terms of its male saints: “the first order was the holiest, the second beneath them in holiness, but above the third. The first blazes like the sun, enflamed with the fervor of love, the second glows like the moon, and the third shines like the dawn.” Claims of decreasing sanctity after a religion’s first founding are not uncommon, but one 10 HVSH, 133; Rev. John O’Hanlon, Lives of the Irish Saints with Special Festivals, and the Commemorations of Holy Persons, Compiled from Calendars, Martyrologies, and Various Sources, Relating to the Ancient Church History of Ireland, 12 vols (Dublin: Duffy and Sons, 1875), 8.45. 11 HVSH, 387. 12 Barbara Newman, From Virile Woman to WomanChrist: Studies in Medieval Religion and Literature (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995), 2.

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characteristic distinguishes this fellowship not only between its orders, but within Christianity generally—partnership between the sexes as one of two indications of exceptional holiness, the other being uniformity. Members of the first order were all bishops who followed Patrick, celebrated the same Easter, and wore one tonsure (clerical hairstyle). Mass services were identical throughout Ireland, and what one church excommunicated was excommunicated by all. This idyllic community of saints “did not refuse the assistance (administrationem) of women,13 and they did not refuse their companionship (consortia), because, founded upon the rock which is Christ, they did not fear the wind of temptation.” Without Patrick’s centralizing authority, diversity entered with the second order, who had various rites of mass and rules of life, though they still celebrated Easter at the same time and wore the same tonsure. They, however, “fled the companionship and assistance of women, and they shut women out from their monasteries.” Though the first order outnumbered the second, the most celebrated male saints, with the exception of Patrick, belong to this second order.14 The list could serve as a roster for Ireland’s most respected school, that of Finnian of Clonard, including the teacher and his most celebrated supposed students—ColmCille, Brendan, Ciarán, Enda, and Kevin, among others—yet their own Lives attest that several of them lived with women or included women in their communities, and Clonard itself was “co-educational.”15 The third order makes no reference to women. These were Ireland’s great hermits, who “despised all earthly things.”16 They lacked any sort of overall organization, with different tonsures, Easters, rules, and celebrations of mass. So, according to this pseudo-historical sketch, women begin as partners, then become shunned as Other, and finally disappear in silence, depending on the virtues or deficiencies of their male compatriots. As evocative as such a portrait may be, however, abundant evidence attests to continued cooperation between religious men and women in medieval Ireland far beyond these three ages, which the document dates roughly to 432-543 for the first, 544-599 for the second, and 600-664 for the third. Clearly a work of Patrician propaganda, the Catalogus nevertheless raises a tantalizing question: why is women’s companionship found among the 13 Administrationem could also mean ministry, among other things. 14 According to the text, the first order consisted of 350 saints, the second order 300, while the third had 100 hermits. 15 Callan, “St Darerca and Her Sister Scholars: Women and Education in Medieval Ireland,” Gender & History 15 (2003): 32-49, at 40-41. 16 HVSH, 81-82; Appendix B.

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holiest order, while isolation from women marks the middle? The text itself doesn’t answer the question. Does it celebrate the sexual equality of an almost forgotten past as the highest path of virtue which has lamentably fallen away? Or does it suggest that this was a trial which only the holiest of men could pass, and lesser saints wisely recognized that to engage in such intimate association with women would cause their downfall? Were the holiest saints impervious to temptation, or was such temptation part of their asceticism? Such questions cannot be definitively answered, but scholars generally agree that the Catalogus here refers to syneisaktism, or profound partnerships between unrelated religious men and women whose mutual commitments to each other and Christ required them to sacrifice or at least sublimate their sexuality. While syneisaktism, which Chapter One explores further, is fairly common in medieval Irish sources, the Catalogus could also be extolling a more general ideal of gender relations in which men and women respected each other as colleagues in the Christian faith without being blinded by sexual difference. The Catalogus cannot be confused with reliable history, but it does offer insight into at least one author’s views about gender and sanctity during the ninth or tenth century. The evidence doesn’t support its claims of a gender golden age at any point in medieval Ireland, nor can its claims of uniformity be upheld. Yet scholarly analyses often project the second order’s perspective onto the whole of medieval Irish history, the only diversity allowed being the degree and kind of negativity directed at women. Ample evidence exists for a far more positive portrayal than scholars have often allowed, however. Attitudes like those attributed to Senán at the shore coexisted with those attributed to the Catalogus’s first order. Gender and male-female relationships are frequently complicated and fraught with widely divergent perspectives and meanings. The Bible itself reflects a range of attitudes, including the inclusivity shown by Christ and celebrated by Canair, Galatians’ call to transcend gender (and ethnic and socioeconomic) differences to f ind oneness in Christ, and pseudo-Pauline demands that women keep silent in churches and submit to their husbands, as discussed below. For too long those who would keep women silent and submissive, if they did not exclude them entirely or allow them admission only if they sacrificed their sex, have dominated the discussion; they have claimed such a perspective as a divine command, as determined by nature, as the only option and our only history, and too often historians have acquiesced. Fortunately a range of sources still survives, inviting us to make an effort to remember by reading them with less of a sexist lens.

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A Responsible Usable Past “Who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.”17

George Orwell’s words from the dystopian novel 1984 apply to history generally. As Gerda Lerner has argued, men’s ability to enforce their claim to a natural, biological, divinely-ordained superiority has been essential to patriarchy’s perpetuation and its oppression of women and any who do not conform to patriarchal ideals.18 Despite tremendous progress on various liberation fronts over the past fifty years especially, patriarchy remains so pervasive and insidious that some women continue to internalize its ideology, seeing their natural place as subordinate and submissive, regarding themselves as inherently inferior, viewing their biology—meaning, among other things, their ability to become pregnant—as their destiny.19 “Is it oppression if the oppressed do not see it as such?” is a standard question in women’s and gender studies courses; in proper multicultural fashion, there isn’t a single right answer but a plethora of perspectives to help us better understand the nature of oppression, freedom, culture, and personal agency. Yet Stephen Biko’s incisive observation, “the most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed” must be considered; the oppressed internalize their oppressors’ perspectives of them and self-police their own oppression, colonized from within.20 Rebecca West’s early twentieth-century remark also applies: “I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat.”21 Merely claiming a degree of autonomy, the right to make basic decisions for yourself, can be seen as a radical act. The restrictions placed disproportionately on women might not be felt as oppressive by certain individuals, particularly if they 17 George Orwell, 1984 (1949; reprint, New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc., 1961), 32, 204. 18 Gerda Lerner, Creation of Patriarchy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), and Creation of Feminist Consciousness (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994). 19 Angela Saini offers a compelling critique of supposedly scientific arguments for women’s alleged intellectual and biological inferiority in Inferior: How Science Got Women Wrong—and the New Research That’s Rewriting the Story (Boston: Beacon Press, 2017). 20 Stephen Biko, “White Racism and Black Consciousness,” in I Write What I Like: Selected Writings (1978, reprint; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 61-72, at 68. 21 Rebecca West, “Mr. Chesterton in Hysterics: A Study in Prejudice,” The Clarion, November 14, 1913; reprint in The Young Rebecca: Writings of Rebecca West, 1911-1917, ed. Jane Marcus (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1918), 218-22, at 219.

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have been conditioned to view such limitations as natural or divinelymandated, but systematically applied to a group as a whole, such blanket discrimination offers a textbook example of oppression. The countless ways in which cultures perpetuate that oppression—including income inequality, restricted rights over one’s own body, limited leadership roles, rampant sexual violence which is frequently condoned on the basis of the victim’s clothes, location, sexual history, et cetera—contribute to this attempt to control women and colonize their minds, so that they accept patriarchal claims about their inherently inferior status and accept the patriarchal gaze as their own. But it can also fuel a feminist fire within, prompting the woman to shake “the man” from her eyeballs, see more clearly for herself, and work to create a more inclusive, equitable, and compassionate society. Religion plays a disproportionate role in patriarchal oppression. In itself, religion is neither inherently empowering nor oppressive; rather, it magnifies humanity in all our rich complexity, to our glory, and our shame. As Desmond Tutu, the archbishop of Cape Town, once remarked, “Religion is like a knife. When you use a knife for cutting up bread to prepare sandwiches, a knife is good. If you use the same knife to stick into somebody’s guts, religion is bad.”22 Patriarchy has impacted all of the major world religions; consequently, religion frequently has been used to “keep women in their place,” as these declarations in the Christian New Testament indicate: “I permit no woman to teach or have authority over a man; she is to keep silent” (1 Timothy 2.12), and “Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife just as Christ is the head of the church, the body of which he is the Savior. Just as the church is subject to Christ, so also wives ought to be, in everything, to their husbands” (Ephesians 5.22-24). Both passages come from texts that biblical scholars believe were written by someone purporting to be the apostle Paul, a later author trying to appropriate Paul’s authority to promote his own views. By the time the Bible was codified into a canon, after Christianity had been co-opted by a state that had previously persecuted the fledgling faith, pseudo-Paul’s views were conducive to those who then controlled the increasingly institutionalized church as well as the canon it created.23 These scriptural statements have served as the first lines of defense against allowing women back into ministry. People who 22 Arlene Getz, “Religion is Morally Neutral,” Newsweek, December 30, 2004, https://www. newsweek.com/religion-morally-neutral-123575 (accessed April 13, 2019). 23 For accessible overviews of this history, see the work of Bart Ehrman, including Forged: Writing in the Name of God—Why the Bible’s Authors Are Not Who We Think They Are (New York: HarperCollins, 2011) and The Triumph of Christianity: How a Forbidden Religion Swept the World (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2018).

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have transcended gender barriers in their own churches often regard such scripture as bound to its historical context, as true for that time and place but no longer binding upon Christians as a whole—as opposed to passages that reveal eternal wisdom, like Galatians 3:28: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female, for all are one in Christ Jesus.” As much as biblical adherents, including those who claim to follow a literal reading, inevitably emphasize certain parts over others, however, the Bible does not distinguish between what should be understood as the limited products of historical context and what is eternally binding. Some Christian women continue to proclaim their willingness to submit to their husbands and some Christian men continue to insist upon it, claiming God (through some anonymous author posing as Paul) has ordained it, while much of western society, heavily influenced by Christianity, supports and perpetuates female subordination. Yet, substituting the other distinctions that Paul identifies in Galatians 3:28 as being transcended in oneness in Christ—ethnicity and socioeconomic class—makes the oppressive aspects immediately evident. In the chapter following the demand that wives submit to their husbands, the author of Ephesians commands, “Slaves, obey your earthly masters with fear and trembling, in singleness of heart, as you obey Christ” (6.5). Nineteenth-century European-American Christians repeatedly used the Bible to argue that African slaves were ethnically ordained to serve whites.24 The mere suggestion that African-Americans should submit to European-Americans is repugnant, no less than it would be to suggest that the Irish should submit to the English as their masters. Any African-American, or any Irish person, who endorsed such submission today would be pitied at best, suspected of the deepest self-loathing, referenced as an example of how racism warps the mind so badly that the oppressive persecution is internalized, crippling the self. Any member of another ethnicity who called for such submission would be condemned as a virulent racist. Yet countless Christians, African-Americans and Irish among them, continue to endorse such a system and its biblical justifications on the basis of sex. Over forty years ago, Eleanor McLaughlin articulated the need to reclaim a responsible, usable Christian past: Women who seek a just voice and role in the traditionally male dominated, hierarchically organized Christian community have found in the history 24 Larry R. Morrison, “The Religious Defense of American Slavery Before 1830,” The Journal of Religious Thought 81 (1980): 16-29.

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of the church a depressing litany of theological justif ications for the oppressive customs of patriarchal societies, of misogyny and neglect intensified by theological images, and ecclesiastical structures and practices that reflected and reinforced the androcentric character of theological and secular definitions of human nature. The tradition seems to have been created by and interpreted by men [who speak overwhelmingly of themselves]. […] When women find their way into the narrative, it is as queen or temptress; the daughter of Eve; the fascinatingly dramatic witch; or Mary, ever virgin and her saintly imitators whose merits seem so destructive to the twentieth-century woman. The deeply antihistorical bias of many Christian women who seek wholeness within the church is fully understandable if one spends any time with the traditional and even the most recent studies of church history.

Instead, McLaughlin advocates an “approach to the Christian past [that] seeks to set forth a history that is at once responsible—that is, grounded in the historicist rubric of dealing with the past on its own terms—and usable. […] an examination of Christian history with a new set of questions that arise out of commitments to wholeness for women and for all humanity.”25 McLaughlin’s words apply no less today, including in studies of medieval Ireland, and can be extended to include a commitment to the fullness of the tradition as well as humanity. As Judith Plaskow has argued regarding Judaism, “[t]he need for feminist Judaism begins with hearing silence,” as so much of scripture, history, and tradition speaks only of men, muting women as if they are invisible or less than fully human. Yet “there is no Judaism—there is only male Judaism—without the insights of both.”26 Along with Plaskow, I heed Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza’s clarion call to develop a “hermeneutics of remembrance” to avoid “the enslavement of a people [that] becomes total when their history is destroyed and solidarity with the dead is made impossible.”27 This hermeneutics, or interpretive lens, requires reading surviving sources with the understanding that they were shaped by a society dominated by patriarchy and sexism, drawing on a broad range of contextualizing information, and challenging their claims. “Read with new 25 Eleanor L. McLaughlin, “The Christian Past: Does it Hold a Future for Women?”, Anglican Theological Review 57 (1975): 36-56, at 37-38, emphasis in original. 26 Judith Plaskow, Standing Again at Sinai: Judaism from a Feminist Perspective (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1990), 1, 12, emphasis in original. 27 Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Bread Not Stone: The Challenge of Feminist Biblical Interpretation (Boston: Beacon Press, 1984), 19.

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questions and critical freedom, traditional sources can yield ‘subversive memories’ of past struggles for liberation within and against patriarchy, memories that link contemporary women to a transformative history.”28 Feminist historians of all sexes stand in solidarity with our sisters of the past, present, and future, recognizing that patriarchal oppression distorts not only humanity, but also the historical record, so much so that even the most perspicacious historians have assumed its universality. “Misogyny comes to taste like air, feel like gravity […] so entrenched it’s hard to conceive of a world without it.”29 This book turns up the volume on medieval Irish sources that reflect alternative, empowering “subversive memories” as it turns down the “bass” of patriarchal strictures that perpetuate sexism and misogyny.

Book Overview Sacred Sisters focuses on five saints in particular, starting with Patrick. It is admittedly ironic to begin a feminist reclamation of medieval Irish religious history with a man, but Patrick serves as a solitary voice illuminating Ireland’s earliest Christianity. While the traditional image of Patrick arriving in a pagan land and striking it with his staff, banishing the snakes and converting the whole island to the Christian faith, has little to do with the historical record, he offers no less of a compelling narrative in his own words: abducted from Britain and enslaved in Ireland, he eventually escaped from slavery only to return to help spread the faith among the Irish. His writings are the only extant records from an early Irish missionary; their survival led to him later being cast as Ireland’s conquering Christian hero. The following four chapters each feature a female saint with a surviving medieval Latin Life, or vita (plural vitae): Darerca (d. c. 517), Brigid (d. c. 524), Íte (d. c. 570), and Samthann (d. 739). All of their names have variations, not unlike today’s Catharine/Katherine/Kathryn, and Darerca became better known by her nickname, Moninne, which itself has multiple variations. When I quote from sources I leave the spelling used in the source, but know that Ita means Íte and Brigit Brigid—unless it’s one of many other saints of the same name, which should be clear from the context—or at least as clear as the sources are themselves! 28 Plaskow, Standing Again at Sinai, 15. 29 Alexandra Brodsky and Rachel Kauder Nalebuff, ed., The Feminist Utopia Project: Fifty-Seven Visions of a Wildly Better Future (New York: The Feminist Press, 2015), 5.

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Darerca presents the life of an early Irish female missionary for monastic community. Her Life reflects the range of lifestyles open to women, including as a solitary recluse, in partnerships with men, and in various configurations with women of all kinds—wives and mothers as well as widows and virgins. Brigid, Ireland’s only female patron saint, reveals relationships between Ireland’s indigenous traditions and its adopted Christianity as well as the power and authority available to at least some women up until the twelfth century, a time of seismic change for the island. Multiple medieval sources insist she was ordained as a bishop, a status that her successors as abbess of Kildare shared until Ireland’s ecclesiastical hierarchy was drastically revised in 1152. Several sources also show her performing a miraculous abortion for a grateful nun, a miracle several other Irish saints, all male, are recorded as performing as well, challenging conventional assumptions about Catholic sexual morality. Íte exemplifies the inclusive community created by these Christian holy women as she advocates for her faithful, whom she serves as a spiritual mother. No matter how signif icant their sins, she stands by their side, helping them take responsibility for their actions, find forgiveness, and be welcomed back into their community. Samthann, who lived two centuries after the first three, shows the stern but wise and merciful abbess who built on her older sisters’ work. She could unleash an enormous eel on male threats to her sisters and beat greedy landowners in their dreams until they saw the error of their ways and freely donated whatever her community needed. Such strength of leadership could be the difference between a community’s survival and its disappearance. The final chapter explores several prominent fifth- through seventhcentury female saints who do not have surviving medieval vitae but who help broaden our understanding of the complexity and empowering aspects of female religious experience in medieval Ireland. Three have early modern adaptations of medieval Lives or legends. Lasair was so renowned for her wisdom that Finnian of Clonard’s own Life claims her as his student. She also shows that women could unleash some seriously righteous wrath, while also being a source of comfort and healing. Attracta (Athracht, Adroacht), said to be a contemporary and associate of Patrick, was particularly active in County Sligo, where she is well-remembered in several churches and wells. Her legend celebrates her ability to slay dragons and resurrect the dead. Cranat (Cránaid, Cranit, Craebhnat) celebrates connections with the earth, as her eyes are said to have become trees. One was devoured piece by piece by the desperate hopes of Ireland’s emigrants in the mid-nineteenth century, as it was said to protect the bearer from drowning; another survived

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and indeed thrived into the last century. Cranat sacrificed her eyes to retain control over her body and fate, to remain a nun rather than become a wife. Gobnait (Gobnad, Gobnit) inspired many legends attesting to her great holiness and harmony with animals and nature, but none survive from the medieval period. Medieval litanies and calendars invoked her protection and honored her memory, but her preservation is primarily a credit to the importance that her monastic site, Ballyvourney, retained through the centuries as well as to oral traditions and cultural customs that accompanied her cult. The chapter finishes with Dígde, the probable poet behind one of Ireland’s most celebrated poems, Aithbe damsa bés mara, or “The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare.” Her poem may preserve an authentic echo of a medieval Irishwoman’s perspective, its haunting, complex, and evocative beauty and frank sexuality challenging assumptions about gender and sanctity and providing striking contrast to claims made by hagiographers (biographers of saints). Five appendices conclude the book. The first two provide the reader with primary source material, photographs of the saints’ sites and translations of their Lives. Both sites and sources provide a profound sense of connection with the saints and the faithful who shaped their cult over the centuries. For example, as I drove over the Cork and Kerry mountains on a grey day of near-constant rain, the sun pierced through the clouds, illuminating one select spot like the glories of heaven and calling to mind Canair’s recognition of Inis Cathaig as her resurrection place due to its dazzling brilliance; strengthening my sense of solidarity with this particular saint, I too was kept from Scattery’s shores, prevented by storms rather than sexism. My photographs of the sites are followed by my translations of the women’s vitae, along with the Catalogus Sanctorum Hiberniae. Appendices C through E offer a calendar of female Irish saints’ feast days (generally their day of death, believed to mark their soul’s entrance into heaven), a glossary of Latin and Irish terms that are most essential to this study, and a pronunciation guide (with the caveat that much disagreement exists about proper pronunciation). Sacred Sisters’ rough historical parameters span from the fifth through the mid-twelfth centuries; medieval texts, especially saints’ Lives, provide its primary basis, although the strength of continued devotion to Life-less saints like Gobnait, which rivals the faith placed even in a powerful patron like Brigid, cautions against overreliance on the written word. Three great collections of Latin Lives of Irish saints survive, called the vitae sanctorum Hiberniae, the Lives of the saints of Ireland. If they included only female saints’ Lives, they would be vitae sanctarum Hiberniae, and periodically

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throughout this study I use that phrasing (vitae sanctarum Hiberniae) to refer specifically to the Lives of Ireland’s female saints. Each collection contains a Life that is translated in Appendix B; for reasons detailed there as well as in the respective chapters, I think it likely that the original sources for these Lives were written in the seventh through ninth centuries, but the three collections date from after Ireland’s invasion by the English, also known as the Anglo-Normans, in the late twefth. These collections indicate a degree of co-operation between the native Irish and English colonists who settled there, who eventually became known as the Anglo-Irish, and their celebration of Ireland’s Christian past offers important contrast to its alleged condemnation in 1155 by Adrian IV, the only English pope, who purportedly proclaimed in a text known as Laudabiliter that its invasion would “expand the boundaries of the church, declare the truth of the Christian faith to an ignorant and barbarian people, and weed out the new growth of vices from the field of the Lord.”30 Contrary to this papal bull, ample evidence attests to the power and depth of twelfth-century Irish Catholicism, not least Irish submission to the papacy regarding their own country’s invasion. Yet certain peculiarities did exist in Ireland, fostered by its remote location on the western edge of Europe and its independence from the Roman Empire, which provided a framework for the church on the Continent and its outposts. These Irish idiosyncracies were fulminated against since the start of the twelfth century by indigenous reformers like Saint Malachy (Máel-máedóc Ó Morgair) who sought to bring Ireland into closer conformity with the Continent, part of the Gregorian Reform then spreading across Western Christendom. Most relevant for this study, Kildare’s atypical gender arrangements came under fire at the Synod of Kells-Mellifont in 1152, which reorganized Ireland’s ecclesiastical structure into the diocesan system it retained until the Reformation and which, at the insistence of the Italian papal legate (official representative of the pope), stripped Brigid’s successor as abbess of 30 Giraldus Cambrensis, Expugnatio Hibernica, ed. and trans. A. B. Scott and F. X. Martin (Dublin: Royal Irish Academy, 1978), 144. The authenticity of Laudabiliter has been debated, but it was regarded as genuine by multiple factions in medieval Ireland, and Pope Alexander III’s 1172 letters share many of its sentiments. For doubts about its authenticity, see M. P. Sheehy, “The Bull Laudabiliter: A Problem in Medieval Diplomatique and History,” Journal of the Galway Archaeological and Historical Society 29 (1960-61): 45-70; Anne Duggan, “Totius christianitatis caput: The Pope and the Princes,” in Adrian IV, the English Pope (1154-59): Studies and Texts, ed. Brenda Bolton and Duggan (Aldershot: Ashgate Press, 2003), 138-55, and Duggan, “The Power of Documents: The Curious Case of Laudabiliter,” in Aspects of Power and Authority in the Middle Ages, ed. Brenda Bolton and Christine Meek (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), 251-75.

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Kildare of her episcopal status.31 The last episcopal abbess, Sadb, came to power amid an even greater outrage inflicted upon Kildare’s abbess. In 1132 Diarmaid MacMurrough initiated his reign as king of Leinster with the abduction and rape of Mór, the abbess of Kildare, replacing her with Sadb, his niece.32 Roughly twenty years after Sadb’s demotion and forty years following Mór’s rape, Diarmaid’s alliances with Anglo-Normans, and especially Richard de Clare, Lord of Strigoil, better known as Strongbow, initiated Ireland’s invasion and subsequent colonization at their hands, leaving Ireland irreperably altered. Despite the seven-plus centuries of Christianity thriving in Ireland, a history celebrated in the vitae sanctorum Hiberniae, and despite the sincere and sustained efforts of Irish ecclesiastical leaders to enforce greater conformity to Continental norms, twelfth-century papal propaganda proclaimed the Irish fallen from the faith and sanctioned this invasion by their neighbors to the east, a second stage in the conquest of the British Isles by the Norse-cum-Normans of Normandy, France.33 Like the Anglo-Norman invaders, Patrick too came from Britain. His words, dating presumably to the fifth century, mark the start not only of this study, but of all known portraits of Christianity recorded within Ireland. Patrick makes manifest his deep admiration for and gratitude to the many Irish holy women who became his partners in building the Irish church. Male dominance surfaces in the records of the men who claimed to be his heirs centuries later, but even they attest to a wide range of options available to women, including as missionaries, church founders, and leaders, as well as to their ability to retain rights over both their property and themselves. The vitae sanctarum Hiberniae greatly enrich this sense of female agency and authority, the strength of bonds between religious men and women and especially among sisters, and the power of female saints’ patronage, ensuring their faithful’s well-being, even if they had to overcome death to do so. By the twelfth century, however, as Mór’s rape and Sadb’s demotion powerfully symbolize, female religious authority came under relentless attack, and Ireland would not see another female bishop until 2013. Fittingly, this bishop, Patricia Storey, a married mother of two, is Brigid’s heir, Bishop of Meath and Kildare. 31 F. J. Byrne, “The Trembling Sod: Ireland in 1169,” in Art Cosgrove, ed., A New History of Ireland, Vol II: Medieval Ireland, 1169-1534 (1987, reprint; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 1-42, at 42; Marie Thérèse Flanagan, The Transformation of the Irish Church in the Twelfth Century (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2010), 72-73. 32 Byrne, “The Trembling Sod: Ireland in 1169,” 22. 33 See Callan, The Templars, the Witch, and the Wild Irish: Vengeance and Heresy in Medieval Ireland (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2015), 1-17; see also the Conclusion.

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Memories of the Future Bishop Storey is of course Protestant, the first female bishop in the Anglican Communion in the entire British Isles, followed by Libby Lane, Bishop of Stockport (and, like Storey, a priest’s wife), in 2015. As of this writing, the Church of England has had twenty-two female bishops; the Church in Wales two, Joanna Penberty, Bishop of St. David’s, and June Osborne, Bishop of Llandalf; and the Episcopal Scottish Church one, Anne Dyer, Bishop of Aberdeen and Orkney.34 The Church of Ireland holds at its one—one more than the Roman Catholic Church is likely to ever officially recognize. As discussed in Chapter Three, ordination has been a strictly guarded male preserve since at least the twelfth century. No records prove that women ever held priestly off ice within orthodox Catholicism, but prior to the Gregorian Reform women were ordained to various offices, including as abbesses, deaconesses, and nuns, and some were hailed as presbytera and episcopa, the female forms of priest and bishop. What such titles specifically signified cannot be determined, but the Brigidine sources are comparatively clear. In the words of Gary Macy, the leading historian of medieval Catholic female ordination, Brigid was “actually ordained to the episcopacy. She was referred to as a bishop not out of courtesy or metaphorically. She was really ordained.”35 Moreover, the medieval accounts that proclaim Brigid’s right to episcopal status extended it to all abbesses of Kildare, ultimately ending with Sadb, as other sources attest. Despite all that has changed between the medieval period and the modern day, women in the Catholic hierarchy remain essentially where the twelfth century left them. The 1950s, the decade before Vatican II’s Aggiornamento, or modernizing, are humorously called the last decade of the Catholic Middle Ages, but for Catholic women, whom the council admitted only as auditors, or observers, the same status given to non-Catholic attendees, medieval restrictions largely remain. In late 2016 Pope Francis pronounced the door to the priesthood perpetually shut to women, citing John Paul II.36 John Paul’s Mulieris Dignitatem, meaning “On the Dignity of Woman,” issued on the Feast of Mary’s Assumption (August 15) in the Marian Year of 1988, builds upon Paul VI’s 1976 Inter Insignores, proclaiming that priests must be 34 https://www.forwardinfaith.com/List_of_Women_Bishops.php (accessed July 31, 2019). Two more consecrations are scheduled for November 19, 2019. 35 Gary Macy, The Hidden History of Women’s Ordination: Female Clergy in the Medieval West (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 54. 36 Philip Pullella, “Pope Says He Believes Ban on Female Priests is Forever,” Reuters November 1, 2016; http://www.reuters.com/article/us-pope-women-idUSKBN12W4L7 (accessed April 16, 2017).

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male to perform the sacrament, for only a man could seem to be in Christ’s image and act in his person:37 “For Christ himself was and remains a man.”38 Ordinatio Sacerdotalis, issued by John Paul on Pentecost in 1994, insists that “the Church has no authority to confer priestly ordination on women,” a view he says must be “definitively held by all the Church’s faithful.” He declares this stained-glass ceiling to be “in accordance with God’s eternal plan, […] preserved by the constant and universal Tradition of the Church and firmly taught by the Magisterium in its more recent documents.”39 No matter how much the Magisterium may recently insist, however, Tradition is far from constant and universal, including on this issue, as Brigid and others in medieval Ireland and elsewhere indicate. Some progressives felt betrayed by this pronouncement by Francis, who has been hailed as “the people’s pope,” as Time proclaimed him when it named him person of the year in 2013, the year he ascended the papal throne—or rather the plain chair with which he replaced said throne. 40 The first Latin American pontiff (from Argentina, though of Italian parents) and the only one who has ever had a woman as a boss, Francis exemplifies humble simplicity, forsaking lavish papal apartments and preferring a 2008 Ford Focus to Benedict XVI’s Mercedes Popemobile. 41 Compassion and concern especially for the poor and vulnerable permeate his words and actions, heeding Christ’s exhortations to care for those in need. On his first Maundy Thursday as pope he washed the feet of twelve juvenile delinquents, two female and two Muslim, as he ceremonially re-enacted Christ washing the apostles’ feet. 42 He amplif ied the message in 2016 37 https://w2.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/apost_letters/1988/documents/hf_jpii_apl_19880815_mulieris-dignitatem.html (accessed December 19, 2016). 38 http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/rc_con_cfaith_ doc_19761015_inter-insigniores_en.html (accessed December 19, 2016). Inter Insignores was issued on the Feast of Teresa of Avila (October 15). John Paul further affirmed this view in Pastores Dabo Vobis, an apostolic exhortation issued on the Feast of Annunciation (March 25), when Mary first learned she would conceive Christ, 1992 http://w2.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/apost_exhortations/ documents/hf_jp-ii_exh_25031992_pastores-dabo-vobis.html (accessed December 19, 2016). 39 https://w2.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/apost_letters/1994/documents/hf_jpii_apl_19940522_ordinatio-sacerdotalis.html (accessed December 19, 2016). 40 Howard Chua-Eoan and Elizabeth Dias, “Pope Francis, the People’s Pope,” Time, December 11, 2013 http://poy.time.com/2013/12/11/person-of-the-year-pope-francis-the-peoples-pope/ (accessed December 19, 2017). 41 John L. Allen, Jr., The Francis Miracle: Inside the Transformation of the Pope and the Church (New York: Time Books, 2015), 120. 42 Carol Glatz, “Pope washes young offenders’ feet at Holy Thursday Mass,” Catholic Herald UK, March 28, 2013 http://www.catholicherald.co.uk/news/2013/03/28/pope-washes-youngoffenders-feet-at-holy-thursday-mass/ (accessed December 19, 2016).

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when, amid increasingly intense anti-Muslim and anti-refugee sentiment throughout the western world, he washed the feet of eleven refugees and one Italian Catholic, eight male and four female, “three Eritrean Coptic Christians; four Catholics from Nigeria; three Muslims from Mali, Syria and Pakistan; and a Hindu man from India,” posting a picture of himself kissing a refugee’s brown foot to his new Instagram account.43 He famously remarked, “who am I to judge?” regarding homosexuality in 2013, 44 and in June 2016 implied that the church ought to be the one judged for its treatment of homosexuals, saying it should apologize to them “as well as to the women who have been exploited.”45 Francis’s reference to exploited women aroused hopes that he might eventually redress women’s exclusion from the priesthood, especially since his remarks to women religious during the triennial meeting of the International Union of Superiors General (UISG) the previous month had caused speculation that he might reopen the diaconate to women. The diaconate, the third and lowest holy order after the episcopate and the presbyterate (i.e., priesthood), is the only one of the three that was indisputably open to Catholic women for centuries. 46 According to the Wijngaards Institute for Catholic Research, which advocates women’s ordination, “[a]n estimated 50,000 women deacons ministered in parishes throughout the eastern part of the Catholic Church during the first millennium,” with more than a hundred known by name. 47 In August 2016, Francis named six men and six women with diverse views on women’s role in the church to a commission to research the history of women deacons, which began meeting three months later.48 43 Elahe Izadi, “Pope Francis Washes the Feet of Muslim Migrants, Says We Are ‘Children of the Same God,’” Washington Post, March 25, 2016 https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/ worldviews/wp/2016/03/25/children-of-the-same-god-pope-francis-washes-the-feet-of-muslimmigrants/?utm_term=.9875ab8917aa (accessed December 19, 2016). 44 http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/speeches/2013/july/documents/papa-francesco_20130728_gmg-conferenza-stampa.html (accessed December 19, 2016). 45 Philip Pullella, “Pope Says Church Should Ask Forgiveness from Gays for Past Treatment,” Reuters, June 26, 2016 http://www.reuters.com/article/us-pope-church-idUSKCN0ZC12E (accessed December 19, 2016). 46 The Catechism of the Catholic Church, II.2.iii.6 http://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/ archive/catechism/p2s2c3a6.htm (accessed December 19, 2016). 47 “Women Deacons/Deaconesses in the Catholic Church,” http://www.womenpriests.org/ deacons/ (accessed September 3, 2016). 48 Joshua J. McElwee, “Members of Francis’ Women Deacons Commission Express Diverse Views,” National Catholic Reporter, August 9, 2016; https://www.ncronline.org/news/vatican/ members-francis-women-deacons-commission-express-diverse-views (accessed December 19, 2017). Francis announced in May 2019 that the commission ended its work divided by their diverse views, with no resolution.

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Some members of the Anglican Communion started ordaining women deacons in 1969, followed by the first female priests in 1976 and bishops in 1989, further strengthening the sense that this commission could be the first step towards shattering the Catholic stained-glass ceiling. 49 Such hopes began the moment he took office, with my advisor at and the former Vice Provost of Trinity College Dublin, Linda Hogan, being suggested as the likely first female cardinal, the papal-appointed “Princes of the Church” who select the pope when vacancy occurs, showing just how high such hopes could reach.50 As Jamie Manson cautioned in response to the enthusiasm erupting over his responses to UISG, however, Francis is no champion of women’s ordination. Manson challenges “the myth of Francis’ revolutionary attitude toward women” and criticizes church teachings which have “an especially perilous impact on poor women.” She emphasizes his “unwavering belief in complementarity, the idea that, by creating male and female bodies differently, God shows us that God intends for men and women to have separate roles and purposes in the church and in the family.” She faults him for telling “women that their bodies determine their destiny in the church” and for following John Paul’s and Paul VI’s logic that priests need a penis to perform the sacrament: “Francis is delicately saying that because women do not have a phallus, they cannot ‘image’ the body of Christ. In what is surely a great cosmic irony, a woman’s God-given body prevents her from transforming bread into Christ’s body.”51 Such exclusion would apply to Christ’s own mother, who grew, gave birth to, and suckled that body, eventually cradling it, broken, at the foot of the cross; and to Mary Magdalene, who bore witness to that body’s agonizing death after male apostles had fled in fear and shame, then went to the tomb to care for that body and instead became the first to witness the resurrected Christ and preach the Good News, an honor for which she has been hailed as Apostola Apostolorum, the apostle of the apostles. Yet her sex would preclude her 49 Eleven women were ordained to the priesthood in 1974 in the United States, and four more in 1975, but Episcopal authorities immediately denounced their ordinations, which were not approved until 1976. The Anglican Church of Canada also has ordained female priests since 1976. 50 “In theory she could become pope herself” [Justine McCarthy, “Lady in Red: Linda Hogan Tipped to Be Cardinal,” The Sunday Times, November 3, 2013; http://www.thesundaytimes.co.uk/ sto/news/uk_news/National/article1335691.ece (accessed December 19, 2016)]. 51 Jamie Manson, “It’s Time to Be Honest About Pope Francis and Women,” National Catholic Reporter, May 19, 2016 (https://www.ncronline.org/print/blogs/grace-margins/its-time-behonest-about-pope-francis-and-women, accessed December 19, 2016).

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from priesthood, as “the Magisterium in its more recent documents” insists.52 In his remarks to UISG, Francis warns against the “temptation” of feminism, which he says reduces women’s importance,53 which chiefly arises from their ability to be wives and mothers but bars them from the priesthood.54 As Manson argues, Pope Francis believes that women cannot assume these leadership roles in the church because of our bodies. He believes [that] God simply cannot work through the female body in the way in which God works through the male body. He believes that, when it comes to consecrating the Eucharist, the female anatomy somehow renders God powerless[…] Pope Francis’ unshakeable belief that the purpose of women is to be mothers, nurturers and “complements” to men does not only reinforce the ban on women’s decision-making and sacramental power in the church – these beliefs are also tied directly to the church’s teachings on sexual and reproductive health, especially contraception and abortion[…] This same ideology keeps women, day after day, sacramentally powerless and banned from pulpits in Catholic churches, while the people of God long for ordained ministers who can offer meaningful baptisms and funerals, thoughtful homilies, and comforting last rites […] the beliefs about women that are espoused by Pope Francis are causing untold suffering to women, to families, and to the life of the church itself. After years of pain and division caused by previous popes, there is little wonder that so much hope has been placed in Francis’ papacy. And there are some good, concrete reasons to have hope in him. But we must be honest 52 https://w2.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/apost_letters/1994/documents/hf_jpii_apl_19940522_ordinatio-sacerdotalis.html (accessed December 19, 2016). 53 “Now there are two temptations here, against which we must guard. The first is feminism […] We must not fall into feminism, because this would reduce a woman’s importance. I do not see, at this moment, a great danger of this among women religious. I do not see that. Perhaps in the past, but in general it is not present.” 54 Francis sees the nuns he was addressing as wives and mothers as well: “All women religious, all consecrated women should live mystically, because yours is a marriage: your [sic] is a vocation of maternity” [http://press.vatican.va/content/salastampa/it/bollettino/ pubblico/2016/05/13/0337/00782.html#TRAD ; (accessed December 19, 2016).

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about the limitations that Francis places [on] women’s bodies and women’s power, and we must not be afraid to let our prophetic voices rise up about it. The lives of countless women and the future of the church itself depend on it.55

Manson’s sense of urgency arises in part from Catholic prohibition of artificial contraception and Draconian attitudes toward abortion that especially impact “poor women, whose need to manage the size of their families is a matter of life and death.” For his part, however, Francis has criticized an overemphasis in Catholic morality on contraception, abortion, and homosexuality.56 During his Jubilee Year, Francis gave priests the authority reserved to bishops to absolve the sin of abortion, extending this authority indefinitely after this “Year of Mercy” came to an end in November 2016. In practice, however, many bishops “have delegated that power to priests under them already, making the pope’s edict more symbolic than practical in many regions.”57 As liberal as Francis may seem to some, surveys have repeatedly shown that Catholics especially in western countries favor a far more progressive agenda than what the papacy has advanced. According to the Pew Research Center, “[f]ully 45% of Americans are connected to Catholicism in some way, including one-fifth who claim the faith as their current religion, one-tenth who were raised in the faith and have now fallen away, and a similar share who maintain a cultural connection to Catholicism.”58 Over three-fourths of those who still claim the faith believe the church should allow contraception, with a roughly even split on whether or not abortion should be legal.59 “Roughly six-in-ten Catholics say the church should allow priests to get married (62%) and women to become priests (59%).” Those numbers are even higher among “cultural Catholics,” with 83% approving of married priests and 77% women priests. Former Catholics also show more support on these two issues (79% to 62% 55 Manson, “It’s Time to Be Honest.” 56 https://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/speeches/2013/september/documents/papafrancesco_20130921_intervista-spadaro.html (accessed December 19, 2016). 57 Weston Williams, “Has Pope Francis Softened the Catholic Stance on Abortion?”, The Christian Science Monitor, November 21, 2016; http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Europe/2016/1121/ Has-Pope-Francis-softened-the-Catholic-stance-on-abortion (accessed December 19, 2016). 58 “U.S. Catholics Open to Non-Traditional Families,” Pew Research Center, September 2, 2015; http://www.pewforum.org/files/2015/09/Catholics-and-Family-Life-09-01-2015.pdf (accessed December 19, 2016). 59 Michael Lipka, “Majority of U.S. Catholics’ Opinions Run Counter to Church on Contraception, Homosexuality,” Pew Research Center, September 19, 2013; http://www.pewresearch.org/facttank/2013/09/19/majority-of-u-s-catholics-opinions-run-counter-to-church-on-contraceptionhomosexuality/ (accessed December 19, 2016).

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and 66% to 59%).60 Nor are Americans radical outliers. A survey of more than 12,000 Catholics in twelve countries across five continents found that 78% supported the use of artificial contraception and 65% were in favor of legal abortion, with a fairly close divide on the issue of married (50% in favor, 47% opposed) and female (45% in favor, 51% opposed) priests.61 This survey did not include the Republic of Ireland, which according to its 2011 census is approximately 85% Catholic yet in 2015 became the first country to legalize same-sex marriage by a democratic vote (62.1% in favor, 37.9% opposed). A 2012 survey of Ireland’s Catholics found overwhelming support for married (87%) and female (77%) priests.62 On May 25, 2018, after a decades-long struggle, the Irish people resoundingly voted to repeal their Constitution’s Eighth Amendment, which in effect outlawed abortion. Exit polls showed that voters of almost every stripe supported repeal’s landslide victory, 65% of men as well as 70% of women, in “a fundamental rejection by the entire country of what has gone before; the final casting off of old mores.”63 Gail McElroy, professor of politics at Trinity College Dublin, pronounced the results “the final nail in the coffin for [the Roman Catholic hierarchy].”64 About two months before the referendum, on the eve of International Women’s Day, Mary McAleese, the former President of Ireland and a devout Catholic, declared the Catholic Church “an empire of misogyny” that has “kept Christ out and bigotry in” and denounced women’s exclusion from the priesthood as “pure codology”; an Irish survey found that 78% of the 1,000+ people polled agreed with her sentiments.65 60 “U.S. Catholics Open to Non-Traditional Families,” Pew Research Center, September 2, 2015; http://www.pewforum.org/2015/09/02/chapter-4-expectations-of-the-church/ (accessed March 29, 2017). 61 Michelle Boorstein and Peyton M. Craighill, “Pope Francis Faces Church Divided over Doctrine, Global Poll of Catholics Finds,” Washington Post, February 9, 2014 [https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/pope-francis-faces-church-divided-over-doctrine-global-poll-of-catholicsfinds/2014/02/08/e90ecef4-8f89-11e3-b227-12a45d109e03_story.html?utm_term=.2705cbd03d28 ; (accessed March 29, 2016)]. 62 Association of Catholic Priests, “Contemporary Catholic Perspectives,” February 2012; https:// www.associationofcatholicpriests.ie/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Contemporary-CatholicPerspectives.pdf (accessed March 29, 2016). 63 Fiach Kelly, “Yes Vote Shows Overwhelming Desire for Change,” Irish Times, May 25, 2018; https://www.irishtimes.com/news/ireland/irish-news/yes-vote-shows-overwhelming-desirefor-change-that-nobody-foresaw-1.3508879 (accessed May 25, 2018). 64 Quoted in Kimiko de Freytas-Tamura, “Ireland Votes to End Abortion Ban, in Rebuke to Catholic Conservatism,” New York Times, May 22, 2018; https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/26/ world/europe/ireland-abortion-yes.html (accessed May 27, 2018). 65 Órla Ryan, “Vast Majority of People Agree that Catholic Church is ‘Empire of Misogyny,’” The Journal, March 12, 2018 http://www.thejournal.ie/empire-of-misogyny-mary-mcaleese3900044-Mar2018/ (accessed March 25, 2018).

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The Catholic church is no democracy, but these surveys and referendum results reveal a far more progressive Catholic populace than the Magisterium represents, with the vast majority supporting the use of scientifically sound contraception and a significant majority favoring access to legal and safe abortion. Support for female priests is markedly lower among Catholics globally than in the United States and Ireland, yet approval still stands at an impressive 45%, reaching as high as 83% in France and 78% in Spain, with Argentina, the pope’s home country, at 60%.66 In matters relating to sexual morality and gender roles, Catholics generally prefer a drastically different approach than what the all-male celibate hierarchy currently allows and some, like the Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests, Women’s Ordination Worldwide, and the Irish Association of Catholic Priests, co-founded by Rev. Tony Flannery, who ultimately ignored the Vatican’s 2012 order silencing him for his teachings on women’s ordination, contraception, and homosexuality, are not waiting for the Magisterium to catch up.67 Yet, as the vitae sanctarum Hiberniae attest, such approaches are less a radical innovation than a return to medieval Catholic roots, at least as developed in certain places at certain times. Declaring that “[t]he lives of countless women and the future of the church itself depend on it,” Manson calls on Catholics to use their “prophetic voices” to inspire the church to accept female ecclesiastical authority, to recognize women’s range of abilities rather than restricting them to nurturing and submissive roles defined by anatomy, and to advocate an effective, responsible approach to family planning that concedes that sometimes abortion might be a more ethical choice. Monique Wittig’s exhortation, “remember […] or failing that invent,” again applies, although we likely cannot remember, nor do we need to invent.68 The vitae sanctarum Hiberniae preserve memories of the future that Manson and other progressive Christians seek, as they also affirm that Christian history is much more complex than dominant narratives would have any of us believe.69

66 “Voice of the People,” http://univision.data4.mx/resultados_catolicos/eng/ENG_catholicsurvey.pdf (accessed March 29, 2016). 67 Tony Flannery, A Question of Conscience (Dublin: Londubh Books, 2013). 68 Wittig, Les Guérillères, 89. 69 Feminist theologian Letty Russell refers to Jesus as “a memory of the future which God is bringing toward us,” the promise of a socially just, compassionate, and loving community which God wants for all creation [Human Liberation in a Feminist Perspective—A Theology (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1974), 72, emphasis in original].

1

“Founded upon the Rock Which Is Christ” What Patrick and His Promoters Reveal about Women in the Early Irish Church

Abstract While little can be said with certainty about Irish Christianity’s first few centuries, Patrick’s concern and respect for women provide powerful testimony about gender relations and female agency in the fifth century. He acknowledged male ecclesiastical hierarchy outside of Ireland, but in country his primary partners in the faith were female. His seventh-century and subsequent biographers proclaim his dominance over virtually everything and everyone in Ireland, but they allow us to hear echoes of women’s voices and spheres of activity. Patrician texts, which serve primarily male interests, attest to the wide range of possibilities for women in the Irish church and proclaim women’s rights over both their property and themselves, as they also show how those rights were negotiated within the early Irish church. Key words: earliest Irish Christianity, slavery, syneisaktism, married religious

Pardon the irony—beginning a book about reclaiming women’s history with a chapter focusing on a man. But Patrick isn’t just any man; he’s regarded as Ireland’s primary patron saint, though he has two partners in that role, Brigid and ColmCille. He was placed in that position due to a fluke of history: his writings, describing his work spreading the faith in Ireland, survived where others perished, a lasting beacon like Inis Cathaig to Canair after all other lights had dimmed. He left us two texts, his Confession (Confessio), or autobiography about his spiritual journey and missionary work, and Letter to the soldiers of Coroticus (Epistola), written to a Christian chieftain and his

Callan, M. B., Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463721509_ch01

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men after they abducted recent converts to sell as slaves. Somehow Patrick’s writings came into Armagh’s possession; its propagandists claimed him as its founder, recasting him into a near godlike mold, and Patrick, and Ireland, were never the same again. Chances are, you should try to forget what you know about Patrick before proceeding. The amateur hour of drunken debauchery unleashed upon the masses on his feast day, Shamrock Shakes, the dyeing of the Chicago River—none of that has anything to do with Patrick himself.1 Even aspects with greater claim on the Patrician legend—the banishing of snakes, the conversion of the entire island to Christianity, the truly impressive vindictive cursing—are remote from the man revealed in his own words. His example provides a powerful reminder in the chapters to come: the author of the Confessio and Epistola is barely discernible in his later cult, and the saint’s own words provide too brief and vague a sketch to rescue the few facts that may remain behind his hagiographers’ pious, power-hugry fictions, apart from basic details. When a person is made saint, their authentic individuality, their ingenium in Latin, is often the price of the halo. Many hands contributed to the making of the mythical Patrick. Chief among them are his seventh-century hagiographers Tírechán and Muirchú (Sea-dog in Irish). More than Patrick, Tírechán and Muirchú wanted to promote Armagh, its dominance over other churches, and the greater value the faithful would get for donating there rather than to another ecclesiastical community. Patrick became the incarnation of their ambitions: a super saint who could kill with a single word or glance, restore the dead to life, heal any illness, and control nature itself. Patrick was a saint you did not want to offend; he was merciless if he thought himself—or Armagh—crossed. Tírechán used the term paruchia to refer to Patrick’s, but really Armagh’s, extended network of religious communities. The word, more properly parochia in Latin, giving rise to English words like “parochial,” now more generally associated with “parish,” means “diocese” or “province.” Geography defined parochia. As the fledgling Christian faith grew into the institutionalized church of the Roman Empire, it adopted the empire’s efficient territorial organizational system. But Ireland was never part of the Roman Empire and, while it had some substantial settlements, it had little that resembled the empire’s urban centers. So, instead of geography dictating ecclesiastical organization in Ireland, personal relationships did—or so Patrick’s propagandists would have us believe. Tírechán, Muirchú, and others proclaimed Patrick’s affiliation 1 Some of its aspects might reflect a continuation of the Roman festival Liberalia, also held on March 17, which celebrated adolescent masculinity.

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with and dominance over churches scattered throughout Ireland, partly because communities that were part of his paruchia would owe Armagh tribute. Determined to have him crowned “Most Powerful Patron of All Ireland,” Patrick’s biographers cut his fallible humanity from their portraits. Fortunately, a glimpse of the man behind their myth still remains, thanks to the survival of his own words.

Patrick in His Own Words Patrick’s writings provide a solitary textual spark illuminating the dawn of the faith in Ireland, otherwise largely shrouded in mystery.2 His example and mission reveal that, as in Galilee, Ireland’s Christianity began as a faith of slaves and women.3 Patrick himself was an escaped slave, abducted as an adolescent from his home in Britain and enslaved for years in Ireland. He eventually managed a daring escape, but he heard the Irish continue to call to him, inspiring him to share a faith that had been fairly minimal prior to his abduction, despite his father being a deacon and his grandfather a priest. Scholars have tried to piece together his history, but even the basics of his time and place are disputed. The best guesses, informed by Patrick’s own accounts, are that he lived during the fifth century and focused on northwestern Ireland, possibly in and around Mayo. A Continental chronicler, Prosper of Aquitaine, recorded Pope Celestine sending Palladius as the first bishop “to the Irish believing in Christ” in 431.4 Although an invaluable 2 D. A. Binchy, “Patrick and His Biographers,” Studia Hibernica 2 (1962): 7-173, at 38. Roy Flechner’s Saint Patrick Retold: The Legend and History of Ireland’s Patron Saint (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019) was published just as Sacred Sisters was going to press and thus is not fully considered here, but his point that readers “must allow ourselves to be—of necessity—critical of Patrick’s version of events and somewhat irreverent towards it, even challenging his integrity and his motives” (102) is well taken. As noted in the Introduction, Sacred Sisters recognizes the inherent limitations of all testimony and prioritizes portrayals of gender and their implications for wider social attitudes and possibilities over attempts to definitively determine elusive historical “facts.” Perhaps Patrick was a “curial absconder” seeking to avoid adult responsibilities in Britain rather than an enslaved adolescent when he came to Ireland, as Flechner argues (53), but such a theory has too little evidence to favor it over Patrick’s own account, which admittedly has little more than Patrick and centuries of devotion to support it. 3 Referring to non-Jewish converts; Ireland had no known Jewish population at this time. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (New York: Crossroad, 1992), 138, 260-70; Jo Ann Kay McNamara, Sisters in Arms: Catholic Nuns through Two Millennia (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996), 9, 22. 4 “The Chronicle of Prosper of Aquitaine,” s.a. 431, in Liam de Paor, Saint Patrick’s World: The Christian Culture of Ireland’s Apostolic Age (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1993), 79.

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contemporary witness to the first bishop sent by Rome to Ireland, this entry raises almost as many questions as it answers, not least concerning the identity of these Irish Christians with whom Prosper likely had little if any previous familiarity. Since Patrick identifies himself as a bishop, the later promoters of his cult dated his return to the island to 432 and proclaimed Palladius an abject failure. As Dáibhí Ó Cróinín notes, however, “given the obviously maverick nature of Patrick’s career, his episcopal status might not have been recognised as canonical in Rome (if indeed he had ever come to the attention of the papal see).”5 Palladius and his mission have been otherwise lost to history, all but consumed by “the all-devouring Patrick legend,”6 which blurred its saintly subject with other fifth-century missionaries in Ireland. While neither when nor where Patrick wrote can be ascertained, his words reveal a great deal about his character and priorities. Both his Confessio and Epistola were written primarily for male audiences, Coroticus and his soldiers for the latter and his male ecclesiastical colleagues back in Britain for the former, but their portrait of Patrick’s work in Ireland suggests that women stood at the center of his ministry. He repeatedly tells us that he baptized thousands in Ireland, yet he describes only one in detail, “a blessed Irishwoman, of noble birth and a most beautiful adult,” who not only accepted the faith but, aided by a divine revelation, dedicated her life and virginity to God, without her father’s consent—whether she sought his consent is not specified.7 Patrick praises the many women like her, whose numbers quickly multiplied despite persecution and slander from their kin. He evidently revelled in helping “daughters of chieftains” overcome such opposition to become “virgins of Christ,”8 but he expresses equal admiration and even greater concern for slaves: “Those who are enslaved suffer the most: they unceasingly endure being terrorized and threatened; but the Lord has given grace to so many of his handmaids, for even though they are forbidden they still bravely imitate [Christ].”9 He likely had witnessed first-hand the 5 Dáibhí Ó Cróinín, “Saint Patrick,” in Armagh History and Society: Interdisciplinary Essays on the History of an Irish County, ed. A. J. Hughes and William Nolan (Dublin: Geography Publications, 2001), 43-62, at 58. 6 Ó Cróinín, Early Medieval Ireland, 400-1200 (London: Longman, 1995), 22. 7 “[U]na benedicta Scotta genetiua nobilis pulcherrima adulta” [Confessio 42, all quotations from Patrick’s writings are my translation, from Bieler, Libri Epistolarum Sancti Patricii Episcopi. (1950-51; reprint, Dublin: Royal Irish Academy, 1993)]. 8 Epistola 12; Confessio 41; see also Confessio 49. 9 “Sed ex illis maxime laborant quae seruitio detinentur: usque ad terrors et minas assidue perferunt; sed Dominus gratiam dedit multis ex ancillis suis, nam etsi uetantur tamen fortiter imitantur” (Confessio 42).

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particularly dire fate of enslaved women during his own captivity, prompting him to spring into immediate action on their behalf when Coroticus’s men massacred a community of Christians and carried off the survivors into slavery; the very next day he begged for the release of the female prisoners, much to the amusement of their captors. It is unknown if his subsequent letter, the surviving Epistola that excommunicates Coroticus and his men unless they repent and free their captives, met with any greater success.10 When in quieter times he considered returning to Britain, he specified women as those he would be abandoning, leaving his life’s work in ruins.11 Patrick informs us that women made up two of the three classes of people who supported his work financially: “The Christian brothers and the virgins of Christ and the religious women who would voluntarily give me little presents and throw their jewelry on the altar, and I would return them to them, and they were offended that I would do this.”12 He refused their alms to avoid accusations of profiteering, which, he assures us, could not have been less true; he was constantly in debt since he had to pay the judges of the areas he missionized, provide presents for kings, and pay their sons a salary for travelling with him. It is unlikely that these men were Christians, since they proceeded to imprison him and his companions anyway, and even threatened them with martyrdom before the Lord and unspecified “indispensable friends” obtained their release two weeks later.13 Patrick thus portrays women as his most ardent supporters and as in control of their own fate,14 finances, and faith, even if it meant defying the wishes of their male kin, some of whom may have been the ones to harass Patrick. He introduces us to both lay and religious women, princesses and slaves, for whom he felt great admiration and affection, but whose names he left unrecorded. 10 Epistola 3. Although both men and women were captured, Patrick repeatedly shows exclusive concern for the female captives (14, 19, 21). The subsequent fate of these Christians is not known, except that they were still enslaved when Patrick excommunicated Coroticus. He does not mention this affair in the Confessio. 11 Confessio 43 (amittere illas). 12 “[F]ratribus Christianis et uirginibus Christi et mulieribus religiosis, quae mihi ultronea munuscula donabant et super altare iactabant ex ornamentis suis et iterum reddebam illis et aduersus me scandalizabantur cur hoc faciebam” (Confessio 49). His differentiation between the two classes of women may indicate that the latter were lay, which could be his only reference to lay supporters. 13 “[N]ecessarios amicos” (Confessio 52). Coroticus’s conduct towards his fellow Christians attests that Christians could and did capture, kill, and enslave each other, however. 14 Apart from abduction and enslavement, of course, a fate that also befell men, including Patrick.

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Women in Patrician Propaganda Patrick’s omissions whetted the appetite of his hagiographers, who recorded tales about scores of sanctae (holy women) they claim were converted by Patrick, blending the saint’s own writings with hagiographic propaganda. For example, Patrick describes his call to missionize Ireland as a vision in which a man named Victoricus delivered to him a letter entitled “The Voice of the Irish”: And while I was reading aloud the start of the letter I was thinking that at that very moment I heard the voice of people who were next to the Wood of Voclut which is by the Western Sea, and they cried out, as if with one voice, “Holy boy, we ask you to come and walk among us again,” and I was intensely moved in my heart and I was not able to read any more and at that I awoke. Thanks be to God that after several years the Lord answered their plea.15

Patrick does not identify these people, but according to the Tripartite Life, written between the ninth and twelfth centuries, the first Irish voices to call for Christianity were twins in their mother’s womb, “Crebriu and Lesru, the two daughters of Gléru, son of Cumméne.”16 Patrick returned years later to baptize them and they became the patrons of Cell Forgland in Húi Amalgada, west of the river Moy; despite such detailed information, little else is known about these women and their monastery, as is the case for the vast majority of women who appear in Patrick’s Lives. The propaganda which often brings these Lives into conflict with history here offers important insight into the status and wealth of women and their communities, since a primary purpose for their inclusion is to proclaim their foundation’s affiliation with Patrick’s paruchia, so Armagh can demand tribute from them—Patrick’s heirs eagerly accepted women’s gifts, unlike the saint himself. Crebriu and Lesru’s sex may reflect the memory of women’s strong presence in the Irish church’s infancy and women’s communities’ continued appeal in the ninth century, when the Book of Armagh was 15 “[E]t cum recitabam principium epistolae putabam ipso momento audire uocem ipsorum, qui erant iuxta siluam Uocluti quae est prope mare occidentale, et sic exclamauerunt quasi ex uno ore: ‘Rogamus te, sancte puer, ut uenias et adhuc ambulas inter nos’, et ualde compunctus sum corde et amplius non potui legere et sic expertus sum. Deo gratias, quia post plurimos annos praestitit illis Dominus secundum clamorem illorum” (Confessio 23). 16 Whitley Stokes, ed. and trans., The Tripartite Life of Patrick (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1887), I.135.

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compiled. The situation had already worsened for some by the end of the seventh century, however, as indicated in Tírechán’s tale of “the women beside the Ford of the Sons of Ercc” who stole Patrick’s horses and upon whom he laid the curse, “Your seed shall serve the seed of your brothers,” which Tírechán informs us was fulfilled.17 This may refer to a mixed-sex monastery which had previously been ruled by an abbess but by the late seventh century was under an abbot’s control. As Patrick’s cult grew, his sister saints’ cults tended to shrink, and many women and their communities vanished from the sources after leaving Patrick’s Lives. The later Tripartite Life, however, banishes the women before they can appear beside Ercc’s sons’ ford, retelling the tale with the women erased, as if Ercc’s sons were the ones stealing the horses and consequently cursed to serve their brothers.18 Patrick’s earliest hagiographers present conversion as a death sentence for some women. According to Muirchú, a Saxon princess named Monesan refused to yield to her parents’ insistence that she marry, “for through nature she searched the maker of all that is created, following in this the example of Abraham the patriarch.”19 Though her parents beat her and soaked her with water, she refused to abandon her devotion to the divine. At wits’ end, her parents took her to Patrick. She declared her faith in God to Patrick, who baptized her. Her parents’ water torture could not break her spirit, but Patrick’s aquatic ablution immediately ended her earthy life. “Then Patrick prophesied that after twenty years her body would be conveyed to a near-by chapel with great ceremony. This was done afterwards, and the relics of the maiden from across the sea are there an object of worship to the present day.”20 While much of this tale seems suspect, Monesan may well have been a historical figure. Perhaps she was an early missionary to Ireland whose church and relics were known and honored in the late seventh century, but whose life had been almost completely forgotten. Muirchú reduced her life to her death and appropriated her cult for Patrick. Tírechán tells a similar story about the daughters of the pagan ard rí, or high king, Loíguire, one of whose foster-father was the druid Caplit.21 The 17 Tírechán 31.2-3; Ludwig Bieler, ed. and trans. The Patrician Texts in the Book of Armagh (1979; reprint, Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 2000), 149. 18 Stokes, Tripartite Life, I.109. 19 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 99. 20 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 101. 21 Fosterage was a central aspect of medieval Irish culture, without the negative connotations some associate with it today. Children were regularly sent to be raised by others to solidify relationships between families; foster relationships were as valued, nurturing, and loving as biological ones, in some cases more so, and this extended to monastic communities as well.

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princesses, Ethne and Fedelm, encountered Patrick and his companions at a well. Thinking the strangers might be from the Otherworld, the sisters asked of their origin. Patrick replied, “It would be better for you to profess our true God than to ask questions about our race.”22 Although Tírechán’s testimony must be read with caution, Ethne’s ensuing barrage of questions about the nature of God, his home, his kin, his age, his wealth, where he can be found, how he appears, and how he should be loved, and Patrick’s rough definition of the divine in terms of the mysteries of the Trinity and the creation of humanity and all natural elements, may represent the kind of questions posed by Irish pagans considering conversion and the catechism they were taught. Our God is the God of all humanity, the God of heaven and earth, of the sea and the rivers, the God of the sun and the moon and all the stars, the God of the highest mountains and the deepest valleys, the God above heaven and in heaven and under heaven; he makes his dwelling in heaven and earth and sea and all that is within them; he infuses all, he gives life to all, surpasses all, supports all; he illuminates the light of the sun, he consolidates the light of the night and the stars, he has made wells in the dry earth and dry islands in the sea and stars for the service of the major lights. He has a son, coeternal with him, similar to him; the Son is not younger than the Father nor is the Father older than the Son, and the Holy Spirit breathes in them; the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are not separate.23

Patrick then questioned them about their faith, and they gave the expected answers, but the process did not satisfy them—they yearned to see Christ’s own face. Patrick informed them that consummation with the divine required them to receive the eucharist and taste death. The sisters immediately accepted the terms, and, like Monesan’s before them, their conversion culminated with their death. Caplit was outraged by these events, but Patrick quickly converted him and his brother Máel as well. Apparently satisfied with a less immediate relationship with the divine, these men lost only their hair, not their lives, their heads being shaved to erase the airbacc giunnae, or druidic tonsure.24 The bodies of the women then became relics, and their death site a shrine.25 22 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 143. 23 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 142-143; Bieler’s translation with some adjustments (e.g., he translates hominum, humanity, as men). 24 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 144-45. 25 The site has been identified with Ogulla Well, but see https://voxhiberionacum.wordpress. com/2015/10/31/waking-the-dead/ (accessed May 13, 2016).

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These incidents, which use women’s death for men’s conversion and for relics for the faithful, have alarming gender implications. As Lisa Bitel argues, “men never perished for the express purpose of providing relics. They had better things to do. Ireland had no other martyrs to speak of besides its hagiographic nuns. Restricted from preaching or ministering, confined to shrines and vitae, Christ’s brides were most effective when dead.”26 Yet apparently only for these three women and a mermaid from Brendan’s Life did conversion prove permanently fatal, and the mermaid was already dead when Brendan first encountered her.27 He restored her to life, baptized her, and asked her if she would rather return to her home or to heaven; she unhesitatingly chose the latter, received the eucharist, and went to Christ.28 Bitel suggests that the frequency with which nuns met violence in the vitae indicates the resentment society in general and ecclesiastics in particular felt for these consecrated virgins, but this interpretation obscures the significant deadly violence aimed at religious men; besides, such victims rarely stayed dead, but were promptly restored to life by the saints, both male and female.29 Some women, such as Fedelma (not to be confused with Ethne’s sister, Fedelm), were both dead and pagan before their encounter with Patrick; he removed her from her tomb, restored her to life, and baptized her, whereupon she began to preach for Patrick, converting thousands with her words.30 The number of women who were brought back from death affirms that their lives were highly valued, particularly in connection with their religious roles, although clearly such events are also occasions to celebrate the saints’ supernatural powers. Most of Patrick’s female converts, of course, did not die as a result of their introduction to Christianity. Though only one, Darerca, has a surviving medieval Life, Patrick’s hagiographers refer to multiple women whom he baptized and consecrated and who then continued to play an important role in his paruchia. Mathona, sister of Patrick’s successor, Benén, “took the veil from Patrick and Rodán. She was a nun to them and she went out across the mountain of the sons of Ailill and established a free church at Tamnach. She was honored by God and people. She swore friendship upon 26 Bitel, Land of Women, 180. Patrick’s own writings and various vitae suggest that there were Irish martyrs of both sexes, however. 27 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 225. 28 Plummer, ed. and trans., Bethada Náem nÉrenn: Lives of Irish Saints, 2 vols. (1922; reprint, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), II.61; also in Book of Lismore. A similar tale is told of both Patrick and Comgall. 29 Bitel, “Women’s Monastic Enclosures,” Journal of Medieval History 12 (1986): 15-36. 30 Stokes, Tripartite Life, I.135.

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the relics of St. Rodán, whose successors dined together with her.”31 Tírechán identifies Mathona as her church’s founder, but Bieler switches the honor to an unspecified man before switching back to Mathona as the one honored, swearing friendship, et cetera: Mathona “took the veil from Patrick and Rodanus; she was a nun to them, and he went out across the mountain of the sons of Ailill and established a free church at Tamnach, and she was honored by God and men, and entered into a solemn compact with the successors of holy Rodanus, swearing by his relics, and his successors dined together (with her).” Terse clues in the notes reveal that Bieler here follows Bury, who claims that “the idea forces itself upon us that the subject […] must be Patricius [i.e., Patrick], not Mathona.”32 Some subsequent scholars have tried to reconcile Bury’s assumption with what the text actually says by recognizing both Patrick and Mathona as Tamnach’s founder, whereas others recognize the honor as rightfully hers.33 Bieler does not clarify why he switches sex in the middle of his translation of these sentences; unless you read the Latin, you would not know that the abrupt, awkward gender change was his insertion. Mathona’s initial relationship with Patrick and Rodán suggests syneisaktism, or chaste partnerships between unrelated religious men and women that are discussed further below, and her subsequent relationship with Rodán’s successors may contain similar dynamics. Tírechán alludes to several syneisaktic situations,34 but Mathona is the only woman the Book of Armagh explicitly credits with establishing a church, although multiple women are shown in possession of their own churches without specifying the founder, like “the church of Adrocht daughter of Tálán,” thought to be the saint now better known as Attracta.35 The more historical and less 31 “[Q]uae tenuit pallium apud Patricium et Rodanum; monacha fuit illis et exiit per montem filiorum Ailello et plantauit aeclessiam liberam hi Tamnuch et honorata fuerat a Deo et hominibus et ipsa fecit amicitiam ad reliquas sanctu Rodani et successores illius epulabantur ad inuicem” (Bieler, The Patrician Texts, 140-42). 32 J. A. Bury, “The Itinerary of Patrick in Connaught, According to Tírechán,” Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 24 (1902-04): 153-68, at 164. Similar assumptions by men about accomplished women are not uncommon; for example, the apostle Junia and the physician Trotula were both made men by sexist assumptions, see for example Eldon Jay Epp, Junia: The First Woman Apostle (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005), and Margaret Alic, Hypatia’s Heritage (Boston: Beacon Press, 1986), 54-56. 33 E.g., T. M. Charles-Edwards recognizes both as the founder [Early Christian Ireland (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 43], while Christina Harrington acknowledges that Tirechán credits Mathona as the founder [Women in a Celtic Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 56]. 34 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 146, 160, see also 227. 35 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 149. The text claims Patrick consecrated Adrocht as a nun.

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hagiographical Additamenta mentions three churches which entered into Patrick’s familia in the second generation: “Ernéne made over to Cummen and to Alach and Ernín Tír Gimmæ and Muine Búachaile and Tamnach. These three nuns made over these lands to Patrick until doomsday.” This Tamnach is likely not Mathona’s church, as Tamnach is a common name and no explanation is offered for how Ernéne took possession of it so he could give it to Ernín so she then could give it to Patrick. Perhaps this Tamnach was Ernín’s alone prior to her allegiance with Patrick, reflecting a female founder (Ernín) whose sex was then switched to a male saint of a similar name (Ernéne), not unlike what Bury and Bieler did to Mathona. Regardless, the Additamenta here acknowledges women as the heads of pre-Patrician churches in an admission from Armagh that some Irish churches predated its premier saint. The Additamenta then insists on Cummen’s rights in another church, “Ócter Achid together with its (whole) estate, in wood, plain and meadow, with its enclosure and its herb-garden,” which she had purchased with Brethán, partially by selling a mantle she had made: “Hence half of this heritage belongs absolutely to Cummen, in house and [people], until her chattels be paid to her.” This heritage was rather lucrative, rendered in terms of silver, gold, cloth, sheep, and pigs, among other things, yet Patrick’s heirs claimed none of it, at least not in the text. Cummen is not said to have made over her rights in Ócter Achid, rights that are based on “ancient measurements (and given) on account of a marriage settlement.”36 While it may surprise modern readers to hear of Cummen’s marriage, presumably to Brethán, married religious couples were not uncommon in the early Irish church. The description of seventh-century Armagh in Liber Angeli (Book of the Angel), also in the Book of Armagh, notes that the community included “three orders: virgins and penitents, and those serving the church in legitimate matrimony.”37 Patrick himself came from at least two generations of married religious, with his father a deacon and his grandfather a priest. His Tripartite Life even claims that he was married, briefly, to his own supposed sister Lupait, a union never consummated.38 The defensive tone of the Additamenta’s decree suggests that Cummen and Brethán may not have had their happily ever after, however. Cummen’s property apparently was under threat, perhaps from an estranged Brethán, perhaps from others 36 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 175. I have made a slight adjustment to Bieler’s translation; he renders nduiniu as “man,” but it is not gender specific. 37 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 187. 38 Stokes, Tripartite Life, II. 440-43.

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of her kin, or perhaps it represents the rights of the abbess of another of Cummen’s communities, such as Tír Gimmæ, in the church of Ócter Achid. Too little is known about these saints and their sites to attempt any concrete historical claims, but Patrician texts, which serve primarily male interests, attest to a wide range of possibilities for women in the Irish church; they could be missionaries like Mathona, entrepreneurs like Cummen, and men’s successors like Lassar, the daughter of Anfolmith, who ruled Druim Lías for sixty years after Patrick’s pupil Benén had ruled it for its first seventeen.39 These texts introduce us to women who are horse-thieves doomed to serve their brothers, to passionate and inquisitive princesses who provide powerful relics, and to slave-women who persevered in their faith amidst great hardship and persecution. They proclaim women’s rights over both their property and themselves and show how those rights were negotiated and renegotiated within the early Irish church. Patrick’s Lives in the Book of Armagh are the only vitae surviving in Ireland from before 1300; they were critical for the claims of a church that purported to be the most powerful and is certainly the most well-documented church of Ireland. 40 Women remain on these texts’ margins, but we can still glimpse their vibrant, powerful, and diverse presence, providing a shadowy sense of the vast expanse of women’s history that has since been lost.

Syneisaktism The Catalogus Sanctorum Hiberniae’s portrait of Irish Christianity proclaims Patrick the source of its three stages of saintly men (holiest, holier, and holy; sanctissimi, sanctiores, and sancti), distinguished at least in part by their relationships with women. The holiest, initial band of saints (sanctissimi), who all followed Patrick, “did not refuse the assistance [administrationem] of women, and they did not refuse their companionship, because, founded upon the rock which is Christ, they did not fear the wind of temptation.” In the second stage, their lesser but still quite holy brothers (sanctiores) “fled the companionship and assistance of women, and they shut women out from their monasteries.” And the lowest, but still holy (sancti), group of hermits “despised all earthly things,” without any mention of women. 41 This third 39 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 173. 40 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 18. 41 HVSH, 81-82. Administrationem is more hierarchically ambiguous than assistance suggests; it could intend that women are the administrators/managers.

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order of saints is often equated with the more ascetically-inclined céli Dé movement, but at least some céli Dé communities were mixed, including both sexes and married people as well as celibates. 42 As discussed in the Introduction, this ninth- or tenth-century sketch cannot be taken as accurate history, but it raises tantalizing questions about perceptions regarding relations between the sexes and sanctity as well as practices that may have been familiar to the author. Scholars generally agree that the sanctissimi’s gender arrangements refer to syneisaktism, “the most deeply radical social concept that Christianity produced.”43 Syneisaktism, or profound partnerships between unrelated men and women who were dedicated to the religious life, love of God, and their own chaste, celibate cohabitation, occurred in various parts of Christendom until at least the twelfth century and until at least the tenth century in Ireland; the Catalogus, however, would have us believe that such cooperation between the sexes ended after the first order, which the ninth- or tenth-century document dates to roughly to 432-543. The ideology behind syneisaktism seems to have been that by confronting and withstanding sexual temptation, in addition to other forms of asceticism and virtuous conduct, participants reached a higher spiritual state and recaptured Eden’s innocence. Advocates regarded syneisaktism as a trial to be endured for heavenly reward and a form of realized eschatology, in which people attained a spiritual purity and perfection otherwise available only in heaven; critics, however, thought it a scandal, with failure all but assured. Most of the evidence arises from its opponents, but it may build upon early attempts to implement Christ’s teachings and fulfill the promise of Galatians 3:28, that gender difference has been transcended through oneness in Christ. Narrowly defined, syneisaktism refers to intimate relationships, but the Catalogus could be extolling a more general ideal of gender relations in which men and women worked together as colleagues in the Christian faith without being blinded by sexual difference, embodying the example espoused by Galatians 3:28. Some scholars, such as Jo Ann McNamara and Felice Lifshitz, have expanded the understanding of syneisaktism to include this general ideal of cooperation and collaboration between religious men and women.44 Given the paucity of information about specific arrangements 42 The Monastery of Tallaght, E. J. Gwynn and W. J. Purton, ed. and trans., Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 29C (1911): 115-79, at 130, 134-37, 140, 143, 145-46, 166; Colmán Etchingham, Church Organisation in Ireland A.D. 650 to 1000 (1999; reprint, Maynooth: Laigin Publications, 2002), 349-50, 352. 43 McNamara, Sisters in Arms, 12. 44 McNamara, Sisters; Felice Lifshitz, Religious Women in Early Carolingian Francia: A Study of Manuscript Transmission and Monastic Culture (New York: Fordham, 2014).

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in these situations, this broadening seems particularly appropriate for Patrician texts. Patrick’s own writings support the Catalogus’s characterization of his attitude toward women and attest to women’s critical role in the island’s conversion. He clearly regarded women as his partners and as a priority in his mission in Ireland. Patrician propaganda also largely supports such a portrait, and helps clarify a confusing tendency in sources, the use of familial terms like brother and sister to describe religious rather than biological relationships, as remains common today. Patrick most likely had no blood-kin in Ireland, as much as his propagandists tried to strengthen ties and claim other Irish religious figures as his actual kinfolk. Several syneisaktic situations are described with such familial terms. For example, Tírechán tells of the bishops Bernicius and Ernicius with “their sister, Nitria,” and an unnamed “bishop with one sister, both being persons in religion attached to Patrick, and their place is (now) with the community of Clúain (Clonmacnoise?).”45 When identifying the people who gathered with Patrick at Selc, Tírechán includes multiple syneisaktic arrangements, with the anonymous women listed simply as sisters. The next chapter discusses “the women beside the Ford of the Sons of Ercc,” whom Bieler connects with the relationships referenced in the Catalogus’s first order, with women’s status diminishing in subsequent generations. 46 The Liber Angeli suggests syneisaktism characterized the seventh-century community of Armagh itself, and had since the start: “In this city of Armagh Christians of both sexes are seen to live together in religion from the coming of the faith to the present day almost inseparably.”47 Irish references to syneisaktism reveal a range of perspectives on the practice, including a glimpse of what awaits the saved in heaven and an echo of Eden’s innocence, as well as one of the greatest tests of virtue a human could endure.48 The sixth- or seventh-century “Second Synod of St. Patrick” permitted the practice if “the love and desire of sin have ceased, since a dead body does not harm another dead body; if this is not the case they shall be separated.”49 This union perhaps served practical purposes, with the woman 45 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 146, 160. 46 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 146-49, see also 227. 47 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 187. 48 Roger Reynolds, “Virgines Subintroductae in Celtic Christianity,” The Harvard Theological Review 61 (1968): 547-66, at 564. My discussion for the rest of this section follows my “Syneisaktism: Sacred Practice and Sinister Scandal” in The Sacred and the Sinister: Studies in Medieval Religion and Magic, ed. David J. Collins (College Park: Penn State University Press, 2019), 117-39. 49 John T. McNeill and Helena M. Gamer, Medieval Handbooks of Penance (New York: Columbia University Press, 1938), 82.

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assisting the man with his domestic needs or, if her partner were a priest, in his performance of the mass, and receiving in turn protection by the man from natural and human dangers.50 In his Confessio, Patrick testifies to the hardships faced by his female converts, cast out by their families for their choice and often suffering persecution and threats, and thus in need of protection.51 Apart from gender roles and sexual tension, such ascetics offered each other mutually rewarding friendship. They encouraged one another in the quest for sanctification not only through the mortification of their fallen flesh, but through a profound love born in Christ and for each other that looked beyond the lustful temptation of the gendered body. However free from lust the participants may have been, few outsiders believed purity to be possible in such circumstances. According to his Tripartite Life, “[a]t a certain time Patrick was told, through the error of the rabble, that bishop Mél had sinned with his [sister],52 for they used to be in one habitation a-praying to the Lord.” Patrick investigated and “knew that no sin was between them,” since the woman could carry fire in her chasuble without any injury to herself or her cloak, a miraculous “yes” to Proverbs 6:27’s implicitly rhetorical question whether such a feat was possible, attesting to her virtue. Patrick advised them to separate anyway, to avoid scandal.53 Even within the same vita, however, he was not always so understanding. He was furious when he heard a similar scandal concerning his “sister” Lupait, whom the Life later claims was his wife as well. Unlike her “nephew” Mél, she was not allowed an investigation or even a voice. She threw herself on her knees in submission before Patrick and the cross, and, at Patrick’s command, her body was crushed under his chariot three times. God apparently was more forgiving than her “brother,” however, for she immediately went to heaven.54 A tale told in the notes to the martyrology Félire Óengusso confronts critics as it emphasizes syneisaktism’s spiritual gains. Scothín slept between two 50 Reynolds, 551, 556.This characterization of the woman as domestic help and the man as protector may have been created by non-practitioners who were bound to a more traditional understanding of gender relations. A few modern commentators have clung to this rationale as well, as in John Ryan, Irish Monasticism (New York: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1931), 134, 142. 51 Confessio 42; see above. 52 Stokes translated siur, “sister,” as kinswoman, as he felt that such allegations could not have been made against Mél’s actual sister. Olden analyzes the problems that have arisen from interpreting kin-terms literally, and adds that Stokes “now sees [his interpretation] to be incorrect” [T. Olden, “On the Consortia of the First Order of Irish Saints,” Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 3 (1894): 415-20, at 419]. According to the same text, Mél is Patrick’s nephew through his “sister” Darerca. 53 Stokes, Tripartite Life, I.89-91. 54 Stokes, Tripartite Life, I.235.

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virgins “that the battle with the Devil might be the greater for him. And it was proposed to accuse him on that account.” Brendan came to investigate, but ended up being the one tested when he took Scothín’s place that night: When it reached the time for resting the maidens came into the house wherein was Brendan, carrying glowing embers in their cloaks, but the fire did not burn them. They emptied the mounds of embers before Brendan and went into the bed with him. “What is this? asked Brendan. “This is what we do every night,” said the maidens. They lay down with Brendan, but his longing made sleep impossible. “That is imperfect, O cleric,” said the maidens: “he who is here every night feels nothing at all. Why don’t you go into the tub (of cold water) if it be easier for you, O cleric? ‘Tis often that the cleric, even Scothín visits it.” “Well,” said Brendan, “it is wrong for us to make this test, for he is better than we are.”55

The guardians of conventional Christianity as represented by Brendan regarded syneisaktism with suspicion and distrust, yet they also recognized that some practitioners possessed sufficient virtue to maintain the relationship, even in bed. Scothín’s feat could be read as propaganda proclaiming his power over the lust which burns most of humanity so deeply, but varied references attest that it was more than the miraculous achievement of a select saint. Syneisaktism may not have been for everyone, as it wasn’t for Brendan, but it seems to have remained a possibility at least until the tenth century for other Irish men and women who had the strength to endure not only sexual temptation but also the persecution arising from the scandal the arrangement caused others. Regrettably, the women in these Irish syneisaktic situations are more often than not unnamed, like Scothín’s companions and Mél’s “sister.” The women prove their virtue, not only by not indulging their lust, but perhaps by not even feeling it, as suggested by their ability to embrace fire without getting burned,56 but their names remain unrecorded. Yet one text may have been written at least in part by a woman and focuses especially on the female partner’s perspective, the celebrated Comrac Líadaine ocus Cuirithir (“The Meeting of Líadain and Cuirithir”).57 This text, written between the 55 Stokes, ed., Félire Óengusso Céli Dé: The Martyrology of Oengus the Culdee, Henry Bradshaw Society, 39 (London: Harrison and Sons, 1905; reprint, Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1984), 41 (with slight modernization). 56 Embodying the message of Proverbs 6:27 and James 1:12. 57 My discussion of Líadain here follows my analysis in “Líadain’s Lament, Darerca’s Life, and Íte’s Ísucán: Evidence for Nuns’ Literacies in Early Ireland,” in Nuns’ Literacies in Medieval Europe,

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seventh and ninth centuries, recounts the tragic love affair between two poets, which began upon their meeting during Líadain’s professional tour of Ireland. Cuirithir fell in love with her and proposed marriage; she refused, at least temporarily, so she could focus on her career, but advised him to come to her home after she had finished touring Ireland. When he did, he was devastated to learn that she had become a nun. Mutually consumed with love, Líadain and Cuirithir appealed to Cuimíne Fota, a celebrated seventh-century saint who wrote one of Ireland’s great penitentials, which systematically calculate penances to atone for sins. Cuimíne told the lovers to choose between hearing or seeing each other. True poets, they chose the former, which intensified their desire beyond bearing. Cuimíne next suggested they attempt syneisaktism, but insisted that a “little scholar” sleep between them. Apparently the lovers failed the test; both Cuimíne and Cuirithir threatened to kill the student, the former if he concealed anything that occurred between the lovers, the latter if he confessed, and Cuirithir was soon banished to another monastery. He then went on pilgrimage elsewhere in Ireland, but Líadain followed him and lamented her decision; whether to take the veil or not to give into desire during their one night together is unclear: ‘Twas madness Not to do his pleasure, Were there not the fear of the King of Heaven. To him the way he has wished Was great gain, To go past the pains of Hell into Paradise.58

Cuirithir could endure the agony no longer and took his pilgrimage across the sea, whereupon his heartbroken lover sat upon the stone on which he used to pray until she died and went to heaven. Líadain’s resistance of marriage due to its complications for her career offers a perspective many modern women might appreciate, particularly in the Republic of Ireland, where a “marriage bar” prevented wives from working in the civil and often in the private sectors until 1973. Her decision ed. Virginia Blanton, Veronica O’Mara, and Patricia Stoop (Turnhout: Brepols Press, 2015), II. 209-27, at 213-14. 58 Liadain and Curithir: An Irish Love Story of the Ninth Century, ed. and trans. by Kuno Meyer (London: Nutt, 1902), Irish on 22, 24, English translation 23 and 25.

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to become a nun, one of the tale’s many unexplained aspects, may have been another career move, as professional advancement could be intertwined with one’s position in the church. Significantly, Líadain does not seem to have had a spiritual vocation, as her love is directed entirely towards Cuirithir; for “the King of Heaven” she expresses only fear which she resents for keeping her from living out her love with Cuirithir. What transpired during their night together remains their and the “little scholar’s” secret. Yet that night radically turned the tables; she followed him while he fled from her into monastic life and pilgrimage. He still bemoaned their separation, each moment without her an agonizing eternity, yet he chose a religious life over one with her while, according to the last strophe of her lament, her love dissolved her heart to the point of death. This could imply a critique of syneisaktism, but it reads as a critique of choosing the religious life over marriage when truly in love. Líadain’s story implicitly criticizes the Christianity represented by the penitentialist Cuimíne, which saw sex as a sin to be avoided at all costs or vigorously atoned for if committed. Though she regretted not committing the act and/or choosing to be a nun rather than a wife, her tale ends with her exoneration, if such she needed, given her entrance into heaven.

Conclusion While little can be said with certainty about Irish Christianity’s first few centuries, Patrick’s concern and respect for women provide powerful testimony about gender relations and female agency in the fifth century. He acknowledged male ecclesiastical hierarchy outside of Ireland, but in country his primary partners in the faith were female. His seventh-century and subsequent propagandists proclaim his dominance over virtually everything and everyone in Ireland, but like the female twins calling to Patrick from the womb, they still allow us to hear echoes of women’s voices and spheres of activity. Sometimes the seventh-century hagiographers show less bias against autonomous women than do twentieth-century scholars, as in the case Mathona, who according to Tírechán’s text founded her own church, but then had that achievement taken from her by scholars who assumed the founder must be male, providing a potent reminder that recovering women’s history requires reading texts in the original language whenever possible. Women are not always as invisible, passive, or subordinate as translators render them. The Catalogus preserves a memory of greater gender equality, which was still seen as the most sacred way when it was written, thought to be the ninth

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or tenth century. Patrick and his first order of saints worked in partnership with women “because, founded upon the rock which is Christ, they did not fear the wind of temptation.” The passage echoes Matthew 7:25, Christ’s declaration that those who hear his words and act upon them will be safe as houses from the elements, for Christ is their foundation. The temptation is generally understood as sexual sin, but how did the author, let alone the first order, understand that?59 Penitentialists like Cuimíne had their own answers, but the sources reflect a range of perspectives. For example, according to the anonymous ninth-century céli Dé text, the Monastery of Tallaght, succumbing to sexual temptation could be regarded as a fairly minor infraction even among the religious, as one céle Dé, or client of God, learned when he received what he considered too mild a penance for fornicating with a woman he met on the road. His superiors rebuked him less for fornication than for doubting his confessors and wallowing in his guilt.60 The text later dismisses nocturnal emissions as “no pollution,” but “a discharge of some of the excess of liquid that is in the body,”61 as according to the céli Dé, “desire is not itself a sin—merely the result of an excess of fluid in the body, and one which can be corrected by a change of diet.”62 The Monastery of Tallaght refers repeatedly to religious men and women working together and accepts the lust that may arise in such situations as a means to cultivate resistance and thus virtue, thereby strengthening the self, an argument often used in defense of syneisaktism. This recognition is all the more significant since the céli Dé are often equated with the Catalogus’s third order of holy hermits, who “despised all earthly things,” without even a mention of women.63 Yet céli Dé texts, including the Monastery of Tallaght, attest to considerable cooperation and interaction between men and women. And, as with Armagh according to the Liber Angeli, at least some céli Dé communities were mixed, including both sexes and married people as well as celibates.64 Whether the Catalogus’s holiest heroes were impervious to temptation, knew that they were strong enough to withstand temptation, or had an 59 Alternatively, perhaps the temptation was not about sex, but power, the drive to dominate, which men of the second order succumbed to; for an analogous argument about original sin itself, see Phyllis Trible, God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), 72-143. 60 Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 153-54. 61 Gwynn and Purton, Monastery of Tallaght, 164. 62 John Carey, King of Mysteries: Early Irish Religious Writings (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1998), 246. 63 Heist, Vitae Sanctorum Hiberniae, 81-82. 64 Gwynn and Purton, Monastery of Tallaght, 130, 134-37, 140, 143, 145-46, 166; Etchingham, Church Organisation in Ireland, 349-50, 352.

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egalitarian understanding of gender relations so that men and women were free to collaborate as colleagues without lust dictating their relationship, clearly some religious men and women lived together in Ireland in intimate and profound partnerships. Some religious communities included both men and women, in arrangements later described as “double monasteries,” explored more fully in Chapter Three. Religious communities often were not only mixed with regard to the sexes, but also lifestyle, as the Liber Angeli’s “three orders” (virgins, penitents, the married) and the Monastery of Tallaght attest. The Irish church recognized many ways to serve God; later one might need to be a lifelong virgin in order to be recognized as holy, but this seems less true for these first few centuries. Denigration of marriage often intertwines with denigration of women in medieval western Christianity. After the Gregorian Reform hostile voices dominated the discussion in Ireland as elsewhere but the practice of openly married clergy continued in Ireland well into the late Middle Ages. Cummen and Brethán were not an aberration. Patrick came from at least two generations of married clerics, with his father a deacon and his grandfather a priest. According to his Tripartite Life, even Patrick was married, to Lupait, his “sister” whom he allegedly later killed for bearing another man’s child.65 Lupait is one of several women claimed as Patrick’s biological sisters as well as his sister nuns, although only she is identified as his sister wife. Another, Darerca, is claimed as the mother of seventeen bishops (one of them Bishop Mél, who had to separate from his syneisaktic “sister” and also ordained Brigid as a bishop) and two nuns, presented in biological terms but probably intended to indicate discipleship.66 This Darerca is distinct in the textual tradition from Darerca of Killevy, who also had a close association with Patrick. Yet this claimed biological kinship between Patrick and Darerca may be another way of remembering the affiliation that Darerca’s Life preserves. Darerca’s so-called sisters in Patrician texts are likely echoes of early female leaders within the church, but, unlike Darerca of Killevy, they were not fortunate enough to survive the Middle Ages with their Lives intact.

65 Tripartite Life, II. 440-43; see above. 66 Darerca’s daughters were “Devout Aiche who loved triduans [three-day fasts]: she raises the dead / [and] Lallóc from Sen-lis behind Badbgna [who] magnif ies lepers” (Stokes, Félire Óengusso, 69).

2

“A New and Apostolic Band of Virgins Arose” Darerca, an Exceptionally Learned Abbess

Abstract Darerca’s Lives demonstrate the diversity of early medieval religious Irishwomen’s experiences. The religious life was open to women of various social classes and to wives and mothers as well as virgins and widows. Women could be both students and teachers, studying with women and men, travelling throughout Ireland to pursue the religious life as they deemed fit, or living as solitaries in the wild. Her Lives make manifest the harmony of women’s communities and the bonds between women’s monasteries and between women and men, as well as some discord. The threat her community presented to multiple males testifies to the power and wealth women’s communities could attain, yet her actions show how little she cared for worldly gain. Darerca prioritized women’s access to the religious life, regardless of background. Killevy’s continued existence from the fifth century through Viking attacks and other catastrophes up until the sixteenth-century Protestant Dissolution demonstrates her success. Key words: education, virago, sisterhood, pilgrimage

Virtually everyone in the western world has heard of St Patrick, many have heard of St Brigid, but St Darerca is relatively unknown outside of the ruins of her most lasting community, Killevy (Cill Sléibe, meaning church of the mountain) in south Armagh. Yet her Life may be the oldest known biography of an Irish saint, although it survives only in much later recensions. As Liam de Paor has noted, of all hagiography, including the Lives of Patrick and Brigid, Darerca’s provides the most accurate glimpse into the earliest

Callan, M. B., Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463721509_ch02

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history of the Irish Church.1 It reveals a world of powerful women with a range of options available to them, of close associations between the sexes while prioritizing sisterhood, and of the commitments for which Ireland became famed as the land of saints and scholars. The oldest of Ireland’s female saints with an extant medieval vita, Darerca died at an advanced age in 517 or 519 and is said to have been consecrated by Patrick himself. She was a pioneer for women’s right to pursue the religious life and established the first monasteries for women in her homeland in Counties Louth and Armagh, which may have been among the earliest examples of monasticism of any kind in Ireland.2 In addition to her piety, humility, generosity, and compassion, Darerca is particularly celebrated for her intellectual abilities, rigorous asceticism, and arduous manual labour. With her name all but forgotten even in her own churchyard, Darerca encapsulates the history of medieval Irish religious women. A fifth-century missionary, her community briefly partnered with ones led by a man (Ibar) and a woman (Brigid), included wives and mothers as well as widows and virgins, and survived Viking attacks and other misfortunes to last the entirety of the Middle Ages, ending only with the Protestant Dissolution in the sixteenth century. She acted as muimme, or foster-mother, as well as magistra, or female teacher and leader, roles common to all of Ireland’s sanctae with vitae, but the latter especially pronounced in Darerca’s Lives.3 She repeatedly protected her sisters from male threats yet also enjoyed close relationships with men, including the layman Denech as well as St Patrick, the priest to whom he entrusted her in her youth, and Bishop Ibar. She created “a new and apostolic band of virgins,”4 “eternally united by the 1 De Paor, Saint Patrick’s World, 49. 2 As Noel Kissane notes, the earliest known male communities postdate Killevy and Kildare by decades [Saint Brigid of Kildare: Life, Legend and Cult (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2017), 37 and 91]. De Paor makes a similar observation: “It may well be, then, that the great Irish monastic movement, which was to dominate the ecclesiastical history of the country from the seventh century through to the twelfth, was pioneered by communities of women from as early, perhaps, as the f ifth century” (Saint Patrick’s World, 49). Such claims may overstate the evidence, however. For example, Darerca’s Life shows that Ibar, who is recognized as a “pre-Patrician saint,” oversaw his own community that temporarily joined with Darerca’s. In addition, Patrick’s references to religious men and women could indicate nascent monasticism as well. 3 The masculine form, magister, is easily translated as “master,” whereas the feminine equivalent in English, “mistress,” has been so sexualized and subordinated within patriarchy that it does not convey the authority and erudition inherent in magistra. 4 “[N]ouus et apostolicus uirginum chorus” [Ulster Society for Medieval Latin Studies (hereafter USMLS), “The Life of Saint Monenna by Conchubranus,” Seanchas Ardmacha 9 (1978): 250-273, at 258; my translation].

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strongest bond of love with her sisters, each to the other,”5 a community that provided refuge for women throughout Ireland’s Middle Ages and was at one point led by a married woman (Ailbe, d. 1077; see below). Her Lives reflect a world of inclusive diversity, with males and females collaborating in a variety of productive ways, while also celebrating the strength and satisfaction of single-sex associations and respecting the role of solitude as well. Unique among Irish sanctae with vitae, her Lives end with a list of her first three successors as abbess of Killevy, underscoring the point that, ultimately, her Life was not her own. Her cult was coopted by the English in the first half of the twelfth century, just a few decades before they invaded and colonized Ireland itself. And yet, sifting through the sources, we can still see a strong, authoritative, compassionate female saint who established multiple religious communities for women throughout Ireland and repeatedly collaborated with men without deferring to them, helping successive sisters to do the same.

Untangling the Sources In addition to later texts conflating her with British and Scottish saints partially because of her nickname, Moninne, Darerca has two surviving Lives. One, written by a man named Conchubran in the eleventh or early twelfth century, calls her Monenna throughout and is the source of her later conflation with Modwenna, an Anglo-Saxon or Welsh saint.6 The notes to Félire Oengusso, written between the ninth and twelfth centuries, explain her nickname as resulting from an interaction with a poet.7 Her other Life, in the Codex Salmanticensis, acknowledges that she is also known as Moninne, but otherwise consistently calls her Darerca, which may indicate its greater historical reliability and relative freedom from the later corruptions found in Conchubran’s Life of Monenna. The Codex Salmanticensis dates from the late thirteenth or fourteenth century, but its scribe seems more faithful to 5 HVSH, 89; chapter 19. 6 Modwenna may be “related more closely etymologically to Welsh than to Anglo-Saxon” [Alexander Boyle, “St. Ninian and St. Monenna,” The Innes Review 18 (1967): 147-151, at 147 n3]. 7 Stokes, Félire Óengusso, 167. Even at Killevy, Darerca continues to be called by many names. A sign by her supposed grave site names her “St Monnina”; a sign by the road points to “St Moninna’s Well”; at the well itself, she is named “Blathnaid”; and a bench along the way is dedicated to St Winifred—helping to clear up why a late twentieth-century gravestone within Killevy’s cemetery asks for Winifred’s prayers (apparently at some point Darerca became associated with the seventh-century Welsh Winifred, or Winefride, who is also famed for a well).

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his sources than the redactors of the other collections, and markedly so in comparison with Conchubran.8 Conchubran incorporates the material found in Darerca’s anonymous Salmanticensis Life “practically in its entirety and to a large extent verbatim,” but with suspect additions, including claims that “Monenna” died in Scotland and was buried in England, with multiple anachronisms.9 He may have written at the request of Geoffrey, the abbot of Burton-upon-Trent in England, where lay the bones of a holy woman known as Modwenna whom legend claimed as Irish, but about whom little else was known.10 Geoffrey, who between 1118 and 1135 wrote his own Life of Modwenna based on Conchubran’s work, tells of his “burning desire” to learn more about her, dispatching his messengers and letters to Ireland and eventually receiving a book from Ireland which he accepted as entirely credible though its “style was displeasing and some parts of the book were, so to speak, a disorderly jumble”—an apt description for Conchubran’s Life of Monenna, minus the credibility, at least for its claims beyond Ireland.11 Such intense interest in a saint with a name vaguely resembling Darerca’s nickname perhaps inspired Conchubran to create the kind of cult Geoffrey so ardently sought, combining Darerca’s Life with legends about Scottish and English saints to create “Monenna.” Conchubran is generally assumed to be Irish, yet, as O’Hanlon pointed out in 1875, his vita introduces several late, non-Irish (and, in O’Hanlon’s estimation, “silly”) legends, he misunderstands and misspells multiple Irish placenames, and he generally makes mistakes that an Irish scribe is unlikely to have made.12 Where the anonymous Life and Conchubran’s concur, we can discern an original Life that celebrates female community and education and was probably written in the first quarter of the seventh century, perhaps by a sister at Killevy.13 8 Charles Plummer, Vitae Sanctorum Hiberniae: Partim Hactenus Ineditae, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1920) [hereafter PVSH], I. xxii; HVSH, xi; and Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 243–46 and 396–97. 9 Mario Esposito, “The Sources of Conchubranus’ Life of St Monenna,” English Historical Review 35 (1920): 71-78, at 73. 10 Geoffrey of Burton, Life and Miracles of St Modwenna, ed. and trans. by Robert Bartlett (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2002). 11 Geoffrey of Burton, 3. For the date, see Bartlett’s introduction, xi n1. 12 O’Hanlon, Lives of the Irish Saints, 7.57. 13 The Lives’ agreement can be further supported by Audite sancta studia, a hymn to Darerca/ Moninne, that Jane Stevenson has dated to the seventh century [“Irish Hymns, Venantius Fortunatus and Poitiers,” in Ireland and Aquitaine, ed. by Jean-Michel Picard (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1995), 81-110 (p. 84), personal correspondence July 9, 2018]; see also Callan, “Líadain’s Lament,” 221-26, and “Remember Her Name: Darerca-Moninne-Monenna-Moduenna,” forthcoming.

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After describing her death, both extant vitae list her first three successors, the last of whom died in 600. An independent succession list for Killevy further documents her fourth (d. 624) to fourteenth (d. 822) successors.14 Internal evidence as well as the succession list thus suggests that the original Life was written during the rule of the fifth abbess, Crón (600-624), which would make it the earliest known biography of an Irish saint—earlier than Brigid’s and Patrick’s multiple late seventh-century Lives, and also earlier than the Life of Columbanus, written by Jonas of Bobbio around 640. Three of the next five abbesses were Crón’s close kin: the eighth abbess, Damorir, was her grandniece and the aunt of the ninth and tenth, Gnáthat and Fínán.15 In addition to her Lives and succession list, Darerca has two alphabetical acrostic hymns, found in the same manuscript as Conchubran’s Life of St Monenna, Codex Cotton Cleopatra A. ii, owned by Geoffrey’s Burton-uponTrent, which had a vested interest in making her seem the same saint as their Modwenna.16 This manuscript also contains a thirteenth-century tale about a bed which calls the saint Modwenna and offers a radically different message to women; its contrast highlights the inclusivity found in Darerca’s Life.

Doctissima Abbatissa, an Exceptionally Learned Abbess At Patrick’s request, eight priests once journeyed to Killevy to visit Darerca; they never reached their destination, however, but were murdered by a group of bandits en route. When she learned of this massacre, Darerca summoned her sisters to go with her to retrieve the bodies for burial. The women protested that the bandits would attack them too, but she inspired them to trust in the Lord. Her sisters’ fears proved true: when Glunelath, the bandit leader, saw the women, he ordered his men to abduct them and forcibly make them their wives. He went to Darerca “to seize her for a wife,” but she convinced him to speak with her privately first. The saint then invited him to lay his head on her bosom, whereupon he and his men instantly fell into a deep sleep which lasted three days and nights. In response to her prayers, an angel showed the heavenly reward of St Kevin, 14 Appendix C in Mario Esposito, “Conchubrani Vita Sanctae Monennae,” Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 28C (1910): 202-51, at 244–45. 15 Ingrid Sperber, “The Life of St Monenna or Darerca of Killevy,” in Armagh History and Society, ed. Hughes and Nolan, 63-97, at 65. 16 London, British Library, MS Cotton, Cleopatra A.ii.

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a particularly glorious part of paradise, to the men in their dreams. When they arose, Glunelath demanded Kevin’s place in exchange for her virgins’ safety. Darerca protested that such a feat was not in her power, as she was unsure herself of her own heavenly reward. Glunelath insisted that either he receive Kevin’s reward or she would be his wife. She tried to compromise, and said that if he were baptized and followed her advice his reward would be no less, but Glunelath would accept no substitutes. He did, however, promise to obey her every word, and so then he and his sister’s son, Afin, left their companions and joined Darerca’s community. “There they were baptized and the exceptionally learned abbess taught them the book of psalms. Afterwards they became very holy bishops (sanctissimi episcopi).”17 These murderers of priests and would-be rapists of vowed virgins developed into the holiest of bishops with a guaranteed place in heaven, thanks to Darerca’s wisdom and spiritual power. This tale touches upon some of the key elements found in Darerca’s Lives, including its intricate gender dynamics, her high level of learning, and her all-encompassing faith in the Lord; other aspects are particular to this incident, most notably the type of trafficking of heavenly rewards and the threat of mass abduction. No one tale can exemplify the Life of Darerca, as her vitae present complex insight into the experience of early Irish religious women and may draw on multiple female saints’ cults. Her Life represents tremendous diversity of lifestyle, particularly among her community, which contained virgins, widows, wives, and mothers. It also attests to abundant interaction between the sexes yet espouses strict segregation at points. Darerca shares much in common with her sister Irish saints, while she simultaneously retains several unique attributes: she alone is hailed as “bearing a manly soul in a woman’s body,”18 she alone is said to have refused to look upon men,19 and she alone has a married abbess as her eventual heir, at least according to the records. Darerca’s Lives testify to the great importance the Irish placed on education as part of the spiritual life. She received the veil of virginity from Patrick himself in her childhood, and began her religious training under him. He then entrusted her to a priest, who continued her education, in which she excelled with exceptional genius: “In her, memory and brilliant gifts proved greatly superior, and she read quickly and kept what she read firmly in her 17 USMLS, “The Life of Saint Monenna by Conchubranus,” 267, translation USMLS. All passages taken from Conchubran’s Life use the translation provided by USMLS, unless otherwise noted. 18 HVSH, 89; chapter 19. 19 HVSH, 87; chapter 14. Events of her Life implicitly contradict this.

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mind. Her reading advanced quickly.”20 Midway through her instruction, Darerca left the priest’s dwelling to live with her parents, with Patrick’s blessing, though her lessons with the priest continued. She stayed with her parents until she reached maturity and was joined by eight virgins and one widow with a son, Luger. Darerca adopted him as her own son, and the education he received from her enabled him to become a bishop. Associations with Patrick should generally be regarded as historically suspect, but her Lives’ claim that she received the veil from and studied under him as a child is plausible, given the saints’ shared periods and presumed areas of activity. Patrick’s own writings suggest that female converts were central to his ministry, and several Patrician texts refer to his relationships with holy women named Darerca, although their portraits differ from the Darerca of Killevy. According to Patrick’s Tripartite Life, Darerca, one of Patrick’s several “sisters,” is the “mother” of seven sons, including Bishop Mél, and two daughters; her offspring were subsequently increased to fifteen or seventeen bishops as well as two nuns.21 Neither Mél nor his siblings appear in Darerca’s vitae, which also do not claim familial kinship between Patrick and her, yet these two saints may be one and the same, given the ambiguity of her cult, the multiplicity of her names,22 the identical time period, the relationship with Patrick, the activity of both Darercas in Ulster, and their uncertain histories—one Darerca survives only in relation to Patrick, and the other (the one whose vitae we have) had her identity submerged by her conflation with non-Irish saints, most significantly Modwenna. Although the Tripartite Life presents these kinships as a blood as well as spiritual tie, and some scholars have followed their source’s lead, Patrick’s inclusion in this family illuminates the compiler’s confusion about his sources—Patrick had no blood-kin in Ireland; any family attributed to him is spiritual, not biological. Such is likely the case for Darerca and her children as well, particularly since no criticism is raised of this vowed virgin proliferously bearing offspring, yet in another tale from the Tripartite Life, Patrick became so enraged when one of his other saintly sisters became pregnant he had her crushed to death underneath the wheels of his chariot. Darerca’s vitae attest to children’s presence in her community; perhaps she established a school for children who would have learned alongside of Luger, and her students then became confused with biological children. 20 USMLS (9): 257. 21 Stokes, Tripartite Life, I.82, II.551; Félire Óengusso claims seventeen bishops and two nuns as Darerca’s children (Stokes, Félire Óengusso, 69). 22 Her purported names also include Blinne, Sárbile, Morwenna, Merwinne, Modivène, Medana, Monya, Merryn, Midnat, Etaoin, and Edana; see above, note 7.

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When Darerca and her initial band of virgins left her parents’ home, her province did not yet have monasteries for women. She realized that living in the world could jeopardize her devotion to the divine, so her fledgling community exchanged eastern Ulster for the western isles of Ireland.23 Here she and her sisters continued their instruction under Bishop Ibar, one of Ireland’s “pre-Patrician saints,” so called because evidence indicates that they were active in Ireland prior to Patrick. There Darerca deepened her “severe but just abstinence of life,”24 including many hours devoted to daily reading. As with every home she made, her community quickly grew: “When many virgins of Christ had joined her there, a new and apostolic band of virgins arose. She imitated the example of Mary [of Bethany], sitting at the Lord’s feet and choosing the good part.”25 Ibar soon decided to leave the western isles, and took Darerca and her community with him on his journey to Beg-Erin, an island off southeastern Ireland. En route, Darerca and her community visited with Brigid at Kildare, before rejoining Ibar at Ard Conays.26 Henceforth, however, she, not Ibar, is termed magistra (male magister, master), meaning the teacher and leader of their community. At Ard Conays, she was joined by more virgins and widows, as well as wives, from all over Ireland. They received Darerca as their magistra, and she instructed them in every virtue, both by her lessons and personal example. Darerca continued this role of magistra at her various foundations; after Ard Conays, she established communities at the Field of Murthemne and Faughart (both in Co. Louth and the latter also associated with Brigid), before arriving at her final home, Killevy, at the base of Slieve Gullion—at least according to the itinerary outlined by her more reliable anonymous Life. Conchubran has Darerca die in Scotland and her body buried in England.27 Darerca’s community apparently had its own scriptorium and library, begun perhaps when Darerca sent Brignat to a monastery on the west coast of Britain to copy religious texts for use at Killevy.28 Here the sisters recorded Darerca’s successors from the seventh into the ninth century, creating a type of list extant for only three other early medieval Irish religious 23 Presumably the Aran Islands. 24 USMLS (9): 259 25 USMLS (9): 258. I have made slight changes to the USMLS translation. 26 Edward Culleton suggests this may be a corruption of Ardcavan [Celtic and Early Christian Wexford (Dublin: Four Courts, 1999), p. 84]. 27 Given the greater reliability of her anonymous Life, for material that is common to both Lives, I cite the anonymous Life rather than Conchubran’s. The anonymous Life is translated in Appendix B. 28 HVSH, 91; chapter 25.

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communities—Bangor, Trim, and Armagh; their prominence and fame as literary centers suggest that Killevy had considerable resources to hand, including educated disciples of their doctissima abbatissa, Darerca.29 Other women saints may have added to Killevy’s library. For example, Íte once sent one of her spiritual daughters, Osid, to take a book to Darerca. Osid set off at once with the book, but along the way she fell into a river and drowned. Three days later Darerca and Íte met at the river, as both had gone out to look for Osid. Darerca realized what had happened and together the saints prayed: “Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, by the intercession of Your holy mother and of Saints Peter and Paul and all the saints give us back our girl.” Darerca then commanded Osid to arise, and called her name three times. Osid emerged from the river and went to Darerca, who “made a sign on her, handed her to Ite and said: ‘Here is the girl.’”30 This tale suggests that women’s communities worked together to enhance their education and religious lives. Significantly, the saints cared only for the well-being of the girl; the book, which presumably sank in the river as well, is not mentioned after Osid initially set off.31

Community Darerca’s Life celebrates female community. Patrick’s first words of advice to the young girl included an exhortation to join with other virgins whom he had previously taught, “so that supported by their help and made happy by their company, she might more easily bring to fulfillment the good life that she had begun.”32 When her community numbered one hundred and fifty, “the daughter of John the Baptist and the prophet Elias, wearing harsh rags like a mighty hermit, eternally united by the strongest bond of love with her sisters, each to the other.”33 The saint enjoyed close friendships with several sisters, most notably Brigid, Bríg, and Athea. She often chose Bríg to perform important tasks in her stead. After one such errand, which took the better part of the night, Bríg compassionately suggested to her 29 Esposito, “Conchubrani Vita Sanctae Monennae,” 214; P. A. Wilson, “St. Ninian: Irish Evidence Further Examined,” Transactions of the Dumfriesshire and Galloway Natural History and Antiquarian Society 46 (1969): 140-59, at 146. 30 USMLS (10): 130. 31 Geoffrey of Burton repeats this tale, and specifies that the book was saved as well; Bartlett, Geoffrey of Burton, 86-91. 32 HVSH, 84; chapter 2. 33 HVSH, 89; chapter 19.

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companions that they get some rest before the day began, while she went to report to Darerca. When Bríg approached Darerca’s bedroom, she saw two supernatural swans depart into the air. Bríg promptly collapsed with holy terror; when she recovered sufficiently to knock on Darerca’s door, the saint comforted her petrified daughter, instructed her to cross herself, and said, “Perhaps a vision of beasts or demons has driven you insane, as often happens in seclusion.”34 Bríg explained to her that that was not the case, and described her vision. “And the mother said to her daughter: ‘Now I understand. God, who reveals his secrets according to people’s merits, has deigned to enrich you with his grace tonight. He has deigned to reveal to you a vision of his ministers, which he conceals from others.”35 Thus Bríg was able to share in Darerca’s relations with the divine to a degree, yet the price was silence on the matter and loss of her eyesight, which could not behold worldly things after gazing upon God’s secrets. Darerca declared that in exchange Bríg would have better, spiritual eyes, with which she could contemplate God.36 Darerca’s vitae also include miracles that happened through her power in the time of her third successor, Derlasra, one involving felling trees and the other turning a miniscule amount of yeast into a vast supply of beer, affirming that Darerca’s relations with her community remained unbroken by death. Yet her hagiographers do not portray a totally idyllic female commune. Discord first arose during their time at Kildare, where Darerca was revered by all as second only to Brigid in holiness, virtue, and character. Her time with Brigid serves both to strengthen her connection with Ireland’s most powerful female saint and to extol her own virtues in comparison. Though Brigid was famed for healing, Darerca was made hospital mistress. Here she not only cured the sick but also “expelled demons from the possessed.”37 Darerca’s reputation spread, prompting many to offer her donations, though she lived in Brigid’s monastery. She exemplified a type of holy poverty different from Íte, who refused such gifts outright, and Samthann, who sacrificed her own share for her sisters: “Throwing her care onto God, she gave everything to the poor who came to her for the sake of Christ.”38 Her sisters thought her 34 HVSH, 92. Conchubran adds that “a little thing can upset a woman” [USMLS (10): 439]. 35 HVSH, 92-93; chapter 28. 36 This parallels a miracle told of Brigid in her Vita Prima: she restores the sight of the aged Íte (probably not intending the saint of Chapter Four), who begs Brigid to reverse the miracle, for “the more one is absent from the world the more one is present to God” [Seán Connolly, “Vita Prima Sanctae Brigitae: Background and Historical Value,” Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland 119 (1989), ch. 121, pp. 5-49, at p. 47]. 37 HVSH, 85; chapter 5. 38 HVSH, 85; chapter 5.

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generosity excessive, but she lectured them about wordly desires being the devil’s temptation. She exhorted them to trust completely in the Lord, who will tend to their needs. After finishing her sermon, Darerca went up to her bed, where she discovered twelve glorious dresses, sent from God. True to her humble and generous nature, Darerca offered them to Brigid, insisting that they were sent to relieve Brigid’s poverty. Brigid declined the gift on the grounds that God had sent them to Darerca, and that her sisters’ lack was greater than Brigid’s nuns. Any who doubt the dresses’ divine origin would do well to heed the example of the boy who expressed his disbelief on the matter. He was instantly struck dead, though Darerca revived him through her prayers. On the whole, however, the time at Kildare was one in which Darerca and her community were “instructed by Brigid’s angelic counsels and confirmed resolutely in faith.”39 A similar situation arose after her community had returned to Ulster and lived in isolation at the base of Slieve Gullion. When they first arrived, the swineherd for the local king objected to their presence as he feared that they would be competition for “the roots and the bark of the trees.” The nuns vowed not to eat anything until he had obtained the king’s permission, which took him seven days. They were nearly dead from hunger when he finally returned and, though he gave permission to eat from the woods, he berated them for causing him to lose his pigs. Darerca explained that Christ had been their swineherd in his absence and told him where to find his animals. Reunited with his pigs, he was greatly moved by Darerca’s compassion, the like of which he had never known before. He recognized that she and her nuns were “perfect handmaids of Christ,” and honored them with a fabulous feast. Such feasting proved short-lived, however. Darerca’s intense spiritual focus caused her to neglect the earthly needs of her sisters, who again approached starvation shortly thereafter. After being “struck from the heights of contemplation in order to take pity on her sisters,”40 Darerca’s remorse fueled that night’s ardent prayer; in the morning every food and drinking vessel was found to be overflowing. Such incidents suggest the great hardship women, including future generations of Killevy’s nuns, willingly endured to follow their holy magistra, though the vitae invariably emphasize the heavenly rewards that repaid their sacrifice. At one point, Darerca’s community experienced outright mutiny. A drought occurred while she was at Ard Conays, surprising as that might seem for Ireland’s climate. Prompted by her community, Darerca used her prayers 39 HVSH, 87; chapter 12. 40 HVSH, 89; chapter 21.

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to create a continuously flowing fountain, though the land throughout the province was cracked and barren. The community shared this water with their neighbors, and both men and women of all social levels came to pay the saint tribute, considering her blessing the highest honor. Yet in the chapter immediately following this tale of harmonious relations between Darerca and her neighbors, a native girl wrought havoc within Darerca’s community and ultimately forced them to leave Ard Conays. Ibar had given this girl in childhood to Darerca to raise as a nun. Darerca foresaw her future character and prophesied that she would cause them to leave Ard Conays, yet she accepted the responsibility. When this girl reached adolescence, she was overcome with envy and “incited her kinsfolk to hatred of St Darerca by diabolical lies.”41 The girl also tried to foster jealousy in Ibar, telling him, “Nobody amongst the people now seeks you out. The gifts and presents of all who live in your territory are handed over to those stranger women. You who in the first place actually introduced those strangers, doing them a kindness for the Lord’s sake, are now considered of no account.”42 Although this conflict contains significant gender implications, gender is not the primary issue. The girl did not declare that Ibar deserved greater rewards due to his sex, but to local loyalty. Ibar refused to heed her envy, but the rest of his school fell prey to her talk and their own jealousy. Darerca, “the daughter of peace, perceived this and said to her sisters, ‘[…] If we suffer in such a manner while I am alive, you surely will not be able to live here when I am dead. Therefore let us cede to the envious girl this place and all our things, which envious people love, abandoning to them all but our clothes; and our God will provide us with another place to live.’”43 The women journeyed to Louth and then Armagh, experiencing great hardship, yet their faith in divine providence and in their magistra remained steadfast. The competition Darerca’s communities experienced with male communities attests to the high degree of power, authority, and wealth her community attained. Perhaps the greatest testimony to her spiritual power in such matters occurrs in a conflict with St Kevin. A devil came to Kevin and informed him that Darerca had given his place in heaven to “the very wicked robber Glunelath.” Kevin refused to believe that such a thing was possible, so the devil went with two of Kevin’s clerics to prove the matter to him. After they reported that they had found “Glunelath and Afin with the sisters reading the psalms,” Kevin ordered his clerics to arm themselves for 41 HVSH, 86; chapter 10. 42 USMLS (10): 125. 43 HVSH, 86.

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war to destroy Darerca’s monastery. An angel announced his intentions to Darerca, who told her sisters, “Pray for us and these brothers,” then went out to Kevin and his armed clerics. She informed him that his evil inclinations were due to the little devil standing by his left foot, then drove the demon away, blessed Kevin, and brought him back to her community. 44 She completed his purification by allowing him to indulge in one of her favorite forms of asceticism, immersion in ice-cold water. She had her own particular fountain for this practice, in which she would sit with water up to her breasts and chant the psalter all night. On this occasion, she blessed the water with her staff and guided the water with her staff up to the top of the mountain where she had prepared the site for Kevin’s bath. The bath, Conchubran claims, continues to cure the sick “until this day,” though it is called Kevin’s because Darerca “gave it to [him] in order to snatch him from the devil.”45 Bitel points to the rarity of such conflicts between male and female saints in Irish vitae, and echoes an angel’s disparagement of women’s miracles as inherently inferior in a pep talk to St Ailbe, who, after seeing a crowd’s awe when a young woman milked a deer, yearned to have one of his men imitate her.46 Conchubran, however, looked back to the early days of Ireland and “assumed an antagonism based on sexual difference as much as anything else; nevertheless, he wrote Moninne the heroine’s part in the sexual contest.”47 Yet Bitel attributes Darerca’s victory to the “passive aggression of prayer” which underscores her worldly weakness in comparison with Kevin, who could turn his clerics into an army. 48 Conversely, Bitel also faults female behavior that emulated men, which would include waging war: “These women were portrayed with the same virtues as men in order to honor them; to be more of a saint was, in early Ireland, to be less of a woman.”49 Given 44 USMLS (9): 267. Darerca is called sanctissima (most holy, feminine) in this contest, which emphasizes Kevin’s lesser spiritual status; he is not accorded even sanctus (holy, masculine) status. The competition between the two is somewhat unexpected, as Darerca’s cult in centered in Armagh, and Kevin’s at Glendalough in Wicklow. It likely arises from Conchubran’s borrowing of Glunelath from Kevin’s cult: the “famous outlaw” Glunsalach decided to reform his life under Kevin’s direction and was eventually buried beside him [The Martyrology of Donegal: A Calendar of the Saints of Ireland, trans. John O’Donovan, ed. James Henthorn Todd and William Reeves (Dublin: Irish Archaeological and Celtic Society, 1864), 144-45]. 45 USMLS (9): 268-69. 46 Bitel, Land of Women, 188; HVSH, 129; see also Oxenham, Perceptions of Femininity, 139-40. The deer-milker is identified only as foster-daughter of the nun Bithe, who was walking with Ailbe at the time. Patrick’s seventh-century biographer Tírechán also referred to a holy woman, Catnea, who milked wild hinds. 47 Bitel, Land of Women, 175. 48 Bitel, Land of Women, 188. 49 Bitel, “Women’s Monastic Enclosures,” 28.

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the evidence in the vita, however, Darerca likely could have summoned an army to equal Kevin’s through Glunelath and Afin, among others, had she been so tempted. But she did not want to battle Kevin; she wanted to help him realize that his actions and attitude were wrong. She did not show “passive aggression”; indeed, there is little passive about her leading an entire fountain against gravity and up a steep hill. She actively drove the demon away; she actively blessed Kevin, and she actively proved his superior. Her victory is accorded to her spiritual power, not her passivity, and her solution to the conflict is decidedly the more Christ-like of the two.

Gender Dynamics This contest reflects the complex gender dynamics within Darerca’s Lives. She was a powerful woman who deeply appreciated female friendships and women’s community. She did not shun men, but actively sought them out as teachers or included them in her community as her sons or pupils. She allowed a man—a priest-massacring would-be rapist, no less—to rest his head upon her breast; though he presented himself as a threat to her virginity, she feared neither him nor her own physical weakness and showed him tenderness and compassion, allowing him to become her disciple. Yet her hagiographer asserts that from the time she lived in the Field of Murthemne, she “looked upon no man (virum). If she was compelled at any time to leave her cell, such as to visit the sick or to release captives from prison by means of entreaty or prayer, she went out at night time, lest she be seen by people (hominibus); and if she encountered any along the way, she spoke with a veiled face.”50 She imposed upon herself both an active and a passive bind: she is neither to see nor be seen. Yet this did not prevent further interaction with males; both the sick and the captive in this statement are rendered male, and she spoke with men she met on her travels. She continued to visit men and be visited by them, yet her veil is not mentioned after this chapter. The next chapter tells of her stay with a man, Denech, “poor in resources but rich in charity.” She rewarded his generosity by restoring to life the calf he had killed to provide hospitality for the holy women. Denech met Darerca and her women on another trip when they were “tired by the strain 50 HVSH, 87; chapter 14. As Dorothy Africa has pointed out, patriarchal guardians of women’s virtue would hardly have been comforted that Darerca restricted her women-only travels to the dark of night (“The Good Woman in Early Ireland: A Shifting Paradigm in a Changing Society,” unpublished paper).

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of their night journey. For it was the custom of the bride of Christ to journey by night more than by day, lest their dove-like nature be spoiled by human contact.”51 Darerca’s concerns were not with men but humans; her night journeys resulted from the boundary between the sacred and secular, not the sexes. The women accepted Denech’s hospitality which included “the pious service of washing the feet of the maidens of Christ” — rather intimate interaction, and all the more so at night.52 This time his reward was never-ending beer and food, which enabled him to attain a high position within his community. Darerca is sometimes singled out as exemplifying the virago ideal, the concept that a woman has to sacrifice her sex and become an honorary male in order to be recognized as holy. One passage found in her Lives as well as one of her hymns seems to support such an assessment. When Darerca lived at the base of Slieve Gullion, “she followed the footsteps of the early hermits so that she dug and sowed the soil with her own labor, bearing a manly soul in a woman’s body” (virilem enim animum in femineo gerebat corpore).53 Her hagiographers celebrate her physical exertion through manual labor, which her community also held in high esteem, as they preserved her hoe and spade as relics. Conchubran uses similar words (virilem animum gestebat in femineo sexu) to describe Darerca’s virility, and in the following chapter paraphrases “the charter text of Christian feminism, Galatians 3:28.”54 Intriguingly, he defends his saint against possible skepticism due less to her sex than to her location: “[Christ] does not disdain to act also through His handmaiden Monenna, though she dwells at the furthest boundary of the world, so that from the rising of the sun to its setting His excellent name should be magnified. For in Christ there is neither male nor female, but Christ is all things in all.”55 The transition he makes suggests that his audience may have perceived being Irish and a woman as a double handicap, perhaps reflecting twelfth-century interest among Anglo-Normans, who claimed her, as they did so much that was Irish, for England.56 51 HVSH, 88; chapter 16. 52 USMLS (10): 139. 53 “[V]irilem enim animum in femineo gerebat corpore” HVSH, 89; chapter 19. 54 USMLS (10): 428; Newman, From Virile Woman to WomanChrist, 239. 55 USMLS (10): 433. 56 Geoffrey, the abbot of Burton-upon-Trent who incorporated Conchubran’s Life into his own version of “Modwenna’s” biography, elaborates the point by calling her a female barbarian (barbaram feminam) and implies she comes from the ends of the earth. In contrast, Geoffrey portrays England’s pre-Norman period as a time when “the English peoples lived in remarkable glory, wealth, and pleasure” (Bartlett, Geoffrey of Burton, 122, 183).

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Significantly, her hagiographers’ description of her as masculine is directly attributed to her manual labor and ought not to be regarded as the primary manner in which her hagiographers or devotees saw her. Outside of Ireland, in both Late Antiquity and the later Middle Ages holy women who claimed what their society saw as male spiritual prerogatives often had to transcend their gender to be heard. For example, Raymond of Capua struggled to comprehend how a woman could teach with the authority that Catherine of Siena did, and received a divine vision dispelling all doubt: As she was speaking, and as these doubts were running through my mind, I kept my eyes fastened on her face. Suddenly it became the face of a bearded man, gazing fixedly at me and filling my soul with awe. […] The whole countenance bore a stamp of majesty which unmistakably marked out its owner as a lord amongst men. And while I gazed on it, no other face was visible but it alone. Quaking with fear I threw up my hands in terror to shoulder level and cried out: “Oh, who is this who is looking at me?” And Catherine answered: “It is He Who is.” No sooner had these words been spoken than that Face disappeared; and her face which had faded out came back clear before me.57

While few would morph into Christ himself as Catherine did, many earlier classical and later Continental women had to battle their culture’s gender expectations and claim an honorary masculinity. The frequency of such examples outside of Ireland highlights their relative absence on the island, however.58 Darerca broke gender boundaries as delineated by many medieval Christian authors, but her femininity was called into question only when she labored in the field, not by her acts of asceticism or spiritual power, nor by her education and exceptional intelligence. And her body, even in the supposedly “manly” act of manual labor, remained emphatically a woman’s body.59 57 Raymond of Capua, The Life of Catherine of Siena, trans. Conleth Kearns (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, Inc., 1980), I.9.90, p.82. 58 Judith L. Bishop, “They Kept Their Skirts On: Gender-Bending Motifs in Early Irish Hagiography,” in Constructing Gender in Medieval Ireland, ed. Sarah Sheehan and Ann Dooley (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), 115-32. 59 Another source, one of the two alphabetical hymns included in the Codex Cotton Cleopatra, similarly praises the saint: She ploughed the earth with a hoe, Terram harabat sarculo With the zeal of the hermits Hermitarum studio Bearing a male character Virum gerens proposito Placed in a feminine body In corpore femineo

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Darerca actively enlisted men as her teachers and also included them in her community as her sons or pupils. Yet she also recognized the threat men posed to women, as evidence in her initial meeting with Glunelath.60 Another story tells of when her sisters unanimously elected Orbile, a great beauty respected for her “great good sense and distinction,” to stay behind to guide their foundation at Faughart when their community moved to Slieve Gullion.61 Orbile, however, did not want to be separated from her community, especially since she “very much fear(ed) the presence of young men.” It is unclear whether she feared rape or her own desire, though the former seems more likely; regardless, her anguish concerning the threat to her virginity is unmistakable.62 Darerca breathed upon her hair, which instantly turned as white as snow. Orbile thanked God for Darerca’s miracle, but she worried further “that the beauty of [her] body [would] still cause [her] downfall.” Darerca then placed her own girdle on Orbile and at once her body changed into an old woman’s. Orbile, now Servile, was overjoyed at the transformation, and willingly stayed behind to care for Faughart. Although texts frequently castigate women for pride in their appearance or their use of their beauty to seduce men, here we catch a glimpse of a woman’s perspective. Orbile regarded her beauty not as a treasure or a weapon, but a liability from which she was only too happy to part, even though it meant loss of youthful vitality. She saw herself as vulnerable in men’s presence, not vice versa, and her only fear was of men, not starvation or animal attacks. Once such a threat was neutralized, she accepted her role “with all [her] heart.”63 Approximately 90% of the medieval European population engaged in agriculture, but men did most of the ploughing [Madonna J. Hettinger, “Agriculture,” in Women and Gender in Medieval Europe: An Encyclopedia, ed. Margaret Schauss (New York: Routledge, 2006), 11-12]. The Irish Cáin Lánamna (the Law of Couples, regulating marriage and divorce, written around 700) recognizes that it is “the wife who is responsible for ploughing and reaping,” although Donnchadh Ó Corráin interprets this to mean that she is the one who pays for ploughing and reaping [in Angela Bourke, et al. ed., Field Anthology of Irish Writing, 5 vols (Washington Square, NY: New York University Press, 1991–2002), IV (2002), 22]. 60 Other tales in her Lives also attest to male violence against women, like bandits who tie a stone to an old woman’s back; see Appendix B. 61 USMLS (9): 259. 62 Cf. St Molua’s decision not to live in a particular site because he was “aggravated by the temptation of women” (“temptatione mulierum valde gravatus” HVSH, 136). Orbile feared the presence of men. Thus, it seems more likely that Orbile’s concern was the threat of rape and Molua’s concern was his own desire, especially since erasing her beauty would have more of an impact on her as an object rather than as a subject of desire. 63 USMLS (9): 261.

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Diversity within Community Ironically, even though Darerca was the only one of the four sanctae with medieval vitae who experienced no family resistance to her decision to vow her virginity to God, her vitae emphasize virginity much more than do the vitae of Brigid, Íte, and Samthann. While still a child, she resolved “to preserve the never-fading flower of virginity, which she held as long as she lived,”64 and was able to confirm this choice soon thereafter when Patrick came to convert pagans in her province. Both hagiographers agree that Patrick praised the virginal life to her; Conchubran adds that he stressed that she was now Christ’s bride and “there is as much difference between virginity and marriage as there is between marriage and Christ.” Conchubran emphasizes virginity far more than the anonymous hagiographer, implying that only virginity enables a woman to truly achieve virtues usually attributed to wives and mothers. Only the virgin is the “source of life” and the “mistress of joy”; she is the one “nearer to God, like to the angels”; her virginity is both “a sign of virtue” and the “guide of virtue”; it is the “foundation and crown of faith, buttress of hope and sustainer of charity.”65 The irony is heightened in light of Darerca’s community, which included wives, widows, and mothers, unlike the virginal denizens of Íte’s and Samthann’s communities, with a few exceptions. Judging by the sisters she chose, Darerca did not feel that virginity was a requisite trait for the holy life, though the residue of sin from previous sexual actions once marred the tranquility of her community. Darerca interrupted matins (early morning prayers) because the community’s prayers would not rise above the church’s roof and their customary angelic visitors were absent. She exhorted her sisters to examine their consciences. “One of the widows, who recently was converted from secular living” arose and declared herself the source of the sin. Her shoes, which she wore due to the cold, had been a gift of a former lover, and she had forgotten to seek Darerca’s pardon and permission to wear them. Darerca then sent Bríg to submerge the shoes in the depths of the sea. With this obstacle removed, the prayers ascended to heaven and their angelic friends visited Killevy again. Her hagiographer uses this incident to emphasize Darerca’s quick action with regard to venial sins, which testifies to the “diligence with which she kept the greater sins from developing.”66 Darerca surrounded herself with many types of women and this is the only 64 HVSH, 83; chapter 1. 65 USMLS (9): 255-57. 66 HVSH, 91-92; chapter 27.

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time sexual sin interfered with her community. Her own vow of virginity did not preclude relations with men, despite some contradictory claims by her hagiographers. Darerca’s life reflects significant diversity—of location, of lifestyle, and of sisters. After her vow, she lived with a priest and then with her parents, where a community soon sprang up. She then chose to pursue the religious life away from family, a common choice among for Irish saints, male as well as female. This relates to the Irish penchant for peregrinatio, “pilgrimage,” or voluntary exile from one’s home undertaken out of devotion to the divine and/or the pursuit of penitential asceticism.67 The earliest extant reference to this popular Irish practice is placed in a woman’s mouth. Jonas of Bobbio relates a nun’s advice to St Columbanus to imitate her example and become a peregrinus (pilgrim for Christ; the female form is peregrina), although she laments that her sex restricted her to peregrinatio within Ireland. She had left her home province fifteen years earlier for her present pilgrimage site in Leinster, Columbanus’s home; had she been a man, she told him, she would have sailed for a more powerful place of pilgrimage across the sea. Her remarks, penned by an Italian who was trying to explain Columbanus’s own staggered exile, first to Bangor in the north and eventually to the Continent, have been used by scholars to cloister women’s peregrinatio within Ireland, yet, even excluding Conchubran’s fabulous claims of Monenna’s travels, abundant evidence attests to Irish female religious women “carrying their missions into alien territory” in Britain and on the Continent as well as throughout Ireland.68 Still, proximity to kin was a significant part of many religious women’s lives, including Darerca’s. For example, after Brigid, a druid’s virgin daughter, committed herself and her dowry to St Mochuda, the saint told her, “Your 67 One of the hymns in Codex Cotton Cleopatra A. ii hails her as peregrina (Esposito, “Conchubrani Vita Sanctae Monennae,” 243). 68 E.g., James F. Kenney, The Sources for the Early History of Ireland (1929; reprint, New York: Columbia University Press, 1997), vol. I: Ecclesiastical, 487; Alison I. Beach, Women as Scribes: Book Production and Monastic Reform in Twelfth-Century Bavaria (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 129; Flanagan, The Transformation of the Irish Church in the Twelfth Century, 73. The example of the Irish peregrina enslaved among the Picts, specifically the druid Broichan, found in Adomnán’s Life of ColmCille should also be considered [Adomnan’s Life of Columba, ed. and trans. Alan Orr Anderson and Marjorie Ogilvie Anderson (London: Thomas Nelson and Sons, Ltd., 1961), II.33, pp. 398-405]. The quote is from Bitel, who argues that “hagiographers hardly considered the possibility of females carrying their missions into alien territory,” by which she means anywhere outside of a woman’s birth province [“Women’s Monastic Enclosures,” 20; see also her Isle of the Saints: Monastic Settlement and Christian Community in Early Ireland (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990), 101-104]. Multiple references contradict this claim.

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resurrection will be in your homeland. There you will found a cell next to your parents’ house, in a place enclosed by thick thorns.”69 Yet Darerca and her community were not satisfied by such an arrangement. Eventually they returned home to establish monasteries, but first they set out in search of other communities in which they could continue their way of life and their instruction, partnering intermittently with Ibar as well as Brigid. The life of a wandering monastic, called a “gyrovague,” was not easy, as seen in the case of Mochuda as he too wandered in search of a suitable site: His lepers screech at him, And so do his martyrs, And ask in what house In what place their books should be stored.70

While Darerca and her community were probably not so burdened this early in their career, the journey across Ireland, from County Louth to the western isles, would not have been easy. Similarly, Samthann’s transfer from Urney to Clonbroney suggests the freedom women had to seek other monasteries which met their needs more fully. Darerca lived in mixed-sex and female-only monasteries; her Lives don’t show her actually as a hermit, although they frequently refer to her as such.71 She integrated solitude with community. She supported female solitaries, such as a recluse who lived in a hidden cell near Killevy. Darerca’s sisters brought her food daily, and once bandits in nearby woods robbed the nun bringing it. As punishment, Darerca caused the bandits to become hopelessly lost in the woods, though they knew its every twist and turn. They realized their theft had caused their misfortune and cried out in their anguish that they would atone according to Darerca’s judgment. “And because God is more inclined to mercy than condemnation, after they acknowledged their guilt,” the path leading to Killevy was immediately revealed.72 They took 69 “In tua patria, tua future est resurrectio. Ibi iuxta domum parentum tuorum cellam fundabis, in loco densis circumdato sentibus” HVSH, 397. 70 Plummer, Bethada Náem nErenn, II.175. 71 Geoffrey of Burton’s retelling of her Life as Modwenna claims she spent seven years as a solitary on Anglesey, but even still she was not alone. A male hermit, “burning with divine love” for her, regularly visited her with writings about saints for them to mutually reflect upon. She had multiple female companions with her as well, two of whom she and the male hermit saved after they had drowned through their prayers and the strength of Modwenna’s hands, which alone could lift the boat (Bartlett, Geoffrey of Burton, 144-49). 72 HVSH, 91; chapter 24.

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this path, sought Darerca’s mercy, and underwent the penance she imposed, never again harming another. Darerca was a pioneer for women’s right to pursue the religious life. Since few religious options were initially available to her, she dedicated her life to creating them for herself and other women. Everywhere she went women of all backgrounds flocked to join her. No monasteries for women existed in her homeland before she went to Ibar, but she eventually founded several sites in Louth and Armagh. Killevy was one of the most important female monasteries in medieval Ireland; its continued existence until the Dissolution ordered by Henry VIII demonstrates her success, particularly since the overwhelming majority of women’s early communities, even those exceptional few that merited a mention in the records, had disappeared by the ninth century, let alone the sixteenth. This survival is all the more impressive as it withstood Vikings, possibly being one of their first targets.73 It became an Augustinian convent in the twelfth century before Henry VIII’s Dissolution permanently shut its doors in 1542. In the mid-nineteenth century, George Reade lamented its loss: The unsparing tyrant and monster, Henry VIII., fixed his cruel grasp upon St. Moninne’s inheritance in the 34th year of his reign, and upon the 10th of March in that year expelled the last abbess—Alicia Nigen McDonchy O’Hanlon (the O’Hanlons were hereditary standard-bearers to the Kings of Ulster, and the present representative, who lives in Dundalk, can show his genealogy almost to the days of St. Moninne). An inquisition of the 3rd of James I. finds that at that time the abbess had been, in right of the abbey, seised of townlands and tythes in the county of Armagh, of the annual value, besides reprises, of forty shillings Irish money. And thus Cill-sleibhe-Cuillinn passes from the page of history.74

One of the most intriguing aspects relating to the life, cult, and communities of Darerca is found in the Annals of Ulster’s entry for the year 1077, which records the death of “Ailbe daughter of the abbot, wife of the king of Airthir 73 Gwynn and Hadcock claim an attack on Killevy in 790, but this seems a misreading of George H. Reade’s reference to an attack on Lambay Island (close to Dublin) that the annalists dated to 790 but actually occurred in 795 [“Cill Sleibhe Cuillinn, founded by St. Darerca, alias Moninne, about A.D. 518,” Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries Ireland 1 (1868): 93-102, at 97; Aubrey Gwynn and R. Neville Hadcock, Medieval Religious Houses: Ireland (London: Longman Group Ltd, 1970), 321]. 74 Reade, “Cill-Sleibhe-Cuillinn,” 100. Nigen perhaps should be ingen, daughter (like mac is son).

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and successor (comarba) of Moninne.”75 Married abbots, apparently like Ailbe’s father, were fairly common in Ireland, but Ailbe’s status as a married abbess is a rarity in the records. Her example calls into question many assumptions about medieval Ireland, and it is fitting that she succeeded Darerca, who included a wide range of women in her community. This tolerance is rudely reversed in a legend about Modwenna’s bed that was appended by a thirteenth-century English court hand to Conchubran’s Life of Monenna. It describes the bed, “made from stone in the style of a sepulcher,” which the saint used on the rare occasions that she succumbed to sleep, “after such great labors, after the shedding of so much sweat, after long vigils.” The text claims that Modwenna left this bed to her unspecified Irish monastery as one of her relics, although neither of her hagiographers mentions it. “The virgins serving God there follow this inviolate decree, namely that no female may be admitted into their community unless first she proves to them her virginity.” To do so, the woman must spend a night on the bed. If she is a virgin, not only will she receive the most refreshing and rewarding rest, but also any pre-existing ailments will miraculously disappear: “But if anyone with daring temerity had lied about her virginity, which some do, disgraceful as it is to have not confessed, and she presumes to lie in this same bed, awakening she will discover that bed and also all her clothes defiled in blood, as if someone purposely had shamelessly defiled that bed with the blood of slaughtered animals.”76 This harsh tale calls to mind customs relating to a bloody bed sheet as proof of loss of virginity especially on a woman’s wedding night, sanctioned by Deuteronomy 22:17, and also shares similarities with the Middle English poem Floris and Blauncheflur, adapted from a French original around 1250. The poem tells of a magic fountain credited to the Sultan of Babylon; if an unchaste woman were to wash her hands in it, “The water wille yelle as it were woode [completely mad] / And bicome red as bloode.” A maiden 75 Seán Mac Airt and Gearóid Mac Niocaill, ed. and trans., The Annals of Ulster (to A.D. 1131), part I (Dublin, 1983): s.a. 1077, p. 513, emphasis added. See also Annals of the Four Masters. From the middle of the tenth to the end of the twelfth century, comarba (anglicized coarb) and abb or abbas “designated only one function” (Hérold Pettiau, “The Officials of the Church of Armagh in the Early and Central Middle Ages, to A.D. 1200,” in Armagh History and Society, 121-86, at 130). 76 “[D]e lapide ad modum sepulcri excisus […] post immensos labores, post multos sudores, post longas vigilias […] Virgines ibidem Deo famulantes hoc decretum illesum observant, scilicet nullam in earum admitti societate, nisi prius eis de illius constiterit virginitate […] Si vero aliqua ausu temerario se virginem mentita fuerit, quod nonnulle faciunt, quia turpe est non esse fateri, et in eodem lecto iacere presumpserit, lectum illum necnon omnia vestimenta sua cruore fedata evigilans inveniet, ac si aliquis ex industria lectum illum cruore animalium in eodem loco occisorum impudenter fedasset” (Esposito, “Conchubrani Vita Sanctae Monennae,” 245; my translation).

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who fails its chastity test is to be killed.77 The bed legend seems written for an English audience who knew the saint in her Anglo-Norman guise of Modwenna, and offers striking contrast to Darerca’s anonymous Life and even Monenna’s by Conchubran. Conchubran fixates on virginity far more than does her anonymous hagiographer, but does not fantasize about soaking non-virgins in blood in a miraculous show of their shame and dishonor. In the twelfth century, with the rise of the Gregorian Reform and its rigid insistence on chaste celibacy for the religious, a shadow of the Catalogus’s second age loomed over Western Christendom. For the most part, however, both of Darerca’s Lives reflect the spirit of the Catalogus’s first order, apart from an incongruous and internally discredited claim that she imposed a kind of claustration upon herself wherever she went. By the time this thirteenth-century hand recorded this brutal tale of Modwenna’s bed, her Life and legends had been co-opted by Anglo-Normans, as they similarly sought to do to Ireland itself, and the tale attests to markedly opposed attitudes toward women.

Conclusion Darerca’s Lives demonstrate the diversity of early medieval religious Irishwomen’s experiences. Some of this arises from her conflation with other holy women of Ireland, Scotland, England, and Wales, but partly through this confusion the variety of medieval religious women’s lives becomes visible; moreover, her anonymous Life, which is less corrupted by conflation, also reflects considerable diversity. The religious life was open to women of various social classes and to married women and mothers as well as virgins and widows. Women could be both students and teachers, studying with women and men, travelling throughout Ireland to pursue the religious life as they deemed fit, or living as solitaries in the wild. Darerca’s example indicates that women’s choice to pursue the religious life might be met with virtually no resistance; the only tension arising from women’s decision to become Christ’s brides occurs in the incident with Glunelath, which is not included in her anonymous Life. Several of her sisters were married and mothers, and her hagiographers do not mention their families’ response to their choice. Her practice of manual labor may be unique in the vitae of Irish women, but its inclusion in her vitae and its implements among her relics 77 Kathleen Coyne Kelly, Performing Virginity and Testing Chastity in the Middle Ages (London and New York: Routledge, 2000), 8-9.

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attest to female participation in what both her hagiographers considered to be her most masculine feat. Through Darerca’s Life, we witness women experiencing great hardship, but also lively feasts with much drinking and rejoicing. Her Life makes manifest the harmony of women’s communities, as well as some discord, and the bonds between women’s monasteries and between women and men. The threat her community presented to multiple males and one envious girl testifies to the power and wealth women’s communities could attain, yet her actions show how little she cared for worldly gain. What mattered to Darerca was that women had a place to live out their devotion to the divine, regardless of background. Killevy’s continued existence through Viking attacks and other catastrophes up until the Dissolution demonstrates her success, particularly since few early women’s communities survived in the records past the ninth century, let alone the sixteenth.78 Nor is its survival exceptional only for female communities; Killevy’s “West Church,” dating from the eleventh century but with an impressive tenth-century lintelled doorway, is the only remaining pre-Norman church in all of County Armagh, which includes Patrick’s chief ecclesiastical city. Darerca’s later anonymous Life more accurately preserves her original vita, likely written in the first quarter of the seventh century, demonstrating the kind of gender collaboration that set the holiest first order apart in the Catalogus, which immediately precedes Darerca’s anonymous Life in the Codex Salmanticensis. Unlike some of Patrick’s female converts, Darerca did not serve the faith by dying after baptism. She continued to live a long, healthy life—110 years according to Conchubran, 133 according to the succession list, and 180 according to Félire Oengusso—through which she enabled countless women to follow in her footsteps and discover their own path to the divine.79

78 A twelfth-century text found in the Book of Leinster lists nearly 100 communities primarily headed by women that are said to be subject to Kildare, but most of these communities cannot be further identified [Pádraig Ó Riain, Corpus Genealogiarum Sanctorum Hiberniae (Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1985), 112-18, 210]. 79 USMLS (10): 440-41; Esposito, “Conchubrani Vita Sanctae Monennae,” 233, 244; Stokes, Félire Óengusso, 167.

3

“The Safest City of Refuge” Brigid the Bishop Abstract Brigid, Ireland’s only female patron saint, reveals relationships between Ireland’s indigenous traditions and its adopted Christianity as well as the power and authority available to at least some women up until the twelfth century, a time of seismic change for the island. Multiple medieval sources insist she was ordained as a bishop, a status that her successors as abbess of Kildare shared until Ireland’s ecclesiastical hierarchy was drastically revised in 1152. Several sources also show her performing a miraculous abortion for a grateful nun, a miracle several other Irish saints, all male, are recorded as performing as well, challenging conventional assumptions about Catholic sexual morality. Her status as most beloved of all Irish saints in the Middle Ages is attested throughout western Europe; despite this great devotion, or perhaps because of it, Brigid’s historicity remains elusive. Her cult is steeped in conflicting claims of competing political factions, and each locality of her devotion stamped her image with its own mark. In addition, her cult has been influenced by the cult of the Goddess Brigid. Some have rejected the saint’s historical existence entirely, seeing her purely as an euhemerized deity, a Goddess made mortal but without incarnation—a textual, archaeological, and ideological translation from one faith (Paganism) to another (Christianity). Though such a position is not entirely unwarranted, it seems more likely that the cult grew around an actual fifth- and/or sixth-century woman who dedicated her life to God, exemplified exceptional charity and devotion, and established religious communities and churches. Or she may not have been only one woman, but a composite character who incorporated the attributes and accomplishments of several early Christian women, as well as those of indigenous Goddesses and Mary, the Jewish mother of Christ. Whether she was more Goddess than woman, one woman or several, Brigid was a preeminent Christian saint, representing to the Irish important truths about what it meant to be Christian as well as representing virtues of the Irish themselves.

Callan, M. B., Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463721509_ch03

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Key words: female ordination, double monasteries, abortion, paganism, syncretism

Twenty-seven saints gathered at the future site of Kildare when Brigid was a girl. At a nearby nun’s request, Brigid went to address their assembly. Before her arrival one of the twenty-seven, Bishop Ibar, recounted to his colleagues a strange and wondrous vision he had had the night before in which the Virgin Mary had appeared to him and a cleric had informed him, “This is Mary who will dwell among you.” When Brigid arrived at the assembly, Ibar identified her as the Mary in his dream and declared that their location, which God had prepared for Brigid, was a portal to heaven and would become the richest place in all Ireland. And so it was.1 This story, found in the Old Irish Bethu Brigte as well as the Latin Life of Brigid commonly called the Vita Prima, cuts to the heart of the relationship of the Irish people with their patron saint. Patrick might be their apostle, but Brigid is the Mary of the Gael, enjoying as intimate and privileged a relationship with Christ as did the Jewish maiden and representing the Irish par excellence just as the Blessed Virgin represents humanity. At times she seems to replace Mary completely, such as when Broccán hails her as “only mother of the great King’s Son,”2 but the Irish understanding of the relationship was not a simple case of substitution. She shared in Mary’s status, but she lived her own, thoroughly Irish life. She was most closely identif ied with Kildare (Cill Dara, meaning church of the oak),3 but her cult infused the entire island and flourished 1 Donncha Ó hAodha, ed. and trans., Bethu Brigte (Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advance Studies, 1978), ch. 11, pp. 3, 22.; Connolly, “Vita Prima Sanctae Brigitae,” ch. 15, pp. 16-17. 2 Broccán’s hymn, in Whitley Stokes and John Strachan, ed., Thesaurus Palaeohibernicus: A Collection of Old Irish Glosses, Scholia, Prose and Verse, 3 vols. (1903; reprint, Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1987), II. 327, following the translation in Angela Bourke, “Irish Stories of Weather, Time, and Gender: Saint Brigid,” in Reclaiming Gender: Transgressive Identities in Modern Ireland, ed. Marilyn Cohen and Nancy J. Curtin (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999), 13-31, at 16; and Lady Gregory, A Book of Saints and Wonders (London: John Murray, 1920), 12. Ultan also called Brigid the mother of Jesus (Thesaurus Palaeohibernicus, II. 325). A thirteenth-century German poet castigated the Irish for referring to Brigid as “Mother of God” [Daphne D. C. Pochin Mould, Saint Brigid (Dublin: Clonmore and Reynolds, 1964), 56]. 3 Dairthech, “oak house,” is the most common word for church in early medieval Irish sources [Nancy Edwards, The Archaeology of Early Medieval Ireland (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1990), 122; see also Conleth Manning, “A Note on the Dairthech,” in Clerics, Kings and Vikings: Essays on Medieval Ireland in Honour of Donnchadh Ó Corráin, ed. Emer Purcell, Paul MacCotter, Julianne Nyhan, and John Sheehan (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2015), 323-25]. Based in part on the use of the loan word cill or cell, Charles Thomas argues that Kildare may

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wherever the Irish travelled. Like Peter, Patrick stood at the head of Irish ecclesiastical authority but, like Mary, Brigid captured the heart of Irish devotion. Brigid’s status as most beloved of all Irish saints in the Middle Ages is attested throughout virtually all of Western Europe, in her commemoration in calendars and litanies, in her multiple Lives and appearances in other saints’ Lives, and in the hundreds of churches, towns, and even daughters called after her, including Sweden’s patron, St Birgitta (1303-73).4 Despite this great devotion, or perhaps because of it, Brigid’s historicity remains elusive; her cult is steeped in conflicting claims of competing political factions, particularly Uí Néill and Laigin, and each locality of her devotion stamped her image with its own mark. In addition, her cult has been influenced by the cult of the Goddess Brigid. Some have rejected the saint’s historical existence entirely, seeing her purely as an euhemerized deity, a Goddess made mortal but without incarnation—a textual, archaeological, and ideological translation from one faith (Paganism) to another (Christianity). Though such a position is not entirely unwarranted, it seems more likely that the cult grew around an actual fifth- and/or sixth-century woman who dedicated her life to God, exemplified exceptional charity and devotion, and established religious communities and churches.5 Or she may not have been only one woman, but a composite character who incorporated the attributes and accomplishments of several early Christian women, as well as those of indigenous Goddesses and Mary, the Jewish mother of Christ. Whether she was more Goddess than woman, one woman or several, Brigid was a preeminent Christian saint, representing to the Irish important truths about what it meant to be Christian as well as representing virtues of the Irish themselves. owe its origins partly to Palladius [“Cellular Meanings, Monastic Beginnings,” Emania 13 (1995): 51-67, at 61-62]. Her Lives do not describe Brigid as Kildare’s founder. 4 Noel Kissane’s documentation of devotion to Brigid attests that “her cult was the most widespread and celebrated of any Irish saint, female or male, both in Ireland and overseas.” Kissane also relays how Birgitta came to get her name: “[H]er pregnant mother feared for her life during a storm at sea and prayed to the saint of Ireland, who was also popular in Sweden, that if she survived she would name the child after her; so she did and so it was” (Saint Brigid of Kildare, p 21 n14, p 220 n114; quote at 303, see also 209 and 320). 5 See the important caveats discussed in Catherine McKenna, “Apotheosis and Evanescence: The Fortunes of Saint Brigit in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,” in Joseph Falaky Nagy, ed., The Individual in Celtic Literatures: CSANA Yearbook 1 (2001), 74-108, and Pádraig Ó Riain, “Pagan Example and Christian Practice: A Reconsideration,” in Cultural Identity and Cultural Integration: Ireland and Europe in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Doris Edel (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1995), 144-56.

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Many Lives, Little Certainty As with many if not most early Irish saints, little to no documentary evidence survives for Brigid’s historical life outside of hagiography. The earliest reference to her, a druidic prophecy in a genealogical tale of the Fothairt which styles her ala-Maire (another Mary), may date from the sixth century, which is believed to be the century in which she died (c. 524).6 Her association with the Fothairt remains surprisingly consistent in subsequent tradition, despite the fact that by the time her Life was written they were a subject people and she was more closely allied with the Laigin, the sept that gave their name to Leinster.7 Since Darerca’s anonymous Life is unknown degrees removed from the original and Conchubran embellishes significantly upon it, Brigid’s is the earliest ascertained Life of an Irish saint by an Irish author. This Life, written by Cogitosus in the second half of the seventh century and translated in Appendix B, survives in roughly eighty manuscripts, but none of those copies originated or remain on Irish soil and all date from later than the seventh century. Ironically for a Life with such international appeal, Cogitosus’s Life is less a biography of the saint than an advertisement for Kildare.8 Cogitosus, who was likely a monk at Kildare, acknowledges his debt to earlier keepers of her cult, “those who came before us and knew these events firsthand.” He might mean oral tradition or perhaps Broccán’s hymn, which shares Cogitosus’s Laigin affiliation and lists many of the miracles which Cogitosus describes more completely.9 Patrick’s earliest known hagiographer, Muirchú, declares himself to be following in his “father” Cogitosus’s footsteps, causing confusion both about Muirchú’s paternity and the precise meaning of his statement. While it is almost certain that Muirchú used pater in the sense of an esteemed predecessor and not as a term of biological kinship, it remains unresolved whether his words signify that, to Muirchú’s knowledge, Cogitosus was the first to write a Life of an Irish saint, that he was the first to do so in Latin, or that he was the first to 6 M. A. O’Brien, Corpus Genealogiarum Hiberniae (Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1962), 80-81; Ó hAodha, Bethu Brigte, 42. 7 Cogitosus does not connect Brigid to the Fothairt, but to “the good and extremely prudent túath of Echtech” (Chapter 1). Yet his Life also clearly portrays her kin as a subject people, bullied by a more powerful one, able to triumph over them with her help (Chapter 30). 8 Kim McCone, “Brigit in the Seventh Century: A Saint with Three Lives?” Peritia 1 (1982): 107-45, at 109. 9 Felim Ó Briain, “Brigitana,” ed. Frederic Mac Donncha, Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie 36 (1978): 112-37.

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provide a coherent narrative rather than a catalogue of miracles. Tradition, however, accords ColmCille the honor of being Brigid’s first hagiographer, followed by Ultán of Ardbreccan and Ailerán the Wise. If such Lives ever existed they have since been lost, but Ultán and Ailerán may have served as sources for Brigid’s Vita Prima and Bethu Brigte, which likely date to the eighth or early ninth century.10 Ultán and Ailerán, who according to the Annals of Ulster died in 657/63 and 665 respectively, were churchmen among the powerful southern Uí Néill, who had adopted Patrick as their patron and were the traditional enemies of the Laigin, as they pushed into Laigin territory in northern Leinster.11 Cogitosus doesn’t mention Patrick but the Vita Prima portrays Brigid and Patrick as friendly colleagues, though Patrick invariably seems more dominant. Cogitosus’s and Broccán’s silence about Patrick speaks volumes about the power and position of Kildare and its saint, as does the fact that those who were more invested in Patrick’s cult could not afford to ignore Brigid, though they scarcely mentioned Kildare, which was intertwined with Leinster royal power; the Hill of Allen, an inauguration site, is located about ten kilometres away. Thus, by the second-half of the seventh century, Brigid seems the subject of at least two strains of hagiography, Laigin and Uí Néill, and of a highly developed cult which may indeed have extended “from sea to sea,” as Cogitosus claims for Kildare’s authority.12 The steps leading to such widespread exaltation are uncertain; those who see her as the Christian incarnation of the Goddess Brigid maintain that the saint inherited the devotion due to her pagan predecessor and hence heathen holy sites were reborn as Christian churches dedicated to their Goddess-cum-Saint Brigid. While Brigid’s cult could have benefited from that of the Goddess with whom she shares similarities beyond a name, such as an association with healing, fire, fertility, poetry, and provision, that does not diminish the likelihood of a real person behind the legend. Without getting bogged down in the dense wood of Irish genealogies and various kin-affiliations, it is worth noting that, if she were a woman of the Fothairt, her sanctity must have been 10 McCone, “Brigit in the Seventh Century,” 107-45; Esposito, “Notes on Latin Learning and Literature in Mediaeval Ireland—IV,” Hermathena 24 (1934): 120-65; see also Laurance Maney, “The Date and Provenance of Vita Prima Sanctae Brigitae,” Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium 23 (2009): 200-18. 11 Both are said to have written about Patrick as well; these too have been lost, but Tírechán was Ultan’s disciple. 12 A twelfth-century text that claims nearly 100 communities as subject to Kildare further supports this sense, and the possibility that Brigid’s dominion endured until the English invasion (Ó Riain, Corpus Genealogiarum Sanctorum Hiberniae, 112-18, 210).

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most impressive to win over the Laigin, who were in a sense the Fothairt’s overlords.13 Her appeal to the Uí Néill, the Laigin’s rivals and Patrick’s chief promoters, similarly speak volumes, as does the fact that around 700 the Book of Armagh’s Liber Angeli, “a statement of the claims of Armagh, as to both territory and ecclesiastical supremacy, in a hagiographical setting,”14 declared this division between the two: Between holy Patrick and Brigit, pillars (dignitaries) of the Irish, there existed so great a friendship of charity that they were of one heart and one mind. Christ worked many miracles through him and her. The holy man, then, said to the Christian virgin: “O my Brigit, your paruchia will be deemed to be in your province in your dominion, but in the eastern and western part it will be in my domination.”15

While Patrick here tries to confine Brigid to her “dominion,” by recognizing her right to one he concedes some of his own dominance to her. Cogitosus included no such concession; his itinerary for Brigid “through Ireland, to Patrick’s Armagh and churches of other provinces, had blatant political implications, underscoring the explicit claims made by Cogitosus to the transregional jurisdiction of Brigit’s abbatial and episcopal successors.”16 Cogitosus and Broccán do not even acknowledge Patrick, whereas Patrick’s promoters cede part of his own claims to her and call Cogitosus “father.” To Patrick and Brigid’s partnership should be added ColmCille, Ireland’s third patron saint. ColmCille, the least legendary of the three, died in 597 and is most celebrated as the founder of Iona off the coast of Scotland after being exiled from Ireland, supposedly for copying a text without permission, but perhaps voluntarily in an effort to escape family entanglements.17 Patrick was a foreigner by birth and blood and ColmCille carried out most of his life’s work and died across the sea, but Brigid spent all her days in Ireland, travelling throughout and laying claim to it. Born of a king and a slave and raised by a druid, Brigid united the people of Ireland, transcending ethnic 13 From the eighth to tenth centuries, roughly a dozen women of Fothairt ancestry served as Kildare’s abbess; “the office was monopolized by Brigid’s kindred in that period” (Kissane, Saint Brigid of Kildare, 100). 14 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 52. 15 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 191. 16 Bitel, “Ekphrasis at Kildare: The Imaginative Architecture of a Seventh-Century Hagiographer,” Speculum 79 (2004): 605-627, at 610. 17 See Máire Herbert, Iona, Kells, and Derry: The History and Hagiography of the Monastic Familia of Columba (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1996).

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divisions, territorial affinities, religious affiliations, and social class as well as gender, embodying the message of Galatians 3.28. Given the size and scope of her cult, the following discussion must be limited. Even more than Patrick, Brigid is a behemoth.

Brigid, the Early Years Beyond naming Brigid’s parents as Broicsech and Dubthach, Cogitosus tells us little of Brigid’s youth, beginning her Life just before her consecration. Our image of her childhood derives primarily from Vita Prima and Bethu Brigte, which portray a world in which pagan and Christian freely intermingled, to such an extent, in fact, that it is not clear which faith her parents practiced. Cogitosus claims they were Christian, but also that they were both noble, whereas her mother’s status as her father’s slave is pivotal to the plot of the later Lives and may reflect the Fothairt’s fallen status. As Dubthach and Broicsech never married according to these versions of her Life, Brigid also affirms the value of so-called “illegitimate” offspring, making her a patron saint of “bastards,” among others. The first to recognize Brigid’s sanctity was a druid, who heard her power in the sound the chariot made as it carried the pregnant Broicsech. The druid prophesied her greatness as well as her sex, which caused Dubthach to rejoice less specifically because of her greatness than her sex, “I am grateful to God because, until now, I have not had a daughter but only sons.” The druid told Dubthach to take care of Broicsech, to whom he offered comfort and liberating inspiration, “Keep your spirits up; no one can harm you; the grace of your little infant will set you free. You will give birth to an illustrious daughter who will shine in the world like the sun in the vault of heaven.”18 Dubthach’s wife had other plans. Like a latter-day Sarah, she feared that Broicsech’s offspring would surpass her own and demanded that Dubthach sell her. He eventually yielded to her “rages” and, according to the Vita Prima, sold Broicsech to a visiting Uí Néill poet. The poet brought her north, but, sensing the sanctity of the woman’s unborn child, sold her to a druid. Brigid was born shortly thereafter.19 The druid then took Brigid into Connacht, to 18 Vita Prima, ch. 2, p. 14. 19 Possibly owing to the influence of Bernard of Clairvaux’s Life of Malachy, since the twelfth century some have claimed Faughart (Irish Fochairt) as Brigid’s birthplace. As Kissane notes, however, this is probably due to confusion with the name of Brigid’s people, the Fothairt (Saint Brigid of Kildare, 105, 143).

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his mother’s people, and then into Munster, to his father’s people, until she decided to return to her father’s lands in Leinster. The return was far from smooth, however, as her father immediately tried to sell her into slavery for giving his possessions, including his sword, to the poor, and then tried to force her to marry, but Brigid consistently prevailed. Leinster thereafter remained her home and the Laigin her primary people, though she continued to travel throughout Ireland as she had in her childhood and her patronage encompassed the Irish wherever they might be. Brigid’s birth reflects her hybrid, liminal, and unifying nature. She broke forth from her mother’s womb as night turned into day, crossing the threshold with the sun, one of Broicsech’s feet indoors and the other outdoors. Brigid was instantly baptized with the cows’ milk that Broicsech had just gathered; not long after, the druid dreamed another baptism by two bishops, which the Vita Prima assures was “the rite of baptism in the customary way.”20 Clearly, however, baptism by cows’ milk or in a druid’s dream deviated from the norm. For example, Darerca’s baptism involved being “immersed in the holy font of baptism and confirmed by the imposition of hands,” not in a dream but in a public gathering, and she herself was recognized as “a living font of spiritual waters, from which many would draw life-giving draughts.”21 Brigid’s unorthodox experiences do not diminish her holiness, however. She “had been born a hero, reared by a druid with magical powers and marked for greatness from birth.”22 From her start, Brigid integrated opposites—noble and slave, pagan and Christian, darkness and light, nature and society, and even Laigin and Uí Néill. Each duality she transcended pointed to the greatest bridge she spanned, that between heaven and earth, between God and humanity; as Broccán remarks, she provided “a marvellous ladder for pagans to visit (the) kingdom of Mary’s Son.”23 Broccán’s praise alludes to the power of Brigid’s missionizing work but also suggests an ease with paganism, though this is his only explicit reference to pagans; Cogitosus likewise mentions a druid only once, but does so in a hostile manner. The Uí Néill Brigidine sources, however, reflect a different perspective, one more favorable to druids not only than Laigin sources but also than Uí Néill Patrician accounts, which revel in Patrick’s ability to vanquish druids after bitter contests. In Vita Prima and Bethu Brigte, her 20 Vita Prima, ch. 9, p. 15. 21 HVSH, 83. 22 Bitel, “Body of a Saint, Story of a Goddess: Origins of the Brigidine Tradition,” Textual Practice 16 (2002): 209-28, at 220. 23 Whitley Stokes, ed., Goidelica: Old and Early-Middle Irish Glosses, Prose and Verse (London: Trübner and Co, 1872), 142; see also Stokes and Strachan, Thesaurus Palaeohibernicus, II. 328.

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mother’s pagan master is portrayed as the saint’s attentive foster-father who genuinely cares for her and supports her spiritual mission during the years that Laigin sources omit. He prophesies the nature of her birth, names her in accordance with a vision he has of her baptism by the two bishops, weans her, and interprets her first prophecy. Her hagiographers express ambivalence towards the druid in the latter two events: the druid recognizes his own impurity as the cause of the baby Brigid’s delicate stomach when he attempts to feed her solid food and, when he first hears her voice, according to Bethu Brigte, he asks his mother’s brother, a Christian, to look in on the simultaneously sleeping and praying saint, “for I do not dare to do so since I am not a Christian.”24 His uncle is able to witness what the druid cannot, but only the druid understands the meaning of her words, Meum erit hoc (“this will be mine”—meaning all of Connacht if not all of Ireland)—in other words, crying, “Mine!” like toddlers everywhere, though few these days insist it in Latin (or intend an entire region). In both Vita Prima and Bethu Brigte, Brigid eventually converts the druid, who releases her mother from servitude. Though he insists in Bethu Brigte that he would never leave her, her hagiographers apparently had other plans, for he promptly disappears from both Lives, as does almost all druidic association.25 Having won the druid’s soul as well as her mother’s freedom, Brigid ostensibly leaves the pagan world behind. Brigid’s Lives emphasize her connection with Ireland’s primary occupation, farming, which is intertwined with her unparalleled hospitality, a cardinal Irish virtue. The only tale Cogitosus tells of her youth is of her as a dairy-maid, giving away all the butter she churned to the poor and yet miraculously able at the end of the day to produce vast quantities of butter for the farm’s use. Vita Prima tells the same tale, though in a slightly different manner, and adds another butter-miracle in her girlhood, but here the association with dairy-farming starts at the moment of her birth, when she was baptized by the fresh milk her mother had been bringing into the house but dropped when she went into labor. Bethu Brigte shares Vita Prima’s butter-miracles and also mentions her equally marvellous skills as a pig-herder while still a child. She is the consummate host as well, able to produce a sumptuous feast out of the most meager provisions, to allow 24 Bethu Brigte, ch. 4, p. 20. The Vita Prima does not mention this self-imposed restriction or the kinship between the druid and the man who witnesses her praying and hears but does not understand her first prophecy. 25 The Vita Prima includes a druid’s conversion, postponed to his deathbed after he had already given Brigid his inheritance. This druid is not identified as her foster-father, however (ch. 120, p. 47).

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a dog to have a chunk of bacon without diminishing her stores, or to turn water into beer or milk, depending on her guests’ needs. Throughout her Lives, she manifests miraculous powers as farmer and as host, whether caring for pigs, sheep, cows, or her own harvesters, whether producing milk, butter, bacon, or beer, whether hosting kings, bishops, paupers, or lepers, each incident attesting to her boundless generosity and compassionate charity, especially towards the poor. From childhood on she simultaneously embodied the highest Christian and indigenous Irish ideals, integrating values and abilities exemplified both by Christ at Cana and the Sea of Galilee and by native Goddesses of fertility and sovereignty; her performance of Christ’s first miracle has a distinctively Irish flavor, beer instead of wine, while her similarities with native Goddesses are given a decidedly Christian component, a preferential option for the poor and the leprous.

Consecration and Ordination Her hagiographers agree that Brigid faced family opposition to her vocation, a fate particularly common among female saints and one with which Patrick sympathized in his Confessio. Cogitosus simply says her parents wanted to marry her off, whereas she wanted to remain a virgin dedicated to God; he then proceeds immediately to her veiling, without explaining the resolution. Vita Prima and Bethu Brigte portray this opposition as part of an ongoing struggle between the saint and her father, who so resented her extreme charity—which generally meant giving away his possessions—that he attempted to sell her into slavery.26 When she rejected a marriage proposal from a promising prospect, her father and his sons attempted to coerce her into submission, forcing her to defend her decision and her virginity by bursting her own eye, confident that no man would then want her for a wife. According to Vita Prima her father got the message; according to Bethu Brigte, she also had to curse her brother with both his own eyes bursting, but either way, she prevailed. With her father’s blessing she received the veil and her beauty was restored. The righteous determination which marked her entrance into the religious life characterizes Brigid’s Christian career in general. She repeatedly defended the weak and vulnerable from the powerful and privileged. As a member of an oppressed people (the Fothairt), 26 These Lives portray Broicsech less like a mother and more like as an enslaved dairy-maid for whom the saint shows compassion and concern; she does not play an authoritative role in her daughter’s life.

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as a slave’s daughter, as an illegitimate child, and as a sister surrounded by domineering brothers, she knew what it was like to feel threatened and powerless, but she also knew how to triumph over threats and opposition, a skill she frequently drew on to benefit her faithful. Several of Brigid’s Lives make a singular claim for Brigid: that she was ordained not just as a nun, but as a bishop: It was the order of a bishop that it befel Bishop Mel to confer on Brigid, though it was only the order of penitence that she herself wanted: and it was then that Mac Caille held up a veil over Brigid’s head ut ferunt periti [i.e., as the learned report]; and from this the coarb [i.e., successor] of Brigid has always a right to have bishop’s orders and a bishop’s honour upon her.27

The account of Brigid’s episcopal ordination, which dates at least from the ninth century, has not fared well at the hands of modern scholars. Some see it as an “absurd story,”28 others as proof that the status of Irish holy women “is gained at the expense of other women,”29 that the holiest of women were in fact not women, “but ersatz men.”30 The early Irish themselves did not know quite what to make of this tale. Another version, found in the Book of Lismore, which includes Canair’s defense of her right to resurrect on Inis Cathaig, allows the patriarchal church to express its disapproval through the words of Mél’s assistant, MacCaille: 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 Mél: “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 over Brigit. Mac-caille said, that a bishop’s order should not 27 J. H. Bernard and R. Atkinson, The Irish Liber Hymnorum, 2 vols (London: Henry Bradshaw Society, 1898), II. 192; see also Book of Lismore, 323; Bethu Brigte, ch. 19, p. 24; and Félire Óengusso, 67. The role of coarb could be distinct from or combined with that of abbess (or abbot). Mél is said to be the son of Darerca, Patrick’s sister, whom Patrick separated from his female companion due to potential scandal; see Chapter One. The Liber Hymnorum identifies Mac Caille, whose name means son of the veil, with possible reference to his mother being a nun, as Mél’s brother. 28 John Ryan, Irish Monasticism, 183. 29 Mary Condren, The Serpent and the Goddess: Women, Religion, and Power in Celtic Ireland (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1989), 78. 30 Bitel, Land of Women, 192.

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be conferred on a woman. Said Bishop Mél: “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.31

In this account, Mél is merely God’s instrument, which lessens his blame, if such is to be given, but strengthens the divine origin of Brigid’s ordination. A third rendition emphasizes that Mél, “intoxicated with the grace of God,”32 accidentally read the wrong service over Brigid. However mistaken Mél may have been as he gave Ireland its exceptional episcopa, no less than four different versions of this ordination are extant, all used to elucidate the abbess of Kildare’s singular status among the Irish ecclesiastical hierarchy. Yet such a justification in no way lessens the legend’s impact, for thus we have an actual succession of women, and not merely a semi-mythical saint, who were accorded the honors, if not the actual office, of episcopacy—that is, until the synod of Kells-Mellifont deprived the abbess of the privilege in 1152.33 Despite the indignant insistence of those like the Jesuit John Ryan that “Brigid, as a woman, was incapable of receiving the sacrament of order. […] no semblance of an order corresponding to that of priest or bishop was ever conceded to the female sex,”34 scholars like Karen Torjesen and Gary Macy have persuasively challenged that particular patriarchal party line.35 In addition to heretical groups like the thirteenth-century Guglielmites, who did not just have female priests and bishops but female cardinals, pope, and savior, women were ordained among the orthodox in the medieval West. The concept of ordination changed drastically during the Gregorian Reform, becoming a fiercely guarded male preserve. Previously, women had been ordained as abbesses, deaconesses, and nuns, and some were conferred with the titles presbytera and episcopa, the female forms of priest and bishop. What specifically these titles signified remains unclear, but the Brigidine sources are not ambiguous: as Macy says, she was “actually ordained to the episcopacy. She was referred to as a bishop not out of courtesy or metaphorically. She was really ordained, even if by accident and even if 31 Book of Lismore, 188. 32 Bethu Brigte, ch. 19, pp. 6, 24. 33 Moody, ed., New History of Ireland, IX. 259. 34 Ryan, Irish Monasticism, 183-84. 35 Karen Jo Torjesen, When Women Were Priests: Women’s Leadership in the Early Church and the Scandal of Their Subordination in the Rise of Christianity (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1993); Macy, The Hidden History of Women’s Ordination.

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uniquely.”36 Nor was this honor ultimately unique to her, as she empowered other women—her sisters succeeding her as abbess of Kildare—to share in her episcopal status. In addition, the Book of Armagh tells of Patrick’s donation of Clúain Cáin in Ached “to the priest Medb and the priest Sadb.”37 While they are explicitly referred to as men (uiris), Medb (anglicized Maeve) is a feminine derivative of the word for mead, “and must once have signified something like ‘mead-woman.’”38 The name, which intrinsically indicates reference to a female, relates to Medb’s role as a sovereignty Goddess and queen, conferring the right to rule the land to her “husband,” the king, through their union, symbolized by her offering him the ceremonial cup of mead at their wedding, and Sadb is Medb’s daughter. The priests Medb and Sadb thus could possibly preserve a memory of women priests who had their sex textually changed, as happened to Junia the apostle, who was praised by Paul in Romans 16 and preceded him in the faith; later Christians changed her name to Junias and her sex to male to appease their insistence that such roles were exclusively occupied by men.39

Double Monasteries The Irish are frequently credited with influencing the spread of double, or mixed-sex, monasteries in Britain and on the Continent. John Ryan, the Jesuit scholar who rejects Brigid’s episcopacy, similarly denies the existence of double monasteries in Ireland, with the exception of Kildare, and argues against Irish influence on such monasteries in other countries, since “the Irish Church could not give what the Irish Church did not itself possess.”40 Yet hagiographers tell a different story, a fact that Ryan concedes with reluctance.41 Sometimes, however, the sources seem to share Ryan’s distaste for the arrangement. The same criticisms levelled at syneisaktism, discussed in Chapter One, were made against mixed-sex communities. St Daig had to contend with the disapproval of Áengus, abbot of Clonmacnoise, for his mixed monastery. Daig had restored 36 Macy, Hidden History of Women’s Ordination, 54. 37 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 170-71. 38 McCone, Pagan Past and Christian Present in Early Irish Literature (Maynooth: An Sagart, 1990), 109. 39 Epp, Junia. 40 Ryan, Irish Monasticism, 144. 41 Ryan lists several references to double monasteries in the vitae; in one case, he acknowledges that the description is “a statement which we are not in a position to control” (Irish Monasticism, 143).

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three women to life and then founded a monastery for them, with himself as magister, “teaching them the knowledge of letters.”42 Soon women joined Daig’s community in droves. When Áengus heard of Daig’s female flock, he sent some of his monks to rebuke Daig, but they were won over by the women’s chastity and holiness, particularly since, like Scothín’s companions, they could carry fire without any damage to themselves or their clothes. “The guests, seeing this, did penance. Blessed Daig led the nuns northwards, however, and he built different monasteries in varied places, in which they might serve God with other virgins apart (from men), just as was proper for them.”43 Patrick’s words to Mél and his “sister,” advising them to separate even after they proved their purity, as discussed in Chapter One, are called to mind—the supposed sin in their cohabitation was not sexual activity, but the scandal it brought to “the rabble.” Any scandal the monks felt disappeared when they met the women in question, however; Daig’s response stands at odds with the rest of the text. Though the hagiographer deems this segregation the proper course, he describes Daig’s subsequent syneisaktism with one of the virgins, Cunne, as well as a visit he made to a monastery wherein lived the sons of Flescaig with the holy virgin Riceilla, without condemnation. As Christina Harrington has observed, “In no seventh-, eighth-, or ninth-century text is the single-sex arrangement, which strictly excludes contact with women, enjoined or even described as the norm. In fact, one is hard pressed to find examples, of which only three have been found”—an anchorite in Brigid’s Vita Prima who deliberately kept himself and his men from women, but then a miracle brought them to Brigid and her nuns, where they stayed for three days and nights; Molua’s refusal of a possible site for his monastery that had been suggested by an angel, as “he was intensely aggravated by the temptation of women”;44 and Molua’s rejection of another location, because of its proximity to sheep, which meant proximity to women.45 In contrast, mixed communities are often mentioned in passing in the Lives, at times praised as places “where a multitude of holy men and nuns have served God faithfully from antiquity.”46 Cogitosus declares Kildare to 42 “Quas postea literarum scientiam edocens” HVSH, 392. 43 “Quod hospites videntes, penitentiam egerunt. Beatus autem Daygeus moniales illas versus septentrionem ducens, in diversis locis diversa monasteria, in quibus cum aliis virginibus seorsum Deo servirent, eis prout decuit construxit” HVSH, 392-93. 44 “[T]emptatione mulierum valde gravatus” HVSH, 136. 45 Harrington, Women in a Celtic Church, 127; see also Oxenham, Perceptions of Femininity, 141-42, 161-62. 46 “[U]bi sacrorum uirorum ac monialium ab antiquo Deo multitudo fideliter deseruiuit” (in reference to Clones), PVSH, II. 268.

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be a partnership between “the archbishop of Ireland and the abbess whom all Irish abbesses revere,” meaning Brigid and her successors, assisted by Kildare’s male bishops (despite the illustrious title, Ireland would not have archbishoprics until the twelfth century, and Kildare would not number among them), the first being Conláed, who plays a neglible role in Brigid’s Lives and has no known Life of his own. Cogitosus describes Kildare’s development to accommodate “the growing numbers of the faithful of both sexes,” both religious and lay, while the Liber Angeli portrays Patrick’s own cathedral city as a mixed community: “In this city of Armagh Christians of both sexes are seen to live together in religion from the coming of the faith to the present day almost inseparably.”47 Darerca’s community joined, left, rejoined and then broke off with Bishop Ibar’s monastic school. Lasair’s scholarly religious community included both men and women.48 In seventhcentury Belgium, Ita of Nivelles founded a mixed monastery under Irish discipline and with Irish monks, one of whom became one of the earliest Irish hagiographers when he wrote the vita of Gertrude, Ita’s daughter and the first abbess of Nivelles. 49 When Continental orders entered Ireland in the twelfth century, the Arroasian double order was adopted throughout the island, and Cistercians mixed monks and nuns at Mellifont, Inishlounaught, and Jerpoint—much to the chagrin of Stephen of Lexington in 1228.50 Rather than serving as the sole exception to the separation of the sexes, Kildare offers a microcosm of the range of gender relations in the Irish church. Although it quite clearly was a mixed monastery, only female virgins could tend and behold its sacred fire, or so said Giraldus Cambrensis in the twelfth century. Men who violated this prohibition went mad, one went lame as well, and another, overcome with unquenchable thirst, ran to the nearest body of water and desperately drank all he could until “he burst in the middle and died.”51 Mixed communities and sex segregation both existed in a variety of forms in medieval Ireland, even within the same site—and the same source. Some voices vehemently prefer segregation, but others celebrate integration, and most indicate no preference when discussing one or the other. As Lisa Bitel has argued, the spectrum of gender arrangements in the early Irish church causes “the inevitable historical debates over the nature 47 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 187. 48 Lucius Gwynn, “The Life of St. Lasair: Beatha Lasrach,” Eriu 5 (1912): 73-109, at 93. 49 Kenney, Sources, 501. 50 Stephen of Lexington, Letters from Ireland, 1228-1229, trans. Barry W. O’Dwyer (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1982), 24, 162, n11 p 170, 185. 51 Giraldus Cambrensis, The History and Topography of Ireland, trans. John J. O’Meara (Mountrath, Portlaoise, Ireland: Dolmen Press, 1982), 88, see also 82.

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and endurance of ‘double’ communities [to] lose relevance.”52 Contrary to the Catalogus’s claims, uniform gender arrangements, whether close collaboration or strict separation, seem to have been a pious fiction, no matter the age.

Meeting Women’s Needs Both male and female saints met the needs of their male and female faithful in a variety of ways, but women saints showed particular sensitivity and power in their responses to women’s situations, the most obvious examples involving sex, marriage, and reproduction. In one poignant tale, a nobleman tricked a woman whom he lusted after by giving her his brooch to hold, then secretly stealing it from her and throwing it into the sea; when she could not return it to him, he demanded that she become his sex-slave. “The fearful and chaste woman fled to St Brigid, as to the safest city of refuge.” She told the saint of the man’s deceit and, as Brigid debated what to do, a man brought in fresh-caught fish from the sea which was cut open, revealing the brooch inside. “St Brigid thus freed the chaste woman who was her follower from the hands of a most cruel tyrant, who afterwards confessed his guilt to her with his head humbly bowed.”53 Another time Brigid rescued a young woman who “wanted to preserve her virginity for God but her father had forced her to marry[;] she left her parents on the night of the wedding and fled for refuge to St. Brigid.”54 Even though the woman was technically a wife, bound to a mortal man as her husband, Brigid secured her release. The father followed the daughter to Brigid, who traced the sign of the cross on the ground, immobilizing the father and his men until they repented and freed the daughter to pursue her vocation. Given her personal plight and deliverance, driven to save herself from marriage by bursting her own eye, Brigid understandably empathized with women’s vulnerability to patriarchal plans. With Brigid’s power behind them, women repeatedly triumphed over male control. Among the greatest threats to patriarchy is women’s control of their own sexuality and fertility, with abortion seen by many as the vilest of crimes. Yet both Cogitosus and Vita Prima include it among Brigid’s miracles: With her powerful and inexpressible strength of faith, she confidently blessed a certain woman who had made a vow of virginity but was led 52 Bitel, Land of Women, 174. 53 Cogitosus, chapter 25. 54 Vita Prima, ch.117, pp. 46-47.

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astray in human frailty and fell prey to youthful lust and had then become pregnant, with her uterus swelling, and what had been conceived in her womb disappeared. Without childbirth and without pain Brigid restored her to a pristine state and brought her to penitence.55

The Vita Prima adds that the woman afterwards “gave thanks to God,”56 making her unique in hagiography—not in that she had a miraculous abortion performed on her by a saint, but in that her response to such a “blessing” is recorded. No less than four Irish saints performed such feats, the other three all male. The most detailed abortion account is told of Ciarán of Saigir, after he rescued Bruinnech, a young nun in his nearby mother’s community, who had been abducted by Dima, a local king. “When the man of God returned to the monastery with the girl, she confessed that she was pregnant. Then the man of God, led by the zeal of justice, not wishing the serpent’s seed to quicken, pressed down on her womb with the sign of the cross and forced

Image 1: Codex Salmanticensis 197v; reproduced with the permission of the Royal Library of Belgium 55 Cogitosus, chapter 9. 56 Vita Prima, ch. 103, p. 45.

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her womb to be emptied.”57 (See Image 1) Bruinnech’s feelings about her pregnancy or the subsequent abortion are not addressed, apart from her “confession.” Another “virgin” who underwent such a “miracle” “had sinned secretly”; when Áed mac Bricc noticed her swelling womb he blessed it, “and at once the baby (infans) in her womb disappeared as if it did not exist.”58 The recipient of Cainnech of Aghaboe’s abortion services had “fornicated secretly,” became pregnant, and asked Cainnech to bless her womb. When he did so, “at once the baby (infans) in her womb vanished without a trace.”59 While this may well have answered her most desperate prayers, the sort of blessing she sought is not specified. The saints respond to the women’s condition on their own initiatives, without consulting the women themselves, who are portrayed as little more than a vessel of a child unwanted by the saint, if not the mother. These accounts present abortion almost as part of the women’s penance for fornication. Significantly, Irish penitentials, which establish an atonement system for sins, regarded abortion as a relatively minor offense. For example, in the sixth-century Penitential of Finnian, its atonement requires less than half the time demanded for childbirth: If a woman by her magic (maleficio) destroys the child (partum) she has conceived of somebody, she shall do penance for half a year with an allowance of bread and water, and abstain for two years from wine and meat and fast for the six forty-day periods with bread and water. But if, as we have said, she bears a child and her sin is manifest, (she shall do penance) for six years, as is the judgement in the case of a cleric, and in the seventh year she shall be joined to the altar, and then we say her crown can be restored and she may don a white robe and be pronounced a virgin. 57 “Reverente vero viro Dei cum puella ad monasterium, confessa est puella se conceptum habere in utero. Tunc vir Dei, zelo iustitie ductus, viperium semen animari nolens, impresso ventri eius signo crucis, fecit illud exinaniri” (HVSH, 348. See also HVSH, 172, 197; Plummer, Bethada Náem nErenn, II. 101, 112). 58 “Quadam autem die, Aidus, iter agens, venit ad aliarum sanctarum virginum locum, qui dicitur Druimm Ard, et cum magno gaudio in hospicium receptus est. Intuens autem sanctus Aidus virguinem [sic] que sibi ministrabat, vidit quod uterus illius, partum gestans, intumescebat. Et cito surrexit ille sine cibo, ut ab isto fugeret.Tunc illa coram omnibus confessa est quod occulte peccasset et penitentiam egit. Sanctus autem Aidus benedixit uterum eius, et statim infans in utero eius evanuit quasi non esset” (HVSH, 172; cf. PVSH, I.38). 59 “[O]cculte fornicavit […] statim infans in utero eius non apparens evanuit” (HVSH, 197).

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The text says nothing about the woman’s marital status or the circumstances of conception, but the references to the cleric, the crown, and the restored virginal status suggest that the woman (mulier) was a nun who had broken her vow of chastity. Finnian does not specify a nun’s penance for simple fornication (i.e., just having sex), but the penance he decrees for a fornicating cleric is more severe than the woman’s (nun’s?) penance for abortion: if it happens only once and covertly, a full year on bread and water and two years without wine and meat; if it’s habitual, three years on bread and water, three years without wine and meat, and loss of office. A cleric who begets a child and commits infanticide must fast for three years on bread and water with days and night filled with weeping and prayer, followed by three years without wine and meat and with bread and water fasts during the nine forty-day periods, as well as “exile from his own country, until a period of seven years is completed.” Only after all that is he eligible to be restored to his office. Finnian concludes the section by declaring, “[i]f, however, he has not killed the child ( filium), the sin is less, but the penance is the same.”60 For abortion, apparently the sin was significantly less, as the penance was nowhere near the same.61 Brigid’s abortion miracle included helping the woman perform penance as well as sparing her the pain of childbirth, concerns that are absent in the male abortionist accounts. Throughout her cult, she shows exceptional sensitivity to and involvement in women’s diverse reproductive needs. Her feast day, February 1, was originally a pagan festival, Imbolc (also called Oímelc), which can be translated as “ewe-milk,” “parturition,” “heavily pregnant,” and “suckling.”62 The day after her feast day is the Purification of the Blessed Virgin, the day on which Mary could first enter the temple after having given birth to her male child. Brigid’s legend has her participating in the ritual, carrying a candle in each hand to light the way for the Virgin; no matter how fierce the wind blew, Brigid’s candle did not flicker. Nipplewort, a leaf used to soothe sore nipples, is known as Duilleog Bhrighde, Brigid’s leaf, in Ireland.63 60 Bieler, ed. The Irish Penitentials (1963; reprint, Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1975), 76-81. The forty-day fasts, three per year, refer to the three Lents observed in Ireland: before Easter, Pentecost, and Christmas. Note that the penance for murder was more severe than infanticide: exile for ten years, with three years bread and water, four years without wine and meat plus bread and water during the three Lents; then if his abbot or priest is willing to let him proceed, he may start trying to compensate the family and friends of his victim, including offering himself as his victim’s parents’ son (80-83). 61 See Callan, “Of Vanishing Fetuses and Maidens Made-Again: Abortion, Restored Virginity, and Similar Scenarios in Medieval Irish Literature,” Journal of the History of Sexuality 21 (2012): 282-96. 62 Condren, Serpent and the Goddess, 58; Kissane, Saint Brigid, 250. 63 Mould, Saint Brigid, 68.

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Other miracles attest to Brigid’s concern for women’s needs with regard to their sexuality and its consequences, such as when a mother begged her help because her husband wanted to kill their deformed and disabled son. “Brigid took pity on the woman,” and the boy was transformed into a perfect specimen of health.64 Another miracle relates to her disciple, Darlugdach, falling in love with a man. The two acted on their desires, but that night, as Brigid slept by her side, Darlugdach “was beset by exceedingly conflicting thoughts and she experienced an unspeakably powerful struggle in her heart, a struggle namely between love and fear, for she feared God and Brigit and was consumed with a most violent passion of love for the man.” She prayed to God, who counseled her to stick her feet into clogs filled with burning coals. And so it happened that f ire extinguished f ire and pain vanquished pain and she got back into her bed again. Now Brigit had observed all this but said nothing so that the girl might be tested and her mettle proved. But next day the girl confessed her sin. And Brigit said to her, “How courageously you fought last night! You burned your feet in the present life and the fire of fornication will not burn you again in the present life nor will the fire of hell in the life to come.” Then Brigit healed her burnt feet so that not even a trace of burning was to be seen on them any more than if the fire had not touched them.65

Darlugdach’s need for atonement arose from her feelings for the man and their conflict with her feelings for God and his saint, not the violation of her vowed virginity. Her self-imposed penance removed any taint of her sexual transgression and also any taint from her standing in the community, as she served as Brigid’s first successor as abbess of Kildare and thus would have been the first to share her episcopal status.

Secunda Brigida In addition to Brigid, three female Irish saints have extant medieval Lives: Darerca, Íte, and Samthann. Two of these three are described as secunda Brigida, meaning either a second Brigid or second after Brigid; either way, both recognize Brigid as the premier female saint of Ireland. Without getting into the intricacies of Latin, I second the latter interpretation, regarding 64 Vita Prima, ch. 100, p. 44. 65 Vita Prima, ch. 97, p. 44.

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Brigida as an ordinal ablative, meaning second to Brigid, rather than nominative, referring to the subject of the sentence, as in, “she is a second Brigid.” Darerca’s Life makes the dynamics explicit, describing her as post Brigidam vite sanctitate et morum honestate et virtutum gratia secunda, “second after Brigid in sanctity of life, nobility of character, and grace of virtues,” while she is staying with Brigid.66 It is still significant that Darerca is portrayed as Brigid’s junior when she seems at least chronologically to have been her elder, but various factors should be considered. While Brigid is primarily identified with Kildare, she also has a strong association with Faughart, which since the twelfth century was said to be her birthplace and was also a primary locus of Darerca’s cult, as she established a community there which eventually was succeeded by a community of Augustinian canonesses dedicated to Brigid.67 Bishop Ibar plays a key role in the Lives of both as well, although Darerca is portrayed as having the more prolonged and sustained relationship with him. And it should also be recognized that we do not have Darerca’s original Life, but only much later copies. Already by 700 Brigid’s acknowledged authority prompted even Patrick’s promoters to recognize her challenge. At what point Darerca’s stay and secondary status in comparison with Brigid was written into her story cannot be ascertained. The secunda Brigida concept is central to an analysis by Dorothy Bray. Bray does not consider Darerca here, focusing instead on Íte, who is described in her Life as secunda Brigida meritis et moribus, which I translate as “second (only) to Brigid in merits and character.”68 Bray interprets it as “a second Brigid” and argues that Íte’s holiness is primarily derivative of Brigid’s. She builds on her argument by saying Samthann’s sanctity similarly derives from Íte’s. Thus the three manifest one type of piety, Brigid’s (and ultimately Mary’s).69 Yet all four saints retain distinct individuality while sharing similarities, as virtually all saints share similarities. Sanctity is frequently derivative in hagiography. Saints are often doubled—as the two Darercas and countless Brigids attest. Their frequent name changes—for example, Íte, originally Deirdre, became Íte due to “her great thirst (íota) for the love of God”70—and “hypocorisms,” meaning nicknames, add to the confusion and the greater likelihood of conflation, as 66 HVSH, 84. 67 Kissane, Saint Brigid, 143. 68 PVSH, II. 130. 69 Dorothy Bray, “Secunda Brigida: Saint Ita of Killeedy and the Brigidine Tradition,” in Celtic Languages and Celtic Peoples: Proceedings of the Second North American Congress of Celtic Studies, ed. Cyril J. Byrne, Margaret Harry, and Pádraig Ó Siadhail (Halifax, Nova Scotia: D’Arcy McGee Chair of Irish Studies, 1992), 27-38. 70 Martyrology of Donegal, 16 n1.

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happened with Darerca whose nickname Moninne in Conchubran’s hands became Monenna, leading to her conflation with Modwenna. The cults of these women may be composite to an indeterminate extent and they definitely influenced each other, yet a degree of individuality still remains. Generally speaking, however, individuality is a standard cost of sanctity, as “sanctity is derived from the sacred, which is radically singular.”71 Hagiographers unabashedly “borrow” from previous saints’ Lives. Samthann is more explicitly modelled after Martin of Tours, for example, than she is after Íte. Starting perhaps as early as the sixth century, the century in which she died, Brigid is repeatedly celebrated as “another Mary.” Cogitosus declares at the start of his Life that God “predestined [Brigid] to conform to his own image” and stresses her likeness to Christ throughout. Such intentional imitation dates back at least to the Bible’s Acts of the Apostles, when the first martyr, Stephen, is shown as another Christ, alter Christus, even down to sharing the same final words.72 Conformity with Christ strengthened martyrs as they faced the worst torments the Roman Empire could devise for them, as eloquently expressed by the Christian slave Felicitas shortly before she was martyred with her mistress, Perpetua, among others, in 203. The heavily pregnant Felicitas feared her death would be delayed until after she had given birth. So two days before their scheduled execution, the group poured forth a prayer to the Lord in one torrent of common grief. And immediately after their prayer the birth pains came upon her. She suffered a good deal in her labour because of the natural difficulty of an eight months’ delivery. Hence one of the assistants of the prison guards said to her: “You suffer so much now—what will you do when you are tossed to the beasts? Little did you think of them when you refused to sacrifice.” “What I am suffering now,” she replied, “I suffer by myself. But then another will be inside me who will suffer for me, just as I shall be suffering for him.” And she gave birth to a girl; and one of the sisters brought her up as her own daughter.

71 Thomas J. Heffernan, Sacred Biographies: Saints and Their Biographers in the Middle Ages (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), 7. 72 Heffernan, Sacred Biographies, 114-17.

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As part of her preparation, Perpetua visualized herself transforming into a man as she battled in the arena, which has been used to support the view that a holy woman must sacrifice her female identity. Yet it also signifies her conformity with Christ as well as her ideal of a strong, muscular fighter who could triumph in battle. Moreover, throughout the vision feminine endings and pronouns are consistently used for her and it ends with God as her trainer kissing her and declaring, “Peace be with you, my daughter,” affirming her female identity.73 As Margaret Cotter-Lynch argues, in her self-revelation as “at once male and female […] [Perpetua] does not cross gender boundaries; she eradicates them.”74 Dorothy Day, a twentieth-century American currently caught in the canonization process, famously remarked, “Don’t call me a saint. I don’t want to be dismissed that easily.”75 Day’s raw humanity—her abortion, her multiple marriages, her radical politics—would surely be erased if her story were put in the hands of those who shared our medieval hagiographers’ perspectives. It is one thing for a saint to perform an abortion, but quite another for the saint to be the fallen virgin in need of such services herself. Tradition might have transformed Mary Magdalene into a repentant whore, for example, but it didn’t allege she had an abortion.76 The flaws and imperfections, the rich complexity that makes us so marvelously human and our lives so magnificently meaningful, often get obliterated during hagiographic treatment. What gets recast “out of such diversity […] [often] is such a stifling sameness.”77 But saints do not inspire in the abstract; their personal examples resonate to varying degrees depending on the individual, specific situations, and so forth. As Hippolyte Delehaye observed over a century ago, The saints show forth every virtue in superhuman fashion—gentleness, mercy, forgiveness of wrongs, self-discipline, renunciation of one’s own will: they make virtue attractive and ever invite Christians to seek it. Their life is indeed the concrete manifestation of the spirit of the Gospel; and,

73 “The Martyrdom of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” in Women’s Religions in the Greco-Roman World: A Sourcebook, ed. Ross Shepard Kramer (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 363, 365; Margaret Cotter-Lynch, Saint Perpetua across the Middle Ages: Mother, Gladiator, Saint (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2016), 3, 28-29. 74 Cotter-Lynch, Saint Perpetua, 16, 30, emphasis in original. 75 James Martin, SJ, My Life with the Saints (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2006), 226. 76 Sometimes saints’ mothers allegedly attempted abortion or infanticide, however, as in the case of Germanus of Paris and Moling. 77 Heffernan, Sacred Biographies, 15.

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in that it makes this sublime ideal a reality for us, legend, like all poetry, can claim a higher degree of truth than history.78

According to Catholic and Orthodox thought, saints affirm that, while all receive God’s grace, not everyone responds equally. We meet God’s grace with our own heroic virtue and grow to become more Godlike—or not. The company of saints unites its consitutents in a shared sanctity, but our individuality remains visible, to varying degrees, beneath holy perfection’s veneer. This unity in diversity mirrors the divine, the triune God, three yet one, including a mortal man who is also God incarnate in the eyes of the Christian faithful.

Conclusion In Cogitosus’s Life, Brigid’s extensive travels ultimately lead to her shrine, her body positioned at the premier place of power, the right hand of God, on the north side of the altar, with her partner Conláed, the hermit she picked out of obscurity to be her priest and bishop, on the south side, “thus reinforcing Conláed’s minor role in Brigit’s life and ecclesiastical organization. Their placement signified the administrative status of the abbess-saint who, with her attending bishop, had founded the ‘episcopal and feminine see’ of Kildare.” Cogitosus’s primary purpose was to enhance the already well-worn pilgrimage path to Kildare, to help add to its riches and power; with Brigid’s body so centrally located, the saint’s faithful knew she “presided at every mass.”79 That is, until the gold, silver, and precious gems that Cogitosus describes as adorning Brigid’s shrine apparently proved irresistible to marauding Vikings around 800. Brigid’s body then became lost for centuries, until it was supposedly reinterred with ColmCille and Patrick in Patrick’s tomb at Downpatrick, or so Giraldus Cambrensis claimed in 1185.80 Four centuries later, Protestants destroyed the tomb and the saints’ supposed bones were scattered across Europe. But regardless where her actual relics may rest, Brigid has always transcended corporeal limitations and made her home among her faithful, wherever they might travel. And if there’s one thing the Irish excel at, it’s travel. 78 Hippolyte Delehaye, The Legends of the Saints, trans. Donald Attwater (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1998), 181. 79 Bitel, “Ekphrasis,” 617. 80 Giraldus Cambrensis, History and Topography, 105, and Expugnatio Hibernica, 2.35, pp. 234-35.

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Denied her body, the divine strains in her cult came to dominate. “No body, no saint—unless that saint happened to be a numinous f igure recaptured from the heroic, pre-Patrician, Irish past, re-infused into the very land itself.”81 An Irish Goddess named Brigid has been recorded at least since the ninth century, in Cormac mac Cuilennáin’s glossary, Sanas Cormaic: Brigit, that is, the female poet, daughter of the Dagdae. This is Brigit the female seer, or woman of insight, i.e. the goddess whom poets used to worship, for her cult was very great and very splendid. It is for this reason that they call her the goddess of poets by this title, and her sisters were Brigit the woman of leechcraft and Brigit the woman of smithcraft, i.e. goddesses, i.e. three daughters of the Dagdae are they. By their names the goddess Brigit was called by all the Irish.82

Multiple other divine Brigids soon surfaced, including a member of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, or “the People of the Goddess Danu,” Ireland’s mythical earlier inhabitants who become known as both the Old Gods and the Faerie Folk. Yet apparently no one explictly tied the saint to the Goddess until the end of the nineteenth century.83 One writer then claimed the saint never existed, a view that has remained surprisingly popular, while Irish nationalists like Maud Gonne saw saint and Goddess as inextricably intertwined, “the apotheosis of the Irish mythology of the feminine, the aesthetic, and the rural.”84 Yet claiming she must be only one or the other, Goddess or saint, misses an essential message of her meaning. From the dawn of Brigid’s cult she is linked in sisterhood, first to Mary, the Jewish mother of Christ. Like Irish Christianity itself, she is flexible, adaptable, syncretic. She reflects core Irish characteristics, including the reasons why Christianity has resonated so deeply in Ireland and the pagan influences that helped give rise to the receptivity. She exemplifies such harmony with nature that she can hang her cloak on a sunbeam, control 81 Bitel, “Body of a Saint,” 210. 82 Kuno Meyer, ed., Sanas Cormaic: An Old-Irish Glossary (Halle: Hodges, Figgis, Max Niemeyer, 1912), 15. 83 As Bray notes, “[i]t would be to impute incredible naiveté and ignorance on the part of Brigit’s hagiographers to think that they were unaware of the existence of a goddess of the same name. But it is also difficult to believe that they deliberately set out to transform this goddess into a Christian saint” [“Saint Brigit and the Fire from Heaven,” Études Celtiques 29 (1992): 105-13, at 110]. 84 McKenna, “Apotheosis,” 82.

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the weather, and tame any beast; “the whole of nature, beasts, cattle, and birds, was subjected to her power.”85 Her power over fertility includes the ability to abort a problematic pregnancy as well as to make land and animals produce needed food—or drink—at will. She draws on such skills in her boundless generosity and compassionate charity, the ideal hostess. She enjoys a good tale, a fine poem, and bountiful beer—all the better when combined. As she says in a poem: I should like a great lake of ale For the King of the Kings I should like the family of Heaven To be drinking it through time eternal.86

Rather than rejecting Ireland’s pagan heritage, at least parts of the Brigidine corpus embrace it, as Christianity incorporates Judaism. Paganism, in the person of her foster-father druid, is like a kindly uncle who understands and supports her when no one else does. At one point he recognizes his own inadequacies in feeding her, prompting him to arrange for a Christian virgin to milk a white cow with red ears, a solution that itself evokes the pagan Otherworld. Brigid’s cult reflects the syncretism that characterizes Irish Christianity, drawing on pagan expressions of the divine without insisting on sharp divisions. This syncretism is not confined to beliefs, but is reflected in her faithful’s inclusive pluralism. Like sainthood itself, Brigid reflects unity in diversity. She integrates opposites and stands as the sister of all, regardless of social class, ethnic identity, or even religious affiliation, fighting especially for the vulnerable and oppressed, including women within a patriarchal society. As Cogitosus proclaims, she provides “the safest refuge in all the lands of the Irish,” offering an empowering, inclusive image of sanctity for “a multitude of people from various ranks and classes and sexes and places […] separated by partitions and differing in rank, but one in spirit.”87 In 2016, I concluded my research for this book with one more visit with Ireland’s saints as I also took the photographs featured in Appendix A: The Sites. I saved Kildare for last, but in ways Brigid was with me every step 85 Cogitosus, chapter 21; here I follow Seán Connolly and Jean-Michel Picard’s translation, “Cogitosus’s Life of St. Brigit: Content and Value,” Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, 117 (1987): 5-27, at 20. 86 Eugene O’Curry, Lectures on the Manuscript Materials of Ancient Irish History (Dublin: James Duffy, 1861), 616. 87 Cogitosus, chapter 32.

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of the way. Faughart, said to be her birthplace as well as the site of one of Darerca’s early foundations, was one of my first stops, and virtually every county featured signs pointing to her churches and wells across the island. At Kildare I revisited the reputed reconstructed foundation of her “fire temple,” where, according to Giraldus Cambrensis, Brigid tended a sacred flame with nineteen other virgins, each taking her own night; long after Brigid’s death, Giraldus claims, she still kept her twentieth night, so that the fire blazed on even after Giraldus and his kin had invaded and colonized Ireland in the late twelfth century.88 Some say Brigid’s flame did not survive the next century, however, while others say it was another casualty of the imposition of Protestantism upon sixteenth-century Ireland. Kildare also includes the tallest round tower you can climb in all Ireland, a fourteenth-century vault cheekily called Brigid’s Kitchen, an unfinished Celtic cross, apparently never chiseled, and the lumpen remains of another vault, marked “History Unknown.” The latter two call to mind Isak Dinesen’s The Blank Page, upon which any number of stories or images might be projected. Brigid isn’t just remembered in Kildare; she thrives, embodied especially among a trio of Brigidine sisters and their center, Solas Bhríde (Brigid’s Light). In 1993, they reignited Brigid’s flame, which they have lovingly tended ever since. Their order was established in 1807 by Bishop Daniel Delany, who declared it a restoration of Brigid’s original order. Like Brigid, the sisters commit their lives to cultivating compassion for humanity and all of God’s creatures. Solas Bhríde is a marvel of modern environmental technology, deriving its power from sun, earth, air, and water. The sisters “stand in solidarity with the oppressed and seek to build a more inclusive community,” welcoming “people of all faiths and of no faith,” as they “unfold the legacy of St. Brigid and its relevance for our time.”89 With infectious kindness and good-nature, they inform visitors that Brigid’s vision includes them, that her blessings are already upon them, that the prayers of the artist who made her icon ensure that all who should ever see it have been integrated into it since its inception. Visiting with Rita and Mary Minehan, biological as well as spiritual sisters like so many of the holy women who surface within Ireland’s medieval manuscripts, provided an ideal ending for this tour. Too many of these saints have been forgotten—indeed, Solas Bhríde’s Irish architects, Solearth, declare Brigid “Ireland’s only female saint”—but here Ireland’s heritage of strong, saintly women lives on, offering refuge to those in need, caring for 88 Giraldus Cambrensis, History and Topography, 81-82. 89 http://solasbhride.ie/ , http://solasbhride.ie/who-we-are/ (accessed September 27, 2016).

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the earth, working for peace and justice, and inspiring people to deepen their sense of spirituality in a serene and supportive setting.90 No matter one’s particular religious perspectives, Ireland’s holy women, modern and medieval, remind us of our mutual interdependence, that compassion and care for each other and the earth are essential elements of our salvation, however that might be defined. Eventually, perhaps, we might also reclaim the righteousness of Ireland’s first order of saints, achieving an equality in which gender no longer divides us, when women’s history is wholly integrated into the narrative, when we have a fuller sense of our past, and of our future possibilities.

90 http://www.solearth.com/projects/view/spiritual-retreat-centre (accessed September 29, 2016).

4

“God Is Always Present with Those Who Exemplify Such Devotion” Íte, Foster-Mother of the Saints of Ireland

Abstract Íte exemplifies the inclusive community created by these Christian holy women as she advocates for her faithful, whom she serves as a spiritual mother. No matter how significant their sins, she stands by their side, helping them take responsibility for their actions, find forgiveness, and be welcomed back into their community. She, alone among saints, is celebrated as the muimme sanctorum Hiberniae, the foster-mother of the saints of Ireland. Her Life claims she was taught directly by the Holy Spirit, drawing on this training in her celebrated school that gave several saints their start. Her Life portrays her as committed to both males and females, curing them of various ills, including lapsed virginity and even death, and sharing her wisdom with them. She is especially respected for her virtue, wisdom, gift of prophecy, and healing abilities, as well as a powerful patron and an abbess who tempered her authority with great kindness, all aspects of her role as muimme. Key words: prophecy, patronage, poetry, purgatory, restored virginity, spiritual motherhood

Íte, alone among saints, is celebrated as the muimme sanctorum Hiberniae, the foster-mother of the saints of Ireland. Her Life claims she was taught directly by the Holy Spirit (a common feature in Lives of holy women, as females often had less access to formal education), which she drew on when she founded a well-known school which gave several saints their start—a school that is known primarily from the Lives of her male pupils, most famously Brendan and Mochaomhóg. Her vita portrays her as committed to both males and females, curing them of various ills, even death, and

Callan, M. B., Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463721509_ch04

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sharing her wisdom with them. She had an inclusive vision of the holy life; as she told a nun who asked her why she was so beloved by God, “God is always present with those who exemplify such devotion.”1 Íte is widely respected for her virtue, wisdom, gift of prophecy, and healing abilities, as well as a powerful patron and an abbess who tempered her authority with great kindness, all aspects of her role as muimme. Like Darerca, Íte is sometimes viewed as a virago, a woman who sacrifices her sex for her sanctity, an aspiration even implicitly attributed to Íte’s own mother, simply because she supported her daughter’s religious vocation. Such an analysis adheres to what Jerome (347-420) regarded as axiomatic: “As long as a woman is for birth and children she is different from man as body is from soul. But when she wishes to serve Christ more than the world, then she will cease to be a woman, and will be called man (vir).”2 Jerome’s views have disproportionately influenced interpretations of medieval Christendom, but his insistence that holiness comes at the cost of a woman’s female and feminine identity was not universally held. The hagiographers behind the vitae sanctarum Hiberniae saw their female subjects as both saints and feminine, saving their faithful not despite their sex but sometimes because of it. Íte’s vita makes this especially evident, emphasizing her embodiment of female/feminine roles like that of bride of Christ and muimme, her generous and nurturing compassion, her determination to fight for justice tempered by mercy, and her empowering and inclusive solidarity with other women. Like her sister sanctae Hiberniae, she strove to help restore a fallen humanity rather than to surpass limitations set by her sex. The main source for Íte’s Life is her vita in the thirteenth-century Codex Kilkenniensis, with a related version in the mid-twelfth-century Great Austrian Legendary. The text claims to have been written within a generation or so of Íte, as the son of a man for whom she performed a miracle is said to still be alive. The community’s gender make-up may help support the author’s assertion. The most complete survey of medieval Irish religious houses, Gwynn and Hadcock’s Medieval Religious Houses: Ireland, describes Killeedy (Cill Íte, the Church of Íte, previously known as Cluain Credail, the Church of the Meadow) as a double monastery, but the vita portrays a female-only community, apart from her nephew Mochaomhóg and a few 1 PVSH II.119; chapter 11. 2 Jerome, Commentarius in Epistolam ad Ephesios, Book III, Chapter V, Verse 28, in Patrologia Latina, ed. J. P. Migne, vol. 26 (Paris, 1845), col. 533.658. This standard translation is quoted in multiple sources, including Vern L. Bullough, “Cross Dressing and Gender Role Change in the Middle Ages,” in Handbook of Medieval Sexuality, ed. Bullough and James A. Brundage (1996; reprint, New York: Routledge, 2010), 223-42, at 227.

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visitors.3 Brendan’s residence at Killeedy is referenced only in his vita, although he does visit in Íte’s. Félire Óengusso records Íte’s prophecy that no nun shall succeed her as abbess. 4 The Annals of the Four Masters records abbots of Killeedy in the years 810 and 833, and it likely became a mainly, if not entirely, male monastery.5 Thus Íte’s vita may reveal the history of her community that has eluded scholars, a time when the members of her community were primarily if not exclusively female. Unlike Félire Óengusso, Íte’s vita does not reference gender changes in her community even though it repeatedly celebrates her prophetic power. This suggests that the Killeedy of the vita may reflect the community at the time of its writing. Thus the extant twelfth- or thirteenth-century text possibly preserves a seventh- or eighth-century vita, written before men had assumed the abbacy of her monastery.

The Path to the Holy Life Íte had to overcome great resistance from her father to her divine vocation, although not at the cost of her eye, like Brigid (or Cranat). She came from a ruling family, the Déisi, descending from the ard rí, or high king, of Tara.6 Her family was apparently already Christian, as she was baptized in her infancy. Even as a child, she performed great miracles which were witnessed by others: “When she was able to walk and talk, she showed herself prudent in word and deed, refined in her speech, and constant in her mind; words of utter chastity always fell from her lips, and she was meek before all, extremely generous, constantly fearing and loving God, and always working against evil and for good; thus she lived in her parents’ house in girlhood.”7 On one occasion, Íte’s bedroom seemed to erupt in flames while she slept. Her neighbors rushed to the site, where they found the building and the girl unscathed—similar to stories also told of Brigid, Samthann, and Lasair. When she awoke, Íte was even more stunning than she had been before, bearing the beauty of angels, so that others could barely behold her: “And 3 Gwynn and Hadcock, Medieval Religious House, 392. 4 Stokes, Félire Óengusso, 45. 5 E.g., Kenney, Sources, 389; Ryan, Irish Monasticism, 140. 6 PVSH II.116. The Félire Óengusso renders her lineage as “daughter of Cenn-faelad, son of Cormac, son of Cúcorp, son of Conchobar, son of Conall, son of Oengus, son of Art-corp, son of Coirbre Rigfota, son of Fiachra Suigde, son of Fedlimid Rechtmar” (Stokes, Félire Óengusso, 45). Brigid is also said to descend from Fedlimid Rechtmar and Art Corp. Such claims have limited historical value. 7 PVSH II.116; chapter 1.

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then everyone knew that the grace of God blazed around her”—everyone, that is, except her father, who is unnamed in her Life but claimed as a king and who insisted that she marry.8 Íte, taught by the Holy Spirit, preached to her mother about divine matters and ended by asking her mother to persuade her father to allow her to pursue a holy life. Her mother earnestly took up her daughter’s cause, but her father refused his permission, as he already had an enticing offer from a prospective son-in-law. Others added their voices to the now annoyed queen’s but still the king vehemently refused. Íte then advised them to stop their appeals, as she knew that Jesus would intercede and soon her father would free her to follow her vocation. And so it was. Íte’s mother’s positive reaction to her daughter’s decision and her active support in helping her realize her goal, even when it meant arguing with her husband and refusing a respectable suitor, differ from the trend of parental responses to female saintly vocations noted by Donald Weinstein and Rudolph Bell in their analysis of Christian saints from 1100 to 1700. Of their sample, over twice as many female saints who chose the religious life in adolescence had to confront strong opposition from their mothers as had supportive mothers.9 Regardless of maternal reaction, Weinstein and Bell suggest that girls’ vocations can be laid at their mothers’ feet, since they “understood not role models but people; they rejected not an abstraction but their mothers.” Their emphasis on religious vocation’s negative aspects, what the girl hoped to be free from rather than what she hoped to be free to, continues in their analysis of the mothers: Where the mother supported rather than opposed her daughter’s aspirations to sanctity against the opposition of her husband, a modern reader may suspect that she was vicariously rejecting her own femininity; the maternal path she had chosen—or had been forced into—was not good enough for her child. Whether or not she was rejecting her own femininity, however, she was surely helping her daughter to do so.10

Yet to define femininity strictly by the role of wife to a mortal man and mother to biological children severely restricts the concept of femininity, in both a 8 Other sources name him Ceann Faoladh (Cenn-faelad) and her mother Feidhealm, daughter of Dallbhrónach. 9 Seven to three for mothers with a major influence on their daughters [Donald Weinstein and Rudolph M. Bell, Saints and Society: The Two Worlds of Western Christendom, 1100-1700 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1982), 127]. There is not a comparable study for saints of Íte’s age (sixth century), but her Life in its current forms dates from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. 10 Weinstein and Bell, Saints and Society, 46.

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modern sense and medieval terms. As Judith Butler notes, gender “is an identity tenuously constructed in time […] through a stylised repetition of acts,” which is not “a substantial model of identity” but “a constituted social temporality.”11 The roles and behaviors Íte’s hagiographer ascribes to his (her?) saint show he saw her as feminine, and, as this is the only reference to Íte’s mother, any presumptions about her attitude to femininity or the wifely/maternal role reflect more upon the individual scholar than on Íte’s mother or hagiographer. Íte renounced her physical sexuality, but she retained her femininity, and as Christ’s bride and the muimme of several saints she perpetuated the wifely and maternal role she first learned from her own mother. Rather than a failed nun, motivated by resentment concerning her own life, perhaps Íte’s mother was a loving and supportive woman who trusted and respected her daughter. It seems simpler to read her assistance as an example of female solidarity than of feminine rejection. In addition, none of Ireland’s female saints with vitae faced explicit opposition from their mothers to their choice to become nuns; active opposition came instead from fathers or brothers. Íte’s consecration is discussed in remarkably little detail. Much more attention is paid to her journey to the church, when she was beset by demons on all sides. This was not her first battle with the unholy, however. Between her advice to her advocates to cease their entreaties to her father and her father’s acceptance, Íte fasted for three days and nights. During this time, the devil tried to tempt her, perhaps signifying her own inner turmoil between the life she had chosen and the life her father expected of her. Íte, however, consistently resisted him, even while she slept. On the fourth morning, the devil departed, lamenting, “Alas, not only yourself shall you free from me, Íte, but also many others.”12 His point is elaborated upon by the demons who were vanquished by angels as they attempted to attack Íte as she made her way to the church. The demons declared, “Woe to us, because from this day on we will not be able to struggle against this virgin. We wished to avenge our injuries on her today, but the angels of God freed her from us. She will root us out of our many dwelling-places, and she will rescue more souls from us in this world, and even from hell.”13 This most memorably came to pass when she helped her cousins rescue their father from hell. Later in her Life, Íte was visited by St. Ríceann, who had come with her foster-son, the bishop Columban, to seek a cure for her sick daughter. Íte 11 Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (New York: Routledge, 1990), 140–41. 12 PVSH II.117; chapter 5. 13 PVSH II.118; chapter 7.

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helped Ríceann deal with her daughter’s suffering and probable death by informing her that she and her daughter could choose for her to remain on earth, healthy but dying in sin, or endure her earthly torment and receive heavenly reward, quoting Paul, “for virtue is perfected in weakness.”14 This passage has been used regularly to legitimate female religious authority, female sex being the weakness, but the reference here relates to human frailty and physical suffering generally, not gender. Another of Íte’s remarks to Ríceann does suggest specifically female weakness or the need for male protectors, the only passage in the vita to do so: “Handmaid of God, your journey would not have been successful had the bishop not accompanied you, because demons plot a great deal against our sex.”15 Those “demons” could refer to male assailants, a common hazard for travelling religious, male and female alike, or it could imply the common medieval Christian view that women were especially susceptible to demonic temptation, as Eve had so succumbed in Eden. Such threats neither deterred Ríceann nor cloistered other women, however. Just before departing Killeedy, Ríceann asked Íte’s advice about visiting another holy woman who lived on Ireland’s south coast. Íte told her that her dearest friend (karissima sodalis) was already en route to visit her, so she should head for her own home and the two women’s paths would cross where Leinster meets Munster. If Íte’s remark about demonic plots is intended to emphasize her own ability to overcome her inherent feminine weakness, it seems at odds with the rest of the vita, but Bray has read it in such a way, claiming it “mitigates her existence as a female, with all the attendant sins and moral turpitude attributed to women by the early Church Fathers.”16 Such gender dynamics do not shape Íte’s vita, however, with the possible exception of this statement to Ríceann. Íte is not celebrated as an honorary male, unlike Darerca, and she retains her femininity throughout her Life. Her sanctity did come at the cost of her sexuality, as is standard for saints, but this renunciation is not emphasized as heavily as it is in other vitae, nor is it explicitly gendered. In addition, on his deathbed, Comgán, abbot of Killeshin (Co. Laois), sent for Íte and asked her to close his mouth upon his death, saying, “For I know from an angel of God that if you place your hands on anyone who is dying the Lord’s angels will immediately lead their soul into the kingdom of God.” Íte humbly protested her unworthiness, without reference to gender, but Comgán insisted, “I speak the truth. Because of what I have asked for, no 14 PVSH II.124 (2 Cor 12.9) ; chapter 24. 15 PVSH II.124; chapter 24. 16 Bray, “Secunda Brigida,” 30.

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demon will dare draw near our path or in any way accost us.”17 Here Íte provides the protection a man—an abbot, no less—must have upon his most important journey. Regardless, Íte seems to have been alone, other than the angels and demons battling over her, as she travelled to the church for her consecration. Shortly after taking the veil, Íte made a much longer journey. Her first action as a nun was to pray to God for guidance. An angel came to her and told her she must leave her homeland behind and become the patron of the Uí Conaill Gabra in modern Limerick, sharing patronage with Senán, who resisted sharing Inis Cathaig with Canair. She traveled with companions of unspecified gender or kinship and arrived at Sliabh Luachra, where she was met by the aforementioned angel. The angel designated the specific site for her monastery and her fame spread far and near: “Many virgins from all over came to St. Íte, to serve God under her care, and she received them all, piously and joyfully.”18 These virgins were soon followed by the Uí Conaill Gabra, who came with their leader to give her grants of land. Íte refused land greater than a hectare for gardening, however, on the grounds that property drags one into secular matters and detracts from devotion to God. This adherence to holy poverty surfaces again in her Life, when a wealthy man wished to give her some silver. Íte cast the silver from her in disdain and immediately washed her hands after touching it, as she regarded all worldly wealth as “filth.” Íte explained to the man that wealth should stay with secular powers, “however, for the poor and pilgrims their reward is in heaven.”19 The Uí Conaill Gabra made the proto-Franciscan Íte their patron, and, ironically if not hypocritically, the Life proceeds to praise them for bringing abundant alms and gifts for the use of her holy virgins. Like Patrick and his promoters before, a sharp disconnect exists between the saints’ attitudes towards wealth and that of their hagiographers, but a primary purpose of hagiography is to increase donations from the saints’ faithful for the ongoing work of the saints’ communities.

Prophecy and Patronage Íte’s sanctity manifests especially in her power of prophecy. She is called prophetissa (prophet, female) eight times in her own vita, three times in 17 PVSH II.120; chapter 13. 18 PVSH II.118; chapter 8. 19 PVSH II.123; chapter 21.

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Mochaomhóg’s, and twice in Brendan’s. One chapter of her vita consists solely of the statement, “God then lavished so much grace of prophecy on St. Íte that she knew whether the sick would survive or would die from their illness.”20 As this sentence suggests, her prophetic and healing powers intertwine. The spirit of prophecy facilitated her resurrecting pagans so that they might live again as Christians, as well as reviving a boy who had been unable to make vocal confession on his death-bed. Íte made sure that those seeking her aid understood the proper source of her power, which came directly from the divine. For example, a wealthy layman once visited Íte and asked that she ensure that his mares all bear colts with white heads and red coats. Íte responded that she can do no such thing; only God can. He then clarified that he wanted her to ask the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit to do so. “The handmaid of God said to him: ‘Because you believe so in God, thus your colts will appear this year, just as you wish.’ Rejoicing at this prophecy, he left; and everything happened, just as the handmaid of God foretold.”21 Íte’s power of prophecy also enabled her to serve as an impartial and effective judge, as when a theft occurred at a nearby monastery of nuns. The abbess of the monastery brought her nuns to Íte to solve the dilemma. Íte immediately exonerated the virgin upon whom most of the suspicion had fallen, and declared that the culprit was a penitent then living at the monastery to atone for a previous offense. Íte revealed where they would find the stolen article, and said the thief would not remain with them after being discovered, but instead would become like a prostitute. Such things came to pass, in a fascinating conclusion: “[T]he wretched woman, forsaking her habit, insisted on remaining amid the forest-dwellers in the vilest fornication.”22 These forest-dwellers may mean the fían, forest brigands who served as enforcers for kings and escapist fantasy for those stuck in settled society.23 Íte’s prophetic power repeatedly entailed predicting sexual sin, her sisters’ greatest vulnerability. Her vita includes three such transgressions, each with intriguing implications. In the first, Íte confronted a nun who had fallen just the day before. The nun denied her guilt, but Íte described the event exactly as it happened. Awed by the prophet’s power, the nun confessed at once. “And 20 PVSH II.120; chapter 12. 21 PVSH II.125; chapter 26. 22 PVSH II.126; chapter 27. 23 McCone, Pagan Past and Christian Present, 211; Richard Sharpe, “Hiberno-Latin Laicus, Irish Láech and the Devil’s Men,” Ériu 30 (1979): 75-92; Nerys Thomas Patterson, Cattle-Lords and Clansmen: The Social Structure of Early Ireland (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1994), 47.

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she was restored, doing penance according to the order of St. Íte.”24 Here Íte functions as confessor, a common position of Irish abbesses over their nuns. Yet Íte’s role as confessor is not limited to women, as later a warrior came to Íte, seeking atonement, and he performed penance according to her order as well.25 Similarly, Brendan’s Life praises Íte’s powers to absolve above all other saints of Ireland: Brendan sought atonement for the accidental death of a boy in his care, “and consulting all the saints of Ireland, he asked from them a word of penance from the scriptures. They told him: ‘Go to the holy prophet of God, Íte, your foster-mother, and she will say to you what you should do.’”26 Íte heard his confession and then commanded him to go on pilgrimage as penance. Perhaps the most intriguing element of this unchaste nun’s atonement is her ambiguous restoration, which shares similarities with the women who underwent miraculous abortions, discussed in the previous chapter. The Lives of Ciarán of Saigir, Áed mac Bricc, and Cainnech of Aghaboe call the would-be mothers virgins or girls, which suggests that any physical and/or social effects of sex and pregnancy are removed by the abortion or that virgo referred not to a physical state but to a person consecrated to God, a possibility strengthened by the sixth-century Penitential of Finnian.27 Despite Jerome’s widely-known claim in his letter to Eustochium that “although God is able to do all things, he cannot raise a virgin after she has been ruined,”28 Finnian declares something quite different. He decrees that if a woman, presumably unmarried and possibly a nun, “bears a child and her sin is manifest,” she must do penance for six years “and in the seventh year she shall be joined to the altar; and then we say her crown can be restored and she may don a white robe and be pronounced a virgin.”29 The virginity 24 PVSH II.121; chapter 16. 25 Her vita includes two such tales, one in Chapter 25 and one in Chapters 32-33. 26 “[E]t omnes sanctos Hibernie consulens, interrogavit eis uerbum penitentie de scripturis qui dixerunt ei: Vade ad sanctam Dei prophetissam Ytam, nutricem tuam, et ipsa dicet tibi, quid te oportebit facere” PVSH I.140-41. 27 In 1990, my “maiden” great-aunts, then in their seventies and having lived their whole lives in Ireland, were shocked when I called my new sister-in-law “a lovely woman,” as they claimed that a woman was a female who had given birth; I should instead refer to her as a girl, which was the term they insisted applied to them. Even though my brother was several years younger than my sister-in-law (and many decades younger than my great-aunts, while neither he nor my sister-in-law had ever reproduced before, at least to my knowledge), according to them he was a man, a status conferred apparently by age, rather than reproductive status. 28 “[C]um omnia possit Deus, suscitare virginem non potest post ruinam” [Jerome, Letter to Eustochium, Epistola XXII.5 Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum (CSEL) 54. 150, my translation]. 29 Bieler, Irish Penitentials, 81; McNeill and Gamer, Medieval Handbooks of Penance, 90. This restored virginity evokes tales of Greek Goddesses like Aphrodite and Hera, who enjoyed their

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to which the mother is restored seems less indicative of a physical state than a statement on her social and spiritual position, yet the descriptions of the miraculous abortions suggest the possibility of physically restored virginity: the fetus simply vanishes, and perhaps with it all the effects of intercourse. In the context of these Lives and the penitentials, it seems possible that Íte’s hagiographer could be claiming Íte restored the fallen nun to her virginal state, perhaps even physically. The vitae repeatedly credit saints with reattaching severed heads or other body parts, raising the dead, and changing the sex or other physical attributes of an individual—a restored hymen would hardly be beyond their abilities.30 The second sexual transgression occurs in the following chapter, although the three episodes may be duplications. Another virgin fell into fornication when she was in Connacht, far from Íte at Killeedy. Íte’s prophetic power revealed the sin to the saint, who sent Brendan to bring her back. When the woman was before her, Íte recounted not only her sin, but the resulting birth of a girl. Like the sister of the preceding chapter, the woman at once confessed her crime and atoned, henceforth living a holy life. Her hagiographer notes, “[f]rom then on the whole family of St Íte, and others who recognized the knowledge of her prophecy, feared her as much when she was absent as when she was present, and therefore guarded themselves all the more against forbidden things.”31 One nun, however, appears to have not learned this lesson. On this occasion, Íte told her daughters, “In this hour a soul from our family is being defiled. Go and attentively consider which one of our sisters is being snatched from our flock by a wolf laying in wait.”32 They examined their consciences, but each of them denied any wrongdoing. Íte confronted the guilty nun, but she refused to confess or atone. She then fled Killeedy and ended up as a druid’s servant in Connacht, where she bore a daughter, perhaps intentionally paralleling the baby Brigid. Aware of her sister’s servitude, Íte lamented her plight to her sisters and declared that, if the sex lives but renewed their virginity each year: “Virginity was to these ancients in their wisdom a grace not lost but perennially renewed, hence the immortal maidenhood of Aphrodite” [Jane Ellen Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1908): 312]. 30 Note, though, that the commonly-held belief that the hymen indicates virginity is a fallacy; see, for example, Ellen Støkken Dahl and Nina Brochmann, The Wonder Down Under: The Insider’s Guide to the Anatomy, Biology, and Reality of the Vagina, trans. Lucy Moffatt (New York: Quercus, 2017), 13-18. 31 PVSH II.121; chapter 17. 32 PVSH II.129; chapter 34.

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former nun were freed, she would atone and be restored to all she had lost. Íte then asked Brendan to fetch this nun as he had the last, and all came to pass exactly as Íte had foretold. Both mother and daughter remained at Killeedy with spotless virtue until the mother’s death. In all three of these tales, Íte shows considerable compassion for the women. She demands that they be held accountable for their sin, but she goes out of her way (or rather, has Brendan go out of his way) to ensure that their mistakes will not cost them heaven. Once they have atoned, both she and God forgive them entirely. She warmly welcomes them back into her community and, in at least one case, embraces the “manifestation of the sin” as well.33 Further evidence of Íte’s general sensitivity and attitude of forgiveness concerning sexual sin is found in the Life of Cuimíne Fota. When she learned of his incestuous origin, Íte declared, “not evil is the deed, for it is a divine deed and full of grace,”34 presumably because it resulted in a saint. Such mercy and tolerance towards sexual transgressions are not always found in medieval Ireland’s records, as Patrick’s execution of Lupait attests. Íte’s vita confronts sexist ageism while emphasizing her power of prophecy. When the abbot-saints Lugthigern and Laisréan decided to visit Íte, “a youth stupidly and foolishly said to them, ‘Why should you, wise and great men, go to that old hag?’ The holy men rebuked him, saying, ‘You spoke badly, brother, for now the prophet of God knows what you said.’”35 When the three arrived at Killeedy, Íte repeated the boy’s words back to him, and he promptly performed penance, “the holy men praying on his behalf.”36 Samthann would later be the subject of a similar remark when some monks of Iona sailed to Clonbroney with wool for her. Winds ravaged the sea, and a younger monk suggested, “‘Let us throw the little old woman’s wool in the sea so that we won’t drown.’ The captain of the ship refused and said, ‘On the contrary, with the wool of that old woman either we will live or we will die.’”37 As soon as he spoke these words, the winds ceased, but this did not please the youth either; he complained that the little old woman (anicula) left them drifting. The captain assured the boy that Samthann’s virtue would inspire God’s aid. Again, as soon as these words were uttered, wind filled their sails and brought them to harbor within three days (although Clonbroney is nowhere near a harbor). After the monks reached Clonbroney 33 34 35 36 37

A paraphrase of Finnian, “she bears a child and her sin is manifest” (see above). PVSH I.cvi n5. PVSH II.127; chapter 31. PVSH II.128; chapter 31. PVSH II.259; chapter 23.

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and kissed Samthann’s hand, she confronted the rude youth, as Íte had before her. Samthann, however, outdid Íte in forgiveness and tolerance, as she required no penance. She did not admonish the chagrined boy, but instead told him, “Do not be ashamed about this, but boldly call upon me if danger should ever threaten you,”38 emphasizing her ability to rescue any who invoke her name, regardless of their worthiness. Íte is termed patron with even greater frequency than she is prophet, yet these two roles also intertwined, and both were extensions of her role of muimme.39 Her position as prophet and patron occasionally embroiled her in warfare. Her vita describes a battle which is listed in the Annals of Ulster as occurring in 552, “the battle of Cuilen, in which the Corcu Óche of Mumu perished through the prayers of Ita of Cluain Credail.”40 In a prelude to this battle, two men well-known to Íte’s virgins passed by Killeedy, and Íte lamentingly prophesied that one would kill the other. When it came to pass, and the murderer was imprisoned and sentenced to death, Íte spoke up in his defense for two reasons. The first was compassion for his mother, who had already lost one child and now would lose both; the second, that her beloved, the Son of God, did not wish him to die in a state of sin, but rather to survive and make atonement. She asked that he be released into her care, and the chief of the Uí Conaill Gabra complied at once, but with the warning that she would be accountable for his subsequent behavior. Íte replied that she knew the man would not atone immediately, but that retribution would be had; true to her words, the man at first refused penance. “The bride of Christ waited for it patiently, wanting it to be not compelled but freely-given, because God forgives each person according to his own judgment.”41 Immediately following these events, a war was waged against the Uí Conaill Gabra, who sought Íte’s aid. Full of compassion, Íte prayed to God, “Holy Trinity and inseparable Unity, Father and Son and Holy Spirit, come to the aid of my poor and miserable people, who generously chose me in your name throughout their lands, and took me as their patron; there is no human help for them against this great army of western Munster.”42 The Uí 38 PVSH II.260; chapter 23. 39 Ten times in her vita alone. The Latin feminine form is matrona, but, like magistra (“mistress”), due to gendered associations in English “patron” (Latin patronus, masculine) more accurately conveys matrona’s meaning. See Chapter Two, note 3. As Dorothy Bray notes, in the Rawlinson MS, matrona is transcribed as patrona and Íte apparently is the only Irish female saint whose Life describes her as such (“Secunda Brigida,” 35). 40 Annals of Ulster, s.a. 552. 41 PVSH II.128; chapter 32. 42 PVSH II 128; chapter 33.

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Conaill Gabra trusted in their patron’s prayers and routed their invading enemies. “The few became victors of Christ against many, because St Íte prayed for them.”43 When the battle was over, Íte sent one of her ministers to find the man who had killed his brother, as he had fought in the battle and was wounded during the first attack. The man was then brought to her and she healed him at once; he performed the penance she decreed for him and henceforth lived a holy life. A similar story is told in connection with the birth of her nephew, Mochaomhóg, told in fuller detail in Mochaomhóg’s Life than in Íte’s. His father, Béoán, a Connemara man and a famed artisan, was exiled to Munster. Íte asked that he construct buildings for her monastery and, as payment, he asked for a wife and a field to live on. Íte gave him her own sister, Ness, as wife, although “she wished to live in chastity for ever, just as the holy virgins before her who did not know men.” Later, when Béoán had completed a particularly notable building, Íte told him that he could have whatever he wished for as reward. Already having the wife and the field, he requested that his childless wife would bear an heir. Íte promised him not only a son, but one who would be “chosen for favor before God and humanity.”44 Shortly thereafter Béoán, a warrior as well as an artisan, was beheaded during battle, but Ness was not yet pregnant. She went to the battlefield and found his head, though she could not locate his body. She took the head to Íte and, weeping piteously, reminded her sister of her promise. Íte comforted her sister and assured her God would not deny her prophecy. Though her sister protested that they could never find his body amid such carnage, Íte told her to call his name three times, then his body would come to her and she would affix his head to his body and he would be whole again. And so it was. Then Béoán and Ness celebrated his return to the living in grand fashion, with the result being Mochaomhóg, who became a saint, the founder and abbot of Liath, and one of Íte’s most famous foster-sons. Íte shows an uncharacteristic lack of sympathy for her sister’s desire for the virginal life, even though she herself had been in that situation with her father. In addition, her hagiographer often calls her nuns her sisters and does not make a biological connection explicit. Thus, in Íte’s vita, it reads as if she offered Béoán one of her vowed virgins.45 Mochaomhóg’s vita clearly states that Ness was Íte’s blood-sister and describes the union somewhat more 43 PVSH II.129; chapter 33. 44 “[Q]ue uolebat viuere in castitate in euum, sicut sancte uirgines que antea virum nesciebant […] coram Deo et hominibus electum” PVSH II.164. 45 See Íte’s vita, chapter 18.

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romantically, at least on Béoán’s part, as he loved Ness deeply and asked for her hand specifically. Íte’s vita does not mention the conflict between Ness’s preference for the religious life and Íte’s choice of her as Béoán’s wife, thus omitting any allusion to hypocrisy or callousness in its saint. Mochaomhóg’s vita resolves the conflict by stating that the prophet knew this marriage to be a divine command. The incident, however, challenges Weinstein and Bell’s interpretation of maternal responses to daughters’ vocations; following their readings, one might suppose that Íte was vicariously rejecting her life as a nun, which would hardly be her hagiographer’s intended message. More significant, though, is Ness’s response to her widowhood. She does not rejoice that she has been liberated from marriage and now can resume her life as a nun, but laments that her husband’s death has denied her the roles of wife and mother. Granted, the imminent birth of one saint and the prophecy of another shape her reaction, but, if these accounts offer a message on motherhood in the manner in which Weinstein and Bell suggest, it would seem that Ness affirms and celebrates marriage and motherhood over the religious life she once had lived and to which she could then return. One of the greatest testaments to Íte’s prophetic patronage arises from her only other interaction with her kin. When her uncle died, his eight children travelled from the na-Desi province to Íte among the Uí Conaill Gabra. She announced their father was then being “tortured for his crimes with infernal punishments. Divine providence has revealed to me the manner of his torment, but if we do something for his soul’s salvation, he can be delivered from there.” She instructed her cousins to donate food and candles and return the following year, when she informed them, “[t]hrough your alms and my prayers, your father has been raised from the lowest waters to the middle. Now go and give equal alms this year, and then again return to me.” After another year, he was totally liberated from hell (ex toto inferno), but left naked, because he never donated clothes in Christ’s name. So after a year of her cousins donating clothes, the saint confirmed, “Your father now has rest through your alms and my intercessions, or rather through God’s mercy.”46 She warned them to guard themselves against wealth’s worldly temptations, or expect similar torments to their father. Significantly, given the date of the surviving vitae, Íte’s uncle is placed in hell, not purgatory, with escape assured through simple donations. From the start of her religious life, demons declared Íte’s ability to rescue souls from hell, but she placed responsibility for their deliverance on their own sufferings and their family’s charity, as she gave credit to God, the true power behind her prayers. The 46 PVSH II.126-27; chapter 29.

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eighth-century De Arreis begins with instructions for saving a soul from hell, like Íte thinking in terms of a year’s time and allowing up to seven years of penance—that is, “if it can be interceded for at all.”47

Asceticism (Warning: It Gets Nasty!) In addition to her healing skills, prophetic power, and patronage, Íte’s hagiographer stresses her extreme asceticism, which revolved around food. Caroline Bynum’s analysis of medieval women’s devotionalism illuminates Íte’s primary mode of asceticism. It is a threefold pattern: women fast, women feed others, and women eat (but never ordinary food). Women fast—and hunger becomes an image for excruciating, never satiated love of God. Women feed—and their bodies become an image of suffering poured out for others. Women eat—and whether they devour the filth of sick bodies or the blood and flesh of the eucharist, the foods are Christ’s suffering and Christ’s humanity, with which one must join before approaching triumph, glory, or divinity. 48

In her fasting, feeding, and feasting, the Irish Íte, who lived in the sixth century and whose vita may date to the seventh or eighth century, resembles the primarily Continental mystics of the later Middle Ages in Bynum’s study. Even as a child, she took to fast days with remarkable discipline. At Killeedy, her fasts of various lengths were among her most beloved forms of divine devotion. Her self-denial grew so extreme that an angel told her not to be so hard on herself. Íte “did not want to lessen her burden,” so the angel removed her will from the matter, essentially resulting in force-feeding.49 Íte then shared this food with those she knew to be worthy, a practice she continued throughout her life. According to the Martyrology of Donegal, Íte’s name, originally Deirdre, was changed to “Íta for her great thirst (íota) for the love of God.”50 Interestingly, her hagiographer never associates her with thirst or portrays her as 47 Kuno Meyer, “An Old Irish Treatise De Arreis,” Revue Celtique 15 (1894): 484-98, chapters 1-4, pp.487, 492. See also David Binchy, ed. and trans., “The Old-Irish Table of Commutations,” in Bieler, Irish Penitentials, 277-83, at 278, and Chapter Five. 48 Caroline Walker Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 186. 49 PVSH II.119; chapter 10. 50 Martyrology of Donegal, 16 n1.

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imitating Christ’s miracle at Cana but with an Irish twist, with beer instead of wine, despite it being common among other sanctae Hiberniae. Both Brigid and Darerca are famed for their ability to make an endless supply of beer appear practically out of thin air, and Samthann shares a similar ability, as do native Goddesses.51 Unlike Patrick and Kevin, who fasted against God to accomplish their aims, Íte did not use her asceticism to bend the divine to her will. Several Irish saints resort to the pagan Irish custom of troscud, fasting against another, to achieve their aims, but Íte’s form of fasting is more in keeping with aíne, fasting for spiritual gain.52 In her Life, Íte does not make demands upon God, but is rather granted gifts due to her holiness; fasting is an indication of her virtue, not a weapon wielded against the Lord. Also, in keeping with Bynum’s analysis, the fact that Íte received her daily dinner from an angel indicates her overwhelming hunger for the divine which could be met only by a perpetual supply of heavenly food. Íte did not feed others through her own miraculous bodily secretions, as did some of the women in Bynum’s study, nor is her suffering explicitly rendered for others, but she did feed others with the food with which she was divinely bestowed. In addition, her body nourished a large beetle, discussed below, which agrees with Bynum’s theory that medieval culture saw women’s bodies as food.53 Íte’s vita and other sources do not record her performing the extreme acts of asceticism so repugnant to modern sensibilities, such as Catherine of Siena’s drink of pus taken from a dying woman’s cancerous sore or Angela of Foligno swallowing a leper’s scab. Similarly foul feats, however, are found in tales of Irish asceticism. In his vita, Fechín promised eternal reward to a queen for tending to the needs of a leper, who had asked to sleep with her. The leper changed his request when they were alone; instead, she sucked out the mucus from his nose.54 An identical feat was performed by Colman Ela and Moling—only after I had my first child who experienced his first cold did I appreciate this as a sign of utter and unconditional love (as I also gave thanks for aspirators).55 Íte’s asceticism, however, is a continuous state of being, rather than momentary 51 For example, Medb, Ériu, and Etaín. See T. F. O’Rahilly, “On the Origin of the Names Érainn and Ériu,” Ériu 14 (1946): 13-17. 52 Bitel, Isle of the Saints, 213-21. Darerca’s nickname Moninne is said to result from a mute poet fasting at her to gain the power of speech, with his first words being nin nin (Félire Óengusso Céli Dé, 167). 53 Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast, 269-76. 54 PVSH II.80-81. 55 Plummer, Bethada Náem nErenn, II. 172; Stokes, ed. and trans., The Birth and Life of St Moling (London: Harrison, 1907), 31.

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reversals in which the saint’s holiness is proved by the ability to accomplish the horrific, which concurs with Bynum’s finding that male stories are told in a series of dramatic reversals and renunciation, whereas women’s stories demonstrate greater continuity than contrast.56 Although Íte does not demonstrate the depth of eucharistic devotion found in later women’s piety, she does exhibit more profound eucharistic piety than the other sanctae Hiberniae with vitae, with the possible exception of Brigid, who has a much more extensive corpus (body of literature about her) than the others. Íte’s vita describes a miraculous journey she made to Clonmacnoise in order to receive Christ’s body and blood, and Brendan’s vita tells of her making a similar journey to Clonfert to receive the eucharist from him.57 While this may be due in part to the earliness of the Lives, with devotion to the eucharist increasing in the wake of the Gregorian Reform, in keeping with Bynum’s analysis, the saint who is most profoundly associated with denial of food is the one who exhibits explicit devotion to the eucharist.58 Bynum points out that the Irish composed the earliest extant eucharistic hymn, the Sancti, venite, which may date from the seventh century,59 and Plummer notes that “[t]he Eucharist is constantly mentioned” in Irish vitae,60 but such is not the case in the vitae sanctarum Hiberniae. Brigid may have celebrated the eucharist herself, and Patrick decreed that water drawn from a vessel she blessed was to be used in the celebration of the eucharist throughout Ireland, as well as to ensure the fertility of the crops.61 Two of the four female saints with vitae, however, have virtually no association with the eucharist, and it is far from constantly mentioned in Íte’s vita.62 A more distinct kind of asceticism combined with maternal devotion is attributed to Íte in Félire Óengusso. On her feast day, January 15, it 56 Although the unnamed queen discussed above performs the task, not Fechín, it is a tale told in his Life, and the other saints who accomplish such a feat are male. For Bynum’s argument, see her Fragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the Human Body in Medieval Religion (New York: Zone Books, 1991), 27-51, 151-79; Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1982), 110-69; and Holy Feast and Holy Fast, 287. 57 PVSH I.145. 58 Fasting plays a significant role in Brigid’s Lives as well, but lacks the prominence it plays in Íte’s. 59 Holy Feast and Holy Fast, 325 n79. 60 PVSH I.cxxvi. 61 Vita Prima, ch 60, p 30; Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 157; Condren, Serpent and the Goddess, 73, 76. 62 Darerca’s Life does reference one of her sisters (Taunat) receiving the eucharist just before her death, however.

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states that Íte “succoured many grievous diseases”;63 thus those in need can turn to her in their most agonizing moments. She knew great pain herself, for she endured “a stag-beetle as big as a lap-dog a-sucking her [that] destroyed the whole of one of her sides.”64 True to the humble and modest nature exemplified in her vita, Íte kept this suffering private. Her nuns happened across this nasty, gigantic bug, and killed it in horror. When Íte looked for her “fosterling,” the nuns pleaded, “Do not rob us of heaven! […] ‘tis we that have killed it, for we knew that he was hurtful.”65 Íte granted that that might be true, but as a result no nun would ever succeed her as abbess.66 As Bray points out, this tale relates “a macabre kind of motherhood,” and the maternal associations are heightened in the legend’s second part, when the loss of her fosterling enables her to achieve deep kinship with Mary.67 Distraught by the death of her beloved beetle, Íte received the Christ-child himself as replacement, as commemorated in a poem attributed to her. Ísucán’s literal translation, “little Jesus,” does not effectively convey the name’s affectionate diminutive nature, which is reminiscent of nicknames parents give their children. Isucán, I nurse him in my lonely place; though a priest have stores of wealth, all is vain save Isucán. The nursling fostered in my house is no son of a base-born churl; Jesus comes with heavenly host to my breast each even-tide. Young Isucán, my eternal good, bestows, is not witholding; woe to him who does not pray the king with power in everything.

63 Félire Óengusso, 37. 64 Félire Óengusso, 43. 65 Félire Óengusso, 45. 66 See above. This prophecy may be a ninth-century explanation for why abbots then ruled her monastery. 67 Bray, “Secunda Brigida,” 31.

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Jesus, noble, angel-like, not a common priest is he; I nurse, here in my lonely place, Jesus, son of the Jewish maiden. Sons of kings, both great and small, may come this way to visit me; but my profit is not in them, I rather choose Isucán. Chant a choir-song, virgins, for him to whom your rent is due; in his dwelling high above and at my breast is Isucán.68

Mystical motherhood of Christ is not uncommon among Irish saints; Félire Óengusso describes other virgins as nursing Christ, and Brigid is hailed as the mother of Christ.69 Such imagery would later be echoed among women in England and on the Continent, but this poem offering a woman’s perspective as she revels in her maternal relationship with the divine predates similar texts by several centuries.70 Perhaps as significant as the central female voice in the poem is the intended audience, the ingena (“virgins” or “daughters”) whom Íte invites to share in the song and thus the experience of nursing the Christ-child. As Thomas Clancy notes, “Ísucán is a poem set in a women’s monastery, intended for recitation by women, and it employs a woman’s voice to meditate on the theological implications of fosterage, as well as her ‘legal’ position between God and man [sic].” In poems like Ísucán, Líadain’s lament, and Aithbe damsa 68 James Carney, Medieval Irish Lyrics (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967), 65-67. The earliest written version of this poem is in Félire Óengusso, which post-dates Íte’s death by over two centuries. A similar Christ-cuddling tale is told of Moling (Stokes, Moling, 30-33). 69 For virgins nursing Christ, see Félire Óengusso, 103; see also E. G. Quin, “The Early Irish Poem Ísucán,” Cambridge Medieval Celtic Studies 1 (1981): 39-52, at 51. For Brigid as the mother of Christ, see Broccán’s and Ultan’s hymns in Stokes and Strachan, Thesaurus Palaeohibernicus, II. 325, 327. See also Harrington, Women in a Celtic Church, 138. 70 For discussion of some of this later imagery, see Cristina Traina, Erotic Attunement: Parenthood and the Ethics of Sensuality between Unequals (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011), 49-53. To clarify, Ísucán itself is mostly in Old Irish and generally dated to the ninth or early tenth century; the prose preface is Middle Irish but may preserve an older tradition (Quin, “Ísucán,” 51). Pádraig Ó Riain dates the additions to the metrical text of Félire Óengusso to 1170–74 [“The Martyrology of Oengus: The Transmission of the Text,” Studia Hibernica 31 (2000/01): 221-42, at 241]; thus Ísucán itself was composed centuries before its inclusion in the Félire Óengusso.

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bés mara, “context and imagery both combine to suggest strongly that female authorship should be an initial assumption, although not a proven one.”71 Priests in the poem may serve simply as humans par excellence, whom Christ easily overshadows, but it also may present an argument to women for choosing virginal motherhood of the Christ-child over partnerships with priests. In keeping with the sensitivity shown throughout her Life, in which she forgave multiple nuns who broke their vows, even welcoming the resultant children into her community, Íte does not excoriate non-virgins in her poem.72 Significantly, all those found lacking in some way—priests, sons of kings, or base-born churls—are males, whereas females are invited to share the inclusive intimacy of the motherhood of God, to become, like Mary, both virgin and mother.73 As Íte died in the sixth century and this poem dates to the ninth, and her Life, which may predate this poem by over a century, emphasizes her role as prophet but says nothing about poetry, it is unlikely that Íte herself is the poet. Women’s monastic communities such as Killeedy that included mothers with direct experience of nursing, as well as nuns who witnessed their sisters enjoying such blissful intimacy with their children, seem a conducive environment for creating such a poem. Devotion to the saint combined with her reputation as muimme as well as Killeedy’s function as a home and school for young children could well have inspired another nun, perhaps at a school for women poets, perhaps at Killeedy or another women’s monastic community, to write a poem in Íte’s voice and addressed to women with imagery that would be echoed centuries later by women in England and on the Continent.

Conclusion Jerome’s insistence that female holiness depends upon a woman renouncing her sex as well as her sexuality in her aspirations to be an honorary man has had outsize influence in studies of Christian history.74 Scholars 71 Thomas Owen Clancy, “Women Poets in Early Medieval Ireland: Stating the Case,” in The Fragility of Her Sex? Medieval Irishwomen in Their European Context, ed. Christine Meek and Katharine Simms (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1996), 43-72, at 63, 67. 72 PVSH II.121, 129; chapters 16, 17, and 34. 73 See Callan, “Vanishing Fetuses” and “Líadain’s Lament”; see also Harrington, Women in a Celtic Church, 138–39. 74 Jerome, Commentarius in Epistolam ad Ephesios, Book III, Chapter V, Verse 28, in Patrologia Latina, ed. J. P. Migne, vol. 26 (Paris, 1845), col. 533.658. See above.

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regularly assert the near ubiquity of such a perspective, including in the vitae sanctarum Hiberniae,75 and have also argued that virginal celibates constitute an asexual “third gender.”76 Many share Weinstein and Bell’s assumptions, defining femininity as dependent upon the traditional roles of wife and mother and assuming a woman’s commitment to lifelong virginity is an attempt to gain “freedom from a defective femaleness,” whereas male virgins would not have had to similarly seek escape from their sex, which was not viewed as deficient in their patriarchal society.77 Yet femininity is more complex and robust than such narrow roles; Ireland’s female saints strove less to transcend their female sex than to redeem a fallen humanity. Íte’s hagiographer saw her as both a feminine and a female saint; all her roles—bride of Christ, prophet, patron, ascetic, and educator—reveal aspects of her (foster-)motherhood and affirm a traditional understanding of femininity. As bride of Christ, Íte negotiates with her husband for her children, the Irish people. Clear power differentials exist in her relationship with Christ, but less because of gender than the gap between God and humanity, and God’s love for Íte gives her tremendous power as well. The Irish can count on their saint to be an effective mother, for she is a well-loved and loving wife. Her devotion to the divine is such that she also becomes God’s muimme, suckling and cuddling him at her breast each evening. The imagery invites those in need to become like Isucán and be gathered into Íte’s tender and secure arms. She will nurture all, as she did foster-children sent to her like Brendan and Mochaomhóg, with her care, in the form of education, cures for their ills, atonement, or just the knowledge that they are well-loved. She will not forsake those who have committed crimes most repugnant to Irish ethics, such as kin-slaying, nor those who have died without last rites, nor even those who lived without ever hearing Christ’s name or those condemned to hell. Whatever she receives from the Lord, she joyously shares with others, 75 E.g., Johnston, “Transforming Women in Irish Hagiography,” Peritia 9 (1995): 197-220; Bray, “The Manly Spirit of St. Monenna,” in Celtic Connections: Proceedings of the Tenth International Congress of Celtic Studies, ed. Ronald Black, William Gillies, and Roibeard Ó Maolalaigh (East Linton: Tuckwell Press, 1999), I. 171-81. Oxenham’s Perceptions of Femininity offers some important correctives, stressing that “[i]n early Ireland there was no attempt to ‘masculinize’ the woman saint to make her appear ‘more holy’” (178, see also 180 and 188). 76 E.g., Robert Swanson, “Angels Incarnate: Clergy and Masculinity from Gregorian Reform to Reformation,” in Masculinity in Medieval Europe, ed. D. M. Hadley (London: Longman, 1999), 160-77, and Jacqueline Murray, “One Flesh, Two Sexes, Three Genders?” in Gender and Christianity in Medieval Europe: New Perspectives, ed. Lisa M. Bitel and Felice Lifshitz (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), 34-51. 77 Johnston, “The ‘Pagan’ and ‘Christian,’” 61.

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whether it be a heavenly feast or the wisdom she has acquired through meditation and contemplation. She doesn’t expressly offer her asceticism for others’ salvation, but it further testifies to the power she indefatigably uses for her faithful’s benefit. Whether the individual needs her during a time of battle, economic concern, personal crisis, “grievous diseases,” or just general guidance, he or she can turn to her Life and find examples of her capably and compassionately responding to such conditions. She works for justice, but with an alternative ethic to the one presented by many male saints, penitentialists, and civil authorities. She asks only that the sinner take responsibility for his or her actions and genuinely desire contrition; once that has been given by the sinner, Íte’s, and thus God’s, forgiveness inevitably follows. Neither she nor God is a harsh judge, but inherently accessible and willing to assist in whatever situation arises. In addition, although she has a unique and powerful relationship with the divine, she encourages others to realize such a relationship for themselves; as she told the nameless virgin who questioned her special status with the divine, “God is always present with those who exemplify such devotion.”78 She helps her faithful realize their full potential, loves them, feeds them, and forgives them, but so that they grow into maturity with a sense of responsibility and accountability for their own actions. And when all else fails, she can help rescue her faithful from death and eternal damnation—what muimme could ask for more?

78 PVSH II.119; chapter 11.

5

“Do Not Harass My Sisters” Samthann, an Abbess Not to Be Crossed Abstract Samthann, who lived two centuries after the first three sisters, shows the stern but wise and merciful abbess who built on her older sisters’ work. She could unleash an enormous eel on male threats to her sisters and beat greedy landowners in their dreams until they saw the error of their ways and freely donated whatever her community needed. Such strength of leadership could be the difference between a community’s survival and its disappearance. She is the only eighth-century Irish saint, male or female, honored with an extant Life, and one of very few who did not found her own community. All of her sister saints with medieval Lives died in the sixth century, and all were said to have founded their own communities. Samthann’s Life may date to within a generation or two of her death, and it may reveal the woman before history remade her, before centuries of devotion and the growing power of her monastery turned her into someone who could kill with a single word, as Patrick’s propagandists claimed of him. Key words: célí Dé, Cáin Adomnáin, purgatory, soul-friendship

A lustful cleric once visited Clonbroney, Samthann’s monastery, and instantly fell in love with a beautiful nun. He wooed the girl, and she agreed to follow him to a nearby wood, so that they might fulfill their desire. Before he left, with a nerve and impudence befitting a determined seducer of vowed virgins, the cleric asked Samthann for her blessing for his journey. Samthann warned him, “Wherever you go, do not harass my sisters with enticing words or evil actions.” He protested his innocence, and, without the saint’s blessing, set off on an adventure he would undoubtedly never forget, though far from the romantic interlude he envisioned. When he began to cross a stream, the water level rose until it reached his belt; and then an eel of astounding size gripped his loins, where it Callan, M. B., Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463721509_ch05

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constricted him with great force. He was exceedingly terrified at this occurrence, and returned to the virgin of God, where on bended knees he begged her forgiveness. When this was given, at once the eel fell off his loins. And instructed by this affliction, he swore never again to come to the virgins’ monastery.1

This exemplum, the only occasion of sexual sin attributed to Samthann’s virgins, focuses not on the nun’s need for atonement but on a fitting punishment for the man. Nor is Samthann’s concern for his spiritual welfare, but on neutralizing his threat to her nuns. The incident is indicative of Samthann’s power and care as abbess and saint, symbolized by her staff, which may have been her only relic and which she brandished to protect her community and sisters as necessary.2 She was an abbess not to be crossed. Samthann herself was no stranger to men’s advances, as her Life begins on the night before her wedding, an event she was surprisingly unable to avoid. After the ceremony, when her husband rather crudely demanded she prepare to consummate their union, she convinced him to wait until everyone in the house fell asleep. He too soon succumbed to sleep, and “then Samthann, pounding on the gates of divine mercy, prayed urgently to keep her virginity undefiled. And God heard her cry, and the Lord received her prayer.”3 A miraculous illusory fire helped her escape and in the morning both her foster-father and her husband acquiesced to her wish to become God’s bride rather than a man’s. Her Life names her parents (father Diamrán and mother Columba), but neither they nor any biological kin play any role; the power to betroth her rests entirely with her foster-father, Críodán, the king of the Cairbre Gabra. Her husband is also said to be noble, but uniquely among sanctae Hiberniae, her Life makes no such claim for Samthann or her parents. Her hagiographer’s insistence on her virginal integrity while he (she?) also acknowledges her marriage may indicate a similar dynamic to what Stephanie Hollis has detected in England. Women who were wives but preferred to become nuns left their marriages for monasteries and were categorized as “widows,” which included the formerly married of 1 PVSH II.256; chapter 11. 2 The Life claims that Niall Froissach, the king of Ireland, took the staff to adorn it with silver and gold, but the wood was too old and warped to be so transformed. Niall placed it over his bed, and, due to the king’s devotion and Samthann’s virtue, Christ restored the staff to pristine condition during the night. The staff was ever after revered by the king and his people. Although this episode occurs in the middle of the vita, Niall was king 763-778, making this a post-mortem miracle, as Samthann died in 739. 3 Psalm 6.9; PVSH II.253; chapter 1.

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various kinds. When they achieved sufficient spiritual success to merit hagiographers’ attention, their Lives, like Samthann’s, insisted that they maintained their virginity inviolate throughout their marriage, having convinced their husbands to stay out of their beds from the start. Their hagiographers “needed a certain amount of artistic licence to bring them into conformity with the notion of Virginity Preserved as the essential definition of female sanctity, of whose establishment Bede is the harbinger.”4 In order to be recognized as a sancta (female saint) worthy of her own Life in medieval Irish hagiography, a woman also had to be a virgo (virgin); all four Irishwomen with medieval vitae are described as such (sancta virgo) from the start of their Lives in their current forms. Samthann may be a rarity among Irish women saints who have extant vitae, but she serves as an important model for many Irish nuns, a wife of a man who became the bride of Christ.

Urney Samthann is the only eighth-century Irish saint, male or female, honored with an extant vita. Unlike the other sanctae Hiberniae with vitae, she did not found a monastery, reflecting the reduced number of monasteries that were established during her lifetime. She first entered Urney, the monastery of Cognat, where she faithfully served as storekeeper for a year. This role was a particularly feminine one even among mixed-gender groups, and indicates Samthann’s similarities with indigenous Goddesses of abundance, discussed in Chapter Three. Only two incidents are told of her time at Urney, both attesting to her ability to provide for others’ needs. In the first, Samthann shared the virtue of Martin of Tours, an influential model for Irish saints’ Lives. After ferrying a leper across a lake, “since he complained of his poverty and nakedness, she gave to him a cow with its calf and the better part of a cloak, as if she were another Martin.”5 The leper told her he had come from St. Ultan’s monastery, then disappeared. The cow and calf were soon discovered in their shed, and Samthann’s cloak remained whole, signifying that charity costs nothing as it increases the virtue of the benevolent and implying the leper’s identity as Christ, who, as Matthew 25.31-46 teaches, is one with those in need. 4 Stephanie Hollis, Anglo-Saxon Women and the Church: Sharing a Common Fate (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1992), 71. 5 PVSH II.254; chapter 3. Other versions of this tale are found in the Lives of Brigid, Fechín, Colman Ela, and Moling, the latter three also including the leper’s demand that someone suck the phlegm from his nose.

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The second episode told of Samthann’s time at Urney suggests that the intimate workings of a saint’s power are not the business of lesser mortals. Intrigued by Samthann’s ability to make one pat of butter suffice for a year for all the sisters and their guests, a novice stole into Samthann’s storeroom, gazed upon the vessel which contained the butter, and commented on its inexhaustibility. Although this seems an innocent enough remark, it resulted in the butter’s disappearance, perhaps because the miraculous had become expected. When Samthann saw the now empty vessel, she was dumbfounded and declared, “This place will never be wealthy.”6 Samthann’s response, much like Íte’s at the loss of her “fosterling,” the stag-beetle, does not seem to be a punishment meted out by the saint, but is reminiscent of the Irish concept of geis, a taboo or type of prohibition placed upon a celebrated individual, the transgression of which leads to dire consequences. Here the saints prophesy the misfortune; they do not cause it. This tale could be included to explain why Urney, despite its association with Samthann, had already fallen on hard times by the time her Life was written, which may have been within a generation of the saint’s death in 739. At about the same time, two counties away, the virgin Fuinche of Clonbroney had a vision of a spark enflaming her entire monastery, which she knew to be Samthann, a name that may derive from Sam-theine, “summerfire.”7 She shared her vision with her sisters and prophesied, “Samthann, blazing with the fire of the Holy Spirit, shall make this place shine by the virtue of her merits and the splendor of her miracles.” Fuinche then sent for Samthann to rule over Clonbroney, which would ever after be linked with Samthann’s name. While Samthann’s vita attributes Clonbroney’s founding to Fuinche, Patrick’s Tripartite Life claims Patrick consecrated two virgins there, daughters of his former master, Milchu. Both were named Emer, detracting from the claim’s plausibility, but suggesting an older founding date for the monastery.8 Clonbroney was also claimed by the Brigidine community, before its association with Samthann.9 Upon Samthann’s arrival, Fuinche disappears from the vita, which likely indicates that she was not Samthann’s contemporary, but here symbolizes the monastery she may have founded. Unfortunately, as with so many other early Irish women saints and their communities, too little information exists to verify either Fuinche’s dates or her role in the history of Clonbroney. Not until Samthann 6 PVSH I. 254; chapter 4. 7 PVSH I.lxxxviii. 8 Stokes, Tripartite Life, I.91. 9 Kenney, Sources, 464-65.

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became abbess did the annals take notice of Clonbroney, which remained one of a handful of women’s single-sex communities to repeatedly receive a reference, along with Killevy and Cloonburren.10

Constructing Clonbroney Immediately upon her arrival, Samthann began developing the monastery. She first built an oratory, to which she later added several buildings and further improvements. This qualifies her hagiographer’s pious claim that Samthann “was poor in spirit and in material goods. She refused to own f ields, nor did she ever have more than six cows at any one time.”11 He further indicates that she controlled considerable wealth when she divided all the alms bestowed upon Clonbroney equally among the nuns, foregoing her own share in the process.12 This evinces a hagiographic conundrum: poverty indicated purity, and the hagiographer and the community that commissioned him (or her?) wanted to inspire the pious to part with their own wealth and donate it to the monastery; the challenge lay in the saint acquiring great wealth yet being attached to none of it, and so poverty and property often uncomfortably intertwine. Whatever possessions she may have had, however, Samthann relied mainly on her miraculous power to expand her monastery and accommodate her workers. For the first building, Samthann felt the artisans’ hunger and miraculously provided them with the exact amount of butter, bread, cheese, and milk they had wished for. This echoes her earlier accomplishments at Urney, and strengthens her similarities with Darerca, Brigid, and Irish Goddesses. Yet the Irish twist of beer instead of wine is changed to non-alcoholic and primarily dairy substitutes. Her vita celebrates her providing for fifty guests with the milk 10 The Annals of Ulster record the deaths of her eighth-century successors Forblaith, daughter of Connla, dominatrix of Clonbroney, and Ellbríg, abatissa of Clonbroney, among others (s.a. 780 and 785, respectively). Other women’s monasteries, including Kildare and Cloonburren, also use both dominatrix and abatissa; it is unclear if the terms are interchangeable or relate to distinct offices. Dorothy Africa suggests that Samthann’s Life may have been written when Forblaith was dominatrix and her brothers were kings of Tethba [Dorothy Africa, ed. and trans., “Life of the Holy Virgin Samthann,” in Thomas Head, ed., Medieval Hagiography: An Anthology (New York: Routledge, 2000), 97-110, at 101]. 11 PVSH II.260; chapter 25. Considering the milk only one of her cows produced (discussed below), she hardly needed the five others. 12 PVSH II.260; chapter 25. No trace of tension seems to have arisen due to her charity to others or her household. Darerca, however, upset some of her nuns, as she quite literally gave everything away. See Chapter Two.

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of one cow and recounts a week-long feast in which she catered to the abbot of Devenish and 140 others through flour divided into food and drink. This tendency for teetotaling amid her fertile abundance may relate to her association with the austere céli De, discussed below. When Samthann later wished to enlarge Clonbroney further, her prayers enabled eight men to move the oratory, a feat that could otherwise have been accomplished only by a countless multitude. To repair the oratory, Samthann’s girdle was used by her prioress, Nathea, to facilitate felling trees, defying gravity in the process and making her the third sancta Hiberniae with a vita to have a miraculous girdle, the others being Brigid and Darerca.13 But perhaps the most colorful account of Samthann’s spiritual abilities with reference to her monastery’s development occurs in an incident which is also the only one to mention a transaction of wealth. Samthann sent Nathea and some workers into Connacht to get proper wood for building a dining hall. Unable to find appropriate pinewood, they began to return home disheartened. That night Samthann came to Nathea’s dreams and told the prioress where proper wood could be found. When the construction crew reached the site, they were met by the landowner, who refused to give them the lumber unless they paid for it. Nathea agreed, but that night Samthann achieved an alternate solution. This time she came into the landowner’s dreams, and spoke in a menacing voice, saying, “Why do you, a mere mortal, try to hold back what has been offered to God?” And then she struck his side with her staff, saying, “Miserable wretch, unless you perform penance you will quickly find yourself dead.” When morning came, the remorseful and penitent lord granted the wood to them, with no payment made. When the news of this got around, the inhabitants of that region exalted the Lord in St Samthann and lent sixty yokes of cattle by which all of the wood was carried back to the monastery.14

As this event indicates, Samthann was not quite the all-nurturing, comforting maternal saint that Íte was, but she was very much the ambitious and capable abbess necessary for a successful monastery in a country where countless monastic communities faltered due to lack of resources, as Urney 13 In addition to references to girdles in their Lives, a twelfth-century poem attributed to Cuimmín of Condeire uses the expression “put a girdle around her body” to represent life as a nun [Whitley Stokes, “Cummín’s Poem on the Saints of Ireland,” Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie, ed. Kuno Meyer and L. Chr. Stern (Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1897): 59-73, at 63, specifically regarding Darerca (Moninne)]. 14 PVSH II.258; chapter 16.

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apparently had. As in the incident with the lascivious cleric, Samthann shows negligible concern for the offender’s spiritual state; her first priority was the well-being of her monastery and nuns.

Cáin Adomnáin (Adomnán’s Law, a Minor But Relevant Digression) Memorable as this staff-beating miracle may be, it is not unique to Samthann. One Pentecost Adomnán received a similar blow from an angel, who then decreed, Go forth into Ireland, and make a law in it that women be not in any manner killed by men, through slaughter or any other death, either by poison, or in water, or in fire, or by any beast, or in a pit, or by dogs, but that they shall die in their lawful bed. Thou shalt establish a law in Ireland and Britain for the sake of the mother of each one, because a mother has borne each one, and for the sake of Mary mother of Jesus Christ, through whom all are. Mary besought her Son on behalf of Adamnan about this Law.15

The angel’s words, “a mother has borne each one,” echo the plea of the otherworldly woman/Goddess Macha in Ireland’s great epic, the Táin Bó Cualinge. After her husband boasted of her running ability, Conchubhar mac Nessa, the king of Ulster, forced her to race against his prize horses, though her belly was great with child. She beseeched the crowd, “‘A mother bore each one of you! Help me! Wait till my child is born.’ But she couldn’t move them.”16 She won the race, bearing her twins as she crossed the finish line. She promptly returned with her children to the Otherworld after cursing the Ulstermen with the cess noínden, labor pangs which incapacitated them whenever Ulster needed them most. The Táin Bó Cualinge’s fascinating and complex gender dynamics fall outside this book’s scope, as it focuses on pagan queens and Goddesses rather than Christian saints, but it too is ripe for reclamation and readers are encouraged to explore it for themselves. Adomnán, an abbot of Iona and ColmCille’s hagiographer, did in fact establish this law and ensured that more than ninety ecclesiastical and secular 15 Meyer, ed. and trans., Cain Adamnain: An Old Irish Treatise on the Law of Adamnan (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1905) [hereafter Cáin Adamnáin], 23-25. 16 Kinsella, trans., The Tain, from the Irish Epic Táin Bó Cualinge (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970), 7.

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leaders guaranteed it, including St Moling shortly before his death in 697. A claimed objective of Cáin Adomnáin, also known as the Lex Innocentium (Law of the Innocents), was to liberate women from domestic and military servitude, as it also exempted clerics and youths. A later preface, which Máirín Ní Dhonnchadha has dated to about 1000, attributes the impetus for the law to Adomnán’s mother, Rónnat, whom he cared for so well that he carried her about with him in his own girdle, as a mother might a baby. Still she insisted that he failed in his duties to her.17 To prove her point she showed him the pitiful plight of women on a battlefield. Such was the thickness of the slaughter into which they came that the soles of one woman would touch the neck of another. Though they beheld the battlefield, they saw nothing more touching or more pitiful than the head of a woman in one place and the body in another, and her little babe upon the breasts of the corpse, a stream of milk upon one of its cheeks, and a stream of blood upon the other.18

Dire as such a scene seems, its claims about women’s servitude have not been substantiated, although Irish legends do include skilled female warriors, like Scathach, the teacher of Cú Chulainn, one of Ireland’s greatest heroes and the only one of Ulster’s warriors impervious to Macha’s cess noínden when Connacht’s Queen Medb (Maeve) invades Ulster to claim a bull, the subject of the Táin Bó Cualinge. According to Cáin Adomnáin’s preface, at his mother’s request, Adomnán resurrected one of the corpses, a queen who added her pleas to the Virgin Mary’s and Rónnat’s. Adomnán acquiesced, and Rónnat took rather extreme measures to ensure his compliance: “This is the change of torture that she made for him, and not many women would do so to their sons: she buried him in a stone chest at Raphoe in Tirconnell, so that worms devoured the root of his tongue, so that the slime of his head broke forth through his ears.”19 Adomnán’s law protects women not just from men, but from each other; any woman who kills a woman, or a man for that matter, “is to be put into a boat of one paddle as a sea-waif upon the ocean to go with the wind from land. A vessel of meal and water to be given with her. Judgement upon 17 Máirín Ní Dhonnchadha, “Birr and the Law of the Innocents,” in Thomas O’Loughlin, ed., Adomnán at Birr, Ad 697: Essays in Commemoration of the Law of the Innocents (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2001), 13-32, at 16. 18 Cáin Adamnáin, 5. 19 Cáin Adomnáin, 9.

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her as God deems fit.”20 Cáin Adomnáin’s portrait of women’s oppressed enslavement must be balanced with its other objective: demanding women’s donations to thank Adomnán for emancipation. Its preface proclaims that his law places women permanently in his debt and threatens women who do not pay him tribute for their liberation: “[T]he offspring ye bear shall decay, or they shall die full of crimes. Scarcity shall fill your storehouses, the Kingdom of Heaven ye shall not obtain; ye shall not escape by niggardliness or falsehood from Adamnan of Hi [Iona]. Adamnan of Hi will help you, O women! Give unto your prince all the good things that are yours.”21 Such animosity suggests less altruistic or filial motives for Adomnán’s supposed liberation of women and also suggests women’s greater access to wealth than enslavement implies. Perhaps this proclaimed liberation from supposed enslavement was simply a swindle to take women’s wealth. Máirín Ní Dhonnchadha, one of the foremost scholars of Cáin Adomnáin, theorizes that the sea-waif’s “remarkable” exile “is presumably granted on account of [women’s] status as potential givers of life.”22 Adomnán’s exaltation of women as givers of life probably explains why the Law exempts women who are themselves guilty of murder from capital punishment, substituting the penalty of being alienated and cast adrift ‘in a boat of one paddle’, their fate thereafter left to God. […] The enactment of Adomnán’s Law surely appears to have been motivated by benevolence towards women, true indignation at the hardships they endured, and some compassion even when they were guilty of murder.23

Such exile is less exceptional than Ní Dhonnchadha suggests, however. “Setting adrift [on the sea] […] features prominently in canon law-texts and in later legal commentary” in Ireland, including for crimes of carelessness as well as kin-slaying, one of the most abhorrent crimes to the medieval Irish.24 Women could command penitential pilgrimage as well. According 20 Cáin Adomnáin, 31. 21 Cáin Adomnáin, 15. 22 Ní Dhonnchadha, “Birr and the Law of the Innocents,” 28. 23 Máirín Ní Dhonnchadha, “The Lex Innocentium: Adomnán’s Law for Women, Clerics and Youth, 697 A.D.,” in Chattel, Servant or Citizen: Women’s Status in Church, State and Society, ed. Mary O’Dowd and Sabine Wichert, Historical Studies IX: Papers read before the xxist Irish Conference of Historians held at Queen’s University of Belfast, 27-30 May 1993 (Belfast: The Institute of Irish Studies, Queen’s University of Belfast, 1995), 53-76, at 68-69. 24 Fergus Kelly, A Guide to Early Irish Law, Vol III in Early Irish Law Series (1988; reprint, Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1998), 219. Kelly also discusses the murchoirthe, literally the one thrown up by the sea, perhaps a criminal who was punished by being set adrift and

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to his Life, Brendan sought to atone for the accidental death of a boy in his care, “and consulting all the saints of Ireland, he asked from them a word of penance from the scriptures. They told him, ‘Go to the holy prophet of God, Íte, your foster-mother, and she will say to you what you should do.’”25 Íte heard his confession and then commanded him to go on pilgrimage as penance. Thus, women chose to be pilgrims, chose who would be pilgrims, and occasionally were forced to be pilgrims, at home and abroad.26

The Mercy of Samthann Like Adomnán’s angel, Samthann’s menace was tempered by mercy. Several chapters present a more tender side to the saint. Along with Íte, she often accomplished her own sense of justice, in explicit contrast to the one espoused by civil authorities, male saints, canonists, and penitentialists. On three occasions, Samthann freed a hostage through her spiritual power after a king rejected her request, which suggests that Samthann enjoyed less power with secular rulers but just as much favor from her divine spouse as did her earlier sister Íte.27 In the first and third instances, like Íte, Samthann was motivated to free the hostage out of compassion for his mother, who requested her assistance. The first incident emphasizes the importance of the hostage, as a treaty between the Connachta and the Tethba, achieved after a bitter feud, depended on his imprisonment as security. Yet Samthann would not forsake any who ardently entreated her, unlike the king, and she delivered the woman’s son. In the third account, Samthann intervened in matters transpiring all the way down in Cork. When the king denied Samthann’s petition, his wife prophesied what came to pass: “If you will not free that man at the pleading of Saint Samthann, God will free him through her prayer.”28 That very day, enemies invaded Cork and, while the king was thus occupied, the hostage escaped to Samthann and safety. subsequently taken into service of the túath (kin-group) where he washed up; he has no legal standing unless taken into service, in which his honor price is normally a third of his master’s, who must pay for any offences he commits. According to Kelly, such a fate was also imposed upon infants born of incest; if the boat returned them alive to the shore, they would become the servant of their kin (6, 220). 25 PVSH I.140; see Chapter Four. 26 See the discussion of peregrinatio, or voluntary exile, in Chapter Two. 27 The three events may be different tellings of the same occurrence. 28 PVSH II.259; chapter 22.

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Samthann also delivered from hell a warrior who had sought her blessing consistently before every battle, but neglected to do so before one fateful battle between the Connachta and the Tethba in which he died. She did not abandon her devotee, but at the hour of his death gathered her sisters together. She declared, “‘Apply yourselves to prayers at once, for now the soul of our friend Flann is led by demons to places of punishment.’ And with this said, she fell into a trance. After a very little while, she returned to her senses and said to her sisters, ‘Give thanks to God, since the soul for which you prayed has been led from torments into rest through our intercessions and God’s measureless mercy.’”29 Samthann’s instant success in saving Flann’s soul may suggest a different attitude to eternal punishment than the one expressed in Íte’s vita, or it may imply that, due to Flann’s conscientious observance of Christian custom, he was in less need of atonement than Íte’s uncle. Íte’s vita clearly locates her uncle in hell (infernus); Samthann’s is more ambiguous but the reference to demons suggests hell rather than purgatory, a concept that gained increasing importance after 1200 but which the Irish had anticipated since at least the seventh century. According to Catholic teaching, the soul is assured of heaven after being purified by time in purgatory, which will be reduced if helped by prayers and acts of virtue offered on the soul’s behalf, like Íte’s cousins do for their father. Purgatory varies in length depending on the state of the soul (and saints bypass it completely), but it is by definition transitory, whereas hell is supposed to be eternal. Several Irish texts from the seventh and eighth centuries evince an attitude like that found in Íte’s and Samthann’s Lives, which also were likely first written in the seventh and eighth centuries, with hell’s torments transitory but still requisite for some before they can be admitted into heaven.30 Even once differences between purgatory and hell became more distinct, however, some women were still intent on rescuing souls from eternal torment. Medieval mystics like Catherine of Siena in the fourteenth century and Hadewijch of Antwerp in the thirteenth also delivered select souls from hell, along with the great many they helped release from purgatory through their prayers and all-encompassing devotion to the divine. As Barbara Newman has argued, the daring theology of certain mystics, who were so confident of God’s love that they seemed to challenge the existence 29 PVSH II.257; chapter 13. 30 Marina Smyth, “The Origins of Purgatory through the Lens of Seventh-Century Irish Eschatology,” Traditio 58 (2003): 91-132. See also Binchy, “The Old-Irish Table of Commutations,” 278.

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of hell and God’s concomitant right to sentence someone to it, rendered the mystic a kind of co-redeemer with Christ. Hell is necessary only as a point of reference, a ne plus ultra of suffering that the mystic can use, as Christ did his passion, to plumb the depths of her love. But it is no longer necessary “that any soul should ever go there again,” because the mystic’s sacrifice of co-redemption has exhausted that possibility. It would be unthinkable for the creature’s charity to exceed the Creator’s, so God is virtually bound to accept the challenge and forego his option of damning anyone ever again.31

Like Catherine, Hadewijch, and Íte, Samthann here acts as apostle to the dead, a role shared by many medieval women who were believed to be able to see the condition of souls in the afterlife and pray them out of purgatory or even hell. Her faithful can rest assured of her assistance, regardless if their opponents are demons, a king, or even another saint, and no matter if they are dead or alive.

Female Solidarity Two nuns once fled to Samthann from the monastery of St Cainnech (male), as one had “conceived by diabolic suggestion, and later bore a son.” The “diabolic suggestion” is the only approximate reference to the father, who may have been one of Cainnech’s monks.32 Fearing retribution, the nuns did not wish to raise the boy near the monastery. The reputation of Samthann filled them with hope, so they set off for Clonbroney. Samthann took pity on them and their child, and accepted the boy as her foster-son. She then advised the two nuns to leave her monastery in the dark of night, to avoid scandal, perhaps motivated by concern for the nuns’ reputation or, more callously, for Clonbroney’s. Samthann did not abandon them, however; she is likened to the right hand of God in the words of Psalm 117.16, and she rescued them again from bandits who lay in wait for them in the forest. Through Samthann’s prayer, a tree miraculously enclosed the nuns, then a dense fog filled the forest, blinding the men until the women could safely escape. Samthann successfully raised their son at Clonbroney; although he 31 Newman, From Virile Woman to WomanChrist, 122, 124. 32 PVSH II. 259; chapter 18. The monastery’s identity is unknown, but Cainnech’s Life claims he once lived at Clonbroney itself.

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did not become as famous as Íte’s foster-sons, and indeed is not even named in the vita, he later became abbot of the very monastery from which the nuns had fled in fear. Cainnech’s reaction to the nun’s pregnancy is not mentioned in Samthann’s vita, but his own records a miraculous abortion he performed by blessing the womb of a “virgo,” as discussed in Chapter Three. No moral judgment is made of the woman, nor any reference to her subsequent fate, nor her preference to abort the child or bear it.33 If this incident from Cainnech’s vita indicates his attitude toward pregnant nuns, these two women may have been well-justified in their fear of his reaction to their son, the “manifestation of sin,” to paraphrase the penitentialist Finnian. In contrast to Cainnech, Samthann also blessed a woman’s womb, but in this case the hitherto childless woman conceived a son shortly thereafter. The tale of the two nuns recalls Íte’s vita, which includes three examples of nuns transgressing their vow of abstinence, all of whom were forgiven and reconciled with their community, at least one also raising her daughter at Killeedy. This may suggest Íte’s influence or perhaps an ethic shared by women which differed from the dominant male ethic as evinced in most extant sources.34 While male saints also worked to free hostages from kings, they did not explicitly share Íte’s and Samthann’s sympathetic concern for women who had born “illegitimate” children. For example, Colman Ela compassionately offered to raise ColmCille’s nephews borne of an incestuous union, to save them from a death that only ColmCille’s shame had spared them so far, but neither of the two male saints showed concern for their mother.35 The tale of the two nuns, singular in its reference to Samthann’s role as muimme, offers a striking example of female solidarity between the sisters and Samthann. Although only one of the nuns had sinned, the other united her fate with her friend’s, refusing to abandon her whatever the cost. Their decision to seek Samthann’s aid is an explicitly mutual one, but their solidarity inspires no remark from the hagiographer. The nuns are portrayed as equals, almost indistinguishable, and exhibit exceptional unity apart from a given structural setting such as a monastic community. Samthann’s hagiographer’s rendering of this relationship, along with the degree and kind of female friendships enjoyed by so many of the saints, suggests that such strength of sisterhood was too common to elicit comment, despite other sources’ efforts to portray women as competitive and catty. 33 HVSH 197. See Chapter Three. 34 Bitel, Land of Women, 189-90. 35 See Callan, “Of Vanishing Fetuses,” 288.

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Wisdom Unlike other sanctae Hiberniae with vitae, no explicit reference is made to Samthann as either a teacher or a student.36 She did, however, share profound wisdom with those who came seeking her advice. When a monk asked her if she prayed standing, sitting, or lying down, she replied, “In every position one must pray.”37 Later in her Life, a magister, Daircellach, went to her to discuss his plans to set aside his studies and devote himself to prayer. She informed him that he could not do the latter if he abandoned the former, as education provides prayer’s very grounding. Daircellach then expressed a desire to go on pilgrimage. She told him, “If God could not be found on this side of the sea, we would indeed go abroad. But since God is near to all who invoke him, no necessity impels us to cross the sea. For one can reach the kingdom of heaven from any land.”38 Samthann thus emphasized that spirituality is an integral part of one’s life, in which prayer occurs in every position, and in every thought and deed. Spiritual studies are essential to Christian living, which does not require radical acts like pilgrimage, which in an Irish context often meant lifelong exile from one’s home immersed in ascetic austerity. Her words, stressing God’s inherent accessibility to all his creatures regardless of location, suggest tension with pilgrimage, but not nearly to the degree found in a text which provides the most information on Samthann apart from her vita, the so-called Monastery of Tallaght: “This Maelruain heard the elders say of the desertion of the land: ‘Any one who deserts his country, except to go from the east to the west, and from the north to the south, is a denier of Patrick in Heaven and of the faith in Erin.’”39

The Célí Dé The Maelruain in question is considered the leader of an important eighthcentury movement, the célí Dé, meaning clients of God.40 Much ink has been 36 Samthann is termed magistra in the penultimate chapter of her Life, but without indication of formal teaching responsibilities. She also had her foster-son educated, but the text does not state that she herself was the one to instruct him. 37 PVSH II.259; chapter 20. 38 PVSH II.260; chapter 24. 39 Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 133. 40 The Irish term céle (plural célí) was used for various relationships, in which it signif ied companion, spouse, client, or vassal. Céle Dé is the Irish version of servus Dei. The female equivalent of céle is cumal. As Richard Sharpe points out, in one version of her vita Samthann

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spilled on the extent to which it can be considered a reform, with Nora Chadwick arguing that it “has always been an integral part of the monastic Church” and Peter O’Dwyer focusing on the movement’s goal to “return to the primitive spirit of the anchorite, to banish worldliness and to restore the pure ascetical spirit” in response to an increasing laicization of the Church.41 Westley Follett echoes Chadwick’s view while also emphasizing the tremendous diversity among the célí Dé, which “was hardly a uniform vocation, much less an order.” Their goal was not reform “but rather a desire for a more personal, spiritually committed relationship with Deity, such as implied by their name for one another, céle Dé, a ‘client of God.’” The name indicates not an institutional affiliation but individual devotion, manifested through their service to God.42 Yet in some ways the célí Dé definitely seem distinct, such as the monastery of Tallaght’s peculiar prohibitions. Maelruain refused to let Cornan, a piper who was also an anchorite, play for him because “these ears are not lent to earthly music that they may be lent to the music of Heaven.”43 He also forbade drinking beer in his monasteries, a staple of the Irish diet. Another abbot, Dublitir, requested that Maelruain modify this restriction, at least on the three chief feasts, which Maelruain refused. Dublitir replied that his monks drink beer, and still will go to Heaven. Maelruain retorted that those who followed his Rule “shall not need to be cleansed by the fire of Doomsday, nor to come to judgment, because they shall be clean already. Thy monks, however, shall perchance have somewhat for the fire of Doom to cleanse.”44 Samthann or her hagiographer apparently shared Maelruain’s temperance. Unlike her sister saints who shared her ability to produce endless supplies of food and drink, Samthann never achieved this feat with beer, and is not associated with alcohol. Her adoption by the célí Dé evinces their complex attitudes toward women; in Bitel’s words, “[t]he célí-dé were trying hard to include women in their revision of the Christian life but could devise no single attitude toward women’s nature, religious vocation, proper place, or the proper mode of relations with them.”45 is referred to only as ancilla or famula Christi, unlike other women saints who are hailed as uirgo christi or Dei, sponsa Christi, et cetera (Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 149 n61). Ancilla and famula Christi are Latin equivalents of cumal Dé, which strengthens the connection between Samthann and the céli Dé movement. 41 Nora Chadwick, The Age of the Saints in the Early Celtic Church (London: Oxford University Press, 1961), 73; Peter O’Dwyer, Célí Dé: Spiritual Reform in Ireland, 750-900 (Dublin: Carmelite Publications, 1981), xi. 42 Westley Follett, Céli Dé in Ireland: Monastic Writing and Identity in the Early Middle Ages (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2006), 8, 214. 43 Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 131. 44 Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 130. 45 Bitel, Land of Women, 198; see also 278 n84.

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The extent of women’s involvement in the movement, including Samthann’s, remains unclear but célí Dé texts, especially the mid-ninth-century Monastery of Tallaght, evidently saw her as a fellow traveller and a source of inspiration. The historical dates for the saints make a close association unlikely, though not impossible, as Maelruain died 53 years after Samthann. According to this text, Samthann used to communicate often with the célí Dé through a pedlar, a kind of travelling merchant. One time she sent him to tell the célí Dé leader Maelruain that he was her favorite céle Dé and to ask if “he receive[s] womankind to his confession, and will he accept my soul-friendship?” When Maelruain learned that he was Samdan’s favourite, he rose at once and raised both hands as in a cross-vigil and gave thanks to God. When the pedlar asked him next whether women took counsel of him, and whether he would accept Samdan’s soul-friendship, he blushed down to his breast, and made three genuflections, and fell silent for a long time. Then he said: “Tell her,” said he, “that I will seek counsel from her.” Then the pedlar told all these sayings to Samdan, and she said: “I trow,” said she, “something will come of that youth.” Then she draws her brooch out of her mantle and drives it into her cheek till it stuck in the bone, and then there came out two filaments of milk: yet not a single drop of blood came out. At that sight the pedlar began to weep and wail. Then she took the wound between two fingers and began to squeeze it for a long time, and not a drop was wrung from it. Then at the last by reason of the long squeezing out came a little tiny drop. It was a little drop of water, and there was a little yellow on the surface enough to change its colour. Then she put this little driblet on her nail, and she said: “So long,” said she, “as there is this much juice in his body, let him bestow no friendship nor confidence upon womankind.”46

The role of soul-friend, anmchara, may predate Christianity; it signifies a sort of spiritual guide that in a Christian context became a personal confessor. 47 This relationship was especially emphasized by the célí Dé, but was found throughout early Irish Christianity. For example, Brigid once advised her foster-son, whose soul-friend had just died, to fast until he found another, for “anyone without a soulfriend is a body without a head.”48 Íte acted as a soul-friend to Brendan and other men on various occasions, as did Darerca, 46 Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 150-51. 47 McNeill and Gamer, Medieval Handbooks of Penance, 25. 48 Stokes, Félire Óengusso Céli Dé, 65.

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and the advice given by Samthann to the monks who visited her for her guidance constitutes an aspect of soul-friendship. A ninth-century poem, thought to have been written by the abbot Daniel Úa Liathaide of Lismore, attests to mixed-sex soul-friendship, as does the ninth- or early tenth-century poem Comrac Líadaine ocus Cuirithir, discussed in Chapter One. 49 But a distinction seems to be made between soul-friendship and women taking counsel from Maelruain, which in Samthann’s words is clearly confession. Significantly, Maelruain himself did not refuse the friendship, in which it is unclear who would be the confessor and who the penitent, but rather requested to take her counsel in the matter, and he was clearly overjoyed at receiving her favor. The author places the demand for segregation between the sexes in Samthann’s mouth, and places the condition for the restriction on Maelruain’s level of purity. Yet no suggestion of suspicion of women or mixed-sex friendships surfaces in Samthann’s vita, except in the case of the lustful cleric, in which her suspicion is decidedly well-grounded, as friendship was not his intent. Samthann’s feat of self-mutilation proves the extent of her self-mortification and absence of passion with vivid imagery, but her insistence on the separation of the sexes even if one is as pure as she remains puzzling. Follett’s analysis seems the most helpful: Samthann’s request for soul-friendship, that is for Máel Ruain to serve as her confessor, was an act of saintly humility before youthful authority—but it also appears to have been something of a test, one that Máel Ruain did not pass. So long as he felt the current of desire, revealed in his flushed countenance, he ought not to bestow friendship or association upon womankind. To his credit, Máel Ruain recognized this failing; after long, thoughtful consideration, he responds that rather than taking on her soul-friendship, he will instead seek counsel (comairle) from her. […] Máel Ruain is thus made to appear subordinate to Samthann, an uncomfortable notion for a later redactor or scribe of the Memoir who evidently felt compelled to suggest that the blushing abbot in this tale was not Máel Ruain of Tallaght but rather Ferdáchrich of Devenish (d. 747), “since Máel Ruain was more venerable than Samthann.”50 49 Kuno Meyer, ed. and trans., “Daniel Húa Liathaide’s Advice to a Woman,” Ériu 1 (1904), 67-71. Women commonly would have used a priest, and thus a man, as a soul-friend for their confessions. 50 Follett, “Women, Blood, and Soul-friendship: A Contextual Study of Two Anecdotes from the Tallaght Memoir,” in Gablánach in Scélaigecht: Celtic Studies in Honour of Ann Dooley, ed. Sarah Sheehan, Joanne Findon, and Westley Follett (Dublin: Four Courts, 2013), 53-68, at 68.

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The exemplum should not be taken as a general statement on gender relations. At least some céli Dé communities were mixed, including both sexes and married people as well as celibates.51 Samthann’s call for segregation seems an anomaly, both in the Monastery of Tallaght and in her own Life.52 The next chapter directly contradicts her stance on strict segregation, as it outlines the manner in which a monk should serve as the soul-friend of women: Devout young nuns he thinks it (right) to go and converse with and to confirm their faith, but without looking on their faces, and taking an elder man in thy company: and it is right to converse with them standing on the slab by the cross in front of the hostel, or in the retreat where they live. And the elder who goes with thee, and the senior nun who lives in company with the young nuns, should be present and not far from you, where they are.53

The text continues that lust striking a monk during these meetings is not necessarily negative, as resistance to such stirrings cultivates virtue, in keeping with the teaching of James 1:12: “Blessed is anyone who endures temptation. Such a one has stood the test and will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.” Even succumbing to temptation could be regarded as a relatively minor transgression, as one céle Dé learned when he received what he considered too mild a penance for fornicating with a woman he met on the road; his superiors rebuked him less for fornication than for doubting his confessors and wallowing in his guilt.54 The céli Dé taught that “desire is not itself a sin—merely the result of an excess of fluid in the body, and one which can be corrected by a change of diet.”55 The chapter immediately preceding Samthann’s own demonstration of her diminished bodily fluids clarifies the point. Copar, the sister of Molaisse of Devenish, was overcome with lust, which “is a third part as strong again in women as in men.” This is often taken as a standard assessment of 51 Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 130, 134-37, 140, 143, 145-46, 166; Etchingham, Church Organisation in Ireland, 349-50, 352. 52 One exception could be the lascivious cleric who attempted to seduce one of Samthann’s nuns and swears never to return to her monastery, but his self-imposed banishment is not applied to his sex as a whole (PVSH II 256). 53 Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 151. 54 Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 153-54. 55 Carey, King of Mysteries, 246.

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women, but as Helen Oxenham notes, “[t]his is the only indication in any of the extant early Irish sources that women might be biologically different from men in this way, that they naturally had a higher libido than their male counterparts.” Moreover, the text is “not used to condemn women […] Instead, Molaisse helps his sister,”56 putting her on an austere diet for a year, then taking a needle and stabbing her palm, which consequently flowed with three streams of blood. “No wonder,” said he, “if it is hard for the body, wherein are these strong currents, to contain itself.” For the next two years, she continued her ascetic regime, submitting to an annual test by Molaisse. At the end of the third year, the needle-prick produced no blood. Copar’s cure from lust was not final, however, as she had to continue the discipline for the rest of her life.57 Samthann clearly surpassed Copar, as her body produced no blood, but only two strands of milk and the smallest drop of water, and that only at great effort. As Clare Stancliffe notes, Copar illustrates the Irish belief that an excess of blood leads to lust, with fasting as the cure; this could also relate to menstruation as a sign of sin/lust, its cessation through near-starvation understood as a sign of purity, and could help explain why women were regarded as being particularly lust-prone. Stancliffe analyzes the three types of martyrdom commemorated in an Old Irish text from the seventh or eighth century: red (derg), white (bán), and blue (glas). Red represents the traditional martyrdom of death, white the daily mortification of ascetic life, and blue penitential discipline, similar to yet more intense than the white.58 Ireland’s peaceful adoption of Christianity precluded red martyrdom, at least before the Vikings came to its shores, but the Irish excelled at both bán and glas forms—women as well as men. Despite Samthann’s prominence in The Monastery of Tallaght, her Life lends little support to the argument that she was a prototypical céle Dé. Although her hagiographer extols her self-denial in his penultimate paragraph, very few incidents in her vita corroborate such a view. Her asceticism is not nearly as severe as Íte’s, which resulted in force-feeding by angels. In addition, Íte’s asceticism is presented as a supernatural feat and a mark of divine favor which must be admired but cannot be imitated by mere mortals, whereas the asceticism espoused by the céli Dé required exceptional discipline, but a discipline still within the realm of human capacity—or something 56 Oxenham, Perceptions of Femininity, 164-65. 57 Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 149. 58 Clare Stancliffe, “Red, White and Blue Martyrdom,” in Ireland in Early Mediaeval Europe: Studies in Memory of Kathleen Hughes, ed. Dorothy Whitelock, Rosamond McKitterick, and David Dumville (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 21-46.

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someone might die trying.59 Neither in her vita nor in The Monastery of Tallaght does Samthann come across as embodying excessive asceticism, apart from her self-mutilation which distressed the pedlar greatly. Perhaps Samthann became the primary female saint connected with the céli Dé due to the prominence of her cult in the eighth and ninth centuries, a cult which may have been more amorphous than that of longer-established saints, so as to adapt itself more easily to such adoption. Or perhaps, given their overlapping time periods and places, Samthann actually did interact with and influence céli Dé leaders like Maelruain, and texts associated with him reflected aspects of Samthann’s life that were of less interest to her hagiographer.

Conclusion Excise the fantastic, such as the enormous eel, and Samthann seems relatively free of stereotypes, in a genre that trades in stereotypes, or at least in types. In many ways Samthann is exceptional compared to other Irish people who have a Life, at least one that survived the Middle Ages. First, she’s female, and only three other Irish women were so fortunate (and some argue that one of those three was no human, but a Goddess). Secondly, alone of these women and a rarity among any Irish saint, her biological family plays no role in her Life and no claim is made about her noble blood. Her mother and father are named (Columba and Diamrán), but that is literally it; her foster-father and her erstwhile husband are noble, but no such claim is made for her; indeed, we are told nothing of her childhood. As Dorothy Africa has commented, few if any protagonists in hagiography enter their own life sound asleep and hurtle within a few sentences into full dramatic action as Samthann does.60 She’s also the only one of the four who was a wife before she became a nun. In one version of her vita Samthann is referred to only as ancilla or famula Christi (handmaid/servant of Christ), unlike other women saints who are hailed as virgo Christi or Dei, sponsa Christi, et cetera.61 Ancilla and famula Christi are Latin equivalents of cumal Dé, and cumal the female equivalent of céle, which strengthens the connection 59 The Monastery of Tallaght states that anyone who died trying to satisfy the penance imposed by his confessor would be considered a martyr, which suggests that such a fate may have not infrequently followed the extreme asceticism prescribed by the célí Dé (Gwynn and Purton, The Monastery of Tallaght, 146). 60 Africa, “Life of the Holy Virgin Samthann,” 99. 61 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 149 n61.

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between Samthann and the céli Dé movement, but it also raises the issue of her virginity. While her Life describes the fierceness with which she prayed to preserve her virginity, significantly she did so only after marriage. A considerable number of women who were at one point wives also became nuns and even abbesses in medieval Ireland, but Samthann’s example is again singular among Ireland’s holy heroes with a Life. Moreover, Samthann is the only eighth-century Irish saint, male or female, honored with an extant vita; even her friend Maelruain, though clearly celebrated, has no Life of his own. She is also one of very few who did not found her own community. All of her sister saints with medieval Lives died in the sixth century, and all were said to have founded their own communities. Samthann’s Life may date to within a generation or two of her death, and it may reveal the woman before history remade her, before centuries of devotion and the growing power of her monastery turned her into someone who could kill with a single word, like Patrick.62 Her prominence in an influential movement of the eighth century, the célí Dé, further suggests that she was particularly revered during this time. This may be due to her exceptional competence as abbess, which enabled Clonbroney to become one of few female monasteries to remain powerful for several centuries. Very little is known of Clonbroney before Samthann’s arrival; her obituary in the Annals of Ulster is its first mention in the annals. Clearly she made it a success, and that impressed, enough to win her a Life. She could be fierce, as she needed to be in order to shepherd her community in a land where few communities of women survived beyond a generation or two, and often did so thanks to close family ties to local rulers. She stood firmly in solidarity with her sisters, especially those who were threatened by men or had become mothers without a support system, like the pregnant nun and her sister who fled Cainnech’s community or the widows whose sons were held by enemy kings. She was also a woman who knew the needs of warriors, living and dead. She had the strength to help others because of her own deep spiritual life, a constant grounding in her devotion to God which could draw her into an ecstatic trance. Yet she simultaneously attained such remarkable self-discipline that she was said to have had virtually no excess bodily fluids. She was clearly many things to many people. As her Life declares just before it describes her death, “she was cheerful in giving, modest in receiving, gracious in compassion, capable in rendering.” She was also an abbess whom you did not want to cross; because she was, her name and her tale have survived for some 1300 years. 62 Africa, “Life of the Holy Virgin Samthann,” 101.

6

“I Place Myself under the Protection of the Virgins All Together” Sister Saints with Something Like a Life

Abstract The final chapter explores several prominent fifth- through seventhcentury female saints who do not have surviving medieval vitae but who help broaden our understanding of the complexity and empowering aspects of female religious experience in medieval Ireland. Three have early modern adaptations of medieval Lives or legends. Lasair was so renowned for her wisdom that Finnian of Clonard’s own Life claims her as his student. She also shows that women could unleash some seriously righteous wrath, while also being a source of comfort and healing. Attracta, said to be a contemporary and associate of Patrick, was particularly active in County Sligo, where she is well-remembered in several churches and wells. Her legend celebrates her ability to slay dragons and resurrect the dead. Cranat emphasizes connections with the earth, as her eyes are said to have become trees, one devoured piece by piece by the desperate hopes of Ireland’s emigrants in the mid-nineteenth-century, as it was said to protect the bearer from drowning; another survived and indeed thrived into the last century. Cranat sacrificed her eyes to retain control over her body and fate, to remain a nun rather than become a wife. Gobnait inspired many legends attesting to her great holiness and harmony with animals and nature, but none survive from the medieval period. Medieval litanies and calendars invoked her protection and honored her memory, but her preservation is primarily a credit to the importance that her monastic site, Ballyvourney, retained through the centuries as well as to oral traditions and cultural customs that accompanied her cult. The chapter finishes with Dígde, the probable poet behind one of Ireland’s most celebrated poems, Aithbe damsa bés mara, or “The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare.” Her poem may preserve an authentic echo of a medieval Irishwoman’s perspective; its haunting, complex, and evocative beauty

Callan, M. B., Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463721509_ch06

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and frank sensuality challenge assumptions about gender and sanctity and provides striking contrast to claims made by hagiographers. Key words: education, healing cures, poetry, sheela na gigs [Lasair, Attracta, Cranat, Gobnait, Dígde]

A lorica (protective prayer) in the twelfth-century Book of Leinster invokes roughly thirty named female saints, all Irish save the Virgin Mary: I place myself under the protection Of Mary the pure Virgin, Of Brigit, bright and glowing, Of Cuach of great purity, Of Moninna and Midnat, Of Scíre, Sínech, Samthann, Of Caite, Cuach, and Cóemell, Of Craine, Coip, and Cocnat, Of Ness the glorious of Ernaide [Urney], Of Derbfiled and Becnat, Of Cíar and Cróne and Caílann, Of Lassar, Locha, and Lúaithrenn, Of Ruinne, Ronnat, Rignach, Of Sarnat, Segnat, Sodelb, And of the virgins all together North, South, East, West.1

Apart from the four who star in their own Lives—if Íte here is meant by Mídnat, a form of one of her nicknames, although it’s also one of Darerca’s— these women’s identities are elusive. A Ness of Urney is commemorated on September 4, but, despite her glory, little else about her is known. 2 Cocnat may be the Cognat who founded Urney, according to Samthann’s Life.3 Rígnach could be Finnian of Clonard’s supposed sister, Rónnat perhaps refers to Adomnán’s mother, and Sodelb may be one of the nuns 1 Charles Plummer, Irish Litanies: Text and Translation (London: Harrison and Sons, Ltd., 1925), 92-93, 121-23; Richard Irvine Best and Hugh Jackson Lawlor, ed. and trans., The Martyrology of Tallaght, from the Book of Leinster and MS. 5100-4 in the Royal Library, Brussels, Henry Bradshaw Society 68 (London: Harrison and Sons, 1931), 109-11. 2 Martyrology of Donegal, 237; Martyrology of Gorman, 171. 3 Bourke, Field Anthology, IV.56, 337–39, and 364, 88.

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who suckled Christ, according to Félire Óengusso—or perhaps the Sodelb intended is the mother of Benén and Mathona, or perhaps the founder of Cén in Magh Conaille. 4 Others could be similarly chased through the sources, but confirming their identities would be virtually impossible, especially given the number of saints sharing a name— the Martyrology of Donegal commemorates seven Brigids in addition to the abbess of Kildare, as well as fourteen Lasairs and nearly one hundred Colmans. Even this lorica duplicates, with two women named Cúach—but whether it refers to the Cúach commemorated on January 8 in the Martyrology of Donegal or the one on June 6 in the Martyrology of Tallaght, or both, or neither, cannot be ascertained. And to confuse the matter further, Cúach is also spelled Cóch, the name of Ciarán of Saigir’s foster-mother (also called Coinche), whose feast day is June 29; Coga, a hypocoristic form of Cóch, is the patron of Kilcock in the barony of Ikeathy in county Kildare.5 Since Cognad/Cocnat is another variant, the lorica, “the oldest of the Irish metrical litanies,”6 might actually triplicate. While only four sanctae Hiberniae have extant medieval vitae, countless holy women merited a mention in medieval Irish sources, although the reasons for their inclusion often are not specified, as in this lorica. Three retain vestiges of a medieval Life. Lasair’s is by far the most developed; in its current form, a seventeenth-century scribe named David O’Duigenan “has probably modernised a late Middle-Irish original.”7 According to this text, Lasair descended from royalty on both sides, her father Ronán being the son of the king of the Eoghanacht and her mother Dubhlacha the daughter of the Lagenian king. She had five sisters and one brother, all of whom her parents ensured were well-educated. Lasair was sent to study under the famed ascetic Molaise of Devenish in Lower Lough Erne and within a year outshone all the students who had been training there for seven years, an accomplishment attributed to her tutorials with the Holy Spirit rather than to her teacher Molaise. Also in the seventeenth century, John Colgan published a version of Attracta’s Life based on one written at the end of the fourteenth century by Augustine Magraidin. She is identified with the 4 Stokes, Félire Óengusso Céli Dé, 103. According to Donnchadh Ó Corráin and Fidelma Maguire, Christ was also the one who baptized Eithne and Sodelb and taught them the faith [Irish Names (1981; reprint, Dublin: The Lilliput Press, 1990), 85]. 5 Padraig Ó Riain, A Dictionary of Irish Saints (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2011), 178. 6 Daphne D. C. Pochin Mould, The Irish Saints: Short Biographies of the Principal Irish Saints from the Time of St. Patrick to That of St. Laurence O’Toole (Dublin: Clonmore and Reynolds, Ltd., 1964), 300. 7 Gwynn, “Life of St. Lasair,” 73.

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Adrocht whom Patrick consecrated and whose church held his patens and chalice, according to Tírechán.8 She descended from a noble lineage in Ulster, which she left for Connacht, a land that cherishes her memory in the multiple churches and holy wells dedicated to her. If her traditional dates are correct, 410-470, she would be among Ireland’s earliest saints, but such chronology may rest entirely on her association with Patrick. The third sister, Cranat, has one fifteenth- and two seventeenth-century versions of something that is styled a Life, but “is merely a narrative of the incident how the Saint, in order to avoid matrimony, gouged out both her eyes, and how her sight was miraculously restored.”9 While it offers geographic specificity, it tells so little about its saintly subject that which Cranat it intends cannot be determined. In addition to these three, St. Gobnait’s Ballyvourney remembers her so well and retained sufficient historical significance through the centuries that enough bits can be pieced together to gain a sense of her story. According to his own Lives, Abbán founded Ballyvourney and gave it to Gobnait, where both he and she are said to be buried. She is also associated with Inis Oírr, the smallest of the Aran Islands, and Félire Óengusso connects her with Urney in the notes to her feast day on February 11. Abbán’s Lives also claim him as the founder of Killagh (Co. Kerry), saying he donated it to Fínán Cam, who is more closely associated with Kinnity,10 but Killagh’s full name is Killagh Choinchinn, after a female saint, Coincheann, suggesting she was its founder.11 It was the home of Líadain as well as her kinswoman Dígde, the author of one of Ireland’s most celebrated poems, Aithbe damsa bés mara, or “The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare”; the poem’s preface claims Fínán Cam promised Dígde and her kin that they would always have a glorious nun among them. Her poem, the medieval Irish text which is most widely accepted as having been written by a woman, provides contrast to hagiographic accounts of a woman’s life as well as concepts of sanctity. While textual evidence for these women can be elusive, archaeology often attests to their influence for a millennium or more—as is the case for Attracta at Killaraght, Gobnait for Ballyvourney, and Lasair at Kilronan. Long after Protestants shut down their communities and tried to kill their cult, deeming it idolatrous superstition, the feet and knees of their faithful continued to wear paths to their wells and pray by their graves, as they still do today. 8 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 149. 9 Plummer, Miscellanea Hagiographica Hibernica, 158. 10 HVSH, 264. 11 The name also connects to Dígde’s family name, the Uí Maic Íair Chonchinn.

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Lasair, “Hell Thereafter from Me” In medieval Ireland, anger could be an art form rather than a deadly vice, one in which the island’s most celebrated saints were exceptionally skilled. A particularly potent means of showing sanctity, it proved decisive at one of the most pivotal moments in Ireland’s history of the faith, according to Muirchú in his seventh-century Life of St Patrick. As Patrick battled the high king, Loíguire, and his druids on Holy Saturday in the year 433, the saint served as conduit for divine vengeance, so that “seven times seven men perished through the curse of St Patrick”; the next day, Easter Sunday, “at the prayer and the word of Patrick the wrath of God descended upon the impious people [i.e., the pagan Irish], and many of them died,” prompting Loíguire’s conversion and enabling the faith to flourish throughout the land—at least, according to Patrick’s propagandists.12 The following century, a different saint and high king proved a similar point. Through his scorching satire fueled by his righteous wrath, St Ruadán bested Diarmait mac Cerbaill in a cursing contest, his relentless invective attesting to God’s greater love for him, as Diarmait himself acknowledged, even as he insisted that the saint advocated iniquity while he, the king, defended truth.13 Ireland’s female saints generally did not get as vicious as their brothers, but that could be a reflection of gaps in the record. What remains suggests that similar severity could be found in the so-called gentler sex. Samthann was an abbess not to be crossed, as the lustful cleric and the greedy landowner learned to their regret. But no matter how sharp sanctae might get with wayward souls, none compares with Lasair, who promised any who neglected to pay her tax, “he shall have no posterity after him, but hell thereafter from me.”14 She then detailed their damnation, just so there would be no misunderstanding: ill-fortune, poverty, anger, hatred, murder of kinsfolk, weakness, wounds, and war. Those who render Lasair her due, however, shall receive many blessings, including a happy sex life. As with the divisions seen in Darerca’s Life, Lasair’s does not offer only an idealized image of its saint or sisterhood. Lasair’s own sister had to withstand her temper, for which the author slightly scolds his saint: After Lasair had been a period and space in company of her father and mother, she spoke to them and said that it was time for her to obtain from 12 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 90-91, 96-97. 13 HVSH, 165. 14 Gwynn, “Life of St. Lasair,” 101, 95.

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them a patrimony and estate, for she was accomplished in all learning, ingenious in each art, and ready in all wisdom, and that she had been seized with a jealousy and envy of all lands and noble estates possessed by her other sister, even Damhnad daughter of Ronán, who was inferior to her in learning and craft, and she said to her father and mother angrily, resentfully and passionately, that of their children none should be better in management of lands and usages of an estate than she herself. And never did a fit of jealousy nor deadly sin seize Lasair from the night that she was born till the night of her death save only the envy she then conceived against Damhnad.15

The Life quickly recounts the sisters’ reconciliation and their agreement to share their parents’ lands equally “in companionship and friendship with each other.” Though her hagiographer acknowledges Lasair’s fault in envying her sister, he makes no judgment concerning her claims of superiority, claims arising from her intellect, skill, and learning—not her virtue or piety, and clearly not her humility. The Life of the most renowned teacher of all Ireland, Finnian of Clonard, claims Lasair as one of his pupils. After he had rescued her from the brink of marriage, he brought her to the cell of his sister Rígnach and gave her an excellent education.16 Before long, however, she left Clonard with the followers she had gained there to found her own community in her home province. Since her own Life is surprisingly silent about such a prestigious connection, it cannot be confirmed if this is the same St Lasair. Saints revered for their intelligence and learning were frequently said to have been taught by Finnian, and she could have been one of the numerous Sts Lasair with uncertain histories, fourteen of whom are named in the Martyrology of Donegal alone, and none of whom can be positively identified as the one to whom Finnian’s vita refers. Another Lasair is said to be both the blood and spiritual sister of Daig, with both studying at Devenish under Molaise. Her brother continued his training at both Bangor and Clonard, making him one of Ireland’s most highly educated saints; he then shared his learning with women at the school he established at the community of Columba’s daughters, and presumably at his other sites as well.17 Daig proved a little too popular with women for the comfort of Áengus, abbot of Clonmacnoise, who sent some of his monks to rebuke Daig for one of his mixed communities 15 Gwynn, “Life of St. Lasair,” 79. 16 HVSH, 102. 17 HVSH, 392.

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which included his sister Lasair. The women proved their chastity and holiness, causing Áengus’s monks to repent their impure suspicions, but Daig decided to disperse his female flock anyway and established separate communities for them “in which they might serve God with other virgins apart (from men), just as was proper for them.”18 As much as for her erudition and invective, Lasair is famed for her healing. Clay from her church could cure “eighteen score diseases” if devoutly applied to “any person of all in the many-peopled world.”19 She used her miraculous bell, Ceolán Lasrach, to help a woman who had been suffering from an exceedingly difficult pregnancy for nearly two years; “two venomous serpents [had been] within [her] body working [her] destruction continually, gnawing [her], tearing [her], and cleaving [her] bones for all that time, and no leech or physician, however great his skill or knowledge [had] been able to cure or heal [her].” Lasair made a healing potion for the tormented woman, who drank it from Ceolán Lasrach, and at once she was delivered of “a slender, beautiful man-child” with two lizards, held one in each hand.20 By a similar treatment, she cured a man who for four years had the alarming illness of consuming his own waste. So grateful was he at his healing that he promptly went home and composed a poem in her honor, rejoicing in his deliverance from “a-drinking his sweat, his urine / [as] used he to be each several hour.”21 Though her Life intersperses verse at several points, it speaks scathingly of poets in one tale, when “nine enneads of poets and men of learning” sought her help when they were desperate with hunger. She prayed “ardently and fervently to the Creator to procure food for that harsh insensate band that had come unto her.” When her prayers were answered, “Lasair rendered thanks and eternal gratitude to the Lord Ominipotent and thereafter bore the food unto those peevish and evil-speaking folk.” The poet-scholars gratefully received the food, praising God and his saint. Later they asked a servant about the food’s source, who said it was thanks to God “that the maiden had been preserved from the insults and reproaches of the poet-band; for which miracle did the company and all in common exalt the wonderful deeds of God and Lasair.” Then the senior, most skilled poet composed a genealogical poem in Lasair’s honor, which in true hagiographic—and gospel—fashion differs from a genealogy offered earlier in her Life. The 18 19 20 21

HVSH, 392-93; see Chapter Three, footnote 43. Gwynn, “Life of St. Lasair,” 103. Gwynn, “Life of St. Lasair,” 81. Gwynn, “Life of St. Lasair,” 91.

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hostility presumably relates to resentment regarding poets’ proclivity for satire, but the poets here are the ones insulted, when they are genuinely in need and then gratefully respond with fitting praise and honor to God and his saint. Given the recurring integration of poetry within the Life as well as its high regard for education, the attitude seems especially anomalous. Like Íte, Samthann, and Brigid, as well as several male saints, Lasair proves impervious to fire when reavers burned down Devenish; in other miracles, however, the fire is presented as an illusion and/or an indication that the Holy Spirit burns within them, not an actual physical threat. Lasair’s Life gives the distinct impression of being composed in a land of war, which could indicate a date after the arrival of the Anglo-Normans, but feuding plagued Ireland throughout the Middle Ages. As the claims about her education indicate, the Holy Spirit was with her as well, and her name itself means “flame,” a common signifier of the Holy Spirit. She founded several communities, at least one composed of male as well as female scholars. The most well-established is Kilronan, named after her father which her Life claims was at her insistence, and the Life often portrays the two more as partners than parent and child.22 In a further demonstration of gender fluidity and flexibility, the Annals of Clonmacnoise records the death in 1398 of “David O’Dowgennan Cowarb of the Virgin St. Lassar,” who was buried at Kilronan, coarb signifying the head of the community and the founder’s successor. Whatever Lasair’s Life may claim, Kilronan’s name suggests the community was founded by a man named Ronan, but it then became absorbed into Lasair’s cult, and eventually the head of the community was considered her successor, even when it was a man. This particular coarb shares the same name and thus is likely kin to the seventeenth-century man whose copy of the saint’s Life ultimately survived. Given this Life’s lateness and the multiplicity of Lasairs, little can be said about the saint herself with historical certainty, but her community’s gender diversity and her character’s combination of vengeance, great intelligence, and powerful healing of even the most repulsive conditions reveal more of the gender complexity found in the medieval Irish church.

Attracta, “Wise in Words and Honorable in All Things” Perhaps owing to the lateness or the brevity of her Life, the fantastic dominates in Attracta’s legend, with fact further obscured by conflicting 22 Gwynn, “Life of St. Lasair,” 95.

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accounts. “[O]ne of the many Irish saints to whom devotion has remained a live thing, but of whom nothing is known historically,”23 Attracta apparently came from Ulster, but established several communities in Connacht, where she remains revered today. As Adrocht is a variant of Attracta, she is identified with a woman whom Patrick consecrated and whose church held his patens and chalice in Tírechán’s Life.24 Patrick’s later Tripartite Life expands the tale a bit, adding that her veil came from heaven; when Patrick offered it to her, she humbly said that it better befitted his goodness.25 Attracta’s own Life has Patrick appear for a eucharistic miracle involving a missing paten that suddenly reappears on Attracta’s shoulders, newly inscribed with the cross, sent by God, and to be treasured everafter as a relic. Yet given this prestigious supposed connection, her Life is surprisingly reticent regarding Ireland’s premier saint; it says that he was in Attracta’s new homeland to ordain bishops and priests, but does not specify who performed Attracta’s consecration. It claims she showed profound piety since childhood, without clarifying the religious affiliations of her parents, who were perhaps pagan, since other sources date her to the fifth century and claim her among Patrick’s first converts. From childhood she practiced intense asceticism, especially fasting, as she also exemplified generosity in alms-giving. Escaping parental pressure for her to wed, she fled her homeland with a male (Mochain) and female (Mitain) servant, “seeking to freely devote herself to God and the solitary life among strangers” in an unknown land, where she could pursue chastity while also practicing great hospitality.26 Attracta parted ways with Mochain where seven roads came together. Here, with Attracta’s guidance, he established a commune synochen, which John O’Hanlon explains was a xenodochium, or hospital for the poor and travellers.27 Attracta was granted the land for this communal hospital by locals who loved her like she was one of their own, awed by her wisdom and goodness, and who regularly sought her advice. Yet she soon moved on to lands that were already associated with a male saint, Connall Droma, claimed as “the son of her mother.”28 She intruded upon Connall during Lent, as he immersed himself in penitential icy waters, but he recognized her as the fulfillment of the prophesied Morning Star coming to his land, 23 Mould, Irish Saints, 31. 24 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 149. 25 Stokes, Tripartite Life, I.109. 26 “[V]t liberius Deo vacaret, & solitariam vitam inter alienos expetens” [Colgan, Acta Sanctorum Hiberniae (Louvain: Everard de Witte, 1645), I. 278, my translation]. 27 O’Hanlon, Lives of the Irish Saints, 8. 156 n9. 28 “Filium matris suae” (Colgan, Acta Sanctorum, I. 278, my translation).

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with her hagiographer adding that her miracles were more numerous than the stars in heaven, the sand in the sea, and the leaves on trees in a dense forest. Still, a dispute arose between the two, probably reflecting competing claims between their respective communities through the years, although Connall Droma’s identity remains obscure.29 Connall sent a representative, Dachonna (Dochonna of Assylin), to persuade her not to build in a specific location, closer to Boyle. Attracta acquiesced, but let him know in no uncertain terms that it displeased her greatly as she cursed both Conall and, to a lesser extent, Dachonna. Attracta seems to have been the most beloved of these three, perhaps in part because she supposedly slew a dragon that was ravaging the land and its people near Lough Gara. The king beseeched her for aid and she agreed to travel to Luighne (essentially the diocese of Achonry, the center of her longest lasting cult) to help. He promised that thenceforth the locals would be devoted to her and her successors, and that whatever she freed from the monster she could have for her church. Attracta did not doubt that God, who created the world out of nothing and formed humanity into God’s own image out of dirt, could easily deliver them from the dragon; thus girded by her faith, she approached the dragon, described in horrifying terms.30 But Attracta feared no evil; as she approached, she made the sign of the cross with her staff, which the dragon tried to devour, promptly killing him. Later Attracta delivered the good people of Luighne from another threat, an invading pagan army who had trapped them by the shores of Lough Gara. She walked among her people, inspiring them to trust in the Lord with whom all things are possible. Like Moses at the Red Sea, she then parted the waters and enabled her faithful to escape without harm by crossing through the lake, save one musician, whom she raised from the dead after he drowned and who subsequently became a saint (Faolán). Many other miracles are told of the saint, including one reminiscent of both Samthann and Gobnait. A king of Connacht, Ceannfaeladh, demanded that everyone assist in his construction of a glorious castle. Attracta insisted on her immunity, but agreed to help by miraculous means. The king spurned her proposal, so the saint went with companions into the forest to acquire the requisite wood. They gathered so much it overburdened their horses, and, in response to the pleas of a compassionate servant, Attracta arranged for wild deer to come and carry the load. The saint also used her own hair to 29 Ó Riain, A Dictionary of Irish Saints, 222. 30 “[Q]ui mundum creauit ex nihilo, & hominem ad imaginem suam de limo terrae figurauit” (Colgan, Acta Sanctorum, I. 279).

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bind the wood together, but these miracles only enflamed the king’s anger. The Life quickly spirals into violent chaos before ending abruptly, with dogs set on the deer, horses set on the dogs, horses and dogs killing the humans who incited them, and the deer honoring the saint before returning to the woods. Even O’Hanlon, among the most charitable toward Attracta’s late Life, advises that this section be read “with distrust and disregard.”31 And yet, dubious as the memories preserved in the literature may be, culture and custom have cherished her cult through the centuries. Like Darerca’s Killevy, Attracta’s Killaraght survived from the fifth century into the sixteenth, abruptly brought to an end only by the Protestant Dissolution. Even still the site retains its significance; a stone at Killaraght’s gate commemorates the burials of Famine victims as well as unbaptized babies, and it remains a “live,” or still used, cemetery. Multiple other townlands preserve her memory and wells, including Toberaraght, Attymas, Monasteraden, Kilcolman, and Kilbeagh. In 1864, about ten years after the worst of the Famine, her feast day (August 11) was elevated to a Double of the Minor Rite by Pope Pius IX. O’Hanlon ends his discussion of her on an inspiring, compelling note: “To the poor and forlorn she was the tender compassionate friend and mother, ever ready to listen to their sorrows, to advise them in their difficulties, and to relieve them in their wants. By her instruction and example she guided many others on the road to eternal happiness.”32 He does not acknowledge his authority but, here, as elsewhere, tradition preserves what text neglects.

Cranat, “My Body to Be Thus under [My] Control” Cranat is remembered better by the earth than by the written word. Tradition attributes at least two sacred trees to her, and her name, whether starting with Cran or Craebh, emphasizes the connection, as both mean branch or tree. The centuries-old Crann a hulla in Annakissy was still thriving as of 120 years ago, despite poor soil and no doubt dire need of fuel amid some of Ireland’s harshest centuries, and despite at least one storm taking out a sizable part of it. A “skilled Scottish forester” determined this ash tree to be at least 300 years old at the end of the nineteenth century and theorized that it continue to thrive, despite ashes generally not being so long lived, because “a seedling or off-shoot from the parent tree may grow up alongside, 31 O’Hanlon, Lives of the Irish Saints, 8. 162. 32 O’Hanlon, Lives of the Irish Saints, 8. 167.

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and in time replace it.”33 In a text quoted in 1915 but dating to 1847, it was described as “a beautiful and healthy tree, immensely large, and sacred to St. Cranit.”34 It radiated power and music, as a bell, thought to be hidden from Protestants in the wake of the Reformation, was concealed within it, causing it to sound when the wind moved through it just right. A storm in 1834 broke part of the tree open, revealing the bell, which was then kept by the Murphys of Mallow.35 Despite this storm-wrought destruction, Crann a hulla still fared better than another tree sacred to Cranat in Killura, Church of the Yew. This one, described in various sources as a white-thorn or an elm (not a yew), was said to protect from drowning anyone who had a piece of it. “Accordingly, emigrants far and near provided themselves with chips of it, until at last it disappeared entirely” in the decades following the worst of the Famine.36 Truncated though her Life may be, it preserves the connection between the saint and trees, as her eye was said to be hidden within one. According to the tale, amplified by later legends, reports of Cranat’s beauty enflamed the imagination of Cairbre Crom, a sixth-century son of the king of Munster. He secretly stalked her, and her holiness aroused him even more than did her beauty. He was determined to make her his wife and tried to broker their betrothal through her brother, Fínán, the king of Fermoy (Fir Maige Féne). She was apparently already pursuing the holy life, as her home was a hermitage, and she spurned Cairbre’s proposal as forcefully as she could, since she feared “that she would not be abandoned to her own counsel. So she plucked her two eyes out of her head, and placed them in the hands of the two maidens who were with her, to wit, Maelbracha and Laithche.” Maelbracha kept the eye in the bosom of her shift, while Laithche hid hers in the crook of a tree, covering it with moss and grass. Finan then informed Cairbre of his rejection, starting a temporary feud between the two which was cut short when Cairbre refused a saint’s hospitality, preferring to fast instead. The saint, Culcan, told him that the fast “should be a perpetual 33 James Byrne, “The Sacred Tree of Clenor,” Journal of the Cork Historical Archaeological Society 2 (1896): 59-62, at 60. 34 James Grove White, Historical and Topographical Notes, etc., on Buttevant, Castletownroche, Doneraile, Mallow, and places in their vicinity, 4 vols. (Cork: Guy and Co., 1906-15), IV. 303. 35 M. T. Kelly’s dramatic discussion of the storm’s revelation of the bell inside the tree, dated here to 1739, stands at odds with contemporary testimony, including a photo, proclaiming the tree’s continued well-being at the end of the nineteenth century [“The Chapel Bell of Killura,” The Irish Monthly 24 (1896): 81-84]. According to Sean O’Reilly in 1987, “[a] few years ago, a great storm felled the tree, but the stump survived and can still be seen by the roadside” [“Forgotten Holy Wells,” Mallow Field Club Journal 5 (1987): 128-132, at 129]. 36 Byrne, “Sacred Tree of Clenor,” 62.

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fast,” and Cairbre promptly died. Finan then swore his progeny would forever serve Cranat, to whom he also gave extensive lands. When Cranat declared that she needed her eyes back, Maelbracha gave her the one she had kept with her all along. Cranat then used that eye to search out the tree where Laithche had hid the other. She could not completely clean it, though; some tree debris still clung to it even once it had been restored in her head, “so that that eye had a fierce look ever after.” Its description as a “red,” “quivering” eye of “wrath” calls to mind tales about the mythical hero Cú Chulainn when the war frenzy consumed him, conveying his great power, but the Life suggests the saint deeply resented the distortion to her eye.37 She rewarded Maelbracha for caring for the one so well, declaring that they would be bosom buddies forever, in heaven as on earth. Laithche, on the other hand, she condemned to a life of dwelling under dirt and leaves.38 It seems ironic, given her ability to rip out then restore her own eyes, that she couldn’t remove some dirt; this aspect of the legend may relate more to Laithche’s fate as a forest-dweller than to Cranat’s abilities, or perhaps it implies nature’s intense power, a speck of dirt still able to deny a saint, or maybe it indicates the saint’s harmony with the earth and its power. According to a legend more tied to the tree, Cranat ripped out only one eye, “and where it fell up sprung the ash-tree, which from that date to the present marks the spot where holy Craebhnat made such a sacrifice for the faith that was in her.”39 A poem preserved in the Life suggests greater geographical association as well, as Cranat says she left her eyes at her hermitage “[f]or the sake of the King of the mysteries beyond.”40 The poem emphasizes how she did this of her own free will, to keep control of her own body, expressing a frustration and a rage that countless women in patriarchy through the centuries likely could relate to. 41 One can only imagine how many women destined for a marriage not of their own making would have wished to exchange their eyes for their freedom, especially if they could miraculously have them restored afterwards, any accompanying detritus be damned.42 Cranat also 37 The Life attributes the red tint to the eye Maelbracha preserved, but its poem combines the characteristics into one eye. 38 “The Life of Cranat,” in Plummer, Miscellanea Hagiographica Hibernica, 165-66. 39 Byrne, “The Sacred Tree of Clenor,” 60. 40 Plummer, “Life of Cranat,” 166. See also the miracles relating to blindness in Darerca’s and Brigid’s Lives, discussed in Chapter Two. 41 Cf. Elva Johnston’s reading that the anecdote undermines any empowerment for women by mocking her inability to cleanse her eye [“Powerful Women or Patriarchal Weapons? Two Medieval Irish Saints,” Peritia 15 (2012): 302-10, at 307-8, 310]. 42 A tale about Cairech Dercáin offers a welcome change: the king of Thomond wanted to marry her and so sent a man to spy on her at Cloonburren, and she wished upon him an injury

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aptly illustrates the fate of so many sanctae whose shadows we can barely see in the sources; “though not mentioned in history, she maintained a strong position in local tradition.”43 And her trees still thrived for centuries.

Gobnait, “How Many Years Make Up a Nameplace” Devotion to Gobnait has been etched deep into the land, but left little trace in medieval texts; as Diarmuid Ó hÉaluighthe notes, “[s]he is lost in the mists of centuries.”44 Several medieval calendars commemorate her—including Félire Óengusso, the Martyrology of Tallaght, the Martyrology of Donegal, and the Martyrology of Gorman—but they tell little of her. Her main monastic site, Ballyvourney, retained sufficient significance throughout the centuries to preserve the cult that text obscures. A rare and intriguing inscribed stone was also dedicated to her, perhaps even during her lifetime, in the sixth or seventh centuries. 45 Made of sandstone, it has eight-point crosses on both faces, with the eastern one surmounted by a small saintly figure, which some see as Gobnait herself and others as a male ecclesiastic. A thirteenth-century oak carving of the saint, perhaps the only one of an Irish female saint to have survived the Middle Ages, was kept safe from Protestants by the O’Herlihys, Gobnait’s erenachs, an office similar but secondary to coarbs in caring for the foundation, relics, and property of a saint and her monastic community. “About 1843, the hereditary representative on the female side, an O’Brien of Dunmanway, fearing for the safety of the statue, handed it over to the parish priest of Ballyvourney,” whose successors still care for the statue and display that would remove his eye; soon thereafter, the monastery’s pet crane came and plucked his eye out. The man, however, still reported upon her beauty; the king demanded to wed her, and she persuaded her foster-daughter Rícenn to marry him instead, as she had not yet vowed her virginity to God, unlike Cairech Dercáin, but assured her of an equal reward in heaven. Once she was widowed, Rícenn donated land to Cairech Dercáin as well as to Ciarán of Clonmacnoise (Bourke, Field Anthology, 130). I have not yet encountered an example in Irish hagiography of a man filled with lust when looking at woman heeding Christ’s advice to tear out his own offending eye, “for it is better to enter the kingdom of heaven with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell” (Mark 9:47). 43 Plummer, “Life of Cranat,” 158. 44 Diarmuid Ó hÉaluighthe, “St Gobnet of Ballyvourney,” Journal of the Cork Historical and Archaeological Society 57 (1952): 43-61, at 47 45 George V. Du Noyer, “Catalogue Relating to Ninety-five Drawings from Original Sketches of Various Objects of Antiquity,” PRIA 8 (1861-64): 282-89, at 283; Dorothy C. Harris, “Saint Gobnet, Abbess of Ballyvourney,” JRSAI 8 (1938): 272-77, at 277. Note Ó hÉaluighthe’s point, however, that the association with Gobnait may result from the strength of devotion to her when the stone was found in the nineteenth century (57).

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it on her feast day (February 11) and on Pentecost (Whitsunday). 46 In July 1601, amid bloody battles between Catholics and Protestants throughout Europe and shortly before the decisive defeat of the Gaelic Irish at the Battle of Kinsale (October 1601), Pope Clement VIII issued an indulgence to those who visited Ballyvourney on Gobnait’s feast day, confessed their sins, received the eucharist, and “poured out pious prayers to God for harmony among Christian princes, the extirpation of heresy [read Protestantism], and the exaltation of Holy Mother [read Catholic] Church.”47 The Irish defeat at Kinsale, roughly thirty-five miles from Ballyvourney, followed by the Flight of the Earls a few years later, effectively quashing hopes of Irish independence for centuries, did not end devotion to the saint. Donal Cam Ó Súilleabháin, who would be among the earls fleeing in 1607, prayed at Ballyvourney during his desperate and ill-fated escape from Béara in 1603. The Papal Nuncio Rinuccini and Monsignor Massari attended mass at Ballyvourney in 1645. In 1687 Richard Cox attested to Ballyvourney’s status as a “great resort of pilgrims.”48 In The Great Folly, Superstition, and Idolatry of Pilgrimages in Ireland, published in 1727, the partisanly Protestant John Richardson spoke of Gobnait’s statue’s curative powers, which he claims it had lost, since two O’Herlihys had died of smallpox. Richardson further stated that the (Protestant) Bishop of Cloyne had done much to suppress this “rank idolatry,” but in 1750 Charles Smith continued similar complaints, that Gobnait’s “devotees (which are only the more simple and ruder Irish) go round [her statue] on their knees,” praying to the saint and tying handkerchiefs about its neck to protect them from disease. 49 Not even the oppressive seventeenth- and eighteenth-century penal laws, which deprived Catholics of the right to own property worth more than £5, to educate their children as Catholics, to vote or hold government office, and generally served similar purposes to what the English and other Europeans were doing at this same time to natives in lands like the Americas, Africa, and Australia, could dim this devotion to Gobnait. According to nineteenth-century references, a kind 46 Ó hÉaluighthe, “St Gobnet of Ballyvourney,” 50. 47 “[I]bi pro Christianorum Principum concordia, haeresum extirpatione, ac Sanctae Matris Ecclesiae exaltatione pias ad Deum preces effunderint” (Ó hÉaluighthe, “St Gobnet of Ballyvourney,” 51, my translation). 48 Richard Cox, “Regnum Corcagiense, or Description of the Kingdom of Cork, with Remarks on the Antient and Present State thereof, by Sir Richard Cox,” ed. Robert Day, Journal of the Cork Historical and Archaeological Society 8 (1902): 65-83, 156-179, at 175. 49 John Richardson, The Great Folly, Superstition, and Idolatry of Pilgrimages in Ireland (Dublin: J. Hyde, 1727), 70-71; Charles Smith, The Antient and Present State of the County and City of Cork (Dublin: A. Reilly, 1750), I.194.

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of university for holy beggars developed at Ballyvourney.50 And even today, when Catholic fervor ebbs among the masses, appalling internal scandals accomplishing what no Protestant policy ever could, Ballyvourney remains a prime pilgrimage spot. The faithful continue to do “the rounds,” immersing themselves in the site’s sanctity, offering abundant prayers and performing rituals at its stations. The pattern culminates with a drink from Gobnait’s well, when the devotee can literally consume and commune with her holy powers in a deeply personal, physical, and spiritual way.51 As with Lasair’s Kilronan but inverting Íte’s Killeedy, Gobnait’s Ballyvourney may have originally been founded by a man before it was absorbed into Gobnait’s orbit; unlike Lasair’s Kilronan and Íte’s Killeedy, it seems to have remained a community primarily for women. Gobnait’s purported brother St Abbán is said to have donated the land to her and his own grave “is located about three-quarters of a mile from St Gobnait’s House, hidden away in a magical spot in the woods marked by a mound of stones surmounted by a bullaun and flanked by three Ogham stones.”52 She also founded a church on Inis Oírr (Inisheer), the smallest and most eastern of the Aran Islands and is further credited with churches and wells named after her (or another holy woman named Gobnait) throughout Munster (in counties Cork, Kerry, and Limerick) as well as at Dungarvan in Waterford. A marvellous tale, with many variations, explains her journey from Inis Oírr to Ballyvourney as resulting from angelic directions to her resurrection site, signposted by nine white deer. Close to her church on Inis Oírr is an early graveyard that includes nine or so saints awaiting their own resurrection, but apparently no white deer.53 So she travelled to the mainland and throughout Munster, founding churches and wells. She finally saw white deer grazing at Clondrohid, County Cork, though only three; their presence, however, confirmed she followed the proper path. At Cillín na bhFadhan (also known as Ballymakeera), she saw six, and knew she drew nearer. And then, about two kilometres away, she met the full nine at Ballyvourney.54 As strong as the saint’s association with deer (and stronger than that with her famous purported brother, Abbán) is her connection with bees. She 50 Peter Harbison, Pilgrimage in Ireland: Monuments and the People (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1991), 135. 51 For a sense of modern pilgrimage at Ballyvourney, see http://liminalentwinings.com/tag/ ballyvourney/ and https://pilgrimagemedievalireland.com/2013/02/18/pilgrimage-to-st-gobnaitat-ballyvourney-co-cork/ (accessed August 11, 2016). 52 Harbison, Pilgrimage in Ireland, 136. 53 Ó hÉaluighthe, “St Gobnet of Ballyvourney,” 52. 54 Ó hÉaluighthe, “St Gobnet of Ballyvourney,” 53-54, Mould, Irish Saints, 193.

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kept countless of them, sending them as stinging soldiers to protect cattle from thieves. Her bee-holder (some call it a helmet, others a bell or box) was apparently lost by the O’Herlihys during penal times, but another of her relics, her bulla, was rediscovered early in the eighteenth century. With this bulla, or bowl, Gobnait repeatedly razed the castle of a would-be tyrant in the area, driving him permanently away. The bulla, like Gobnait’s statue as well as Lasair’s Ceolán Lasrach, is said to have miraculous healing powers, but after its return to the church by a woman who had stolen it to help her cattle and became terrified by its noises in protest of her theft, it lodged itself permanently in Teampall Ghobnatan’s west gable, where it serves as a focal point of the rounds at Ballyvourney.55 Her legends claim she blocked both plague and thunder from crossing her glen’s borders, so that neither would afflict her faithful. Her combined protection from disease along with tyranny and theft, her bees serving as soldiers to sting adversaries as well as a source for medicinal honey and her bulla able to heal her faithful as well as to oust a tyrant, may indicate the influence of life under English oppression, when Catholic property could be confiscated at Protestant whim and which eventually led to An Gorta Mór, the Great Hunger, the Potato Famine, which caused more than a million Irish to die of disease and starvation and an estimated two million more to flee the country before suffering a similar fate. Whatever the aims of the papal indulgence in 1601, it did not extirpate Protestantism, and no doubt the popes came to rue the day they blessed the twelfth-century English invasion of Ireland—although nowhere near as much as the Irish did. At some point between invasion and indulgence, a sheela-na-gig was added to Ballyvourney. Sheelas are carvings of female figures that emphasize their genitalia and are found throughout the British Isles and especially Ireland, on high and late medieval buildings, often churches, and generally above windows or doors.56 The features of Ballyvourney’s sheela have been rounded into gentle mounds by generations upon generations of Gobnait’s faithful. As we’ll discuss with Dígde, people have strongly divergent responses to sheelas, as people have to various aspects of Gobnait’s cult. This cult includes remarkable artifacts, events, traditions, and customs that attest to the depth of devotion inspired by this holy woman of Ireland: a papal indulgence and a visiting nuncio decades later; multiple forms of prayers and poems in her 55 Ó hÉaluighthe, “St Gobnet of Ballyvourney,” 58. 56 For a useful overview, see Georgia Rhodes, “Decoding the Sheela-na-gig,” Feminist Formations 22 (2010): 167-94. Some uncertainty exists as to whether Ballyvourney’s figure is a “proper” sheela, as its genitalia are not similarly accentuated in its current state.

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honor; a healing bowl and statue, along with a fertility-enhancing sheela; and multiple wells and churches in her honor, stretching from the Aran Islands to Waterford. Her main monastic community, a Gaeltacht (meaning Irish, not English, is the dominant language) to this day, has served as a thriving pilgrimage site throughout the centuries, including those most oppressive to Irish Catholics; virtually every day of the year, no matter the weather, devotees still make the elaborate rounds of her site, which includes ten stations and two wells. And yet she has no Life, at least not one that survives, and the medieval sources that survive tell us little about her. She provides a powerful reminder of what eludes the written record, and the strength of love and devotion that may have surrounded the many holy women whose names—if that—appear in the sources. As Sara Maitland and Wendy Mulford muse in their retelling of Gobnait, “[h]ow many years make up / a nameplace […] How many years make settlement / the place of resurrection”?57 How much spiritual strength, care, compassion, and devotion stand behind the briefest of references, or even none at all?

Dígde, “They Shall Never Be without Some Wonderful Glorious Nun/Old Woman among Them” In a land famed for poetic brilliance, Aithbe damsa bés mara still stands out for its haunting beauty, complexity, and evocative imagery. Often proclaimed “the greatest of Irish poems,”58 it poignantly portrays the fullness of life receding from an old woman as an ebbing tide on the shore, as she simultaneously looks with longing to the land she expects to enjoy imminently and eternally with the son of Mary. She fluctuates between bitterness over lost youth and beauty, and satisfaction with her decisions and their destination. Paraphrasing could not do the poem justice but neither could a single translation, given its exquisite but challenging content. I thus quote from multiple versions. As the sea ebbs so my youth recedes; no matter how I grieve 57 Sara Maitland and Wendy Mulford, Virtuous Magic: Women Saints and Their Meanings (New York: Continuum, 1998), 88. 58 David Greene and Frank O’Connor, Golden Treasury of Irish Poetry A.D. 600 to 1200 (London: MacMillan and Company, Ltd., 1967), 7.

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my body concedes. It is no more than food to the sea. Now, this hood of age that time leaves on my sunken frame, covers but a wraith. Caillech Béirre was my name, I here assert a mortal’s faith in what I was. But I’m so thin now even a cast-off shift would survive my frame.59 It is riches you love, and not people. As for us, when we lived, it was people we loved.60 […] Bitterly does my body seek to go to a dwelling where it is known; when the Son of God deems it time, let Him come to carry off His deposit. When my arms are seen, all bony and thin! —in fondest fashion they acted, once; they used to be around glorious kings. When my arms are seen, all bony and thin, they are not, I declare, worth raising up over [gorgeous young men].61

59 Stanzas 1-2, Seamus Deane, in Bourke, Field Anthology, 113. 60 Stanza 3, Gerard Murphy, ed. and trans., Early Irish Lyrics, Eighth to Twelfth Century (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1956), 75. 61 Stanzas 7-9, Donncha Ó hAodha, “The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare,” in Sages, Saints and Storytellers Storytellers: Celtic Studies in Honour of Professor James Carney, ed. Donnchadh Ó Corráin, Liam Breatnach, and Kim McCone (Maynooth: An Sagart, 1989), 308-31, at 315.

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[…] I pour forth no honeyed speeches; no wethers are killed for my wedding; my locks are few and gray; it is no grief to have a mean veil over them. It does not seem ill to me to be with a white veil on my head; there was many a covering of every color on my head as I drank good ale.62 […] It is many a day since I sailed the seas of youth. The years of my beauty are over and all my lust is spent. Many a day since I have felt the heat. I go full dressed in the sun. I feel old age upon me. The summer of my youth and the autumn, too, are spent. And winter that ends it all —its first days have touched me. I wasted my youth from the start and I’m glad I chose to do it. If I’d “leaped the wall” only a little would this cloak be any the newer? Lovely the cloak of green that my King has thrown on the hill

62 Stanzas 11-12, Ruth Lehmann, ed. and trans., Early Irish Verse (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982), 50.

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and great is the One who dyed it and Who makes soft wool from coarse.63 Woe is me indeed— every acorn is doomed to decay— to be in the darkness of an oratory after feasting by bright candles! I have had my time with kings, drinking mead and wine; today I drink whey and water among shrivelled old women May cups of whey be my drinking horns, may whatever hinders me be God’s will; praying to you, O living God, may the wound deal a spear against anger.64 With age’s stained cloak around me my senses start to deceive. Grey hair grows out of my skin like rot on an ancient tree. My right eye taken from me, down-paid on the Promised Land. And the left eye taken too to make the title sure. There is a wave at the flood and another at the swift ebb and what the flood wave gives the ebb takes from your hands.65 […]

63 Stanzas 17-21, Thomas Kinsella, ed. and trans., The New Oxford Book of Irish Verse (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), 25. 64 Stanzas 22-24, Ó hAodha, “Lament of the Old Woman of Beare,” 316. 65 Stanzas 25-27, Kinsella, New Oxford Book of Irish Verse, 26.

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My flood-tide it is well that it has guarded my deposit Jesus, son of Mary has delivered it so that I am not sorrowful until the ebb Happy the island of the great sea the flooding comes to it after its ebb as for me, I do not expect to come to me the flood after the ebb There is hardly a dwelling today that I would recognize that which was in flooding is all in ebb66

Given such sentiments, Dígde’s inclusion among saints may seem surprising. She savors her memories of a passionate past, including her sexuality, without reference to a husband or children. She laments the loss of her youth, blind and bony when once she delighted in and exemplified beauty. And yet she exudes a frank realism, understanding that life is like an ebbing tide and she has reached the point where water will no longer return to her. Like Canair on the edge between shore and sea, she stands in a liminal space, confident that Christ will soon claim her and the body she once shared with kings and other lovely young men. She does not wax lyrical about her current stage of life, as a penitent nun—she misses her wine, mead, and ale, with kings for company, regretting their replacement by whey, water, and women just like her, withered by age. But her full living has guarded her deposit, on loan from Christ, a gift she has used exceedingly well. Her confidence in her return to him suggests sanctity, especially if it is an immediate return and not one postponed by purgatory.67 Even her “wasted youth” is a treasure—clearly to her it was no waste, though she knows others’ eyes would see it so. Like Líadain, claimed as her kinswoman in the poem’s prose preface, Dígde challenges conventional—or at least what has become conventional—conceptions of sanctity. She reminds us that the 66 Stanzas 33-35, Katja Ritari, “Images of Ageing in the Early Irish Poem Caillech Bérri,” Studia Celtica Fennica 3 (2006): 57-70, at 70. 67 Although elaborate understandings of the stages of sainthood as well as purgatory developed long after Dígde died, Irish texts indicate purgatorial belief since the seventh century, thought to be her time-period; see Chapter Five, as well as Smyth, “The Origins of Purgatory,” and Binchy, “The Old-Irish Table of Commutations,” 278.

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Irish church, like heaven, is a broad tent, inclusive of all kinds, their love of God and God’s for them the tie that binds them. As the Liber Angeli attests, from its earliest centuries the Irish church included “three orders: virgins and penitents, and those serving the church in legitimate matrimony,”68 essentially meaning the unmarried, the formerly married, and the currently married—in other words, everyone. It also included syneisaktism, mixed communities, single-sex communities, hermitages, and other associations of various kinds. Dígde allows us to glimpse the perspective of a regular resident of monastic communities, the penitent nun who entered religious life towards the end of her days. Her reference to herself as Caillech Béirre relates to this role, although it is a source of some consternation, which may explain why Seamus Deane decided not to translate it. Some render it the Nun of Beare, others the Hag or Old Woman of Beara, among the simpler solutions; the term caillech, meaning veiled, applies most directly to nuns but also to old women and occasionally to wives.69 Both nun and old woman equally apply here; the poem rests upon the speaker’s advanced age and she repeatedly if somewhat ambiguously references her religious status. Whether she was ever a wife remains unaddressed, and, as with its nuns, the Irish church recognized many kinds of wives, including second or subsequent wives in polygamous marriages, or women who repeatedly divorced and remarried. As Christina Harrington notes in connection with Caillech Béirre, “marriage in Irish custom was not an either/or affair, with one being either married or single. Rather there were different types of union, some stronger than others.”70 Dígde’s former unions might have been of the looser variety, and the lateness with which she adopted the religious life might help explain why it did not sit comfortably upon her. She reads as several women in Irish history who ended their days as monastic penitents might have lived and died, such as “Eithne daughter of Bresal of Brega, the queen of kings of Temair (i.e., Tara), [who] deserved to obtain the heavenly kingdom, having done penance” in 768, “Gormlaith, daughter of Donnchad, a most charming queen of the Irish, [who] died after repentance” in 861, and “Flann daughter of Dúngal, queen of the king of Temair, [who] fell asleep in penance” in 890.71 A closer corollary can be found in Gormlaith (d 947), daughter of 68 Bieler, Patrician Texts, 187. See also Patrick’s Confessio, paragraph 42. 69 It has come to mean hag or even witch; see Máirín Ní Dhonnchadha, “Caillech and Other Terms for Veiled Women in Medieval Irish Texts,” Éigse 28 (1994-95): 71-96. 70 Harrington, Women in a Celtic Church, 161. 71 Annals of Ulster, s.a. 768, 861, and 891.

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one king and wife to as many as three others before she too became a nun, and who has at least eighteen poems attributed to her. As is generally the case with medieval Irish texts, however, Gormlaith’s poems have passed through centuries of revision; the extant texts are no longer the same texts she wrote, if she was in fact their original author. A remarkable prose preface attached to Dígde’s poem helps establish her authorship. It identifies the poet as “Digde of the Corcu Duibne, that is to say of the Uí Maic Íair Chonchinn,” and praises her family for its famous females. These include Brigit daughter of Iustán, Líadain wife of Cuirithir, and Úallach daughter of Muimnechán; other sources attest that the latter two were accomplished poets as well, and at least Líadain was also a nun.72 Her description as Cuirithir’s wife further reflects the wide range of marriages recognized in medieval Ireland; according to her own lament, discussed in Chapter One, she and Cuirithir spent but one night together. An abundance of illustrious women in one family was not simply coincidence or genetics, but a kept promise of St Fínán Cam, who, the preface proclaims, “bequeathed to them [i.e., the Uí Maic Íair Chonchinn] that they shall never be without some wonderful glorious nun/old woman [caillech] among them.” The preface then passes from relatively reliable history into a realm where history merges with myth, declaring that Dígde “passed into seven periods of youth, so that every husband used to pass from her to death of old age, so that her grandchildren and great-grandchildren were people and races. And for a hundred years she wore the veil, after Cuimíne had blessed it and placed it on her head. Then age and infirmity came to her, and she said” the poem.73 A rock on a cliff beside the ocean on the Beara Peninsula, quite close to the medieval ruins of Kilcatherine, is said to be the Caillech Béirre turned to stone. While Dígde’s identity often has been dismissed as legend, others have argued persuasively that her sex, at least, is not a mere poetic device.74 The richness of her poem invites multiple readings, including as a nuanced expression of paganism ultimately rejected in favor of Christianity,75 a male 72 Úallach daughter of Muimnechán was recognized as banfile hÉrend, “the female poet of Ireland,” at the time of her death in 934 [Annals of Inisfallen, ed. by Seán Mac Airt (Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1951), s.a. 934]. 73 Quoted in and translated by Ó hAodha, “The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare,” 309. Cuimíne is thought to be the penitentialist who inexpertly counseled Líadain and Cuirithir. 74 See, for example, Clancy, “Women Poets,” 64-65 and Ritari, “Images of Ageing,” 65, in addition to Bourke, Field Anthology, 4, 111. 75 John Carey, “Transmutations of Immortality In ‘The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare,’” Celtica 23 (1999): 30–37; see also Proinsias Mac Cana, Celtic Mythology (2nd edn, New York: P. Bedrick, 1985), 93.

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bardic conceit of a female who loves her king(s) but begrudgingly turns to religion in the end,76 and, the most common reading that intertwines with the previous two examples, that the poet’s identification of herself as caillech béirre refers to an earth and sovereignty Goddess who marries kings of Ireland in succession, granting fertility to the land and prosperity to the people.77 Like Brigid, and a little like Ireland itself according to its outside detractors, especially in the twelfth century, she is said to be a pagan Goddess underneath a thin Christian veil.78 The poet thus becomes a canvas for various projected images, each perhaps reflecting more about its readers than its supposed subject. As diverse as these theories may be, however, none offers solid evidence to discount Dígde’s basic claims about herself, including her sex and religious status, which are bolstered by the poem’s prose preface. Scholars generally acknowledge that the poet’s sex may well be as she claims; even James Carney, who argues not only for male authorship, but for a specific male as author, concedes, “[i]t may, however, be preferable to take the poem at its face value, that is, as having been written by a woman.”79 Although scholars increasingly recognize Dígde as an actual woman and not just a device, her obscured identity, her questioned existence, and the lively debate about the content of her character as well as her sex and status make her a fitting conclusion to this study of the saints. That which makes her seem such an anomaly also reflects the similarities she shares with her sisters. Notions about nuns were not narrow in medieval Ireland. Women and men regularly partnered in various ways. Religious communities included diverse assortments of people united in their devotion to the divine, yet living out that devotion in various ways. Sexual enjoyment was not necessarily mutually exclusive with the religious life, as discussed in Chapter One. One legend even tells of an abbot who changed into a woman, fell in love with another abbot, and married him and bore him seven children, even though he was already married to a woman.80 As the céle Dé critical of his spiritual supervisors for assigning what he deemed too light a penance 76 James Carney, “The So-called ‘Lament of Créidhe,’” Éigse 13 (1969/70): 227-42. 77 E.g., Gearóid Ó Crualaoich, The Book of the Cailleach: Stories of the Wise-Woman Healer (Cork: Cork University Press, 2003), 48-52. 78 Eleanor Hull, “Legends and Traditions of the Cailleach Bheara or Old Woman (Hag) of Beare,” Folklore 38 (1927): 225-254, at 226. 79 James Carney, Medieval Irish Lyrics (University of California Press, 1967), p. xxv. See also Carney, “The so-called ‘Lament of Créidhe.’” 80 “The Abbot of Drimnagh Who Was Changed into a Woman” in Bourke, Field Anthology, 131-32.

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for his sexual lapse should have realized, what mattered was perspective, and as Líadain learned to her everlasting regret, the life of a wife could be preferred to that of a vowed virgin.81 Texts proclaiming lifelong chaste celibacy as the ideal form dominate in extant Irish texts, but that should not surprise when the majority of people writing and copying those texts espoused and strove to exemplify such a lifestyle. Furthermore, centuries of Christian thought emphasized the view popularized by Augustine (354-430), that the Fall and original sin had utterly corrupted sexuality with lust and selfishness, infecting us from our very conception.82 As Pierre Payer notes, the dominant medieval Christian perspective proclaimed lust to be “integral to the present state of human nature,” its relentless demands able to be resisted with extreme discipline, constant vigilance, and the grace of God, but never “eliminated nor escaped.”83 This particularly impacted churchmen’s view of women, defining them mainly in relation to lust and reproduction; in the words of Jerome, “[a]s long as woman is for birth and children she is different from man as body is from soul. But when she wishes to serve Christ more than the world, then she will cease to be a woman, and will be called man,”84 thereby denigrating women, reproduction, and the body, and by implication marriage and especially sex, the font of female corruption. And yet we still hear echoes of alternative perspectives, like that reflected in Líadain and the supposed source of her entire lineage, Dígde. Dígde’s status as a possible sovereignty Goddess further reflects the range in religious expression as well as diverse responses to it. The Wife of Bath’s tale in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales echoes Irish myths, in which an old hag, physically repellent to the male hero and would-be king, requires him to sleep with her. Once he has the strength, courage, integrity, or pick the valued virtue to do so, she transforms into an exquisite beauty and confers the kingship upon him. Their union symbolizes the one between the king and the land, through which both prosper only when they are in harmony. But even such beauties’ days are numbered. Tomás Ó Cathasaigh reads Dígde’s promiscuity as political, a consequence of a sovereignty Goddess’s mandated mating with multiple kings; now, however, “she is a cailleach who is destined 81 See Chapters One and Five. 82 Elaine Pagels provides a concise overview in Adam, Eve, and the Serpent: Sex and Politics in Early Christianity (New York: Random House, 1988), 98-150. 83 Pierre J. Payer, The Bridling of Desire: Views of Sex in the Later Middle Ages (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1993), 181. 84 Jerome, Commentarius in Epistolam ad Ephesios, III.V.28, as cited by Newman, From Virile Woman to WomanChrist, 81.

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to die because she will never again be transformed into a beautiful young woman.”85 Dígde and her sister Goddesses evoke the drawings which from one angle look like a stylish young woman, from another a hunched hag, an excellent reminder that perspective is pivotal in our interpretations of the evidence before us.86 This perspective becomes even more influential amid incomplete information and our ignorance of the identity of the people providing the filter of their own perspective over any artifacts that have survived the centuries. The Ballyvourney sheela applies here as well. Medieval sources don’t tell us what sheelas mean, or really anything about them. Like Brigid and Dígde, they are often regarded as pagan Goddesses with a thin Christian veneer, given their frequent placement on churches; also like Dígde, and even Íte and Samthann, they often get classified as hags. The term sheelana-gig comes from antiquarians who wrote about them in the nineteenth century, but its meaning remains unclear, the Oxford English Dictionary’s decisive def inition, “Julia of the breasts,” notwithstanding. An initial dominant theory was that sheelas were a reminder of the evils of women and especially their sexuality, female genitalia being a gateway to hell. Such a view has been increasingly challenged, with scholars seeing them more as positive figures celebrating fertility. The surviving figures reflect the varied responses—some have had their genitalia hacked off, as if too offensive to see; others have been rubbed so often they have lost much of their features, as it is customary for those wishing to conceive to caress the image. Similarly, some see prehistoric carvings called Venus figurines, like the Venus of Willendorf, from c.27,000 BCE, as an example of “prehistoric porn,” as headlines blared when another statuette was discovered in 2009. Paul Mellars, a University of Cambridge archaeologist, put it particularly bluntly, “you can’t avoid being struck by its very sexually explicit depiction of a woman. The breasts really jump out at you. […] I assume it was a guy who carved it, perhaps representing his girlfriend, [perhaps like a] Paleolithic Playboy.”87 Other archeologists, like Marija Gimbutas, have challenged such views, arguing that these carvings are less about sexually stimulating 85 Tomás Ó Cathasaigh, “The Eponym of Cnogba,” Éigse 23 (1989), 27-38, at 36-37. 86 One form of the drawing is often called “the Boring figure,” after American psychologist E. G. Boring, who helped popularized it in 1930, but it dates back at least to a nineteenth-century German card (http://psylux.psych.tu-dresden.de/i1/kaw/diverses%20Material/www.illusionworks. com/html/perceptual_ambiguity.html , accessed March 9, 2016). 87 Jennifer Viegas, “She’s still a pin-up after 35,000 years,” May 13, 2009, Discovery News; http:// www.today.com/id/30727293/ns/today-today_tech/t/shes-still-pin-up-after-years/#.VwbGsyMrIhc , accessed March 9, 2016.

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males than about venerating the Goddess and her fertility, upon which all life was thought to depend.88 Whether these carvings are prehistoric porn or represent the veneration of divine fertility, or whether sheelas signify fear and loathing of women as a gateway to hell, or honor women’s roles as the gateway to life, cannot be definitively determined. The response depends on the viewer; the original creators and their audience remain so lost to history that these artifacts provide more of a mirror of the present than a window onto the past. Dígde’s words are easier to interpret than stone artifacts, though they too remain enigmatic. She illustrates a lesson taught also by Audre Lorde, among others, to embrace the erotic within us, to reclaim what “has often been misnamed by men and used against women.”89 Too often the erotic is conf ined to sexuality and confused with pornography, with women commonly portrayed as objects to receive male abuse or exploitation. It threatens patriarchal control, connecting us with our inner, true selves, affirming our inherent worth, and enabling us to realize our power. “The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings. It is an internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire. For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honor and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves.”90 The erotic intertwines with sexuality, a source for some of the most profound types of human experience, but cannot be reduced to sex. It involves the entire self, not just certain areas of the body. It seeks not simple self-gratification, but deep personal fulfillment and development, enhancing all we interact with in the process. As Judith Plaskow writes, “[w]hen we touch that place in our lives where sexuality and spirituality come together, we touch our wholeness and the fullness of our power, and at the same time our connection with a power larger than ourselves.”91 Empowered by the erotic, we embrace the power of our own possibility. “The erotic is our most fully embodied experience of the love of God,” but it “does not have to be called marriage, nor god, nor an afterlife.”92 It helps us realize 88 E.g., Marija Gimbutas, The Civilization of the Goddess, ed. Joan Marler (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1991). 89 Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches (Freedom, CA: The Crossing Press, 1984), 54. 90 Lorde, Sister Outsider, 54. 91 Plaskow, Standing Again at Sinai, 197. 92 Carter Heyward, Touching Our Strength: The Erotic as Power and the Love of God (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1989), 99; Lorde, Sister Outsider, 57.

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and fulfill our own potential, and to recognize, appreciate, and honor it in each other. The erotic can become the bridge that connects feeling with doing; it can infuse our sense of mastery and control with emotion so that it becomes life-serving instead of destructive. In the dialectic of merging and separating, the erotic can confirm our uniqueness while affirming our deep oneness with all being. It is the realm in which the spiritual, the political, and the personal come together.93

As Dígde indicates, embracing the erotic does not preclude a holy life ending in union with the divine. Given recurring denunciations of sexuality that often intertwine with contempt for women in medieval Christian sources, the relationship between the two can seem tense, at least as they have been allowed to survive through the centuries. And yet still the sea will swell one last, eternal time.

Conclusion As Dígde muses, “[t]hat which was in flooding is all in ebb,” leaving us to try to decipher whatever clues remain. The saints of this chapter are especially elusive; bees and deer stand among trees and wells as our sources. Clearly these women were loved and revered; they asserted control over their own bodies as well as the land, and could have extremely sharp tempers, but they could also heal every ill and protect from multiple forms of oppression that the Irish experienced under English control. Given the brevity and lateness of their Lives—if they indeed have a Life that survived—their characters remain even more nebulous than the holy heroes who star in the first five chapters. The lorica that began this chapter called on twenty-eight Irish women in a quest for protection “against every ill,” including “demons and evil men, […] sickness and false lips, […] cold and hunger, […] distress and folly, […] contempt and despair, […] the plague of the tempestuous doom, […] the evil of hell with its many monsters, [a]nd its multitude of torments.”94 As people seek supernatural strength from the threats that surround us in an uncertain world, they recast their heroes as larger than 93 Starhawk, Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex and Politics (2nd edition 1982; Boston: Beacon Press, 1988), 138. 94 Plummer, Irish Litanies, 93.

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life, in a mold of proven efficacy, often erasing their individuality. Thus the humble and self-doubting but determined and devoted Patrick, whose own words miraculously survive, becomes the all-powerful but short-tempered saint who can kill with a single glance. Dígde seems an anti-saint, perhaps because her poem preserves the clearest echo of an actual woman’s voice, defying expectation. Like Dorothy Day, discussed in Chapter Three, she cannot be confined to a superficial caricature of sanctity. She is neither virgin nor whore; rather, she is both nun and old woman, enjoying all life had to offer yet also yearning for Christ’s embrace. She embodies Audre Lorde’s lesson, to embrace the erotic within us, to ignite our own power and help create the kind of awakened inclusive society we desire. She calls us to transcend the “fuzzy thinking” of binaries and overly crisp historical certainties,95 to embrace complex diversity and live a life that leads to passionate memories to savor as she does, when we too stand on the shore and see the swell of the sea retreat from us as our days draw to an end. Perhaps like Dígde, we too will rest in the confidence of our own imminent union with the divine, or at least in the glory of a life well lived and of having left the world better for it.

95 See Conclusion.

Conclusion Roughly fifty years after the last saint of this study died (Samthann, in 739), raiders commonly called Vikings arrived from Scandinavia, with Darerca’s Killevy perhaps among the first attacked.1 Their raids significantly impacted Ireland, but paled in comparison with the invasion centuries later by descendants of their descendants in France, the Normans, after their conquest of England. Vikings settled in Ireland as well, known as the Hiberno-Norse after making cities like Dublin, Waterford, and Limerick their own. Intermarriage and alliances occurred, as in the case of Gormlaith (d. 1030), the daughter of one Leinster king and sister of another. Gormlaith wed one king of Dublin and was mother of another, the long-ruling Sitric Silkenbeard, before she became the wife of arguably the greatest Munster king (Brian Boru) and mother of another, with Brian and Gormlaith marrying at the same time Brian’s daughter Sláine wed Sitric. To some extent, however, the Hiberno-Norse remained in their urban pockets by the Irish shore. Such was not the case in France, where over generations the heathen Norse Vikings became the Christian Normans of Normandy, so integrating into western Christendom’s channels of power that popes blessed two of their invasions of longstanding Christian countries—England in 1066 and then, as Anglo-Normans, Ireland roughly a century later. Both invasions transformed Europe in the process, although only the former could properly be considered a “conquest,” the latter more accurately a colonization. In France, the Norse-cum-Normans became “more French than the French,” a trend that would also be noted of their descendants in Ireland centuries later.2 Ethnic divisions in Ireland between Gaelic Irish and Anglo-Norman, later Anglo-Irish, remained both sharp and blurred, depending on the context, but the “Hiberniores ipsis Hibernis,” English colonists in Ireland who became “more Irish than the Irish themselves,” compiled perhaps one, 1 Gwynn and Hadcock claim Killevy was attacked in 790, but an attack on Lambay Island in 795 is believed to be the first raid in Ireland (Medieval Religious Houses: Ireland, 321). 2 Brown, Norman Conquest, 19.

Callan, M. B., Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463721509_concl

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and possibly two, of the three great collections of Irish saints’ Lives, known as the vitae sanctorum Hiberniae, preserving invaluable links to Ireland’s earlier medieval Christian heritage.3 The century in which the Anglo-Normans invaded Ireland was one of the most momentous in western European history. Cities took shape, universities emerged out of monastic schools, and trade increased, giving rise to what would become the middle class and greater disposable movable wealth. Vernacular literature, already found in Ireland for more than half a millennium, started to spread across the Continent, broadening access to ideas and expression, although still largely confined to the elite. The Gregorian Reform that began in the previous century transformed the church, intensifying papal power, entrenching an elaborate hierarchy, and intermingling with a form of European expansion that included the invasion of Ireland in the West and the Crusades in the East. Native Irish ecclesiastical leaders initiated the adoption of Gregorian reforms in Ireland long before Anglo-Normans brought their versions to the island. The twelfth century began with a reforming synod, the Synod of Cashel in 1101, and several others followed right up to Henry II’s arrival, with the Irish voluntarily restructuring their church hierarchy, adopting foreign religious orders, and vowing to purge their church of secular influence and what were portrayed as immoral practices, like clerical marriage. Papal recognition of Irish Christianity dates at least to the fifth century, as Prosper of Aquitaine recorded Pope Celestine sending Palladius as the f irst bishop “to the Irish believers in Christ” in the year 431, 4 and Irish pilgrim-scholars like Columbanus in the sixth century, Fursey in the seventh, Vergil (Fergal) of Salzburg in the eighth, and Eriugena and Sedulius Scottus in the ninth served as beacons of the faith throughout Western Europe. Yet the Irish church was not recognized as a national institution until the Synod of Kells-Mellifont in 1152, the same synod that stripped the abbess of Kildare of her episcopal status at the insistence of the papal legate, Cardinal Paparo.5 This recognition may have been ripped away just three years later when the next pope, the only Englishman to ever occupy the papal throne, allegedly issued Laudabiliter. In this bull, Adrian IV encouraged Henry II, king of England, to invade Ireland on the pretext that the Irish had 3 Art Cosgrove, “Hiberniores Ipsis Hibernis,” in Studies in Irish History Presented to R. Dudley Edwards, ed. Cosgrove and Donal McCartney (Dublin: University College Dublin, 1979), 1-14. 4 “The Chronicle of Prosper of Aquitaine,” s.a. 431, in de Paor, Saint Patrick’s World, 79. 5 F. J. Byrne, “The Trembling Sod: Ireland in 1169,” in Cosgrove, A New History of Ireland, II. 42; Flanagan, The Transformation of the Irish Church in the Twelfth Century, 72-73.

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somehow lost their Christianity and that by invading Henry would “expand the boundaries of the church, declare the truth of the Christian faith to an ignorant and barbarian people, and weed out the new growth of vices from the field of the Lord.”6 Henry did not act on this support until fifteen years later, and then he did so out of concern not for the state of the faith in Ireland, but lest his subject Strongbow create a rival kingdom in Ireland. Strongbow, or Richard de Clare, lord of Strigoil, had accepted the offer of Diarmaid MacMurrough, king of Leinster, who had been forced into exile by rival Irish kings in 1166: his daughter Aoife’s hand in marriage and his kingdom as her dowry if Strongbow and other English lords would assist him in his efforts to reclaim his kingdom. Diarmaid’s desperate appeal to the English—a move reminiscent of the Jews asking the Romans to help them determine who should be king of Israel in 63 B.C.E.—often gets blamed on Derbforgaill, wife of Tigernán Ua Ruairc, king of Bréifne, whom Diarmaid abducted in the same year as the Synod of Kells-Mellifont. Yet Diarmaid’s alliance with the English dated at least to 1144, eight years before Derbforgaill’s abduction, and Diarmaid did not flee Ireland for England until 1166, thirteen years after Derbforgaill returned to her husband. Like Helen with the Trojan War, Gormlaith with the Battle of Clontarf in 1014, and Derbforgaill with the Anglo-Norman invasion of Ireland at Diarmaid MacMurrough’s instigation, women often get blamed for the wars men wage. Nor was Derbforgaill Diarmaid’s first abductee. In what one scholar has likened to his crech ríg, or raid inaugurating an Irish king’s rule, Diarmaid began his reign in 1132 with the abduction and rape of Mór, the abbess of Kildare, replacing her with his niece Sadb, who held the office until her death in 1171.7 Thus Sadb was the abbess who saw her power demoted in 1152; her uncle’s roughly concurrent abduction of Derbforgaill might understandably have reminded Sadb of her own path to power and her ultimate vulnerability when men like her uncle ruled. Mór’s rape notwithstanding, or perhaps as it all too aptly symbolizes, Diarmaid was an active and widely admired supporter of Ireland’s ecclesiastical reform. He presided over the Synod of Clane in 1162, and Bernard of Clairvaux, one of the most powerful churchmen in all of Europe, hailed him as “glorious king of Ireland” and granted him confraternity with Cistercians 6 Giraldus Cambrensis, Expugnatio Hibernica, 144. For doubts about Laudabiliter’s authenticity, see Anne Duggan, “Totius Christianitatis Caput” and “The Power of Documents.” See also Donnchadh Ó Corráin’s reading of Laudabiliter as a genuine but “deeply ambiguous” document [The Irish Church, Its Reform and the English Invasion (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2017), 100]. 7 F. J. Byrne, “The Trembling Sod: Ireland in 1169,” in Cosgrove, A New History of Ireland, II. 22.

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in 1148. 8 Bernard was instrumental in the twelfth-century reforms on the Continent, including insistence on strict separation between male and female religious, as he helped a shadow of the Catalogus Sanctorum Hiberniae’s second age spread over Western Christendom. This rigidly patriarchal system ultimately succeeded in reshaping Ireland, if less extensively than elsewhere, but neither Diarmaid nor his chosen successor Strongbow lived long enough to enjoy it. Diarmaid died in 1171 and Strongbow five years later, both said to be brought down by saints’ curses, including those of Brigid, whom, according to the Annals of the Four Masters, Strongbow saw killing him.9 Strongbow’s male heirs were similarly short-lived and female inheritance in his line and in that of other Anglo-Irish aristocratic families, with lands being subdivided among heiresses, played a significant role in keeping the English colony in Ireland weak for centuries. Increasingly English lords and ladies of Irish lands chose not to reside in Ireland; they still took what they could of the movable wealth of their lands and inheritance, but contributed little or nothing to maintenance and defense, thereby enabling the Irish to recover some of those lands, especially after the Battle of Callan in 1261. By 1333, about two-thirds of the English colony belonged to absentee lords, and the percentage increased throughout the fourteenth century as the colony continued to shrink. By the fifteenth century, it was essentially reduced to the Pale, an area encircling Dublin from Dundalk in the north to Dalkey in the south. This likely gave rise to the expression “beyond the Pale,” as the English and Anglo-Irish inhabitants of this area regarded everything outside of it as savage and uncivilized, since it was controlled by the native Irish and those Anglo-Irish who had gone so native as to seem indistinguishable. English control of Ireland often gets dated to the arrival of Strongbow in 1170 or Henry II in 1171, but for much of the island it more accurately began after the Flight of the Earls in 1607, a few years after Strongbow and Aoife’s descendant Elizabeth I died and the king of Scotland ascended her throne—perhaps another symptom of Brigid’s curse. This brief sketch of Ireland’s later medieval history provides key context for the compilation of Ireland’s three great collections of saints’ Lives. Whatever their precise provenance, all date from after Ireland’s ecclesiastical 8 F. X. Martin, “Diarmait Mac Murchada and the Coming of the Anglo-Normans,” in Cosgrove, A New History of Ireland, II.43-66, at 48. 9 “The English Earl (i.e., Richard) died in Dublin, of an ulcer which had broken out in his foot through the miracles of SS. Bridget and Columbkille, and of all the other saints whose churches had been destroyed by him. He saw, as he thought, St. Bridget in the act of killing him” (http:// www.ucc.ie/celt/published/T100005C/index.html , accessed September 30, 2016).

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restructuring and the arrival of the Anglo-Normans in the twelfth century. The Lives may have first been written within a century or two of each saint’s actual life, but their extant forms survive only from centuries later. Multiple layers complicate any attempt to date these Lives, beyond the recogntion that a Life would likely not be written before the saint’s death, with Darerca’s the earliest in 517 or 519 and Samthann’s the latest in 739, and must predate its earliest extant copy, generally considered to be the twelfth century for Darerca’s and Íte’s, the thirteenth for Samthann’s, and the ninth for Brigid’s many Lives. Thus, though the compilations themselves date from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the stripping of Brigid’s successor’s episcopal status in 1152, twenty years after her predeccesor’s brutal rape and forced removal and amid a century of tremendous upheaval for the island, a century by which we know the Lives of at least three of the female saints had to have already been written, provides a potent terminus ante quem, or ending date, for the cultural worldview that most of these sources reflect. Continuities persisted, to be sure, but the country experienced seismic change, especially after the mid-twelfth century.10 As acknowledged throughout this study, hagiography is a form of faith-based propaganda. And yet, despites its distortions, omissions, and uncertainties, this sacred biography yields crucial insight into the people that produced and perpetuated it, in both intentional and incidental details. It sheds light on such mundane subjects as the weather, travel routes, and economics; it involves all classes of society, though the nobility predominate, particularly among the named, and it both affirms and subverts social norms. This has particular relevance for gender expectations, assumptions, and ideology, which are both embedded in and applied to the texts. Scholars 10 One of the sites featured in my photographs—including on the front cover—was likely founded by Anglo-Norman colonists and reputedly takes its name from Giraldus Cambrensis’s kinswoman, the last abbess, who stubbornly stayed at the site after the Dissolution and allegedly practiced witchcraft. Manisternagalliaghduff (Mainistir na Calliagh Dubh) is generally interpreted to mean the Monastery of the Black Hag/Witch, but may instead refer to Black Nuns, due to the color of the Augustinian habits worn by the women who lived there for three centuries or more. A 1298 reference relating to the disposal of Thomas fitz Maurice’s property has been mistaken as its foundation date, but this asserts that Thomas’s grandfather, John fitz Thomas, who died at the Battle of Callan in 1261, had granted the land to the nuns of St Catherine’s of O’Conyl, an early name for Manisternagalliaghduff. Surprisingly little about it is known, “the more strange, seeing that it was the only nunnery in this part of the country, and that, judging by its remains, it must have been of considerable size.” The youngest community featured in this study by over half a millennium, it alone postdates this terminus ante quem; its oldest parts, the church and cloister walls, date to the early thirteenth century [John Wardell and Thomas Johnson Westropp, “The History and Antiquities of St Catherine’s Old Abbey, County Limerick,” JRSAI 34 (1904): 41-64, at 42, 53].

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have read these sources with their own gender biases and assumptions, presuming patriarchy and sexism to be universal absolutes.11 Yet the vitae sanctarum Hiberniae portray women as governing their communities as they saw fit, without recourse to a man, while men came to them for spiritual guidance and to honor them. However questionable the sharp divides of the Catalogus Sanctorum Hiberniae’s ages may be, multiple sources confirm its portrait of men and women working together in respectful partnerships, without being plagued by sexism or lust. Nor was such respect and admiration exclusive to lifelong virgins, as multiple sources indicate inclusivity within Ireland’s early medieval religious communities. Cogitosus declares that Brigid directed countless people of both sexes, while the Liber Angeli attests that males and females worked together inseparably and that Armagh included the married and the formerly married along with the never married, all united in service of God and each other. Darerca’s community at times joined with Ibar’s, at times with Brigid’s, but from the start widows and mothers as well as virgins stood among her sisters and were later joined by wives as well. Samthann was a wife before she became a nun, and even céli Dé communities, often identified with the Catalogus’s third order that shunned women with total silence, included both sexes and married people as well as celibates. Scholars blind to their own assumptions often insist on their objectivity, a worthy but elusive and ultimately unobtainable goal; objectivity can be achieved only in degrees, never completely. Whether or not we admit to them, all people, scholars included, have biases and make assumptions based on previous experiences and expectations. The more we are aware of biases and assumptions, the better we can guard against them. Preferences do not have to become prejudices, especially when we regularly challenge our presuppositions, and they likely help inspire our work and other choices. After all, it’s not random chance that a woman named Maeve Brigid Callan researches medieval Irishwomen; the connection to the subject is bred in my bones and nourished by my blood. And, perhaps due in no small part to my American upbringing while having such a distinctive name and cultural identity, I personally prefer a world of inclusive diversity, one in which males and females and everyone in between collaborate in a variety 11 As Nerys Thomas Patterson noted in the early 1990s, “[p]atriarchal, sometimes even misogynist, attitudes are found in Celtic studies itself, and one can only conclude that such a determined effort to show that ‘originally’ Irish women had no legal autonomy has more to do with the attitudes of twentieth-century scholars than those of the fifth” (Patterson, Cattle-Lords and Clansmen, 26).

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of productive ways, while also recognizing the strength and satisfaction that come from single-sex associations, and respecting the role of solitude as well. I grant that such preferences influence my readings of the material—just as biases and assumptions influence other scholars’ interpretations, and have shaped what records survive. But my training as a medievalist and a feminist historian prevents this project from being mere wish-fulfillment. I seek an understanding of the past that is no less responsible than it is usable.12 No matter how entrenched in the canon they may be, sexist, segregationist portraits of Ireland’s past, with their insistence that women had to sacrifice their sex in order to affirm their spiritual worth, are not inherently more accurate than those that emphasize the tradition’s tremendous diversity and prioritize positive partnerships over rigid rejection. After all, remarks like that attributed to Molua—“where there are sheep, there are women; where there are women, there is sin; where there is sin, there is the devil, and where there is the devil, there is hell”—are outnumbered by references to cooperation, affection, and respect between the sexes—even in Molua’s own Life. Suppositions about saints’ “rigorous avoidance of the other sex” and the “almost fanatic misogyny” of the early Irish church,13 that, “[a]t best, Irish gender ideologies were generally ambivalent toward women and, at worst, rigorously misogynist,”14 have dominated the discussion for too long. Statements such as Molua’s might be memorable, even if only to make you wonder what was going on with those sheep, but that doesn’t lessen the likelihood that they reflect extremes rather than exemplars.15 As also regularly acknowledged in this study, Irish history is a notoriously difficult minefield of uncertainty. While we can construct plausible dates of origin for the Lives of the saints featured in Chapters One through Five, the surviving versions date from centuries later. Dígde’s Aithbe damsa bés mara illustrates the point particularly well; believed to be written around 900 if not earlier, it survives in five manuscript copies, the earliest from the sixteenth century. Our analyses of these texts cannot determine to what degree they pertain to the life of the saint, the author, or later redactors. 12 See Introduction, and Judith Bennett, History Matters: Patriarchy and the Challenge of Feminism (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006), 14-15. 13 PVSH I. cxxi; Reynolds, “Virgines Subintroductae,” 549. Reynolds criticizes this characterization, however. 14 Bitel, “‘Hail Brigit!”: Gender, Authority and Worship in Early Ireland,” in Irish Women’s History, ed. Alan Hayes and Diane Urquhart (Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 2004), 1-14, at 2. 15 Helen Oxenham’s analysis of early medieval Irish texts repeatedly attests that such misogynist statements were outliers (e.g., Perceptions of Femininity in Early Irish Society, 43, 141-42, 159, 162).

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But this is no less true for analyses that emphasize sexism and exclusion as opposed to partnership and inclusion. This elusive history depends on whatever pieces of the past have defied incredible odds to become preserved in the written record, oral tradition, continuing customs, or the earth itself. Despite its undeniable flaws, hagiography provides some of our most substantial links to Ireland’s medieval past, especially attitudes about and experiences of women. Amid myriad mysterious unknowns, echoes of the past can still be detected, and can serve to guide our introspections and reflections. Studies of saints and of Irishwomen’s early medieval religious history in particular may require lingering in the land of legend, but with the recognition that all interpretations of the past include varying degrees of uncertainty. Like religion itself, the past is not a realm of pure fact. That does not mean, however, that it does not reveal deeper truths that help us better understand ourselves and the power of our own possibility. I study history not simply to point to the past, an elusive land never fully reached again, but to gain greater perspective on the present as well as to help inspire the future. By turning down the “bass” of sexism and misogyny we can hear echoes of the harmony found in these stories: in which all, regardless of distinctions such as marital status, gender, or social class, are welcome in an inclusive community; in which virginity better reflects an individual’s spiritual state or ecclesiastical status than a physical condition that defines a woman’s worth and once lost can never be regained; in which abortion offers an acceptable and perhaps preferred solution in certain situations; in which women and men collaborate as partners and friends; in which syneisaktism is a celebrated spiritual path, one option among many; in which women revel in the bonds of sisterhood and protect each other from various threats; in which a woman admires and appreciates her own accomplishments and ability; in which she expresses great anger and exacts just retribution, as well as enjoys feasts and fine drinks; in which her brilliance and erudition exceed all other mortals’; and in which women as well as men occupy leadership roles, including that of priest and bishop. All of these aspects are found in medieval Irish sources, and yet the more misogynist and sexist sources and interpretations have dominated our reading of the record for decades if not centuries. This has had significant consequences for societies that have been shaped by views that insist on male control, women’s subjugation, the denigration of sexuality while also allowing sexual abuse and exploitation especially of women and children, the marginalization of those who do not fit into a dominant model based on sex, socioeconomic class, ethnicity, sexual identity, and more. But that is not our only history and history, “a

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primary way of creating meaning,” can be an ally in building a more inclusive, empowering, compassionate, and just society.16 Women regularly get written out of records, which themselves may well reflect a markedly different history than what the past actually was; the blind men feeling only their part of the elephant are convinced they have the whole. And yet abundant echoes of female authority and agency, of collaboration and community, can still be heard. As Chapter Six’s Lifeless saints illustrate, the love inscribed in the land, churches, wells, and even trees, and cultivated in customs preserved through the centuries, sometimes provide fuller witness to the past than the written word, which was largely, perhaps entirely, filtered through and controlled by men. Lest my argument be misconstrued, let me unequivocally state that, as my acknowledgement of that male control indicates, I fully recognize that patriarchy exists, then and now. After all, while men might go to some lengths to avoid marriage in the sources, women repeatedly had to pluck out their own eyes or face a fate determined by fathers far more than mothers. Yet patriarchy was not an absolute. By insisting on a narrowness of views, scholars do a disservice to the diversity reflected in the records, falling prey to what Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie calls “the danger of a single story” and exhibiting what Constance Berman terms “fuzzy thinking.”17 As Jennifer Deane expands, fuzzy thinking does not typically yield fuzzy conclusions in professional scholarship […] it yields crisp and sharp historical certainties, the very precision of which demands a certain blurring of vision when it comes to sources. […] Any overly crisp assertion should raise the red flag of fuzzy thinking. […] Our discomfort, our puzzlement, when sources contradict historiographical interpretation and vice-versa, can be a guide. It is not the historical past, but rather we historians, who must be continually brought to order.18

Scholars also do a disservice to our subject when we cloister our work in ivory towers. We have been trained to engage with, contextualize, and 16 Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, Well-Behaved Women Seldom Make History (New York: Vintage Books, 2008), xxxii. 17 Adichie, “The Danger of a Single Story”; Constance Berman, The Cistercian Evolution: The Invention of a Religious Order in Twelfth-Century Europe (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000), 24. 18 Jennifer Deane, “‘Fuzzy Thinking,’ Invention, and Disorder in Beguine Historiography,” unpublished paper.

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analyze historical sources, but they are not ours to control and confine. Ideally, we would share them with as wide an audience as possible, so that they may continue to enrich people’s lives and our societies, helping us learn from past mistakes as we also find inspiration in the range of possibility revealed in human experience. Since the vast majority of historians have been male, history has overwhelmingly reflected male interests and activities, an imbalance that has started to be redressed only in the past fifty years or so. The quest for gender equality has been repeatedly hindered by the perpetual need to rediscover fire and reinvent the wheel, as those who have searched for greater gender representation through the centuries have been cut off from a past that could nourish it. Sometimes feminists themselves are the ones erasing women’s history, as in Caitlin Moran’s assertion “that women have basically done fuck-all for the last 100,000 years […] Nearly everything so far has been the creation of men.” Her approach clearly found a receptive audience, selling over a million copies, a bestseller on both sides of the Atlantic. Superficial as her knowledge of history may be, her scorn is all too understandable, given general portraits of the past. Far more than “a couple of dozen feminist academics in books that only feminists would read” have challenged such sexist accounts, but Moran is right that “[f]eminism is too important to be discussed only by academics.”19 So is history, and feminist historians of all sexes can play an invaluable role in helping society better understand our diverse past, which most definitely attests to brilliant, accomplished, and valued women throughout the centuries. Their examples can affirm and inspire our quest for a more enlightened world, for the future Jamie Manson urges Catholics especially to bring into being by using their “prophetic voices,” and in so doing, to save the church.20 If, as Shakespeare said, the past is prologue, the positive portrayals of inclusive and productive partnerships, the recognition of myriad lifestyles, including a transgendered abbot who marries another abbot and bears him seven children,21 as well as lesbians who engage in “playful mating” without condemnation,22 can help us today as we navigate an increasingly open, 19 Caitlin Moran, How to Be a Woman (New York: Harper, 2011), 130, 11. My thanks to Yvonne Searle for bringing this book to my attention. 20 Manson, “It’s Time to Be Honest”; see Introduction. 21 “The Abbot of Drimnagh Who Was Changed into a Woman” in Bourke, Field Anthology, 131-32. 22 David Greene, “The ‘Act of Truth’ in a Middle Irish Story,” Saga och Sed Kungl Gustav Adolfs Akademiens Arsbok (1976), 30-37, at 31. My thanks to Joshua Malitsky for helping me obtain a copy of this text.

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inclusive, and diverse “many-peopled world.”23 To return again to the words of Monique Wittiq, reminding us of women’s powerful past, There was a time when you were not a slave, remember that. You walked alone, full of laughter, you bathed bare-bellied. You say you have lost all recollection of it, remember […] You say there are no words to describe this time, you say it does not exist. But remember. Make an effort to remember. Or, failing that, invent.24

The vitae sanctarum Hiberniae show us empowered, authoritative, compassionate women who cared for each other and themselves, and were deeply and inherently loved and valued by their God. Recluses could walk alone, secure in the confidence that their sisters like Darerca and Brigid would protect them, as if the safest city of refuge. In their communities a new and apostolic band of virgins arose, in which each sister could experience the intimate love of Christ, for God is always with those who exemplify such devotion. Sisters who fell short of their own ideals could be reconciled with the community once they took responsibility for their actions, as Íte repeatedly advised her nuns. Darerca at least bathed bare-bellied, up to her breasts, and even arranged for her defeated would-be rival Kevin to bathe similarly, defeating him not through violence but by embodying greater Christian virtue. Founded upon the rock which is Christ, holy women and men united in partnerships of various configurations and respected each other as equals, transcending gender distinctions in fulfillment of Galatians 3.28. Women’s wisdom and guidance could even redeem mass-murderers and rapists, as shown with Glunelath and his bandit horde; if assailants were not fit to be around females, the saint could also send an enormous eel after them, as Samthann did with the concupiscent cleric. Sexist tantrums like Senán’s could be shut down by reminders of Christ’s inclusivity and the universality of salvation, as Canair demonstrated. Moreover, Senán’s respect for and relationships with women in the rest of his Life stand at odds with this outburst. Sexism is an awkward intruder, with misogyny no more common than misandry. Men are portrayed in negative terms with greater frequency in the record—as rapists, murderers, thieves, and transgressors of the most abhorrent kinds. Yet a suggestion that the sources are sexist against men would probably be derisively scorned, as so much other evidence as well as prevailing contemporary attitudes 23 Gwynn, “Life of St. Lasair,” 103. 24 Wittig, Les Guérillères, 89.

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and assumptions contradict such a reading. Meanwhile, historians have too often perpetuated the sexism that was aberrant in Senán’s Life, and exclusion and denigration of women have dominated down the centuries, to the detriment of us all. But these sources tell a different story. To women especially they say, there was a time when you were revered and holy, when you held great authority in your community, when you were defined by your character rather than other people’s fears and weaknesses, when great bonds of friendship and respect existed between the sexes and especially among sisters, when you knew God’s intimate and all-encompassing love for you exactly as God created you, when you revelled in intellectual, creative, and spiritual pursuits, when you drew on God’s great gifts to you to cultivate yourself further as you enriched and strengthened your community, sharing these gifts with all in need. Remember. Make an effort to remember. Or, failing that, visit the sites and read the sources for yourselves.25

25 See the appendices, especially A and B (the sites and the sources).

Appendices Appendix A The Sites Abstract Five appendices conclude the book. The first two provide the reader with primary source material, my photographs of the saints’ sites (as well as a map) and translations of their Lives and of the Catalogus Sanctorum Hiberniae, a text that celebrates the holiest male saints’ partnerships with women. Appendices C through E offer a calendar of female Irish saints’ feast days (generally their day of death, believed to mark their soul’s entrance into heaven), a glossary of Latin and Irish terms that are most essential to this study, and a pronunciation guide.

Callan, M. B., Sacred Sisters: Gender, Sanctity, and Power in Medieval Ireland. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463721509_app

Map 1: Sanctae’s Sites

Clenor (Cranat)

Mainistir na Calliagh Dubh

Caillech Béirre

Killaha Conchinn

Kilronan (Lasair)

Killaraght

St. Gobnait's Church

Urney

Aran Islands

Beg-Erin Island

Faughart

Magh Cobha (Darerca)

Armagh

Clonbroney

Killeedy

Kildare

Killevy 

Irish sanctae's sites

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Image 2: Scattery Island

Image 3: Killevy

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Image 4: Killevy, Darerca’s grave

Image 5: Faughart, Brigid’s well

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Image 6: Kildare Round Tower and Fire House

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Image 7: Killeedy

Image 8: Killeedy altar

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Image 9: Clonbroney

Image 10: Kilronan

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Image 11: Killaraght

Image 12: Kilgobnait

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Image 13: Kilgobnait interior

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Image 14: Ballyvourney

Image 15: Ballyvourney interior

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Image 16: Ballyvourney sheela

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Image 17: Beara

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Image 18: Manisternagalliaghduff

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Appendix B The Sources Three great collections of Latin Lives of Irish saints exist, called the vitae sanctorum Hiberniae, the Lives of the saints of Ireland. All date from after Ireland’s invasion by Anglo-Normans in the late twefth-century and indicate a degree of co-operation between the native Irish and Anglo-Norman colonists who settled there, who eventually became known as the AngloIrish. Each collection contains one of the Lives translated below. The late thirteenth- or early fourteenth-century Codex Salmanticensis, now held in the Royal Library of Brussels, includes both Darerca’s Life and the Catalogus Sanctorum Hiberniae. Some regard it as the latest of the three collections, but its compiler is thought to have made the least changes to the Lives, so it could preserve much older versions, and its patron may have been a woman.1 The main source for Íte’s Life is commonly called the Codex Kilkenniensis (from Kilkenny), now held in Archbishop Marsh’s library in Dublin. For Samthann, it’s the Codex Insulensis (from island), with two surviving copies in Oxford. Brigid’s Lives are or were included in all three collections, but here I offer a Life from outside these collections—her earliest, by Cogitosus, which is generally accepted as the first Life of an Irish saint by an Irish author—an honor that might more accurately belong to Darerca’s original but now lost Life. Richard Sharpe’s Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives provides the most thorough historical analysis of the collections as a whole, but the female saints’ Lives are fairly marginal to his argument, with the usual exception of Brigid. Sharpe calls the Codex Kilkenniensis the Dublin Collection, as its two fifteenth-century copies currently reside in Dublin, one in Archbishop Marsh’s Library that can be viewed online thanks to the Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies’ Irish Script on Screens project,2 and a second, less complete and more abused copy that lacks Íte’s Life at Trinity College (MS 175). Sharpe regards the Codex Kilkenniensis as the earliest of the three collections, compiled in the third decade of the thirteenth century: “Almost every Life in the collection betrays the interests, the idiosyncracies, and the linguistic stamp of one redactor.”3 This redactor revised the Lives to accord 1 For the Codex Salmanticensis as the least corrupted of the compilations, see PVSH, I. xxii; HVSH, xi; and Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 243–46 and 396–97. For the gender of the patron see HVSH, xlvii; for other female patrons of texts in late medieval Ireland, see Bourke, Field Anthology, 56, 337–39, and 364. 2 MS Z 3.1.5; https://www.isos.dias.ie/english/index.html , accessed January 15, 2017. 3 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 115.

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with his understanding of Ireland’s conversion to Christianity, omitted or toned down their more scandalous elements, and introduced the genealogical and historical lore of his day.4 Yet he still showed considerable sensitivity to his sources and “brought to his interest in the past a sense of Ireland’s history, traditions, and customs, which one could almost describe as nationalist.”5 Sharpe praises this collection as the most substantial work in Latin by an Irishman after Eriugena until the end of the Middle Ages and maintains that the redactor left such a firm imprint on the Lives that in the absence of his original sources it is difficult to discern the extent of his revisions. Íte’s vita in the Great Austrian Legendary is based upon the same source as her Kilkenniensis Life; thus her original lost Life must have been written before the middle of the twelfth century.6 Apart from verbal discrepancies, however, the major difference Sharpe notes between these Lives is the Irish redactor’s insertion of Íte’s genealogy which traces her descent from Feidlimid Rechtmar, a kinship he has her share with Declán and Brigid. A third version of Íte’s vita survives in the Codex Insulensis, which seems an abbreviation either of the Codex Kilkenniensis Life or of the original source. This collection survives in two manuscripts now in Oxford’s Bodleian Library, the early fourteenth-century MS Rawlinson B.485 and MS Rawlinson B.505, a late-fourteenth-century copy of B.485. According to Charles Plummer, at times the compiler left the vitae more or less as he found them; other Lives are edited, bowdlerized, or augmented by scriptural references or moral exhortations.7 The marginalia in both show a connection with the Dillons of County Westmeath and the O’Farrells of County Longford. The later copy has a far more certain history: the scribe was Matthew O’Dwyer and it belonged to the community of Saints’ Island in Lough Ree, hence the name Codex Insulensis.8 Lough Ree spans the border between Counties Westmeath and Longford and it seems likely that the collection as a whole originated somewhere in this area. Sharpe points out that the Lives peculiar to it represent saints whose cults were scattered throughout Ireland, from the Aran Islands off the west coast to Monasterboice near the east coast, and that it shows signs of being composed both among indigenous Irish and among Anglo-Irish colonists; thus its original milieu seems indeterminate 4 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 213-14. 5 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 365-66. 6 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 27 n101. 7 PVSH I xxii-xxiii. 8 Sharpe rejects this name, as he does Codex Kilkenniensis, since the earlier manuscript is not known to have had a connection with Saints’ Island.

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to Sharpe.9 A County Longford origin, however, would help to explain its inclusion of Samthann’s only extant Life, as her community of Clonbroney lay within it, approximately twenty miles from Saints’ Island. The third collection, the Codex Salmanticensis, now in the Royal Library of Brussels (MS 7672-7674), derives its name from its time at the Irish college in Salamanca, which was established in 1592. Plummer, Heist, and Sharpe agree that the vitae of this collection are the most faithful to the original sources; it thus serves as “a critical key to the collections as a whole.”10 Disputing the views of Sharpe and Heist, who attributed the collection to Anglo-Irish religious in the late fourteenth century, Pádraig Ó Riain argues that it was compiled in the late thirteenth century and “kept inter Hibernos [i.e., among the native Irish] in the house of the Canons Regular of St Augustine at Clogher in County Tyrone.”11 Several of the texts were provided by Dermot Ó Donnchadha and one Life adds an Irish prayer for the soul of Brother John mac Tighernáin of Oriel (roughly County Armagh), who translated it from Irish. A number of the Lives unique to this collection may reflect Brother John’s local interest, as does Darerca’s, whose activity centered on Counties Armagh and Louth, but on the whole the collection is essentially national. In its current state it contains nearly fifty Lives, beginning with Laurence of Durham’s Life of Brigid, one of Dermot’s donated texts.12 The only non-Irish saint included is Catherine of Alexandria, whose presence Heist theorizes might be due to a patron or patron’s wife named Kathleen, although Sharpe attributes it to her popularity among Anglo-Normans in the fourteenth century.13 Whether the Codex Salmanticensis originated among the native Irish or Anglo-Irish, it shows collaboration between ethnicities, as one of Dermot’s Lives was written by an Anglo-Norman and he may have shared his collection with his Anglo-Irish neighbors, who themselves were deeply interested in Ireland’s pre-Norman, Christian past.14 Similarly, an eleventh- or 9 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 371. 10 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 246. 11 Pádraig Ó Riain, “Codex Salmanticensis: A Provenance inter Anglos or inter Hibernos?” in A Miracle of Learning: Studies in Manuscripts and Irish Learning. Essays in Honour of William O’Sullivan, ed. Toby Barnard, Dáibhí Ó Cróinín, and Katharine Simms (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 91-100, at 98. See also Caomhín Breatnach, “The Significance of the Orthography of Irish Proper Names in the Codex Salmanticensis,” Ériu 55 (2005): 85-101. 12 The first forty-seven folios of the manuscript are missing, as is the start of Brigid’s Life; Heist argues that the collection would have begun with Lives of Patrick and ColmCille [Heist, “Dermot O’Donohue and the Codex Salmanticensis,” Celtica 5 (1960): 52-63, at 55; HVSH xxxix-xl]. 13 HVSH xlvii; Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 371. 14 Indications of such interest are not uncommon, even among colonists still actively pursuing the conquest of the native Irish. For example, the fourteenth-century manuscript Cambridge,

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twelfth-century version of Darerca’s Life, which greatly embellishes upon the material preserved in the anonymous Codex Salmanticensis Life, provided the basis for an early twelfth-century Life of Modwenna by Geoffrey, abbot of Burton-upon-Trent in England. Geoffrey’s abbey had the bones but no Life of Modwenna, a female saint whom legend claimed as Irish, and he may have comissioned Conchubran, thought to be an Irishman, to compose this Life of Darerca, whom Conchubran refers to by a variation on her nickname, Moninne, changing it to Monenna, perhaps to facilitate her association with Modwenna. Geoffrey’s debt to Conchubran and Conchubran’s embellishments, which include the saint’s death in Scotland and burial in England, further evince inter-ethnic cooperation and a shared investment in Irish sanctity prior to the Anglo-Norman invasion. The continued celebration of Ireland’s pre-Norman, Christian heritage throughout the vitae sanctorum Hiberniae, compiled after its invasion, offers important contrast to its repeated condemnation since the mid-twelfth century as a nest of uncivilized pagans, a characterization used to justify this invasion and the continued colonization by Anglo-Normans. Brigid’s surviving literary corpus looms larger than many other saints, regardless of ethnicity or gender. The Life translated in Appendix B was written by Cogitosus, believed to be a monk of Kildare, around 650; the earliest extant copies come from ninth-century France, with roughly eighty additional copies surviving—but none of those in Ireland.15 Brigid has two other extant early Lives originating in Ireland that are generally dated to the eighth or ninth centuries, the Old Irish Bethu Brigte and a Latin Life commonly called the Vita Prima, which the Bollandists believed preceded Cogitosus’s, a view shared more recently by David Howlett and Daniel McCarthy but generally rejected by other scholars.16 The Vita Prima survives in four manuscript copies, three from the thirteenth century or later, two Corpus Christi College MS 405, compiled by Anglo-Irish Hospitallers in County Waterford who were especially invested in preserving colonial interests and were at times literally at war with the native Irish, “is of immense significance for the study of Irish hagiology,” with over half of its impressive, wide-ranging contents devoted to Irish saints [Colmán Ó Clabaigh, “Prayer, Politics and Poetry: Cambridge, Corpus Christi College MS 405 and the Templars and Hospitallers at Kilbarry, Co. Waterford,” in Soldiers of Christ: The Knights Hospitaller and the Knights Templar in Medieval Ireland, ed. Martin Browne, OSB, and Colmán Ó Clabaigh, OSB (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2016), 206-17 (211)]. 15 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 14; R. J. Hayes, Catalogue of the Manuscript Sources of Irish History (11 vols.; Boston, 1965), I. 331-39, and Supplement (3 vols.; Boston, 1979), I. 78-79. 16 David Howlett, Vita I Sanctae Brigitae, Peritia 12 (1998): 1-23; McCarthy, “Topographical Characteristics of the Vita Prima and Vita Cogitosi Sanctae Brigitae,” Studia Celtica 25 (2001): 245-70.

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of those the Codex Insulensis, and again none in Ireland. Other early Lives include a ninth-century metrical version attributed to Donatus of Fiesole who left Ireland for Italy and in 850 “dedicated a church to St Brigit to the monastery of Bobbio, the resting place of the body of the most blessed Columbanus,” further attesting to Brigid’s prominence on the Continent in the ninth century, especially among Irish peregrini, or pilgrims for Christ who voluntarily exiled themselves from Ireland.17 The Codex Salmanticensis Life of Brigid, written by an Anglo-Norman (Laurence of Durham) in England in the 1130s, shows English interest in and celebration of Irish sanctity amid the rise of propaganda decrying the state of the faith in Ireland to justify its invasion, and within a century of England’s own papally-blessed conquest by Normans in 1066. In its current state, the Codex Kilkenniensis lacks a Life of Brigid, but Sharpe has persuasively argued that it originally included the version known as Vita IV Sanctae Brigidae.18 Scholars widely regard Cogitosus’s Life of Brigid, dated to around 650, as the earliest extant Life from Ireland. For nearly a century, however, some have recognized that Darerca’s original vita might predate Cogitosus’s text by as much as half a century, a possibility no convincing arguments have contradicted.19 Sharpe acknowledges that evidence indicates that Darerca’s original Life may date to the early seventh century, but then dismissively states, “the supposed Primitive Life is lost to us and we are dependent on later derivatives.”20 Yet virtually all extant Irish hagiography depends on later derivatives; after all, three of the four copies of Brigid’s so-called Vita Prima date from the thirteenth century, with the fourth from the ninth, and even the Codex Kilkenniensis, which Sharpe believes to be the earliest of the three great collections, survives only in copies from two centuries after its original compilation, according to Sharpe’s expert estimation. Darerca’s Life preserved in the Codex Salmanticensis, deemed “the most important collection of Irish saints’ Lives” at least in part due to its fidelity to its sources, may relatively reliably replicate the original, for reasons explored more fully in Chapter Two.21 Similarly, several factors suggest that Íte’s and Samthann’s Lives may have been first recorded within a century (perhaps even decades) 17 Michael Richter, Bobbio in the Early Middle Ages: The Abiding Legacy of Columbanus (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2008), 106. 18 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 120-215. 19 Esposito, “The Sources of Conchubranus’ Life of St Monenna,” 74-76. 20 Sharpe, Medieval Irish Saints’ Lives, 16. 21 T. M. Charles-Edwards, “The Northern Lectionary: A Source for the Codex Salmanticensis?” in Celtic Hagiography and Saints’ Cults, ed. Jane Cartwright (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2003), 148-60, at 148.

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or so of their deaths, as discussed in their respective chapters. As with Irish hagiography generally, however, only later copies survive, with the earliest extant versions of Cogitosus’s Life of Brigid dating from the ninth century and the anonymous Lives of Darerca, Íte, and Samthann from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Given such chronological challenges, it cannot be definitively determined if the Lives’ contents more accurately reflect the time of the original author or later scribes, much less the time they purport to describe, that of the saint herself.

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1. On the Three Orders of the Saints of Ireland. Here begins the catalogue of the orders of saints in Ireland who lived in distinct time periods. The first order of saints occurred in the time of Patrick. All then were distinguished and holy bishops who were filled with the Holy Spirit, 350 in number. They were founders of churches who worshipped their supreme head, Christ, and followed their one leader, Patrick. They had one style of tonsure and one form of mass, and they celebrated one Easter, that is, after the vernal Equinox. And what was excommunicated by one church was excommunicated by all. They did not refuse the assistance [administrationem] of women, and they did not refuse their companionship, because, founded upon the rock which is Christ, they did not fear the wind of temptation. This order of saints lasted through the reign of four kings: from the time of Laoghaire mac Néill, who ruled for thirty-seven years, and Ailill with the cognomen Molt (Ailill mac Nath Í), who ruled for thirty years, and Lugaid, who ruled for seven, and until the end of Túathal Máelgarb’s reign.22 All remained holy bishops, and most of them were ethnically Franks, Romans, Britons, and Irish. The second order of saints was as follows. This order included few bishops but many priests, three hundred in number. They worshipped their supreme head, Christ, but had different rites of celebrating mass as well as diverse rules of life, but they celebrated one Easter, namely on the fourteenth of the moon, and they wore a uniform tonsure, that is, from ear to ear. They fled the companionship and assistance of women, and they shut women out from their monasteries. This order also lasted through four reigns, that is from the end of Túathal Máelgarb, and for thirty years during the reign of Diarmait mac Cerbaill, through the time of the two grandsons of Muiredach, who ruled for seven years, and through the thirty years that Áed mac Ainmerech ruled.23 They received their rite of celebrating mass from holy men from Britain, namely St David and St Gildas and St Doc. And their names are these, that is Finnian, Énda, Colmán, Comgal, Áed, Ciarán, Columba, Brendan, Brichin, Cainnech, Cóemgen (Kevin), Laisreán, Laisre, Lugaid, Berrach, and many others who belonged to this second rank (gradu) of saints. The third order of saints was like this. They were holy priests with a few bishops, one hundred in number, who lived in isolated places. They lived on vegetables and water and alms of the faithful, and they held all earthly things in contempt, and they utterly avoided all susurration and slander. They had 22 I.e., until approximately 545. 23 I.e., until approximately 599.

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diverse rules and various rites of celebrating mass, and also diverse tonsures: indeed, some wore a crown,24 others (long) hair.25 And they had diverse Paschal solemnities: some celebrated on the fourteenth of the moon, others on the thirteenth. This order lasted through four reigns, that is through the time of Áed Allán, who ruled only three years, and through the time of Domnall, who ruled for thirty years, and through the time of the sons Máelcoba, and through the time of Áed Sláne. And this order lasted until the time of the great mortality (i.e., plague).26 These are their names: Bishop Petrán, Bishop Ultán, Bishop Colmán, Bishop Áedán, Bishop Lommán, and Bishop Senach. These and many others were all bishops, and there were also the priests Fechín, Airendan, Fáelán, Cummíne, Colmán, Ernán, Crónán, and many other priests. Note that the first order was the holiest, the second beneath them in holiness, but above the third holy order. The first blazes like the sun, enflamed with the fervor of love, the second glows like the moon, and the third shines like the dawn. Blessed Patrick, taught by a celestial oracle, understood the prophetic vision wherein he saw all Ireland filled with fiery flame, then the mountains ablaze, followed by lights shining in valleys, to signify these three orders. This is from an old Life of Patrick. Note: These are the names of St Finnian of Clonard’s disciples, namely the two Ciaráns, Ciarán son of the wright27 and Ciarán of Saigir, Columba son of Crimthann28 and ColmCille, the two Brendans, that is Brendan son of Finnlug29 and Brendan of Birr, Mobhí Clárínech, and Laisrén son of Nad Froích,30 and Sinell son of Máenach, and Cainnech son of Uí Dallán,31 and Rúadán of Lorrha, and Nannid Lámderc, and Mugenoch of Kilcumil,32 and Bishop Senach.33 24 I.e., a fringe of hair surrounding a bald pate, the Roman tonsure. 25 I.e., the style referenced above, the “Celtic” tonsure, a shaved forehead with long hair in the back (like a receding hairline with a mullet). 26 I.e., until approximately 664. 27 Ciarán of Clonmacnoise. 28 Columba of Terryglass. 29 Brendan of Clonfert. 30 Molaisse of Devenish. 31 Cainnech of Aghaboe. 32 Perhaps one of the fifteen sons attributed to Darerca, Patrick’s supposed sister. Kilcumil (Killi Cumili, genitive, in the text) sometimes is rendered Kylli Cumli, which Edmund Hogan theorizes refers to Kilcooly [Onomasticon Goedelicum Locorum et Tribuum Hiberniae et Scotiae: An Index with Identifications, to the Gaelic Names of Places and Tribes (Dublin: Hodges, Figgis & Co., 1910), 187]. 33 The first twelve of Finnian’s students listed here are sometimes hailed as Ireland’s twelve apostles; alternatively, Félire Óengusso calls the two Finnians, the two Colms, the two Brendans,

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2. The Life of the Abbess St Darerca, Also Known As Moninne 1. Darerca, a venerable virgin also known by the name Moninne, arose from the district of the Conaille,1 with the esteemed Mocteus as her father.2 She was born in Mag Cobha [in County Down] and was brought up under the care of parents steeped in religion (religiosorum cura parentum), as was proper. As a very young girl, she was moved by the grace of God and decided to preserve the never-fading flower of virginity, which she held as long as she lived. A few years after she was born, St Patrick came into her birth province and many were brought to him there in the care of men consecrated in religion (religiosorum cura virorum) so that they could be immersed in the holy font of baptism and confirmed by the imposition of hands. Among those who were streaming in from every side, St Darerca came and presented herself to Bishop Patrick. The holy bishop, filled with the Holy Spirit, saw her and understood her pious proposal and ferverent desire to serve God. He blessed her choice and intoned fitting admonitions as she received the virginal dress consecrated near the well Briu, that translated into Latin signifies bounty or abundance. Through this it was given to be understood that she would become a living font of spiritual waters, from which many would draw life-giving draughts. 2. The bishop encouraged her in her chosen plan with wise admonitions as he exalted the virtues of the virginal life. He advised her to enter into community with other virgins, whom she should teach reverence for God, so that supported by their help and made happy by their company, she might more easily bring to fulfillment the good life that she had begun. Then he entrusted the role of her guardian and teaching her the psalms to a certain priest consecrated in religion who lived near her parents. She spent some time under his tutelage, easily understanding the teachings with acute genius and committing to her tenaciously retentive memory what she learned—she progressed greatly in a small amount of time. And, it is said, in the beginning eight virgins and one widow with her wee babe (infantulo), named Luger, joined her. Darerca adopted him as her (foster-) son, immersed him in ecclesiastical customs, and raised him up to the with Ciarán, Cainnech, Comgall, Mobhí, Rúadán, Nannid, and Laisrén son of Nad Froích Ireland’s twelve (sic) apostles (169). 1 Conaille Murthemne, in County Louth. 2 De Paor theorizes that Mocteus might refer to St Mochta, preserving an earlier tradition that she was his disciple which was subsequently superseded “by the intrusion of the more prestigious saints Patrick and Ibar” (Saint Patrick’s World, 309 n1).

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honor of episcopal rank (pontificalis ordinis honore sublimavit).3 He ruled his entire clan, the Conaille, in good character and built for the honor of God the church of Rúscach [Rooskey] in Mag Cúailnge [Cooley]. 3. And so this virgin lived with her parents for some time. Even though her people had converted to the faith, seeing that there were no nunneries (monialium mansiones) among them, Darerca decided to leave her parents and relatives. For she did not wish to weaken the proposal of her religion with the empty conversations and the silly speech of worldly people, as too often happens. Therefore the virgin of Christ, trusting in the Lord, gathered the aforementioned virgins and widow and certain other people, and set out for Bishop Ibar, who lived on the western isles of Ireland. 4 Once St Darerca and her followers reached the man of God, she remained for a long time under his guidance with many other virgins. 4. Later, the bishop journeyed from those islands and, as he approached the southern shore of Ireland, he continued to the island that they call Little Ireland [Beg Érin, near Wexford], where he would later die. The sheep of Christ followed their shepherd. When they reached the land of the Laigin, they heard the fame of the holy virgin Brigid who was living there. When St Darerca heard this with her virgins, she obtained the permission of her teacher, and went to visit Brigid. We are told that Darerca lived at Brigid’s monastery for awhile, where she refused all honor and conducted herself humbly in all things. But as much as she humbled herself, just as much did God exalt her above all others with rewards of virtue, so that she was thought second [only] to Brigid in sanctity of life, nobility of character, and grace of virtues. 5. Darerca obeyed all monastic commands, and the abbess ordered her to become the infirmarian. She carefully fulfilled this office and pleased all. For the Most High gave her the grace of conferring health to the sick and expelling demons from the possessed. When these miracles were broadcast among the people, she became so venerable in the sight of all that she was visited daily and many people made offerings for the sake of her sanctity. 3 The possibility that she ordained him as a bishop must be recognized, unorthodox though it would be. 4 Conchubran names them “Triarna,” presumably referring to the three Aran Islands [I.5, Esposito, “Conchubrani Vita Sanctae Monennae,” 210]; see also Samuel Lewis, A Topographical Dictionary of Ireland (London: S. Lewis and Co, 1837) 2 vols., I.76.

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She kept none of this, however, but rather placed her trust in God and gave everything to the poor who came to her, for the sake of Christ. 6. And when the sisters grumbled that she gave away everything for the use of the poor, and kept nothing for their sisterhood, she answered with trust in the Lord, “They who have Christ with them through firm faith are content with regard to food and clothing, my sisters, and they will have everything they need. For those whose desire to be wealthy are succumbing to the devil’s temptations, and will incessantly worry about their concerns and anxieties. If you fault me for what I have done daily, Christ can work through his members and restore to you those losses that you think you are owed and lighten the burdens of nakedness and hunger among my sisters whenever he wishes.” 7. After saying these things, trusting in God, she went to the bed where she customarily took her rest and discovered twelve exquisite dresses, although they had not been seen there before. When the virgin of Christ saw them and believed they were given to her by God, she offered them to St Brigid, saying, “O my Lady Brigid, behold what God has given to relieve your poverty.” St Brigid replied to her, “Distribute the dresses sent to you by the Lord as you wish among your sisters, for their needs are greater than ours.” Another great miracle is told that was accomplished through this same virgin, namely that a certain boy rashly denied that these dresses of St Darerca had been given by God. He was struck down dead but then restored to life by her prayers. 8. After these things had transpired, she went to Ibar and lived under his protection in Ard Conays.5 Many virgins and widows gathered there, and also royal and noble matrons came to her from everywhere. The teacher (magistra) of all virtue demonstrated both in word and deed how to live well. 9. Another time the sun’s extreme heat in summertime parched the earth so badly that the wells and springs ran dry. St Darerca’s sisters likewise went without water and complained before their teacher about the drought. The handmaid of God, disturbed by their complaints, obtained from God by her prayers a fountain of living water. This water is reported to have flowed ceaselessly, as long as this heat remained, not only to the nuns but also to the people who lived nearby. When this miracle was made known, not 5 Perhaps referencing Ardcavan; Culleton, Celtic and Early Christian Wexford, 84.

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only women but also men wanted to enter the presence of the holy virgin. Although they themselves held sufficient honor, it was held to be yet a greater honor if they merited the blessing of this exceptionally holy virgin. 10. Among other graces of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of prophecy also illuminated her soul. This is proved by the following miracle. The holy bishop [Ibar] chose blessed Darerca as a most faithful foster-mother for the daughter of a certain person from the lands where the nuns lived, so the girl would be raised according to monastic discipline. But St Darerca, seeing in spirit the girl’s future temperaments, said, “This little girl will be the reason why in the future we shall be forced to abandon this religious home.” And this most certainly came to pass. When the aforesaid girl reached adolescence, she became enflamed with burning envy and spread diabolical lies, inciting her kin to hate St Darerca. The daughter of peace perceived this and said to her sisters, “Behold, what God revealed to us in the beginning concerning this girl’s future now has become blatantly obvious. If we suffer in such a manner while I am alive, you surely will not be able to live here when I am dead. Therefore let us give to the envious girl this place and all our things, which envious people love; let us abandon to them all but our clothes, and our God will provide for us another place to live in.” 11. After she said these things, the woman beloved to God and mortals set out with fifty nuns (sanctimonialibus). They reached a certain river which women and children could cross, but it suddenly swelled at their arrival and became uncrossable. Seeing this, the handmaid of God said to her sisters, “My sisters, take note that on account of our sins this flood prevents our crossing. Let us scrutinize our consciences so that if any of us are guilty of a transgression, she may confess it sincerely, and be able to free us from this punishment.” And then one of her sisters answered her, “When we were leaving the monastery, I saw some garlic drying that I thought was ours and I took a bundle.” St Darerca said to her, “Quickly bring it back to the place whence you took it. For since we have left greater things behind there, we should not carry off the smaller part without the permission of those among whom they were left.” And when the nun, obeying the commands of her superior, brought back the bundle of garlic to its original place, at once the the river returned to its usual state and allowed the nuns to cross. 12. Then she turned toward St Brigid and stayed with her for some days. They were instructed by her angelic counsels and confirmed resolutely in faith before they set forth again. And when they sought St Brigid’s blessing

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for their journey, she answered, “May God Almighty guard you in your travel and guide you so you arrive safely at your desired dwelling places.” 13. And when the blessing was given, she gave St Darerca a small silver vessel of the sort that noble people use for drinking, which is called in the Irish language eascra [beaker]. Although she wished to take nothing other than the blessing, the daughter did not dare to contradict the venerable mother, and reluctantly accepted the offered vessel. But after she said farewell to the community of sisters (consororibus), she hastily put the aforesaid gift back in a secret place and then left. But soon thereafter the vessel was discovered by St Brigid’s girls and was presented to the holy mother Brigid, who said, “What we gave to God, we should not take back,” and she ordered that it be cast into a nearby river, the Liffey. And so the vessel was cast into the river, which flows eastward into the sea, but contrary to the customary course of nature, by the power of God, it is recorded that it was discovered by a certain holy man, the bishop Herb, the brother of Darerca, on the shore of the lake that the Irish call Head of the Coast (Shorehead). He promptly gave that vessel to St Darerca, whose monastery was located near the lake. For St Darerca’s monastery was a four-day journey from St Brigid’s monastery. 14. Later, the virgin of Christ came to the northern coast of Ireland and visited her kin, as if they were the lost sheep from the house of Israel. With her journey finished, she finally reached the field of Murthemne [in Louth] which was the chief home of her clan. This clan in former times was steeped in the skill of magical arts beyond the other nearby clans; nevertheless it was made Christian through the grace of God working through St Patrick. When the virgin of Christ lived there, it is reliably attested that she looked upon no man (virum). If she was compelled at any time to leave her cell, such as to visit the sick or to release captives from prison by means of entreaty or prayer, she went out at night, lest she be seen by people (hominibus); and if she encountered anyone along the way, she spoke with a veiled face. 15. One night, she came to some handmaids of God, the daughters of Campanus. Although ample provision had been supplied to the bride of Christ and her followers for their own needs, they did not have enough liquid refreshment; divine grace provided this by her hand. For she blessed the vessel filled with water, and, with God working through her, she turned that water into the finest wine. Also, it is said, while visiting with a man from the vicinity, by name Denech, she performed an especially outstanding miracle there. The host, poor in resources but rich in charity, killed a little

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calf to serve her, but on the next day either that very calf or another exactly like him was discovered with his mother. 16. Later, when Denech was traversing his land, he discovered St Darerca with her sisters who were tired by the strain of their night journey. For it was the custom of the bride of Christ to journey by night more than by day, lest their dove-like nature be spoiled by human contact. Denech entreated the handmaid of God to bless him with the honor of being his guest. The lover of piety bowed to the supplicant’s pleas and granted his request. And when they entered the house together, the faithful host joyfully served food and drink according to his means. And when they had finished this meal, the virgin blessed the dishes of the house and especially the vessel in which the beer had been brought. The dregs of liquid, which remained in the bottom of the vessel, were thus increased by the grace of her blessing so that it quickly rose to the top of the vessel. Then she said to the host, “Your invited guests will soon come and you will be able to give them each sufficient drink. And God, who rewards all good deeds, will multiply for you and your successors the moderate possessions you have had up to now. For you have offered gracious hospitality unto servants and handmaids of Christ, beyond your means.” After she said this, she left. 17. After the handmaid of Christ departed, Denech invited the king of the Conaille to a meal as he was passing by his house. The king, however, did not wish to impose upon his poverty, and at first refused. But at last the king consented, overcome by the insistence of Denech’s invitation. As he relaxed about the table with his people, the courses were served and a steady stream of beer flowed freely from the vessel blessed by the holy virgin. This beer is said to have lasted through the blessing of St Darerca for two days and as many nights for the entire entourage that was with the king. And so Denech, who received her blessing, increased from day to day in goods, and his lineage occupied the first rank among his people for many years. 18. And so, just as we said, the holy virgin returned to her native province and served God faithfully with her one hundred and fifty sisters on the Hill of Faughart where she is said to have lived before. But one night she heard the ruckus of a wedding celebration and feared that she would hear it frequently. Hence she moved beside Slieve Gullion [south Armagh], where she might hear the sweet conversations of her bridegroom without worldly distractions. At the base of this mountain she had a small monastery built for the handmaids of Christ.

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19. So the daughter of John the Baptist and the prophet Elias, wearing harsh rags like a mighty hermit, eternally united by the strongest bond of love with her sisters, each to the other, in the aforesaid deserted place, where it is said that they carried out valiant combat. There is no doubt that, while she was there, as light placed on a lamp, radiant with the light of miracles, she routed the hideous darkness of the northern lands with the power of her devout prayer. Indeed, no one could fully account or even know with what frequency of prayers and vigils and how many labors she afflicted herself, or in what struggles she exerted herself against the demons or how resplendently she shone with miracles. In fact, she tried to hide all her good deeds from people’s notice as best she could, except when it was strictly necessary that people perceive them. Thus she followed the footsteps of the early hermits so that she dug and sowed the soil with her own labor, bearing a manly soul in a woman’s body (virilem enim animum in femineo gerebat corpore). For her hoe and spade were preserved with fitting honor in her monastery for many years after her death. So too with the greatest veneration they saved for a long time her leather and sheepskin coat, more precious than silk robes, and her wooden comb, by which she used to comb her hair once a year, namely on the Lord’s Supper [i.e., Maundy Thursday], unless grave necessity of illness might compel her to do so more often. 20. And thus, living in seclusion, she was celebrated in every part of Ireland for the splendor of her virtue. Hence after a little while, noble married women thoughout all the surrounding regions would enter her presence, kneel on the ground, and ask her to favor them with her counsel or to commend them to God in her prayers. Henceforth, the number of the virgins of Christ grew daily; and the flock of Christ was fed by the alms often sent not only from nearby lands, but also from far away. 21. Then, one time, as the nuns were near starving, she was struck from the heights of contemplation at the urging of a certain prudent man in order to take pity on her sisters. He said, “For how long will you allow your sisters, Christ’s handmaids, to waste away from starvation? For you can relieve them, if you so wish.” The virgin of Christ blushed with shame. Feeling the needs of others more than her own and trusting in the Lord, she ordered many vessels to be gathered for her women and commanded that they be placed in a suitable secret place. Then she entered the chapel and spent the night in prayer to God, who said, “Ask and it shall be given to you.” She poured forth her prayers and, because she deserved to be heard, she obtained what she sought. For on the next day, all the vessels were discovered to be filled with what they needed.

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22. Another time, wolves suddenly burst forth from the woods and attacked the calves of the nuns pastured alongside the nearby mountain slope. As the calves turned in flight, the wolves seized one. The nuns lamented what happened to Darerca. She replied, “Do not be upset about this. For he who rescued the prophet Daniel unharmed from the lion’s mouth will restore this calf unharmed, rescued from the wolves’ teeth.” And on the next day, the wolves returned the calf to his pasture in one piece. 23. A little later, some bandits traveling near the monastery came across a little woman and asked her whence she came and whither she would go. She replied, “I come from nearby and I go to St Darerca.” They mocked the saint, saying, “Tell Darerca that we are not wealthy, and although many offerings are sent to her from all over, ask her to receive our meager alms now sent to her from us by you. For we believe that she will be able to make use of it for a long time.” Then they grabbed a nearby stone and placed it on the trembling old woman’s shoulders, ordering her not to drop the stone until she was in the holy virgin Darerca’s presence, and then they let her leave. And when the woman had fulfilled their command, placing the stone before the virgin, it immediately was changed into salt. 24. A certain handmaid of Christ lived in a small secluded cell near the monastery, leading an eremitic life. Food was brought to her every day from the monastery. And one day, when the meal was brought by a certain nun, the bearer ran into brigands. They stole the food from her, then allowed her to return empty-handed. When she had informed her mother what had happened, Darerca consoled her by saying, “The reward for your efforts remains complete, and God can return to you whole what was taken (raptum) from you.”6 Those thieves, after taking the booty and seeking devious escape routes, were blinded by divine power, so that they wandered for three days in the woods, which they knew like the back of their hand. Finally reconsidering, they confessed their guilt for which they were being punished and pledged to perform penance according to the holy virgin’s judgment, if they were able to regain their way. And because God is more inclined to mercy than condemnation, after they acknowledged their guilt, divine power opened their eyes and revealed the path to the monastery, which was near them. And when they came to the monastery, they presented themselves to the holy virgin, returning what they had stolen. Prostrating themselves before her, they humbly sought her mercy 6 A parallel could perhaps be drawn with virginity and rape.

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and voluntarily underwent the imposed penance. And, renouncing robbery, they departed, their lives amended. 25. Among other handmaids of God, one virgin, named Brignat, is known to have lived with the holy virgin. Contemplating the signs of her future holiness, it is said that she sent her to Britain to receive the rules of the monastic life from the monastery of Rosnat.7 Being a daughter of holy obedience, she set out at once, and arrived at her destination without any delay. She remained near that monastery, anxious about fulfilling the holy mother’s command; she stayed in a small hospice and read through the Psalms and other books which were necessary for her. Having satisfied holy obedience, with God’s help she returned to her abbey, with her return journey just as favorable as her outbound one. 26. Later, merited by her devout prayers, St Darerca restored to life a novice who had been taken by a sudden death. This girl lived for many years after. 27. Moreover, as attested about her by the truthful testimony of those living with her, angels often visited her and had intimate conversation with her. This is shown to be true by the following miracle. One night, as the sisters were entering to celebrate matins but before they had begun the holy office, she gave the sign for silence, and said, “O blessed Lord, we should not let pass in silence what has happened to us tonight. For up to now our prayers have scarcely been able to rise beyond the roof of the church, and, though angels usually visit us, I do not see them visiting us tonight. I do not doubt that this has happened because of our sins. Let us examine our consciences as much as we can.” Hearing this, the nuns, petrified with fear, believing more in their mistress than in themselves, fell prostrate to the ground. One of the widows, who recently was converted from secular living, arose and said, “O my lady, I confess my sin to be the cause of this matter. For I confess that I received a pair of shoes from a man with whom I committed sexual sin (cui illicite fueram copulata), and I forgetfully neglected to obtain your permission. Because of the cold I am wearing them on my 7 Perhaps Candida Casa, also known as Whithorn, in Scotland, although P. A. Wilson and subsequently David Dumville have argued forcefully against this identification. Dumville also rejects the suggestion that it may refer to Tintagel in Cornwall, advancing instead St David’s in Dyfed (Wales) as the best candidate while also noting that “nothing is certain, save that Whithorn is not a credible option.” The connection with Rosnat may also tie into Darerca’s name change, as Rosnat’s holy man was named Monenn, often claimed as a variant for Ninian [Saint Patrick, A.D. 493-1993 (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1993), n63 pp 142-143].

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feet.” The holy prophet said to her, “It is fitting that these shoes, which cause us to endure the angels’ absence, be submerged in the waters’ depths.” St Darerca summoned one of the sisters whom we mentioned a little earlier, Brignat, and told her and a few others, “Go and cast those shoes in a deep place, where no one will be able to find them.” They went out and fulfilled the command, and the other nuns continued the vigil that had been begun. When the vigil was finished, the blessed virgin said, “We should thank our God with devoted minds, because no offense to God now prevents our prayers from reaching heaven and now that the matter of an offense to the divine has been removed, our desired guests do not scorn to come to us.” By this we can see clearly how much she kept herself pure of mortal sins, since she realized that her prayers were deterred by these venial sins. Seeing how quickly she took care to amend even minor deeds we can be assured of the diligence with which she kept greater ones from developing. 28. When they had obeyed Darerca’s command, the aforesaid sisters returned, knocked on chapel door, and saw that the office of matins was over. The virgin named Briga said to her other companions, “Before day begins, you should try to get some rest in the dormitory.” And when they entered the dormitory, the virgin Briga herself approached the bedroom where St Darerca was accustomed to pray and converse with the angels. But when she drew near she saw something like two swans flying out of Darerca’s cell. Looking at them more intensely, she perceived them to be other than what they seemed, and did not dare to examine them any longer. Struck with awe by this wondrous vision, she collapsed onto the earth and prayed to God lest she perish at once. Finally she arose trembling and gently knocked on the door. She indicated that she had obediently fulfilled Darerca’s instruction, but she was exceedingly terrified by the vision and could hardly control herself. St Darerca said to her, “Sign yourself with the sign of the cross. Perhaps a vision of beasts or demons has driven you insane, as often happens in seclusion.” She replied, “That isn’t it, my Lady, but I saw two blindingly white swans arise from your cell. I began to panic because of that astonishing vision of them.” And the mother said to her daughter, “Now I understand. God, who reveals his secrets according to people’s merits, has deigned to enrich you with his grace tonight. He has deigned to reveal to you a vision of his ministers, which he conceals from others. And thus it is the time for you to live in the land of your birth and be of use to others according to the grace that has been given to you.” And she added, “You will henceforth not have your eyes, by which you have gazed upon angels, but you will have better ones, with which you may behold God, in

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their place. Therefore, you will reveal your vision, before I die, to no one.” Thus, the handmaid of Christ, obeying her mistress’s command, went to her native land and made her home in a fitting place for monastics, one day’s journey from the monastery of St Darerca, deprived of bodily vision for the rest of her life. 29. When the day drew near on which St Darerca was to pay nature’s debt, the severity of her illness, which had been made public far and wide, caused great lamentation among all the people of the area. Thus the king Eugenius, son of Conaille,8 who at that time ruled the three provinces, of Murthemne [Co. Louth], Cúailnge [Co. Louth], and Cobha [Co. Down], and other leaders of the people came to a place near to the monastery to visit her with a great crowd. And all these people sent Bishop Herb, whom we mentioned earlier, to the virgin Darerca to faithfully deliver their message, “O my Lady, we implore you through our shared blood” (for many there belonged to her clan, and even the king was partly Conaille on his mother’s side) “and through our kinship in blood and soul we beseech you to deign to remain with us on earth for at least one year. Do not allow your death to make us orphans this year. For we are sure that whatever you seek from God, you will receive at once. And each of us of the nobility (homo potestatis) will free a handmaid to the Lord, for the sake of your life. Likewise every man bearing arms (vir arma portans) will freely give a fully grown cow. All these things will be brought together and placed at your disposal.” 30. She replied to them through the bishop, “May you be blessed by the Lord who made heaven and earth, you who humbling your worthiness have come to visit my weak and worthless self. If you would have asked for this yesterday or the day before, perhaps the mercy of God would have granted your request, but today I cannot accede to you. Indeed venerable guests, namely Peter and Paul, have heard our conversation. By God’s dispensation they have been sent to lead my soul with them and are now here with me. I see that they hold between themselves a linen cloth made with marvelous artistry and embroidered with gold. And so it is fitting that I should go with them to my Lord, who sent them for me. But God Almighty, who deems a 8 Eochu, son of Condlae, of the Cruthin (Dál nAraide), d. 553 (de Paor, Saint Patrick’s World, 309 n3). Conchubran changes the scene to Lonfortin (Longforgan?) in Scotland and names the king Conagal, the king of Scotland (Scotia) and “Rotheri, Cobo, Bollan, and Choilli,” given in the genitive case. The Ulster Society of Medieval Latin Studies identifies Cobo with Cobh, and, more tentatively, Choilli with Conaill, but provides no identifications for Rotherus or Bollan [Seanchas Ard Mhacha 10 (1982): 452].

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ready will as binding as the work, will render you fitting compensation. For the sake of your own soul each of you should give to God for what you proposed to give to redeem my life. May you be blessed by the Lord who made heaven and earth and other things: blessed, I say, with your wives (uxoribus) and children and your belongings. My leather and sheepskin, as well as my hoe and other tools I leave among you. If you should carry these relics with you against the enemies who come to destroy your lands, have no doubt that through them, by the grace of God, you shall be victorious. But do not cross your borders to ravage other regions, unless compelled by a greater force, lest a vengeance worthy of God should come against you. And do not be sad about my absence. For I believe Christ, with whom I shall now dwell, will give what I ask for you in heaven just as freely as what I asked for on earth.” 31. Conveying these and other such words to them through the bishop, she said good-bye to each one, calling them each by name. When the people heard this, they threw down their weapons, weeping and wailing, making a huge lamentation to the heavens. At length, consoled by the bishop’s encouragements, they all returned home. And so, having taken care of all things pertaining to her monastery’s future well-being and having prophesied many things relating to future events, on the same day when she finished all this, that is on the sixth of July, the octave of the feast day of the blessed apostles Peter and Paul, having fought the good fight and having won the good race, she passed on to Christ, with whom she reigns unto ages of ages. Amen. 32. After compline9 on the third day after her death, one of the sisters, whose name was Taunat, came from the dormitory for some reason that I don’t know, and stood in prayer beside the cross next to the dormitory, when, it is asserted, Darerca appeared in corporeal form. Not recognizing her, Taunat fell down at her feet, saying, “My Lady, what do you command me to do?” And she responded, “Return to the monastery, and advise your sisters to diligently strive to observe the rule of silence at this time, and to not allow their voices to be heard beyond the dormitory. Why have they violated the rule, the limits of which may not be broken in any manner? O my daughters, you should not neglect the smallest bit, lest you soon neglect even the greater in the same manner. But you yourself, after seven days have passed, will come to me. So, therefore, prepare yourself for your passage.” 9 Evening prayers, said shortly before going to bed.

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Rejoicing at this promise, she accompanied her teacher (magistram) to a spring located in the northern part of the monastery, where she vanished before her eyes. The woman returned to the house and told her sisters all that happened to her. The tale of such a vision filled them with both joy and fear, and they fell prostrate on the ground. After seven days had passed, Taunat received the viaticum (deathbed eucharist), then bade farewell to her sisters. She entered her cell, and there, having stretched herself out and arranged her body, she rested in Christ. 33. After the death of St Darerca, Bia was abbess, just as Darerca had appointed, then Indiu, then Derlasra, who oversaw the monastery for sixty years. In her time a famous miracle occurred. In keeping with Irish custom, she was building a church of smooth wood with careful craft in blessed Darerca’s monastery, and had nearly completed the work. To complete the building they needed the timber that is called spina in Latin and is placed on the building’s peak in order to join the two sides of the roof. The artisans, seeking the kind of wood they needed, went into the woods and searched until they found it in an inaccessible, difficult place. The great difficulty of its location prevented them from moving the felled tree in any way. The abbess, knowing these things and despairing of bringing the wood to the monastery, turned to the patronage of St Darerca, and said, “St Darerca, for whom this home is built on earth, now lives in heaven; she can help us, if she wishes.” And so the next day, the aforementioned wood was discovered by the artisans in a level place located next to the monastery which could be approached without harming beasts or people. The carpenters grew curious and wished to see if any trace of such a large tree appeared along the path, but they saw only some broken branches in the top of the trees. Hence it is given to be understood that what could not be done by human strength was easily accomplished by the assistance of angels. That tree, which had been discovered on the highest cliffs, could not be carried by any human ability along the earth from such a high place. Instead, it was carried easily through the air to level ground by angelic art. 34. Another time, a bishop of venerable life, whose name was Finnian but was known as Finbar,10 was travelling to that monastery when he was seen 10 Finnian of Moville (d. 579/89?) was also known as Finbar. His dates match with Derlasra’s time as abbess, c550-600. Thomas Owen Clancy has theorized that Finnian of Moville and Ninian are the same saint [“The Real St Ninian,” The Innes Review 52 (2001): 1-28], a theory further substantiated by James Fraser [“Northumbrian Whithorn and the Making of St Ninian,” The Innes Review 53 (2002): 40-59].

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descending the slope of the mountain next to the monastery. Knowing of his arrival, the abbess herself, Derlasra, said to the girl serving her, “Draw water from St Darerca’s well and fill some vessels which still have some yeast in them. Then shut everybody out and when you are alone, urgently beseech St Darerca’s aid with prayers.” When this was done, by the virtue of the blessing that she gave in the name of the virgin Darerca, the frothing water was turned into the best beer. All those who drank of this beer were much refreshed. It ends.

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3. Cogitosus’s Life of St Brigid Prologue You compel me, brothers, to follow learned custom and preserve for history the virtues and works of the virgin Brigid, of holy and blessed memory. The task you have imposed upon me, which is difficult due to its delicacy, is all the more difficult due to my insufficient knowledge and eloquence. But God is able to draw great things out of little, as he filled the house of a poor little widow with a drop of oil and a fistful of flour.1 I strive to comply with your commands, and am confident that my obedience has not failed. Lest you accuse me of disobedience, I resolve to recount a few of the many things which have been handed down from those who came before us and knew these events firsthand. On this basis, I trust that the greatness and character of this virgin, resplendent with all the glory of the virtues, will be revealed to the eyes of all. My memory, mediocrity, and unrefined writing style could not adequately accomplish such a great task, but the blessedness of your faith and the constancy of your prayers merit something that exceeds this author’s ability. As Brigid grew in exceptional virtue, due to the fame of her goodness countless people of both sexes gathered around her from every province in Ireland and made their vows under her direction. She built her monastery upon a firm foundation of faith in the plains of the field of the Liffey. It stands at the head of nearly all Irish churches and as the greatest glory of all the monasteries of the Irish. Its authority spreads throughout all Irish lands, extending from sea to sea. By her prudent management she consistently provided all things for the spiritual needs of her faithful and attentively cared for the churches under her throughout all regions. She concluded that she needed a high priest to consecrate churches and elevate clerics to their orders, and so she summoned a distinguished man, a hermit of the highest character, through whom God worked many miracles [i.e., Conláed]. She called him out of his solitary life as a hermit and went to meet him, so that he would govern the church with her as bishop and her churches would not lack any priestly care. 1

1 Kings 17, 2 Kings 4.

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And thereafter the anointed head, he who is first among all the bishops, and she who is the most blessed head of the community of virgins built up their primary church in joyous companionship together, guided by every virtue. Through the merits of both, this cathedral of the bishop and the community of virgins extended its roots throughout the entire Irish isle like a fruitful vine spreading its growing branches everywhere. The archbishop of Ireland and the abbess whom all Irish abbesses revere have always ruled this church in happy succession and lasting liturgy. Thus, compelled by my brothers, as I said above, I will attempt to succinctly relate the powerful deeds of the blessed virgin Brigid, those she performed before she became abbess as well as those she performed as abbess, although in inverted order. The Life of St Brigid begins Chapter 1 St Brigid, whom God foreknew and predestined to conform to his own image, was born in Ireland to noble Christian parents from the good and extremely prudent túath of Echtech. Her father was named Dubhtach and her mother Broicsech, and from her girlhood she flourished in the exercise of all goodness. Chosen by God and of sensible character, the girl was full of maturity and modesty, and she just kept getting better and better. Who could sufficiently relate the works she performed even from this age? Out of countless instances, I have selected a few as examples. When she was of age her mother entrusted her with the work of churning cows’ milk, to make butter. She would join with the other women in their usual work and was expected to produce all the milk and the full weight and measure of the butter at the standard time. But this virgin, most beautiful and gracious in manner, wished to obey God rather than mortals, and generously distributed the milk and butter to the poor and travellers. And when it was time for everyone to render the dairy products, her turn came, too. And when her co-workers showed that they had finished their work, it was demanded of the aforementioned blessed virgin that she produce her work as well. She shook with fear of her mother, since she did not have anything to show for herself, since she had given everything to the poor, heedless of tomorrow but enflamed and fortified with the fire of inexistinguishable faith, and so she turned to the Lord in prayer. The Lord immediately heard

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the virgin’s voice and prayer, and by the generosity of the divine will, since he helps those in need, he came and bestowed the virgin with great amounts of butter, as a reward for her trust in him. In a marvelous manner just after her prayer, the holy virgin showed that nothing of her work was missing and that she had in fact outperformed her sister workers. And when this miracle was fully revealed to the eyes of all, everyone praised the Lord, who had worked this wonder, and marvelled that such powers of faith were found in a virginal heart. Chapter 2 Soon afterwards her parents wished to betroth her to a man, according to the ways of the world. But she was inspired by heaven and wished to remain a chaste virgin before the eyes of God, so she went to the holy bishop Mac Caille of blessed memory. Impressed by her heavenly desire and modesty and rejoicing that such a love of chastity was found in this virgin, he placed the white veil and the white cloak over her venerable head. Kneeling humbly before the altar before God and the bishop, offering up her virginity before the Lord Almighty, she touched the wooden base which supported the altar. In commemoration of her unsullied virtue, that wood remains as fresh today as it was before it was cut, as if it had never been cut off and stripped of its bark, but was still flourishing with its roots attached. And even today it cures the faithful of their weaknesses and diseases. Chapter 3 Nor should I neglect to mention another work of power wrought by that most illustrious servant who ceasely devoted herself to divine service. One time, as she was cooking bacon in a pan for some expected guests, she compassionately gave some to an adoring and begging dog. When the bacon was taken from the pan and then divided among the guests, it was still all there, with none missing. And those who witnessed this miracle spread the word abroad with f itting praise, wondering at this young woman who was incomparable in the virtue of her faith and in the merit of her good deeds. Chapter 4 Once she summoned harvesters and workers to help with the harvest but when they had gathered the day turned cloudy and rainy. And great torrents poured out of the clouds throughout all of the surrounding province and streams gushed through the valleys and soaked through the soil, but alone of all the harvests hers remained dry, undamaged, and undisturbed by

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the rain. And though all the harvesters from all over that region had been impeded by the stormy day, hers were able to work all day long, from sunup to sundown, without any trace of grey or rain, thanks to the power of God. Chapter 5 Among her many powerful deeds here is one that seems wondrous and worthy of awe. One time bishops were arriving as her guests, but she didn’t have anything to feed them. As usual, she was amply aided by the manifold powers of God according to her need. She milked one cow three times in one day, contrary to custom, and was miraculously able to get from that one cow what three of the best cows normally produced. Chapter 6 Another work of power performed by this virgin calls for your attention, one in which her mind and her hand seem as one. When she was grazing her sheep in a field in her role as a shepherd, she was drenched in a torrential downpour and returned home in her wet clothes. A ray of sun that shone through a window of her house distorted her vision and she mistook it for a thick, sloping branch. So she placed her soaking cloak upon it, as if it were a big strong branch, and her cloak actually hung upon this sunbeam. Her neighbors were astounded by this amazing miracle and exalted this peerless woman with fitting praise. Chapter 7 Another matter must not be passed over in silence. While St Brigid was in the field next to her grazing flock of sheep in her usual role as a shepherd, some young hooligan sneakily deceived her by coming to her seven times in different disguises and playing on her generosity to the poor carried off seven wethers2 from her in one day and hid them in a secret spot. And when in the evening the flock was to be herded to its fold as usual, it was counted very closely two or three times, and the whole number was miraculously present and accounted for, without any missing. And those who knew what had happened marvelled that the power of God was made manifest through this virgin and returned to her flock the seven wethers they had stolen. And the total number of the flock was neither more nor less than it had been before. Due to these and countless other works of power this celebrated servant of God was praised more than anyone else, not undeservedly, as she was recognized as the most eminent. 2

Castrated sheep.

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Chapter 8 Another miraculous event was when some lepers demanded beer from the venerable Brigid when she didn’t have any, but she saw some water prepared for washing and, blessing it with the power of faith, she changed that water into the best beer and drew abundant amounts for the thirsty lepers. For he who changed water into wine in Cana in Galilee, through the faith of this blessed woman also changed water into beer. And speaking about this work of power, it seems appropriate to make mention of another wonderful work. Chapter 9 With her powerful and inexpressible strength of faith, she confidently blessed a certain woman who had made a vow of virginity but was led astray in human frailty and fell prey to youthful lust and had then become pregnant with her uterus swelling; at once what had been conceived in her womb (vulvu) disappeared. Without a birth and without pain Brigid restored her to a pristine state and brought her to penitence. And according to the saying that all things are possible for those who believe, she worked countless miracles daily—for her, nothing was impossible. Chapter 10 One day someone came to her seeking salt, just as countless other poor and wretched people would often come [to her] for their needs. This time blessed Brigid made salt from a stone, by blessing it, and provided sufficient salt for the beggar’s needs. And thus carrying the salt he happily returned from her to his own home. Chapter 11 And it seems to me that I ought to include this most powerful divine work with others, in which in the likeness of the Saviour, imitating divine power, she wrought this supremely excellent miracle. For following the Lord’s example she too opened the eyes of one who was born blind. For his name and works the Lord has bestowed upon his members; for while he says himself, “I am the light of the world,” no less does he say to his apostles, “You are the light of the world.” And regarding the apostles he said, “The works that I do, they also will do, and even greater works they will do.” Hence Brigid’s faith, just like a mustard seed, by a great miracle gave clear and lucid vision to someone who was blind since birth.3 And so due to such 3

Matthew 6.22.

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manifest virtues, the humility of her heart and the purity of her mind, the temperance of her character and abundance of spiritual grace, she more than all the other virgins of her day deserved to have such an honored name and such great authority in divine worship. Chapter 12 And one day one of her female followers from outside the community came to visit her with her twelve-year-old daughter, whom nature had made mute from birth. The girl bowed and gave Brigid the kiss of peace with the worthy reverence that everyone showed the saint. Brigid, who was cheerful and friendly toward all, engaged her in wholesome conversation seasoned with divine salt. Following the example of our Savior who bid the children to come unto him, she held the girl’s hand in her own and, oblivious to the fact that the girl was mute, asked if she desired to remain a virgin with her head veiled or rather to be given in marriage. When the mother informed her that the daughter could not give a response, Brigid replied to the mother that she wouldn’t let go of the girl’s hand until she answered her. And when she asked the girl about the matter a second time, the girl answered her, saying, “I wish to do nothing else but what you would wish.” And from then on, after her mouth had opened, she spoke perfectly well, without any impediment of her tongue and with the bond having been released. Chapter 13 This further deed of hers should surely remove all doubt from those who have not yet heard it. While her mind was immersed in contemplation of heavenly matters, raising her association from earthly to heavenly things, as was her constant wont, she let a dog take not a small but a large piece of bacon. And when the bacon was sought it was found whole and intact a month later, not just anywhere but in the dog’s own spot. For the dog would not dare to eat what had been entrusted to the blessed virgin, but proved himself a patient and proper guardian of the bacon, contrary to his customary character and curbed by divine power. Chapter 14 The number of her miracles increased every day until they can hardly be counted, so great were her works of mercy and compassion and so generously did she bestow alms among the poor, whether they asked gently or rudely. For when any of the poor who needed food asked her, she rushed to those who were cooking the meat, so that she might take something from them to the poor. And one exceptionally stupid servant among the meat-cooks

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foolishly put a piece of uncooked meat into the folds of her white cloak. And in such a state she carried it and gave it to the pauper but not only did it not darken her cloak but the cloak maintained its pure white color. Chapter 15 And this also must be admired among her auspicious actions. For paupers and pilgrims would flock to her from everywhere, due to her great fame for virtue and extreme generosity, and among them came a certain ungrateful leper who demanded that he be given at once the best cow of the herd and the best of all the calves. Nor did she tarry when she heard his prayer, but gladly gave the ailing supplicant the best cow of all and a prime choice calf of another cow. And she compassionately sent her cart with him as well for the journey over the long, broad plain, and ordered that the calf be placed in the cart behind him, lest the sick and tired man be harried by driving the cow on the long journey. And the cow followed behind, licking the calf with her tongue and loving it as if it were her own, without being compelled by anyone, until they reached their destination. You see, beloved brothers, that even brute beasts served her, contrary to their character. Chapter 16 A little while later some particularly heinous thieves who feared neither the Lord nor mortals came from another province to raid. They easily crossed a large river and stole her cattle. But when they returned the same way, the swell of a gigantic wave of water caused a sudden flood that engulfed them. The wave arose like a wall and did not allow this most villainous theft of blessed Brigid’s cattle to cross over it, but submerging those thieves and carrying them off, it freed the cattle from their hands, their reins hanging from their horns, and returned them to their own herd. Chapter 17 Behold! divine power is also shown here. One day some practical need caused the most holy Brigid to attend a public assembly, and she rode there seated in a two-horse cart. 4 While in her cart she sat in meditative contemplation, practicing a heavenly life on earth and praying to her Lord, as was her custom. Coming down from higher ground one of the horses with an untamed spirit bolted and forcefully broke free from the reins. Having 4

Currus can be translated as either “chariot” or “cart.”

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released himself from his restraints, he ran across the fields in a terrified frenzy, as the other horse remained by himself in the harness, and the hand of the Lord supported the harness which hung without falling. And the crowd witnessed this testimony of divine power of Brigid remaining safe as she prayed in her cart, which now had only one horse pulling it, when she arrived at the people’s assembly unharmed, after a pleasant journey, without her prayer interrupted. These signs and powerful works confirmed her teaching, as she preached to the people with wholesome words seasoned with divine salt. Chapter 18 And this should also be considered among her works of power. One time a solitary wild boar of the forest was fleeing hunters in terror and came upon blessed Brigid’s herd of pigs. She saw him rushing about wildly amidst her swine and blessed him. Then he lost his fear and as if he had been tamed he remained with her herd of pigs. Behold and you shall see, brothers, that even brute animals and beasts could not resist her words and will, but docilely and submissively served her. Chapter 19 Once a man from a distant province came amongst those who were making offerings to her and offered her fat swine, but he asked her to send some people with him to fetch the swine from his home which was located far away across the land. She sent companions with him on the lengthy journey that should take more than three or four days. After just one day’s journey, from the mountain named Gabor that marked the boundary of the region, they saw his swine, which they thought were in the distant province, coming to meet them, herded and driven along the way by wolves. And when they drew nearer the man recognized them as his swine, who had been driven and herded through the great woods and the broad plain of the Liffey by the wild wolves who worked as suitable swineherds out of the highest reverence for Blessed Brigid. When those Brigid had sent arrived, amazed by this wondrous event, the wolves then departed, leaving the the swine unharmed, and ceased their strange behavior. The next day those who were sent to fetch the swine returned home and told of this amazing occurrence. Chapter 20 It seems to us that the following deed should not be neglected in the telling of her wondrous works. One day someone without much common sense saw a fox walking through the king’s palace and, because his senses had been

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blinded, thought it was a wild beast and killed it before several witnesses, without knowing that it was tame and a pet in the king’s court. This fox had bodily agility and mental acuity and was trained in various tricks, providing great entertainment for the king and his nobles. The witnesses charged him with the offense, bound him, and led him to the king. The king was furious when he learned what had happened and ordered that the man be put to death, unless he were to replace his fox with a similar one that could perform all the tricks that his fox could, and decreed that his wife and his children and everything of his would be reduced to slavery. And when the holy and venerable Brigid learned what had happened, she was deeply moved by a great sense of mercy and charity and ordered her cart to be readied for her. She sorrowed from the depths of her heart and poured forth prayers to the Lord for this unhappy man who had been unjustly judged as she rode over the fields along the way that led to the king’s palace. Immediately the Lord attended to Brigid who was praying ferverently, and sent one of his feral foxes to her; it came running across the fields as fast as it could, and when it approached blessed Brigid’s cart it gracefully sprang into it, and, settling itself under the shelter of Brigid’s cloak, calmly sat beside her. When she reached the king, she began to plead for the thoughtless wretch, who was being held on account of his ignorance, to be freed from his bonds. And when the king refused to heed her prayers, contending that he would not release him unless a fox as meek and clever as his old one should be given to him, she brought forth her fox, and before the king and the whole crowd the fox behaved with all the traits and tamed intelligence of the other fox, and performed various tricks in the same way as the previous fox before the eyes of all. The king was appeased when he saw this, as were his nobles, and amidst the thunderous applause of the crowd admiring this extraordinary event, he ordered that the man who previously had been accused of a crime be released and sent away free. And not much later, when St Brigid had released and freed the man and returned home, this fox slyly blended itself in a crowd. It seemed similar to the others as it craftily fled to its den in a remote and wooded place, evading the many horses and dogs who hunted it, and fleeing over open fields it escaped unscathed. And all marvelled at what had happened and venerated St Brigid who through the privilege of sanctity and the prerogative of many virtues was always a strong source of great works. Chapter 21 Another time with fond delight Blessed Brigid watched ducks swimming in water and now and then flying through the air, and she called them to come to her. With feathered flight and great eagerness to obey her calls,

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the flock flew to her without any fear, as if they were accustomed to human care. She pet them with her hand and cuddled them, and continued to do so for a while before she let them return to and fly through the air on their wings. She praised through his visible creatures the invisible creator of all things, to whom all living creatures are subject, and for whom they all live, as it is said in the office (of the dead). And out of all this it can be clearly understood that every manner of beast, of both land and sky, was subject to her command. Chapter 22 This miracle of hers should also be heard by the ears of the faithful and celebrated throughout all ages. As she sowed the most wholesome seeds of the word of the Lord among all in her usual manner, she saw nine men who in their outward appearance bore the mark of false and diabolical superstition making ridiculous cries indicative of insanity. Regret and misery marked their path, and, having made the vilest vows and oaths to the ancient enemy who ruled them, they thirsted for great bloodshed as they prepared to commit murder and carnage of others before the Kalends of that month. The most reverent and compassionate Brigid eloquently preached to them at length so that they might renounce their deadly sins and atone for their crimes through their heart’s contrition and true penitence. In their foolishness they resisted doing as she preached until they had fuflfilled their false vow, and continued along their way. And the honored virgin offered ardent prayers to the Lord about this, following the Lord’s example in her desire that all shall be saved and shall come to the knowledge of truth. So as the nefarious men set out they saw an image like the man whom they intended to kill and immediately butchered him with their daggers and beheaded him with their swords. They then returned, appearing to many as if they had just won a victory over their enemy, with their weapons covered in blood and gore. In a marvellous manner, although they had killed no one, it seemed to them that they had fulfilled their vow. Since no one from the province over whom they might have gained this victory was missing—no doubt about that remained among anyone—the abundance of divine service rendered by St Brigid became known to all. And thus those who previously were murderers were converted to the Lord through penance. Chapter 23 The following work also makes manifest divine power, performed by Brigid who was distinguished by her flawless practice of sacred religion. A man named Lugaid who was a man of exceptional strength—indeed, he was

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the mightiest of men—could perform the work of twelve men by himself in one day when he chose to, gathering all of his bodily power, and he also ate the same amount of food necessary to feed twelve men. Just as he was able to do their work by himself, in the same manner he could eat as much as all of them put together. He besought her to pray to the Lord almighty for him that he might lessen his ravenous appetite, on account of which he devoured excessive amounts of food, yet without diminishing his bodily strength. And so Brigid blessed him and prayed to the Lord on his behalf, and afterwards he was sated by a meal for one man yet he kept his former strength and continued to perform the work of twelve men. Chapter 24 Among her noble works, we should likewise relate this feat which is outstanding, illustrious, and known to all. A gigantic tree was felled by axes for a particular purpose by men whose business it was to cut trees in the forest. This massive thing fell into an extremely awkward position, with its branches wrecked and entangled, and the strong men gathered around it to try to remove it and carry it off to the intended place with the help of many oxen and their tools. Despite the many skilled and strong men and their oxen, they were not able to move or drag the tree in any way, so they all moved away from it. But, through the mighty faith of Blessed Brigid, which is like unto the mustard seed and through which, as our heavenly Teacher instructs us through the word of the Evangelist, mountains are moved and all things are possible for those who believe, they then raised that extremely heavy tree thanks to angelic virtue through divine workings, not by any mortal help, and brought it without any difficulty to the place Brigid had chosen for it. And throughout all the provinces the excellence of this work of divine power was proclaimed. Chapter 25 And it occurs to our mind that we should not omit in our silence this work of power which venerable Brigid has worked among countless others. A certain layman who was noble in blood but deceitful in character burned with lust for a particular woman, and schemed to have sex with her. He entrusted her with a precious silver brooch of his, which he then slyly stole without her knowing and threw it into the sea so that she would become his slave since she could not return the brooch and then he might enjoy her body, as he wished. Planning to perpetrate this evil, he declared that he would not be appeased by any other object or payment except that his own silver brooch should be returned to him, or else the woman would

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be put to the shameful service of his lustful weakness. The fearful and chaste woman fled to St Brigid, as to the safest city of refuge. When Brigid had learned of the situation or rather while she was considering what she ought to do about it, before the woman had even finished her story, a man came to her with some fish he had caught in the river; the fish were gutted on the spot and the silver brooch which that cruel man had thrown into the sea for the reasons given above was found inside of one. Then with an eased mind she proceeded to the public assembly to confront the villainous tyrant about the matter, carrying the brooch with her, and showing him his own brooch before many witnesses who were able to identify it as none other than the very one under discussion. St Brigid thus freed the chaste woman who was her follower from the hands of a most cruel tyrant, who afterwards confessed his guilt to her with his head humbly bowed. She was glorified by all for having peformed this great miracle, and thanking God, for whose glory she did all things, she returned home. Chapter 26 And to these miracles ought to be added her glorious and renowned visit with a certain faithful woman. When Brigid was making a joyous journey in Mag Breg’s vast expanse (Co. Meath) in accordance with the will of God, as day turned into evening she came to stay with this woman for the night. She graciously welcomed Brigid with open arms and thanked almighty God for the venerable one’s auspicious arrival, as if Brigid were Christ himself. Due to her poverty she had nothing from which to make a fire and cook the food, nothing with which to feed such guests, so she cut up the wooden loom which she used for weaving cloth and fed it to the fire. She killed her cow’s calf and placed him upon this wood pile, roasting him in the fire out of the goodness of her heart. And when the meal was over, with praise given to God, and the night had passed with the accustomed vigils, the hostess arose the next morning and found she had suffered no loss of any kind for her welcoming feast for St Brigid. She discovered another calf identical to the one she had lost with her cow, which (the cow) loved as she had the previous one, and she saw the wooden loom restored to its prior form and quantity just as it had been before. And thus on this happy note St Brigid, having performed a wondrous work of power, bade the house and its inhabitants farewell and peacably continued along her merry way. Chapter 27 And this noble deed is also a particular source of wonderment. Three people afflicted with leprosy and other ailments asked her to give them

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some kind of gift, and she generously gave them a silver vessel. And, lest it be a source of discord and contention among them if they were to divide it amongst themselves, she told one who was skilled in weighing silver and gold to divide the dish into three equal parts among them. And when he began to excuse himself saying he could not weigh them equally, Brigid, the most cheerful of women, took the silver vessel, dashed it against a rock and broke it into three equal and identical parts, just as she wished. In a marvelous manner, when the three pieces of the same silver vessel were later weighed, no piece was found to be greater or lesser, not even to outweigh another by a single mite. And thus the sick paupers happily returned home together, without any cause of enmity or envy between them. Chapter 28 Following the example of blessed Job, she never allowed a pauper to leave her without alms. She even donated to the poor the vestments from a far-away place of pilgrimage which belonged to the honored and revered Bishop Conláed, who use to use them when offering the sacred mystery on the altars and in the sanctuary during the solemnities of the Lord and the vigils of the Apostles. And when an appointed solemnity arrived, and the highest pontiff of the people was to put on his ceremonial vestments, St Brigid, who had previously given the bishop’s vestments to Christ in the person of a pauper, then replaced them with other vestments which were identical to the previous ones, in texture and color, which she had received that very hour from Christ, whom she had clothed as the beggar, carried to her in a two-wheeled cart. Indeed, as she freely offered these vestments to the poor, she fortunately received this miracle in their place. For since she was a living and exceptionally blessed member of the supreme head, she had the power to accomplish whatsoever she willed. Chapter 29 This further outstanding work should also not be passed over in the telling. A certain poor man was compelled by need to ask her for a pint of honey. And while Brigid sorrowed inwardly since she did not have any honey at hand to give to the man who had requested it, the humming of bees was heard from underneath the floor of the house in which they were. And when the place where bees were buzzing was ripped up and examined, a sufficient amount of honey was found for what the man needed. And thus he received from her the gift of honey, as much as his necessity had required, and returned home rejoicing.

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Chapter 30 And St Brigid also shines in the following miracle. Once an edict of the king of the land in which she lived was effected over all of the peoples and provinces which were under his power and authority, demanding that all of the people and kin-groups from every region and province were to work together to build a secure, wide road. Tree branches and other solid objects were to form the foundation, placed in a deep and almost impassable bog and in the soggy and marshy places in which a mighty river coursed, so that when it was built it could support even four-horse chariots (quadrigas) and horses and carts and wagon wheels and the traffic of people and the charge of enemies from all sides. When the people had assembled, they divided responsibility for building the road according to kin-groups, so that each clan and family (cognatio et familia) would build the part of the road assigned to them. When the most difficult and challenging part of the river fell by chance to one of those clans (nationibus), they tried to avoid such hard labor by forcing St Brigid’s weaker kinfolk to work on this challenging part instead. The cruel and unjust clan took an easier part for themselves than fate had given them, so they could build without any obstacles from the river. And when her kin according to the flesh came complaining to St Brigid, bullied by this stronger clan without any law to protect them, she is reported to have said, “Go back. Thanks to God’s will and power the river has shifted its course so that the hard work that oppressed you is now at the part which they have chosen.” And when in the morning all the people had arisen for work, the river about which they were complaining was seen to have left its old place and valley with two banks on the side, where it had customarily flowed through both banks, and had shifted from the part where Brigid’s kin were forced to work to the part of the strong and overbearing clan that had unjustly and harshly compelled those who were weaker and fewer in number. And as testimony of the work of power, the mark of the river and the empty valley where the rolling and springing river had flowed at an earlier time remain in a place that appears dry and without any flowing water, since the river has receded to a different spot. Chapter 31 It was not only in her earthly life, before she laid down the burden of her flesh, that she wrought many works of power, but also additional works of power, which we have not only heard but also seen with our own eyes, continue to be performed by divine generosity in her monastery, where her revered body rests. For the prior5 of the greatest and most renowned 5

Perhaps meaning the bishop.

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monastery of St Brigid, which we briefly mentioned at the start of our little work, sent some workers and stone cutters to search for a stone to carve into a millstone wherever they might be able to find one. Without any familiarity with the area, they climbed up a difficult, steep slope and proceeded up to the peak of a rocky mountain; they chose a large stone on the highest part of the mountain, and cutting it from every side they made the stone into a round and perforated millstone. At their request, the prior of the monastery came with oxen to the mountain on which the millstone had been made, and on account of the mountain’s steep ascent he could not drive or drag the oxen with him; he could scarcely climb the hard path with a few following him. While he and his companions and the workers contemplated how they might carry the millstone down from the mountain’s summit, since the oxen could not in any way be yoked nor bear such a burden upon that precipitous climb, they then began to despair, some of them saying that the stone would have to be abandoned and those who had fashioned it had labored in vain. The prior, however, with his wise leadership and intended plan, said with faith, “We definitely should not keep doing it this way. Instead, pick up this millstone forcefully and hurl it down below from this high mountain ridge, in the name and merit of St Brigid. For we cannot carry this massive millstone by ourselves, neither by our skills nor our strength, unless Brigid, for whom nothing is impossible, in accordance with the saying that all things are possible for those who believe, were to carry it herself to a point from which the oxen can pull it.” And thus with firm faith they threw it down into the valley, and by itself it gradually descended the mountain, sometimes avoiding rocks, sometimes leaping over them, rolling over the soggy spots at the base of the mountain, in which neither people nor oxen could stand, due to its depths, until, without any of it breaking, it came to the level ground where the oxen were in a miraculous assembly. And so it was carried from there by the oxen to the mill where it was joined with another stone. So that this millstone, which had been guided in the name of St Brigid, might become even more famous than it already was, she added this previously unheard-of and distinguished miracle as well. A certain pagan inf idel (paganus et gentilis) who lived near the mill deviously sent his grain to this mill through a simpleton, without the knowledge of the miller, who was working at the time. When it was thrown in and poured between the stones of the mill, neither the direct and rushing force of the mighty river, the violent strength of its waters, nor the efforts of the workers were able to move and force the mill into its customary spinning circuit. And when they

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saw this, they were troubled about it, unnerved and extremely bewildered. When they learned that the grain belonged to a druid (magi), they had little doubt that St Brigid had wrought a work of divine power in the millstone, which refused to press a gentile’s grain into wheat. And as soon as they removed the pagan’s grain and put the monastery’s grain into the millstone, the millstone’s circuit was restored to its customary daily motion without any impediment. A short while later, this mill caught fire. And, in no small miracle, while the flames consumed the whole building and the stone which was joined to the aforesaid stone, the fire did not dare to burn or touch in any way the stone which was so special to St Brigid; rather, it alone remained unharmed, without any damage from the great fire. And when this miracle had been seen, the stone was brought with levers to the monastery and it was placed with honor as an adornment to the gate of the interior fortification which enclosed the church, where many people gather to venerate the virtues of St Brigid. And when the faithful touch this stone of Brigid, by which she performed the aforesaid works of power, it drives out their diseases and infirmities. Chapter 32 Nor should one be silent about the miracle manifested in the repair of the church, in which the glorious bodies of both saints, that is, Archbishop Conláed and this most radiant virgin Brigid, are placed on the right and left of the ornately designed altar, resting in shrines inlaid with intricate designs of gold, silver, jewels and precious stones, and with gold and silver crowns hanging from above and diverse images with various engravings and colors. A new form is born in an old setting: that is, on account of the growing number of the faithful of both sexes, a grand church reaching high into the heavens, adorned with painted images and having three large interior oratories divided by panelled walls under the one roof of the great edifice. One of these walls, decorated and painted with images and tapestries, spans the building’s width, from wall to wall in the eastern part of the church. It has two doors, one on each side; the right one is the entrance to the sanctuary and altar, where the chief bishop with his chapter (regulari schola) and those appointed to the sacred mysteries offers the sacred sacrifice of the Lord. And through the other door, located on the left side of the aforementioned crossing wall, only the abbess with her faithful maidens (puellis) and widows may enter in order to partake of the feast of the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Another wall divides the floor

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of the church into two equal parts, extending from the western end to the crossing wall. The church has many windows, and one decorated door on the right side through which the priests and faithful laymen enter into the church, and another door on the left, through which the virgins and the congregation of faithful females ( feminarum fidelium congregatio) enter. And thus in one great basilica, a multitude of people from various ranks and classes and sexes and places pray together to the Lord almighty, separated by partitions and differing in rank, but one in spirit. And when the old door of the left doorway through which St Brigid used to enter into the church was hung on its hinges by the workers, it could not completely fill the newly constructed opening, for a quarter of the entrance was left uncovered, leaving a gap. If a fourth more material had been added and joined to the door’s height, then it would have completely filled the high and reworked doorway. As the artisans debated whether to make a new and higher door which would fill the entire opening, or to affix a plank to the old door so that it would then suffice, the teacher and leader of all the Irish artisans offered prudent counsel: “Tonight let us faithfully pray to the Lord beside St Brigid, so that she may prepare a plan for us for the morning concerning this work.” And so he spent the night praying next to the tomb of glorious Brigid. Arising in the morning after his prayer, pushing the old door and placing it on its hinge, it filled the entire doorway perfectly; it was neither too big nor too small. And so Brigid enlarged this door in height so that it filled the whole doorway, without a visible gap anywhere, except when the door was pushed back to allow entrance into the church. And this miracle of the Lord’s power was manifestly evident to the eyes of all who saw the door and doorway. And who could convey in words this church’s majestic beauty, and the immeasurable miracles which we have been describing of its city, if it is appropriate to call it a city, since it is not enclosed by a surrounding wall. Nevertheless, countless people congregate there and since a city takes its name from the gathering of a multitude of people within it, it is a great and metropolitan city. In its surrounding towns, which St Brigid demarcated with a clear boundary, no mortal foe nor enemy attack is feared, but the city and all its surrounding outside towns provide the safest refuge in all the lands of the Irish for every fugitive. The treasure chests of kings are kept within it and it is regarded as the most preeminent place of all. And who could count the diverse crowds and innumerable people from every province in Ireland who gather there? Some come on account of the lavish

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feasts, others due to the spectacle of the crowds, some for healings from their afflictions, and still others with great gifts and donations; they come for the celebration of St Brigid’s feast day: falling asleep on the first of February, she cheerfully cast aside her bodily burden and followed the Lamb of God into heavenly mansions. Epilogue I ask forgiveness from the brothers who read this or rather who emend it. Compelled by obedience, without the support of any prerogative of knowledge, I have rushed through the boundless sea of Blessed Brigid’s works of power, a formidable task even for expert men, with paltry words and rustic speech, relaying only a few of her countless and mighty works of power. Pray for me, Cogitosus, a blameworthy descendant of Aed. I beseech you to commend me to the merciful Lord with your prayers, and may God hear you who seek the peace of the Gospel.

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4. The Life of the Virgin Saint Íte Here begins the life of the virgin St Íte. 1. We wish to make some brief commemoration of the life and miracles of the exceptionally blessed virgin Íte. Many of her miracles are hidden from us because she always concealed them and told no one what happened to her in private. But, for the sake of brevity, we omit other things which we do know. The holy virgin Íte was born of a most noble Irish clan, that of the stock of Feidlimid Rechtmar, who ruled all Ireland with an iron fist for many years from the royal fort Tara. Feidlimid had three sons, Fiacha, Conn, and Eochaid. Fiacha, who also had three sons, died without ruling. Conn, however, firmly ruled all Ireland after his father with great prosperity. And he, sad to say, fell during the battle at Cobha against the Ulaid king, Tibraide Tireach. The three sons of his brother Fiacha came to Munster from Tara accompanied by many crowds and a mighty band of soldiers. And here they nobly and bravely conquered the great province by the power of their swords. From this clan, which is today called na Deisi, was born a most noble, exceptional virgin, namely Íte. She was filled with the Holy Spirit at the baptismal font. All marvelled at her self-control and character in infancy and the self-denial during the days on which it was fitting for a handmaid of God to fast. She was seen performing many miracles when she was yet a wee babe. When she was able to walk and talk, she showed herself wise in word and deed, refined in her speech, and constant in her mind; words of utter chastity always fell from her lips, and she was meek before all, extremely generous, ever fearing and loving God, and always working against evil and for good. In such a way she lived in her parents’ house in girlhood. 2. One day, as the holy girl Íte slept alone in her room, people saw her room engulfed in flames. When those people came over to help, however, the room was seen to be untouched by any fire. As all marvelled at this, a voice from above told them that the grace of God was burning around Christ’s servant as she slept. And when St Íte arose from her slumber, her beauty seemed like an angel’s, because then she had beauty such as she had neither before nor since. Her beauty was so dazzling that her friends could scarcely behold her. And then everyone knew that the grace of God burned around her. Soon thereafter, God’s virgin resumed her usual appearance, which indeed was beautiful enough. 3. On another occasion, when St Íte was sleeping, she saw an angel of the Lord come to her and give her three precious gems. And when the handmaid

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of God arose from her slumber, she didn’t know what that vision meant. The holy one of God wondered about this in her heart. Then the angel of the Lord came down to her and said, “What do you seek in this vision? Those three precious stones that you saw given to you signify the holy triune visitation coming to you and visiting you; it is the visitation of the Father, Christ his Son, and the Holy Spirit. And angels of God and holy visions will always come to you, during dreams and during vigils. For you are a temple of God Divine, in body and soul,” and saying this, he departed from her. 4. On another day, the blessed virgin Íte went to her mother and preached to her divine precepts that she had been taught by the Holy Spirit. She asked her mother to seek her father’s permission for the holy Íte to be consecrated to Christ. By no means did he want to give this permission, because a powerful and noble youth sought her hand from him. And this intensely displeased her mother. Others added their pleas to her mother’s, yet he refused, cursing. Then St Íte, full of the spirit of prophecy, said to all, “Leave my father for a while. My father just forbade me to be consecrated in Christ; next time he will urge and command me to do so. He will be compelled by my Lord Jesus Christ to give me leave to go to serve God wherever I wish.” And thus it was done. How it happened will be told shortly. 5. Not much later, the blessed virgin fasted for three days and three nights. During those days and nights, the devil openly fought many fights against God’s virgin during both her sleeping and waking hours. The blessed virgin resisted him most prudently in everything, asleep and awake. On the following night the devil seemed sad and mournful. And at the light of day, he retreated from the servant of God, saying in a plaintive voice, “Alas, not only yourself shall you free from me, Íte, but also many others.” 6. On that very night an angel of the Lord came to St Íte’s father, saying to him, “Why do you forbid your daughter to receive the veil of virginity in Christ’s name? She will be a great and proven virgin in the sight of God and his saints, and the patron of many on the day of Judgment. Not only will you allow her to receive the seal of virginity, but you will let her go wherever she wishes to serve Christ. Then amid another clan she will serve God, and she will be their patron (matrona).” Without any delay, the girl’s father came to her, and told her these things. Just as that praiseworthy virgin prophesied earlier, not only did he give her the desired permission, but he encouraged her to receive the veil of virginity that same day, and to go wherever she wished. And the same day, when the three day fast was completed, the

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virgin of the Lord proceeded to the church of God which served her clan in order to receive the veil of virgins. 7. When blessed Íte made her journey, behold! many demons came against her on the path and began to fight horribly against the virgin of God. Then angels of God came down from above and fought vigorously with the demons for the bride of Christ. And when the demons were overcome by God’s angels, they ran away into the brush, crying out, “Woe to us, because from this day on we will not be able to prevail against this virgin. We wished to avenge our injuries on her today, but the angels of God have freed her from us. She will root us out of our many dwelling-places, and she will rescue more souls from us in this world, and even from hell.” Meanwhile, comforted by angels of God, the virgin of the Lord reached the church, where she was consecrated by churchmen and received the veil of virginity, in accordance with that angelic command. 8. The blessed virgin then prayed to the Lord to reveal to her the place in which she would serve him. An angel of the Lord came to her, saying, “Leave your homeland behind, and hasten to the region called Uí Conaill, and you will dwell in the western part of that region, next to the base of Sliabh Luachra. An angel of the Lord will come to you there and reveal to you the place where your monastic community will be, in which you will pass over to Christ. You will be the patron (matrona) of the clan Uí Conaill, whom God has given to you and St Senán.” After she heard the angel’s words, St Íte set out for that region with her companions, and dwelled next to the base of Sliabh Luachra, just as the angel said. At once an angel of the Lord came to her, and designated the place in which she would serve God. And the fame of the holy virgin spread through that entire region. Many virgins from all over came to St Íte, to serve God under her care, and she received them all, piously and joyfully. 9. On hearing the great holiness of the blessed virgin Íte, the clan Uí Conaill Gabra came to her with their leader and wanted to give to her and God for all eternity all the fields that lay around St Íte’s cell. The servant of God, however, did not want to be burdened with the cares of the world and accepted from them none of the fields except four iugera1 for gardening. This greatly displeased the chieftain and his companions, and they said, “What you do not wish to receive now will be given to you when you have 1

The amount of land an ox can plough in a single day.

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passed on to God’s kingdom.” And so it came to pass. Then the entire clan Uí Conaill Gabra took St Íte as their patron for now and the future, just as the angel predicted. Blessed Íte consecrated the clan and their land with many blessings, which will last forever. And the clan returned to their home with great joy, and, in honor of blessed Íte, they always brought great rewards and alms and gifts to the monastery for the use of the holy virgins who were there. 10. The blessed virgin Íte dedicated herself to a life of fasts extending to two, three, and often four days. One day, when she was weak from hunger, an angel of the Lord came and said to her, “You afflict your body with fasts beyond measure; you should not be so hard on yourself.” Since the bride of Christ did not want to lessen her burden, the angel said to her, “God has given so much grace to you that from this day until your death you shall refresh yourself with celestial food. And you will be unable not to eat whenever an angel of the Lord will come to you, bringing a meal to you.” Then blessed Íte, bowing down to the earth, gave thanks to God. St Íte gave a portion from that meal to those whom she knew to be worthy recipients. And thus it is beyond doubt that until her death she lived on celestial sustenance, administered to her by an angel. 11. One day, a holy virgin nun approached St Íte and spoke with her about divine precepts. And when they were speaking together, that virgin said to St Íte, “Proclaim to us in God’s name why you are more beloved by God than other virgins whom we know to be on earth. For food from heaven is given to you by God; you heal every infirmity by your prayer; you prophesy about the past and the future; you put demons to flight everywhere; God’s angels speak with you daily, and you always persist in meditating on and praying to the Holy Trinity without any obstacle.” Then St Íte told her, “You have answered your question yourself by saying: ‘You perpetually pray and meditate on the Holy Trinity without any obstacle.’ God is always present with those who exemplify such devotion. And because I have done so since infancy, all the things you said have happened to me.” The other holy virgin, hearing this advice from blessed Íte about prayer and meditation of God, joyfully withdrew to her cell. 12. God then lavished so much grace of prophecy on St Íte that she knew whether the sick would survive or die from their illness. 13. When he knew the time of his reward drew near, the holy abbot Comgán asked St Íte to come to him. St Comgán said to her, “I shall die from this

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sickness rather soon, and I ask you in Christ’s name to put your hands on my lips and close my mouth at the hour of my rest. For I know from an angel of God that if you place your hands on someone once they have died, the Lord’s angels will immediately lead their soul into the kingdom of God.” The holy virgin said to him, “O holy father, what are you saying? Only a sinner would say such a thing. Great is your reward in the house of God, and you will be glorious among the saints of God. What could you need from me?” St Comgán said, “I speak the truth. Because of what I have asked for, no demon will dare draw near our path or in any way accost us.” As he said this, the holy man Comgán departed this world amid the choirs of holy angels, and St Íte performed his request. 14. Íte, the glorious virgin of God, then returned to her cell. As the servant of God approached her monastery, she heard a great and immense wailing from nearby. For there were three dead nobles, who had died that day, and their friends were lamenting and mourning them. Knowing that St Íte passed by, they came over and with a mournful voice asked God’s servant to come and at least pray for their souls. St Íte told them, “That which you wish even more than to pray for their souls, in Christ’s name it will be done for you.” They did not know that word [i.e., Christ] until then. This word blessed Íte said because she had known, full of the spirit of prophecy, that she would bring them back from death in God’s name. The holy woman of God went with them to where the dead lay and as she prayed she marked the lying bodies with the sign of the holy cross, and they arose alive at her command. And in the sight of all the bride of Christ declared that they were alive. 15. In that same place, there was a paralyzed man who was afflicted with a great illness, and his friends, seeing the revived dead men, took him and led him to St Íte so she might cure him. For they did not doubt that she would cure the diseased when she raised the dead. The servant of God, seeing his great misery, looked up to heaven and said to him, “May God have mercy on you.” And as she said this, she blessed him with the sign of the holy cross. Wondrous to say! As Christ’s servant crossed the hitherto paralyzed man, he immediately arose healthy and safe and sound before all, as if he had never been seized with paralysis. Then everyone raised a shout to heaven, praising and thanking God, and exalting his servant with due honor. Then the servant of God returned to her monastery with her companions. 16. A nun who was in the care of St Íte secretly committed fornication. On the next day, St Íte called her to herself and said to her, “Sister, why have you

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not taken care to guard your virginity?” Since the other denied what she had done, St Íte said to her, “Did you not commit fornication yesterday in thus and such a place and in such a manner?” She immediately recognized blessed Íte as a prophet about the past and future and confessed the truth of the matter. And she was restored, doing penance according to St Íte’s command. 17. Another virgin was far away from St Íte in the province of Connacht when she secretly committed adultery with some man. St Íte, filled with the spirit of prophecy, knew this and commanded St Brendan to bring the fallen virgin to her, which he did. At once, the bride of Christ told her among other things how she had conceived and bore a daughter. For indeed she bore a daughter to that man. And the woman, hearing her iniquity out of the mouth of God’s servant, performed worthy penance. Her soul was restored to eternal salvation, and the rest of her days she lived in sanctity. From then on the whole family of St Íte, and others who recognized the knowledge of her prophecy, feared her, as much when she was absent as when she was present. 18. A good craftsman who was a respectable man of Connacht came in exile to Munster. Since blessed Íte had heard his fame for craftmanship, she asked him to make her buildings. The craftsman sought a wife for himself from St Íte, and a field to live on. Blessed Íte gave him her sister and a field on which he could stay. And with all devotion he constructed buildings in St Íte’s monastery. Then it happened that two chiefs waged war among themselves one day. The craftsman went away to war with one of them, for he was skilled in combat. Then the craftsman’s leader turned in flight during battle, and all his soldiers were killed. The craftsman was killed among them and beheaded, with his head far removed from his body. And when this was told to St Íte, it intensely displeased her. For she had promised the craftsman in Christ’s name that he would have a son. At that time, he did not have any offspring, because until then his wife was barren. St Íte came with her companions to where was the mutilated body of the craftsman, who was called Beoan. And since she could not find his head, St Íte prayed to God to reveal the head to her. By divine power, the head flew through the air and stood on his body before God’s servant. God, pitying his servant, affixed the head to its body so strongly it was as if it had never been severed; only a trace of the wound remained. As God’s saint prayed for an hour, Beoan arose alive, paying respect to God’s servant and thanking God. All who were there likewise thanked God with the holy woman of God. And the holy servant of God arose and went to her monastery, and he who was revived went along with her. Then the craftsman Beoan slept with his barren

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wife, and she conceived and bore a son, just as St Íte promised. St Íte raised the son, who is called Mochaomhóg, and he is a most holy abbot, in whose honor the monastic settlement of Leigh (Liath) was built. 19. By some misfortune, a wise man lost his speech and became mute. He came to St Íte with his disciples to seek a cure. The holy handmaid of God prayed to the Lord for him, and at once, even while she prayed, his speech was returned to him and he spoke clearly. And when they had both prayed to God, he returned to his home with joy. 20. One holy day, St Íte asked God that she might receive the body and blood of Christ from the hand of a worthy priest. And so the grace of God led his handmaid secretly over a great distance to the monastery Clonmacnoise. She received the body and blood of Christ from the hand of a worthy priest, just as she wanted. But no one saw her come there, or receive the eucharist, or return. And instantly that same day she was found in her own monastery. Since the priests did not know what had happened concerning the body and blood of the Lord, the entire clergy and every person with them fasted that day so that God might reveal to them the mystery of this event. Afterwards, an angel of the Lord came to an elderly holy man of that community and told him all that had occurred. The priest who had offered the host that St Íte received came with other clerics upon a long road to her so that the handmaid of God would bless them. When they set out, one of them was made blind by some misfortune. Comforting themselves, they said to one another, “By the grace of God, blessed Íte, the bride of Christ, will restore the light of our brother’s eyes when we reach her.” Meanwhile, the blessed virgin prophetically foretold their arrival to her community. The handmaid of God joyfully received them when they arrived, and immediately restored vision to their blind brother by the grace of God. St Íte directed the priest from whom she secretly received the Lord’s communion in Clonmacnoise to sing the mass before her. And the blessed virgin directed her daughters to give that holy man the mass-vestments in which he then offered the sacrifice. But he refused them, saying, “We cannot take anything with us now, because our abbot, Áengus, commanded us not to accept anything from you, except your prayer.” The holy prophet Íte said, “It will not displease your abbot Áengus to receive this from me, because I shall give you a sign for him. One day he came to the monastery of the holy virgin Cairech Dercain,2 2 Chinrecha Dercain in the text. Félire Óengusso lists three Cairech Dergains (Dercáin), potentially variations of the same woman: of Clúain Bairenn (Cloonburren) in Húi Maine

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and the blessed virgin asked him to wash her feet. And he agreed. Then the holy virgin Cairech washed the holy feet of Áengus, and rubbed them with a cloth. With God as my witness, I held the top of that cloth and wiped off his feet with a towel. When your abbot hears this, he will be delighted, and happily he will receive my gift.” After accepting the vestment and wondering at these things, the disciples received the blessing of the saint and set out on their return path. And all occurred just as St Íte had predicted. 21. An extremely wealthy and eloquent man of the world came to blessed Íte, bearing a great gift of silver as an alm, which he placed at the feet of the holy virgin. Reaching out her hand, she touched the silver, and scorning it she threw it away from her feet, not wishing to see it or even think of it. After the handmaid of God touched this silver, she said to her daughter who was ministering to her, “Give me water to wash my hand that touched the corruptible silver.” She despised gold or silver, and all worldly wealth, as if she had touched filth. Then he who gave her the gift questioned blessed Íte, saying, “To whom should a gift be given? To the rich and powerful or to the poor and pilgrims?” The servant of God answered, “To each it should be given; to the rich and powerful on account of secular honors; however, for the poor and pilgrims for the sake of heavenly rewards.” He said, “If I will not be able to give to each, what am I to do?” The handmaid of God answered, “It is in people’s power to give their possessions to mortals for the sake of honor or to give them to God, who gives them to us, for the sake of eternal life.” Edified by these words, he went away, with her blessing. 22. One time St Brendan asked blessed Íte about the three works which suffice to gain God’s favor and the three things which merit his disfavor. Íte, the handmaid of God, answered, “Firm faith in God with a pure heart, a simple life with piety, and generosity with charity; these three please God. However, a mouth maligning humanity (detestans homines), clinging with affection to evils in your heart, trusting in wealth; these three displease God.” St Brendan and everyone who was there, hearing her declaration, glorified God in his servant. on the brink of the Shannon, sister of Énda of Aran; one of four daughters of Cormac; and daughter of Conall the Red, and also a sister of Énda of Aran (February 9, p. 71); see also Bourke, Field Anthology, 129-30. Ó Riain’s Dictionary of Irish Saints gives the name as Caoireach Dheargáin and notes that seven garments were bestowed on Cloonburren annually in her honor and that one tradition changes her sex, so she becomes a brother of Brughach of Raymoghy (150-51).

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23. A holy virgin wanted to investigate how St Íte lived in her most secret place, in which she was accustomed to contemplate God alone, so she went out at a certain hour so she could see her. As she walked there, she saw three extremely bright suns similar to the sun of the universe illuminating the entire place and surrounding area. Because of her fear she could not enter, but she suddenly turned back. The mystery of this supernatural occurrence is hidden from us, except that it was the gifts of the Holy Trinity, who made everything from nothing, and whom blessed Íte served assiduously in body and soul. 24. There was a virgin in the plain of the Liffey, by the name of Ríceann, who had a holy foster-son, whose name was Columban.3 Columban went to the island Iona to holy Columba [i.e., ColmCille], where he received the order of bishop, and then returned to his homeland. When he came to his foster-mother, St Ríceann, the holy virgin said to him, “My son, my dear daughter is afflicted with a great sickness; thus come with me to St Íte so that she may bless you and come to the aid of your sister.” The bishop undertook this quite willingly. With the horses hitched to the cart, the bishop and his foster-mother proceeded upon their way with their companions. But the devil set out busily preparing traps for them along the way. The blessed prophet Íte told her family, “Prepare a bath and banquet, because today holy guests will come to us from far away in Leinster.” They arrived there that day, and immediately Íte said, “Let the bishop come to me and place his hand upon my head, blessing me.” They marvelled that the saint of God knew that he was a bishop, without anyone revealing it to her. They blessed each other, as the bishop wished, and, although the visitors had not yet mentioned the sick virgin, blessed Íte said, “Choose either that your daughter, whom you have raised, be healthy in body, and die in sin, or that she suffer here, and live in eternal life; just as the apostle said: ‘For virtue is perfected in weakness.’”4 Along with the daughter herself, they chose that she live in suffering here below, and enjoy eternal rest, and so it was done. Turning to St Ríceann, blessed Íte said to her, “Handmaid of God, your journey would not have been successful had the bishop not accompanied you, because demons plot a great deal against our sex.” After staying several days at St 3 Rychena in the text. Ó Riain notes that Ríceann is usually associated with Kilreekill in Galway, and is located here in Kildare’s Magh Liffey perhaps due to Íte’s association with Kilmead in Narraghmore. Another tale claims Ríceann as Cairech Dergain’s disciple (Dictionary of Saints, 376; Bourke, Field Anthology, IV. 129-30). 4 II Corinthians 12.9.

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Íte’s monastery in true charity, they prepared to return. Then St Ríceann said to blessed Íte, “A virgin who is a dear friend (karissima sodalis) of mine lives on the south coast of Ireland. What then do you advise me, my lady? Ought I to visit her?” Blessed Íte said to her, “No, instead go directly to your cell [church], and that virgin will meet you on the border between Leinster and Munster, wishing to visit you.” And so it happened. After they left with Íte’s blessing, that virgin met them in the aforementioned place. And they blessed the prophet Íte, greeting each other joyfully. 25. A man killed his brother, and, overcome with remorse, he went to St Íte and atoned according to her command. Seeing that his mind was devout, blessed Íte said to him, “If you follow my advice, you shall not die a sudden death, but will pass on to eternal life.” It happened later that he went with his leader into war, because he was a soldier; when the battle turned against them, he was killed along with others. Hearing this blessed Íte said, “I promised that man that he would happily live out the rest of his life because he adhered to my commands.” And she said to her ministers, “Go amid the carnage, and on my authority summon him by his name in the name of my God; and I believe that he will rise up to you.” They did this, and he arose from the dead, just as if he had never been cut down. He ran to those who sought him and came with them to blessed Íte; thus it occurred just as the servant of the Lord had promised. 26. One time a wealthy layman came to St Íte, saying, “I ask you, holy woman of God, that my mares bear colts with white heads and red coats this year.” St Íte answered him, “What you ask for is not f itting for my insignificance, but it is God’s to do with his elements as he wishes.” Then he asked her more solemnly, saying, “Ask the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, the triune God of heaven and earth, of the sea and humanity, who fixed the hues of the hides of beasts, that he may color the colts’ coats just as I wish.” The handmaid of God said to him, “Because you believe so in God, thus your colts will appear this year, just as you wish.” Rejoicing at this prophecy, he left; and everything happened, just as the handmaid of God had foretold. 27. Another time a most unsettling matter occured in the nuns’ monastery that is called Doyre Cusgryd,5 regarding a theft that was committed there. 5 Perhaps Dore Chuiscrigh in Munster [John Stevens et alii, Monasticon Hibernicum, or, the monastical history of Ireland (London: William Mears, 1722), 116].

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Each nun was questioned about the theft. Since all of them denied it, the abbess said to her daughters, “Let us go to blessed Íte; I believe that this mystery will be solved by her.” For it displeased her that common rumor focused on one innocent virgin of Christ. Then she went directly to blessed Íte; and Íte prophetically told her family, “Prepare feasts and a bath, because handmaids of Christ are coming to us today.” When the visitors arrived, they entered in due order, kissing her. The one who was under suspicion, however, did not dare to approach too closely to God’s servant, although she was innocent and had a clear conscience. Blessed Íte said to her, “Come, most innocent virgin of Christ, and give me a kiss; you certainly did not take the stolen property as is suspected of you.” The virgins immediately asked Íte in Christ’s name to reveal to them the person who had stolen it. Blessed Íte answered them, “The one who was sent to you to perform penance for another crime is the one who stole it, and she hid it between the wooden awning and the meadow”; she added, “You will discover it intact, but she who stole it will not remain in your monastery. But as the prophet says ‘Her forehead has become like a prostitute’s.’”6 And thus all things came to pass. When the stolen property was discovered, the wretched woman, forsaking her habit, insisted on remaining amid the forest-dwellers in the vilest fornication. 28. Another time a man named Fergus, whose son is still alive, was brought to St Íte with grievous pain in his eyes and throughout his body. Even his own people scarcely knew whether he was alive or dead. But this sick man who was nearly dead and blind and despaired of by all returned home whole in body and with keen-eyesight. And from that day until his death, he lived in perfect health, through the prayer and blessing of St Íte. 29. One time St Íte’s uncle, who had eight children, died. They lived in the na-Desi province. The handmaid of God sent for them from the land of the Uí Conaill Gabra, calling them to her. When they had come, the bride of Christ addressed them, saying, “My uncle, your father, has died; woe to us because he is tortured for his crimes with infernal punishments. Moreover, divine providence has revealed to me the manner of his torment, but let us do something for the salvation of his soul, so that he can be delivered from there. Therefore, do what I say: throughout this whole year let each of you give daily bread with a little meat and butter for his soul and just as many candles, and at the end of the year return to me.” For they were wealthy. 6 Jeremiah 3.3.

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They performed these things, just as the servant of Christ had ordered them, and returned after a year to blessed Íte. The servant of God said to them, “Your alms and my prayers have raised your father halfway from the watery depths of hell. Now go and give equal alms this year, and again come to me.” And so they did. When they came again, the virgin of Christ said to them, “Your father has been fully rescued from hell, but now he is naked, because he gave no one clothes in Christ’s name. Therefore give alms of clothing, so that he too can be clothed.” After donating clothing through that year, they returned to St Íte. She said to them, “Your father now has rest through your alms and my intercessions, or rather through God’s mercy. Therefore, guard yourselves from forbidden worldly things which caused your father to be tormented.” Thanking God and his handmaid, they returned home. 30. One day, a layman, overcome with sorrow at his son’s death, came crying to St Íte, and rudely declared, “Mark my words, you holy woman of God, I will not leave this little dwelling of yours, and I will not cease my mourning, until you bring my son back from the dead.” Blessed Íte gently replied, “What you ask of me, my good man, is not in my power; such virtue belongs to the apostles and their kind.” Then the man said to her, “That pains me greatly, because my son’s tongue was silenced before his death, so he could not have confessed his faith in God or his sins at the end, nor could he speak any words to us. Therefore, I beseech you to ask the Holy Trinity, that my son might live again for at least one day in order to confess his sins and so I may hear his words.” Blessed Íte answered him, “How much time will it take to satisfy you if the gracious Lord who raises the dead has mercy on you and resurrects your son?” He said, “I will be grateful for even one day.” The handmaid of Christ said to him, “He shall live for seven years and seven months and seven days.” Then, as the blessed virgin prayed, the dead boy immediately arose and he lived for no longer nor shorter than was foretold from the mouth of the prophetic virgin. 31. Another time, the abbots St Lugthigern and St Laisreán said to each other, “Let us visit the servant of God, St Íte.”7 Then a youth stupidly and foolishly said to them, “Why should you, wise and great men, go to that ancient old woman?” The holy men rebuked him, saying, “You spoke badly, brother, for now the prophet of God knows what you said.” Then the holy men went to blessed Íte, leading the young man with them. Coming to the monastery’s entrance, the virgins recognized St Lugthigern, because he 7

Lugthigern of Tomfinlough, Co. Clare, and possible Laisreán, i.e., Molaisse, of Devenish.

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frequently visited blessed Íte, and as they entered the nuns announced to the bride of Christ, “Today is a good day for us, because St Lugthigern visits you.” The holy mother answered them, “No less near God is he who comes with him, he is St Laisreán, son of Colman, whom you did not greet, because you do not know him.” For through the Spirit St Íte knew him, whom she had never seen, by name and merit. They approached blessed Íte, so that she would bless them, and at once the servant of God said to the youth, “Why did you come to a decrepit old woman, since you asked what it would benefit holy men to come to me?” Then he did penance, the holy men pleading on his behalf. After the holy men remained there happily for three days, they received Íte’s leave and her blessings and returned to their home. 32. St Íte’s power of prophecy was manifest in many miracles, just as you shall hear in this miracle. One day the virgin of Christ said to her family, “What words do I hear? Look who have come to our place.” They went outside of their monastery and saw two brothers quite well-known to them. And returning the handmaids of God said, “There are two brothers of this land, whom we know well.” Then the wondrous prophet, blessed Íte, sighing, said, “Woe, woe to them, and my sorrow increases from them, because one will soon kill the other.” Which then was borne out by what happened, as indeed brother killed brother with his own hands. Then that evildoer was bound in chains by the chieftain of the Uí Conaill region, and quickly handed over for death. But the virgin of Christ pitied him, saying, “Sad will be their unhappy mother; she just lost the first and if she loses this one, she will be deprived of both. Furthermore, the Son of God, whom my soul loves, does not wish this man to perish in his sins, but to survive so he can atone and attain pardon.” She sent a message to the chieftain, asking him that that man be released to her. He was delivered to her, but the messengers told her, “Free him, virgin of God, and take him into your care, if it seems good to you; but if he commits any evil against the kingdom, it will stand against you. But take him, and let him perform penance.” St Íte answered them, “I know that he will not perform penance right away, but nevertheless later he will atone well.” And thus it happened. For the released culprit did not want to perform penance at once, but it was just as St Íte predicted. The bride of Christ waited for it patiently, wanting it to be not compelled but freely-given, because God forgives each person according to his own judgment. 33. After these events had passed, a great war was waged against the Uí Conaill Gabra clan by a great many enemies. This clan, in the presence of their patron (matrona), blessed Íte, asked God’s aid through her against

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great adversaries. Then blessed Íte, pitying them, prayed to God, saying, “Holy Trinity and inseparable Unity, Father and Son and Holy Spirit, come to the aid of my poor and miserable people, who generously chose me in your name throughout their lands, and took me as their patron; there is no human help for them against this great army of western Munster.” The Uí Conaill Gabra, confident in the prayers of blessed Íte, courageously went out against the great army of their enemies, and put up a brave fight. And as they fought each other with much bloodshed with the manifest aid of God through the prayers of St Íte, the adversaries were put to flight, and the Uí Conaill clan proceeded to massacre them. Most victorious in war, the returning Uí Conaill Gabra thanked God and blessed Íte, their patron, on account of the victory granted them. The few became victors of Christ against many, because St Íte prayed for them. Then blessed Íte said to one of her ministers, “Proceed to where the war was waged and seek there the one who promised to me that he would perform penance, yet until now has not, and you shall discover him hidden and wounded amid the carnage of war.” For that man was a soldier, and he was wounded in the first line of battle. The messenger of the virgin discovered him, just as she had told him. He led him back to blessed Íte; and generously cared for by her, he was healed from his wounds. Later he performed worthy penance, according to the order of the blessed virgin Íte, and he died in a blessed state. 34. Another day the blessed virgin Íte said to her daughters, “In this hour a soul from our family is being defiled. Go and attentively consider which one of our sisters is being snatched from our flock by a wolf laying in wait.” Then the blessed virgin’s family investigated the crime that had been committed, but they could not discern which one of them had sinned. Blessed Íte gathered her entire family to her, and each one denied that she had committed such sin. After the one who had sinned denied along with the others, filled with the spirit of prophecy, blessed Íte said to her, “Today you committed fornication.” She did not repent, nor did she confess, but she withdrew with the ignominy of her guilt. Wandering through many places, she eventually became a servant in Connacht and bore a daughter. After a long time, St Íte said to her family, “Our sister, formerly free, is now a servant in a druid’s house in Connacht, where she now performs penance. If she were free, she would faithfully amend herself.” Then the blessed virgin Íte sent messengers to the blessed abbot Brendan who lived in Connacht, asking him to seek this woman’s freedom. St Brendan humbly fulfilled the command of Íte, the bride of Christ; he approached the king of Connacht on behalf of the former nun and freed her with her daughter. Sent by blessed

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Brendan, the woman and her daughter with her came to blessed Íte, and she was welcomed by her, rejoicing in her arrival. She performed worthy penance, and in holiness until her death she remained with her daughter in the monastery of the most pious patron Íte. 35. One day the most blessed virgin, in venerable old age, gathered her virgins before her. She revealed that her death was near and gently said to them, “The abbot of Clonmacnoise, Mac Nisse, sent messengers to me so that they might bring back water blessed by me for Abbot Áengus, who is extremely ill, because they hope he can recover his health if they can get him to drink water sanctified by me. I will bless the water for them now. The messengers are sad, so tell them that I blessed this very water. Indeed I shall die before they arrive here, and before they shall return home, St Áengus will pass over into heaven.” And thus all these things happened, as the most blessed prophet Íte had foretold. 36. Later, the most holy patron (matrona) contracted an illness, and began to bless and instruct her city (ciuitatem), both the clergy and the Uí Conaill Gabra, who took her as their patron (matronam). As she was visited by many saints of both sexes, among choirs of the saints, with rejoicing angels coming to meet her soul, after the greatest multitude of virtues, in the sight of the most auspicious Holy Trinity, the most glorious virgin Íte passed away on the eighteenth Kalends of February (January 15). As many people gathered from all over, with accompanying miracles which even now do not cease to be revealed there, after masses were celebrated, in the monastery blessed by St Íte herself, who was second only to Brigid in merits and character, her most blessed body was brought from the field to her tomb, under the reign of our Lord Jesus Christ, who with God the Father and Holy Spirit lives and reigns as God unto ages of ages, amen.

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5. The Life of the Virgin St Samthann 1. The holy and venerable virgin Samthann descended from a clan of Ulster; her father was called Diamrán, her mother Columba. When she was of age, Críodán, her foster-father and king of the Cairbre Gabra, betrothed her to a nobleman. During the middle of the night on the eve of the wedding, the groom opened his eyes and saw light like a ray of the sun pierce the roof of the house and shine onto the bed in which Samthann was lying with two of the king’s daughters. Astonished by such an unusal vision of light at that hour, he arose at once and, approaching his betrothed’s bed, found her face suffused with the light. He was overwhelmed with joy that he deserved to marry such a wife, who was so suffused with the light of heaven. The following night, when the nuptials had been celebrated, both entered the bridal chamber, as the custom is, and the groom said to her, “Take off your clothes so that we may join as one.” But she answered, “I beg your indulgence until those in the house are asleep.” The groom agreed and after a little while sleep overcame him too. Then Samthann prayed urgently, pounding on the gates of divine mercy, to keep her virginity undefiled. And God heard her cry, and the Lord received her prayer. For sometime in the middle of the night their fort was seen to burn by those standing outside, as flames of miraculous magnitude rose from the holy virgin’s mouth to the roof of the house. A great clamor arose among those outside, rousing all who were within from sleep, and at once they hastened to put out the fire. 2. Meanwhile, the holy virgin escaped and concealed herself in the shrubbery outside; at once the fire disappeared without any harm to the fort. When morning came, her foster-father, the king of the Cairbre, searched for the virgin (Samthann). And when he had found her, she said to him, “Your fort didn’t burn last night, did it?” The king answered, “No,” and she said, “You should give thanks to God that it didn’t.” And again she said to the king, “Why did you want to hand over this poor handmaiden of God Almighty to some spouse without her consent?” Then the king said, “I shall not hand you over to another man, but will let the decision be in your hands.” And she said, “This is my decision, that henceforth you shall offer me as a bride to God and not to a man.” Then the king knelt and said, “We offer you as a bride to God, your chosen groom, and we unite you in marriage.” Then with her husband’s permission (cum sponsi licentia) she entered the monastery of the virgin Cognat that is called Urney. Living there for some time, she devoutly and faithfully managed the office of storekeeper. 3. The holy virgin Samthann arose one dawn to the loud cries of a leper who wished to be ferried from the other side of the lough. Heeding his wishes,

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the pious virgin guided a little raft with her staff and brought him across. Since he complained of his poverty and nakedness, she gave to him a cow with its calf and the better part of a cloak, as if she were another Martin. When he was asked whence he had come, he answered that he had come from the monastery of St Ultán.1 And after he said this, he disappeared. And then appeared a great wonder. For that very cow that the leper had taken was discovered with its calf in its shed, where it had been before, and St Samthann’s cloak appeared whole, without a tear. 4. Another time, when Samthann was the storekeeper in the monastery of Urney, it happened through Samthann’s blessing that one measure of butter sufficed for an entire year for sisters as well as guests. But then a a sister recently converted from secular life entered the sisters’ storeroom without Samthann knowing. Looking on this nearly full measure of butter, she said, “This butter, so it seems, will never be used up.” After she left the storeroom, the holy virgin entered it and found the vessel empty. Seeing this, she marvelled at what happened and was left speechless. Inspired by the prophetic spirit, she said, “This place will never be wealthy.” And what she said about the place came to pass. 5. At that time the holy virgin Fuinche,2 the founder of the monastery that is called Clonbroney, dreamed St Samthann came as a spark of fire that burst into an inferno, burning all the monastery. Telling this dream to her sisters, she gave this interpretation, “Samthann, blazing with the fire of the Holy Spirit, shall make this place radiant by the virtue of her merits and the splendor of her miracles.” St Fuinche thus sent for Samthann and gave her charge over her monastery. 6. After she assumed office, Samthann first wanted to build an oratory from finished wood. She sent carpenters and other workers into nearby forests to cut down trees. One of the carpenters, however, seeing the limited food and the great many workers, said to himself, “Oh if we could have forty loaves of wheat bread with butter and cheese and milk, that many loaves would suffice us indeed.” Nor was that person deprived of any of these things which his soul desired. For by the merits of St Samthann he saw everything that he wished for placed before him. Then the servant of Christ said as she smiled, “Hasn’t your heart’s desire been fulfilled?” And he said, “Indeed, my 1 Presumably Ultán of Ardbreccan, but Bray suggests Ultán of Péronne [“Motivational Derivations in the Life of St Samthann,” Studia Celtica 20-21 (1985-86): 78-86]. 2 The MS Rawlinson 505 version of the Life names her Brónach.

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Lady; to the exact measure, neither more nor less.” Then all thanked God and his handmaid, and were amply nourished. 7. Another time, St Samthann sent messengers to a king, by name Cennétig,3 to ask him to free a bound prisoner on account of her prayers. But the arrogant king scorned her prayers and did not comply with them at all. Again she sent messengers, saying, “If he will not release that man from his chains, say to the prisoner, ‘In the name of the Holy Trinity you shall be freed from your shackles and you shall come safely to Samthann, the handmaid of the Trinity.’” The king stubbornly clung to his impiety, so the messengers addressed the prisoner just as the handmaid of Christ had commanded. He said to them, “I believe that it will be done just as she said.” When the king heard this, in contempt of the virgin, he doubled the prisoner’s bonds, and the following night he placed eight guards at the prison door and just as many at the fort’s gate. But in the middle of the night the prisoner arose, freed by divine aid. And when he passed his first guards, they said to him, “Who goes there?” He answered, “I am Follomain, who was in chains,” for thus was the prisoner called. The guards said to him, “If you were he, you could not come out like this.” Then, avoiding his second guard, he climbed over the wall at another place; and thus escaping he went directly to St Samthann, arriving on the third day without any danger. 8. By the power of her prayer, the virgin Samthann compelled the beasts of a nearby lake who had previously been harmful to humanity and animals to harm none henceforth. 9. It must not be passed over in silence that the virgin Samthann sufficiently fed fifty guests by the milk of one cow, to the wonder of many. For at that time she had nothing else with which to feed them. Therefore, after she prayed, the blessed virgin milked the cow herself and drew out as much milk as was necessary for so many people. 10. Another time, she hospitably fed the abbot of Devenish monastery with 140 others, with one bushel of flour divided into two parts providing food and drink for a week. 11. A concupiscent cleric entered her sisters’ monastery. There he gazed intently upon a beautiful girl, fell in love with her, and she returned his love. 3 Plummer identifies this as Cinaed, son of Irgalach, king of Ireland, who died in 728 (PVSH I.lxxxvii).

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And after he promised that he would go first to a nearby wood and the girl should follow him, he went to the holy Samthann and sought her prayer to speed his journey. She asked him where he wished to go. He said, “I wish to go into Connacht.” Then the holy virgin said to him, “Wherever you go, do not harass my sisters with enticing words or evil actions.” And he answered, “Far be it from me, my Lady.” And with this said, he departed. When he began to cross a stream, the water level rose until it reached his belt, and then an eel of astounding size gripped his loins, where it constricted him with great force. He was exceedingly terrified at this occurrence and returned to the virgin of God, where on bended knees he begged her forgiveness. When this was given, at once the eel fell off his loins. And instructed by this affliction, he swore never again to come to the virgins’ monastery. 12. Another time the Connachta and Tethba entered into treaty after long strife. The king of the Tethba imprisoned a certain widow’s son to hand him over to the Connachta as a hostage. At the widow’s request, St Samthann sent her prioress with five other virgins and two men to this king for the sake of freeing that prisoner. Not yielding to them in the least, the king refused the request, and said, “Whatever else she will ask for from me, undoubtedly she will attain it.” Then Nathea, the prioress, said to the prisoner, “In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ and his handmaid St Samthann, when you have been freed from your bonds, you will come with us.” Having heard this, the guards bound him more tightly, as they feared that the prisoner could indeed escape their hands through the virtue of Samthann’s prayer. The king then went to the river Shannon in order to hand over the hostage, the widow’s son, to the Connachta in order to make peace with them there. A great wonder then occurred. As the messengers of the holy virgin were returning, behold! they saw the widow’s son with them on their journey. At which sight they greatly rejoiced, thanking God and his handmaid Samthann. Thus miraculously neither the king nor his guards realized when they looked around that their prisoner, now released, was missing. When they reached the Shannon and wished to place the prisoner on a raft, however, an empty fetter fell down, all that remained there of the prisoner they thought they were holding to themselves. Then all glorified the Lord, wondrously revealed in his handmaid. 13. A nobleman named Flann, son of Conla,4 was ardent in his devotion to Christ’s holy handmaid. Whenever he was about to go into war or military 4 According to the Annals of Ulster, Conla, king of Tethba, died in 740; his son Bec died in 771 and his daughter Forblaith, the abbess (dominatrix) of Clonbroney, died in 779. As Dorothy

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service, he came to her in order to receive her blessing or prayer. One time the Connachta attacked Tethba, however, and Flann fought against them without St Samthann’s blessing and was killed. In the same hour in which he was killed, Samthann told her sisters of his death. She said, “Apply yourselves to prayers at once, for the soul of our friend Flann is now being led by demons to places of punishment.” Once she said this, she fell into a trance. After a very little while, she returned to her senses and said to her sisters, “Give thanks to God, since the soul for which you prayed has been led from torments into rest through our intercessions and God’s measureless mercy.” 14. Another time, the monastery’s buildings were changed to make more space, but the oratory could not be moved except by the help of an immense multitude. People of the province were summoned to come to move the oratory but, the following night, before those who had been summoned had arrived, St Samthann invoked divine assistance and through her prayers asked to be given the grace she customarily received to facilitate this work. On the next day she commanded a mere eight men to move that oratory. They obeyed her command and without any impediment moved the oratory to its proper place. 15. When the same oratory needed to be repaired, artisans went with the prioress Nathea into the woods so they could fell suitable timber. And when they cut the tree appropriate for this work, the architect said, “If the tree falls into this direction, it will be useless, but if it falls into that one, it will be useful.” The tree began to bend toward the part in which the artisans did not want it to fall. When Nathea saw this, she ordered St Samthann’s girdle, which she had with her, to be placed on that side. And when the girdle was placed there behold! a quick gale of wind rushing in pushed the tree to the opposite direction. 16. When the holy handmaid of Christ wished to build an upper room (cenaculum) for the work of the sisters, she sent her prioress Nathea and some workers into the woods of Connacht for pinewood. And after they looked for such wood for three days without finding it, on the fourth day, wearied, they wanted to return home. As they slept that night, behold! St Samthann appeared in the dreams of her disciple Nathea, saying, “Tomorrow cut marshy willows by the root and lying there you shall discover ample Africa notes, the Life of the recently deceased Samthann could have been written during this period of royal favor and intimacy (Africa, “Life of the Holy Virgin Samthann,” 101).

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pine lumber.” At the break of day, they did just what she commanded and discovered the pines they wanted. But the lord of these woods, seeing so much abundant lumber, said, “You will not have these trees unless you buy them.” Nathea said to him, “Gladly will we buy them.” But the following night, St Samthann appeared to the lord in a dream and spoke in a menacing voice, saying, “Why do you, a mere mortal, try to hold back what has been offered to God?” And then she struck his side with her staff, saying, “Miserable wretch, unless you perform penance you will soon find yourself dead.” When morning came, the remorseful and penitent lord granted the wood to them, with no payment made. When news of this got around, the inhabitants of that region exalted the Lord in St Samthann and lent sixty yokes of cattle by which all of the wood was carried back to the monastery. 17. Niall, son of Fergal, king of Ireland,5 asked for the holy virgin Samthann’s staff so he could adorn it with gold and silver. But because that wood was old and warped it seemed unsuitable to the artisans to adorn it so. The following night the staff was placed on the wall above the king’s bed. Because of his handmaid’s merits and the pious king’s devotion, Christ restored that wood that was before warped in such a manner, so that no trace of a warp appeared in it. The king rejoiced with great gladness, because what human ability was not able to accomplish, God’s kindness achieved. Therefore, the king and all his people held that staff in the highest honor. 18. At that time two nuns lived next to the monastery of the abbot Cainnech; one conceived by diabolic suggestion, and later bore a son. But for fear of scandal, she did not wish him to be raised in those parts. When they had heard the reputation of St Samthann, they discussed the matter between themselves, then both nuns brought the infant to her. Pitying them, she agreed to raise the child, and, in order to avoid scandal and suspicion, advised them to leave at night. When they left, they took a path through the forest where thieves lay in wait. Seeing them, the nuns feared deeply, because they could not avoid them. But then the right hand of the Lord worked a powerful deed,6 because a huge tree, which they were then approaching, opened itself for them, revealing its hollow circular center, and miraculously enclosed them safely within it. When the thieves searched 5 Also known as Niall Frossach, reigned 763-72/77, died as a penitent on Iona in 778. Plummer theorizes that this should be understood as a posthumous miracle (PVSH I.lxxxviii); Africa suggests this miracle was moved from the end of the Life (“Life of the Holy Virgin Samthann,” 109 n6). 6 Psalm 1:17.

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for them all over, an extremely dense fog covered them and they could not see anything until the nuns were leaving the woods and had gone some distance down the path. And St Samthann raised that baby and had him educated (literis imbui fecit). Eventually he became a famous abbot in the monastery of St Cainnech. 19. One time when St Samthann returned home from the monastery that is called Granard, she came to an enormous oak tree. One of its branches blocked the path, so that those seated in her cart could not pass. So the blessed virgin held her staff out against the obstacle, and commanded that it withdraw. Without delay, that branch bent itself around its own tree, and raising itself up out of the way, it gave easy crossing to them. 20. One time a certain monk asked St Samthann about the manner of prayer; namely whether one ought to pray lying down, sitting, or standing. She answered him, “One ought to pray in every position.” 21. A certain tribal chieftain, named Rectabra, had a barren wife who went to St Samthann, hoping through her prayer to be blessed with offspring and that the disgrace of her sterility would be wiped away. Blessing her womb, she prophesied, saying, “You will bear a son and you will call his name Inrechtach. For he will be wise, and a lord of his people.” Which was wholly fulfilled.7 22. A certain tribal chieftain of the Corcu Duibne held a widow’s son in chains. At this widow’s request, the pious virgin sent messengers to this chieftain, asking him to release that prisoner through her intercession, so he could return to his mother, whom the saint compassionately pitied. And since the cruel king would not yield to her entreaties, his wife spoke thus: “If you will not free that man at St Samthann’s request, God will free him through her prayer.” Then the messengers said to the prisoner, “The virgin Samthann has ordered you to come to her tonight a free man.” And behold! not long after, a shout sounded throughout the province, that enemies were coming to lay the land to waste. Having heard this, the king quickly left with his companions to fight against the enemies. Meanwhile, the chains binding the prisoner were loosened and he escaped. He reached the virgin the following night without any impediment. 7 Following a suggestion from Plummer, Dorothy Africa suggests that this refers to Rectabra of the Uí Tuirtri, who had a son named Inrechtach (“Life of the Holy Virgin Samthann,” 110 n8).

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23. Another time the community of the island Iona sent some of their brothers with a ship full of wool to St Samthann. As they were rowing across, the serene weather suddenly changed, agitating the sea’s surface. When the waves raised by the storm threatened them with death, a certain youth spoke stupidly, saying, “Let us throw the little old woman’s wool in the sea so that we won’t drown.” The ship’s captain refused and said, “On the contrary, we will either live or die with that old woman’s wool.” With this said, the winds completely ceased and the sea became so tranquil that they used oars. Again the youth spoke: “Why doesn’t the old woman raise the wind for us now?” Then the captain said, “We believe that through her merits God will help us.” And behold! suddenly the wind filled their sails, and they had the benefit of this wind for three days and just as many nights, until they landed at the port named Colptha.8 When they arrived at the blessed virgin’s monastery, they greeted her as they entered, kissing her hand. The virgin said to the young man as he approached her, “What did you say about me on the sea when the storm threatened you with death?” Embarrassed with shame, he offered no reply at all. She said to him, “Do not be ashamed about this, but if danger should ever threaten you, boldly call upon me.” 24. One time a master (magister) named Daircellach came to the virgin and said to her, “I am considering putting my studies aside so I can devote myself to prayer.”9 She answered him, “What is it that can anchor your mind so that it does not wander if you disregard spiritual studies?” And again the master spoke: “I wish to go on pilgrimage across the sea.” She answered, “If God could not be found on this side of the sea, we would indeed go abroad. But since God is near to all who invoke him, no necessity impels us to cross the sea. For one can reach the kingdom of heaven from any land.” 25. These few words have been said out of the many things which might have been said. For who can relate all the things with which God enriched her? She was filled with the grace of good works, adorned with the beauty of all virtues, and enriched with the good deeds of her entire life; the holy mistress (magistra) of her subjects,10 but the most humble servant in the 8 Inber Colptha refers to the mouth of the Boyne. 9 Possibly referencing Tairchelltach the Learned, who died in 760, according to the Annals of Ulster. 10 “[S]ubiectorum pia magistra” (PVSH, 260) Dorothy Africa renders this “a pious teacher of the lowly” (“Life of the Holy Virgin Samthann,” 108).

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display of the body. She was poor in spirit and in material goods. She refused to own fields, nor did she ever have more than six cows at any one time. Towards all, and especially towards her household, she was solicitous in charity. To provide one testimony out of many, when the alms which were offered to her were distributed to her sisters, she herself was included in the number of sisters in each cottage; for however many nuns lived together, her portion was added to theirs. She was cheerful in giving, modest in receiving, gracious in compassion, effective in assistance. Why discuss this in all of its particulars? No work of piety surpassed her. And thus on the nineteenth of December, when she had completed her present life, in holiness and justice before Christ, her spouse, she received her crown from him, who has prepared himself from eternity for those who love him. 26. On the same night she gave her spirit up to heaven, the holy abbot Lasran, whom we mentioned earlier,11 saw two moons with his open eyes, one of which came down to him. He remembered his request, that when she passed on to the celestial realms, she would come down to him. Lasran recognized her to be in the form of the stars, and said, “Well done, faithful handmaid of God, Samthann, because now you are about to enter into the joy of the Lord, your bridegroom.” And thus she disappeared, rising into heaven, where she enjoys life eternal unto ages of ages.

11 Plummer assumes that this intends the abbot of Devenish monastery, its founder Lasrán more commonly known as Molaisse and proclaims it Samthann’s Life’s “only chronological absurdity” (PVSH I.lxxxviii), as Molaisse died about a century before Samthann was born.

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Appendix C Feast Days of Early Medieval Irish Female Saints1 January 1 Fainche the Rough of Ros-airthir on Lough Erne (Rossory, Co. Fermanagh) Scéthe, daughter of Meachair, of Feart-Sceithe in Muscraighe-Aedha (Ardskeagh, Co. Cork; arrival of her relics celebrated at Tallaght on September 6) Comnat, abbess of Kildare Crón of Galam, sister of Ultan of Ardbreccan (Co. Meath?) 2 Ainbhthen 4 Fiadnat 5 Cíar, daughter of Duib-re, of Cell Chére in Mag Ascaid in Muscraige (Kilkeary, Co. Tipperary) 6 Muadnat of Cáille in Cairpre Droma Clíab (Carbury, Drumcliffe, Co. Sligo), Tuilelaith, abbess of Kildare, and Ossnat of Glencar (Killasnet, Co. Leitrim)—all three sisters of Molaisse of Devenish and daughters of Nad Froích Lassar of Achadh-Foda Dígde (Chapter Six?) 7 Bríg of Coirpre, Brendan of Clonfert’s sister 8 Ercnait of Dún Dá Én (Fort of two birds) in the forest of Dál Araide (Duneane, Co. Antrim), Colmcille’s cook and embroideress Nechtain of Dún Gemin in Ciannachta of Glenn Gemin Cúach of Cell Chúaiche (Kilcock, Co. Kildare) 9 Suaibsech of Tír Áeda (Tirhugh, Co. Donegal) Finnia, abbess of Kildare 10 Tuillelaith, daughter of Uarghalach, abbess of Kildare

1 This is a selective list. The martyrologies include many more female Irish saints, but often simply as daughters of a man (e.g., Oengus’s twelve holy daughters, feast day February 23) or without any other identifying information. In addition, spelling varies considerably and many Irish names can be either male or female. Due to dubious reliability, genealogies are not included here, apart from putative parents’ names. Saints are often commemorated on multiple dates, like Cúach, from Cell Chuaca (Kilcock, Co. Kildare), on January 8 and June 6; I try to list them only once here, but duplication could confuse the matter. I supplement the references in Irish martyrologies and annals with Ó Corráin and Maguire’s Irish Names and Peritia editors’ saints of the day (https://twitter.com/PeritiaEditors , accessed August 20, 2017).

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11 15 16

Ethne and Fedelm, daughters of Loíguire (Chapter 1) Íte of Killeedy (Chapter 4) Darerca, daughter of Cairbre Aithche of Cill-Aitche (Co. Limerick) Monoa, a virgin from Mag Niad in Tuath Rátha (Monea in Tooraa, Co. Fermanagh) 18 Áedammair, daughter of Áed Coppa, daughter of Báetán Scoth, Femmor, Bláth, Ana, from Cluain Grencha Aithneann of Killannin (Co. Galway) 21 Briga of Kilbride, Lismore (Co. Waterford) Fainche and Eghlionna of Clúain cain in Eóganacht Chaisil (Clonkeen, Co. Limerick?) Féme, daughter of Cairell, of Ernaide in Mag Itha 22 Comgall’s daughters, Laisse (Laisri), Boga (Bogha), Colmán (Colma), at Leitir in Dál Araide (Glenavy, Co. Antrim) 25 Mochona of Ernaide (Urney, Co. Cavan) 27 Muirgen, daughter of Aedán in Belach Gabráin (Co. Donegal?) Crón of Cill Cróine (Kilcrony, Co. Wicklow) 28 Cainer, daughter of Cruithnechán, of Cill Chuilinn (Kilcullen, Co. Kildare)2 29 Bláth 31 Aíbnat (Co. Laois) Brígh of the Déisi February 1 Brigid of Kildare (Chapter 2) Darlugdach, second abbess of Kildare (Chapter 2) Cinnia of Druim Dubhain (Co. Armagh) 2 Finnech, daughter of Dorn, of Cell Finche (Co. Kilkenny) 3 Cáelfind, of the Ciarraige in Connacht Faílenn, sister of St Colgu of Kilcolgan Caolainn, of Termon More (Co. Roscommon) 5 Cáera of Ráith Móentich Échtach

2 Cainer, daughter of Cruithnechán, of Cill Chuilinn (Kilcullen) in Kildare is claimed among those subject to Brigid, as is Cainer, daughter of Airmind, of Cluain Coirinn (Clooncurreen, Co. Galway) (Ó Riain, Corpus Genealogiarum Sanctorum Hiberniae, 112).

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6 Ríomthach and Macha, daughters of Lénín, of Killiney (Co. Dublin) 7 Brigid daughter of Domma 9 Caírech Dergáin of Clúain Bairenn in Húi Maine on the brink of the Shannon (Co. Roscommon), a sister of Énda of Aran and daughter of Conall the Red Attracta of Killaraght (Co. Sligo), (Chapter 6) Rígnach, sister of Finnian of Clonard 10 Becga, daughter of Gabhran Derluga of Lemmagh (Co. Cavan?) 11 Gobnait of Móin Mór (Ballyvourney, Co. Cork), (Chapter 6) Coccnat (Cognat) of Ernaide (Chapters 5 and 6) 13 Cúachnat of Ross Raithe 17 Finnsech of Trim 18 Lassair of Glenn-medhóin (Co. Antrim or Co. Dublin) 22 Midabair (Miodhabhair) from Rind Droichait, sister of Bearach of Cluain Cairbthe (Co. Roscommon) Gurnim, daughter of Cú-gaela 25 Crón of Tallaght (Co. Dublin) 28 Erníne, daughter of Airchuin March 3 Foílenn, daughter of Áed and Cuilenn, sister of Colga, patrons of Killeely (Co. Galway) 6 Drugenia, Luigenia, Luieella, Macha, Brighit, and Ríomthach, Lénín’s daughters of Killiney (Co. Dublin) 7 Metán of Tuaim Átha 8 Der Chaírthinn, daughter of Éanna, from Oughterard (Co Kildare) Curcach, daughter of Enna, of Cluain Lothair 9 Brigid of Móin Miláin (Co. Westmeath) Carcha of Cloonburren 13 Conchenna of Killevy (Co. Armagh) 17 Lassair, Branín’s seventh daughter, of Cell Ingine Branín in Laois, sister of Clídna, who gave the name to Tonn Clídna, Clíodhna’s Wave 22 Darerca, sister of Patrick, patron of Valentia (Co. Kerry) (Chapter 1) 23 Lassair, daughter of Finntan 24 Scíre who loved fasting, of Cell Scíre in Co. Meath 25 Columba, daughter of Búite 29 Ethne and Sodelb, who nursed Christ, daughters of Baíte, from Tech ingen mBóiti beside Swords (Co. Dublin), (Chapter Four) 31 Mella, mother of St Tigernach and abbess of Daire Melle (Co. Leitrim)

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April 2 Brónach from Glenn Sechlis, Kilbrony (Co. Down) 4 Caemh of Cill-Caoimhe (Kilkine, Co. Wicklow) 10 Eretnatan of Tulach Bennain 15 Sárnad, daughter of Aodh Gabhalfhada 18 Lassar, daughter of Eoga (Eoghan) of Maigen (Moyne, Co. Mayo) 19 Laisse of Cluain Mind 24 Coipp, daughter of Caernán, of Cluain Ciochmagh Finchell of Kildrumsherdan (Co. Cavan) 25 Dígde (Chapter 6?) 28 Coip daughter of Dímma 29 Cuach of Cell Findmaige3 (Killynee, Co. Wicklow) 30 Luith of Druim Dairbrech May 1 Luaithrenn, widow 3 Sarnat, Maelán’s daughter, an abbess 13 Damnat of Tedavnet (Co. Monaghan) 15 Dymphna of Gheel 17 Lith, Garbán’s daughter 18 Aghna of Drumadart (Co. Donegal) 19 Rícheall, daughter of Athracht 21 Brigid, Dimman’s daughter 22 Aghna, Cassin, and Luigsech, 3 nuns from Druim dá Dart (Co. Donegal) 25 Colla, daughter of Díoma Meann (Co. Meath) 27 Comaigh of Snámh Luthair (Slanore), daughter of Eacha (Co. Cavan) Maolán of Snámh Luthair 29 Cuman, daughter of Ailléan, in Ard Ulad (Co. Down) Briúinsech, daughter of Crimthann from Mag Trea June 6 Cúach, from Cell Chuaca (Kilcock, Co. Kildare) 8 Luaithrinn, daughter of Colmán, of Cell Luaithrenn (Killoran, Co. Sligo) 11 Tochomracht of Kiltoghert (Co. Leitrim) 13 Damhnad, supposed sister of Lasair, of Tedavnet (Co. Monaghan) (Chapter 6) 14 Cuman the Little (Beg), of Cell Cuimne (Kilkevna, Co. Mayo) 3 “She was a pupil to Mac Tail, of Cill-Cuillinn, and it was on account of her the clergy denounced Mac Tail” (Martyrology of Donegal, 113; see also Stokes, Félire Óengusso, 121).

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18 Ana 20 Gubsech of Clúain Bairenn (Co. Roscommon) 28 Bigsech, daughter of Breasal, Cell Bicsíge (Kilbixy, Co. Westmeath) 29 Cócha, abbess of Ross Bennchoir (Co. Clare) 30 Sporóc, Colm’s devout daughter July 3 Dartinne of Cell Aird (Co. Wicklow) Breccnat 5 Étaín of Tuaim Nóa in Mag Luirg on the brink of Búill (Co. Roscommon) 6 Darerca of Killevy (Moninne; Chapter 2) Dearmhór, Eithne, and Cummán, daughters of Maine, of Airiudh Bóinne (Co. Meath) 7 Fiadabair of Uachtar Achaid in Cenél Luachain (Co. Leitrim) Cróine the Little (Beg), of Tempull-Crone, in Tir-Conaill (Co. Donegal) Coihmgheall, Díarmait’s daughter 8 Trea of Artrea (Co. Tyrone) 13 Grella, sister of Manchán of Liath, daughter of Mella (mother) 16 Scoth of great Clúain Mór Móescna (Co. Westmeath? Or Wicklow?) 17 Cranat (Chapter 6) 21 Curchach of Kilcorkey 23 Banbnat Crónsech 27 Luit of Tech Luta in Great Fotharta (Fotharta Mora, Co. Wexford) August 3 Trea, daughter of Cáerthenn, of Ard-Trea (Co. Derry) Deirbhileadh, of An Fál Mór (Falmore, Co. Mayo) 4 Midnat of Killucan (Co. Westmeath) 5 Duinsech, of Dunsy Island on Loch Cuan (Co. Down) Echi, daughter of Darerca and Patrick’s niece, of Cill Glais (Co, Longford) Rathnat of Kilraghts (Co. Antrim) 6 Cainder, mother of St Mochua of Clondalkin 8 Curchach of Cluain-lothair (Co. Leitrim) Dáire 11 Athracht, daughter of Tighernach, of Cill-Sáile in Crich-Conaill (Chapter 6) Talla of Inis Daigri (Inishterry?, Lough Key, Co. Roscommon) Liadain, daughter of Eochaidh Finnecht

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Lelia, of Killeely, Co. Limerick 4 13 Brigit of Cluain Aí 20 Lassar from Cell Arcalagh (Arcalgach) on the brink of Loch Lébenn (Co. Westmeath) Coincheann of Ceall Achaidh Choinchinn (Killagh, Co. Kerry) (Chapter 6) 22 Sinche, Annaid’s daughter, from Cúl Bennchuir (Co. Laois) 23 Cáemnat September 1 Sárbile of Faughart (Co. Louth) (Chapter 2); also September 4 4 Ness of Ernaide (Urney, Co. Tyrone) 6 Scéthe (Sciath), daughter of Meachar, from Fert Scéthe (Co. Cork; commemorating the arrival of her relics at Tallaght; actual feastday January 1) 9 Cera of Killahear (Co. Monaghan) 12 Fled, of Tech Fleide (Co. Wicklow) 17 Feime, daughter of Cairell and Deidhe, of Ernaide (Co. Tyrone) 18 Gema of Riacc Innse 27 Lupait (Chapter 1) 28 Dairi, holy widow, daughter of Cathaoir, Kildaree (Co. Mayo) 30 Brigit of Cluainfidhe (Co. Laois) Lassar daughter of Lochán Mobi, nun, of Domhnach Broc Airmer of Bréchmag October 1 Clothra, daughter of Conall, from Inis dúine (Inchdoney, Co. Cork) 5 Sínech, Fergna’s daughter, of Crúachu Maige Abnael (Crohane, Co. Tipperary) 8 Seven Holy Virgins in Cell na nóebingen (the Church of the Holy Girls), (Co. Armagh) 13 Finnsech, of Ernaide in Sliab Gúari (Co. Tyrone or Cavan) 15 Fintína and Cróne 16 Cíar ingen Duib Rea of Cell Chére, Mag Ascad (Kilkeary, Co. Tipperary) 4 One of the five female saints (other than Mary) invoked by name in the 1921 “Litany of the Saints of Ireland Approved by the Holy See for Use in All the Churches of Ireland,” but Lelia leaves little trace in medieval records. The other four are Brigid, Íte, Attracta, and Dymphna, the last of dubious historicity (Dymphna’s cult seems to have originated in France in the thirteenth century, claiming an Irish origin for a saint primarily associated with Gheel in Belgium). The 1921 litany lists sixty-three saints by name, the vast majority of them Irish, all but six male [The Irish Ecclesiastical Record 18 (1921): 433-34].

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18 Teca, from Rúscach (Rooskey, Co. Louth) 24 Erc, Sinell’s daughter, of Imliuch (Emly, Co. Tipperary; or perhaps Meelick, Co. Galway) 25 Dúthracht of Leamchaill (Lowhill, Ballinakill, Co. Laois) 26 Mac Iair’s four daughters: Dairblinn, Dairinill, Cóel, Coimhgheall, of Kilmain (Co. Dublin), Killininny (Co. Dublin), or Kells (Meath) Darbile of Achadh Chuilinn (Co. Mayo) 27 Rechtíne 28 Táimthene 30 Ercnat of Dún Dá Én (Duneane, Co. Antrim), ColmCille’s cook and seamstress (also January 8) November 2 Finntina, of Clúain Guthbinn (Co. Roscommon) 3 Dairí Bóchána (i.e., “of the law on cows”), widow, of Kildaree (Co. Galway) 5 Cainnear, daughter of Caolán, from Rinn Allaid 6 Feadhbhair, of Boho (Co. Fermanagh) 9 Sínech, of Kilrush (Co. Kildare), or of Taughshinny (Co. Louth) Finnsech, of Cruachan Maige Abna (Crohane, Co. Tipperary) Laisse, of Clúain Lommáin Áednat, daughter of Lóchéne Sárnat 10 Ossnat, sister of Lasair?, of Killasnet (Co. Leitrim) Sodelb, of Cen on Mag Conaille (Co. Louth) 12 Angais, daughter of Bresal, of Cruach Angais Begnet of Dalkey (Co. Dublin) Dúthracht and Bríg, from Cell Muine (Co. Kildare) Methel the Meagre from Dísert Meithle cóile (Co. Louth) 13 Faílenn, daughter of Eoghan Aidhne, of the Uí Fiachrach Aidne (Connacht) Lasair, daughter of Ronan, of Kilronan (Co. Roscommon), Aghavea (Co. Fermanagh), and Killesher (Co. Fermanagh), (Chapter 6) Odarnat 15 Mughain, daughter of Erc, in Sliab Dind 22 Medb of Ardachadh (Co. Louth) 30 Caímsech of Connacht December 4 Sínech, daughter of Ernán 9 Mughain and Fedelm, daughters of Ailill mac Dúnlainge (king of Leinster), of Cell ingen n-Ailella (Co. Kildare)

Appendices

10 11 15 18 19

Scandlach of the Uí Néill Fuinche, of Clúain Brónaig (Co. Longford) Duinseach, of Cell Dunsige (Killinchy, Co. Down) Mughain, of Clúain Bairenn (Co. Roscommon) Ríoghnach, daughter of Feradach, of Kilrainy (Co. Kildare) Ségnat of Domhnach Ceirne Samthann of Clúain Brónaig (Co. Longford), (Chapter 5) Comaig, daughter of Ciarán

283

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Appendix D Glossary Caillech/calliagh: nun, but also wife, old woman, hag, witch Céli De (Irish): literally, “clients of God.” A religious movement of particular importance in the eighth century which emphasized austerity and asceticism. The singular is céle De. It is often anglicized “culdee/culdees.” Cell: church, monastic community Cult: religious veneration Currach: an early Irish kind of boat, also a name given to Mag Liffey, or the field of the Liffey, the countryside surrounding Kildare. Doctissima abbatissa (Latin): exceptionally educated abbess. Said of Darerca. Extant: surviving Familia (Latin): literally family; monastic community as well as the community protected by the patronage of a given saint. Fine (Irish): family, a subset of túath (tribe or clan) Gregorian Reform: eleventh- and twelfth-century reform of the Catholic church which emphasized the moral reform of the clergy and the centralization of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Hagiographer: biographer of saints Hagiography: biography of saints Hiberniae (Latin): of Ireland Hypocorism: nickname Mag (Irish): field, plain Magister (m)/Magistra (f) (Latin): master/mistress, teacher, head of community Muimme (Irish): foster-mother Paruchia (Hiberno-Latin): affiliation of monastic communities, deriving from parochia (Latin) Penitentials: texts which systematically calculate penances to atone for sins Penitentialists: authors of penitentials Peregrinatio (Latin): pilgrimage; exile undertaken for the love of God Peregrina (f)/peregrinus (m): pilgrim, someone who has undertaken voluntary exile for the love of God Pre-Patrician saint: saints said to work in Ireland before Patrick’s arrival (Ibar, Ciarán, Abbán, Declan) Sanctae (Latin): saints, female. The singular is sancta. The masculine is sanctus (plural sancti). Sanctarum (Latin): of the saints, female. The masculine equivalent is sanctorum.

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285

Syneisaktism: profound partnerships between unrelated religious men and women, whose mutual commitments to each other and Christ required them to sacrifice or sublimate their sexuality. Túath (Irish): tribe or clan; extended kin-group Vitae (Latin): literally, Lives, meaning biographies. The singular is vita. Virgo (Latin): virgin Virago (Latin): a woman who attains honorary male status, often by sacrificing her femininity

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Appendix E Pronunciation of Personal Names Stress generally falls on the first syllable but, as Ó Corráin and Maguire note, “[t]he pronunciation of Old Irish is uncertain anyway and Irish medieval scribes, it may be added, treated the forms (and pronunciations) of names with great freedom.”1 á is like dawn a is like apple é is like day e is like up ei is like eye í is like tree i is like big ó is like snow o is like ah ú is like mood u is like uh Abbán Adomnán Áed Ailbe Ailerán Ailill Aoife

Ab-án Ú-nán É Al’-ve Al’-ar-án Al’-il’ Í-f’e

Becnat Benén Béoán Bríg Bruinnech

B’ag-nit’ B’an-ón B’ó-án Br-í Br’ún’-ach

Cainnech Canair

Kon’-ach Kon’-er

1

Ó Corráin and Maguire, Irish Names, 10. This pronunciation guide largely conforms to theirs.

287

Appendices

Ciarán ColmCille Colman Comgán Conláed Cranat Crón Cuach Cuimíne Cuirithir Cummen

K’íar-án Kul-am Kil’e Kul-mán Kú-án Kun-lé Kran-it Krón Kúach Kim-ín’ Kir’-i-hir’ Kum-an

Daig Damhnad Darerca Darlugdach Derbfiled Derbforgaill Diarmaid Dígde Dubthach

Dei Dav-nit’ Dar-ark-a D’ar-lúach D’er’-vil’e D’ar-vor-gil’ D’íar-mit’ D’í Du-fach

Eithne Ernéne

Eh-n’e Ér’n’-ín

Fedelm Finnian

F’ed-elm F’inn-ín

Gobnait Gormlaith

Gub-nit’ Gurm-la

Ibar Íte

Iv-ar Íd-e

Laisréan Laithche Lasasir Líadain Loíguire Luchtighearn

Los’-r’án La-he Los-ir’ L’ía-dan’ Lé-r’e Lú-hiarn

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Medb Mél Midnat Mochaomhóg Mochuda Molaise Monenna (Moninne) Mór Muirchú

Mév Mel M’í-nit’ Mu-chév-óg Mu-chud-a Mu-los’e Mu-ná-ne Mór Mir-chú

Ness

N’as

Orbile

Ur-vil’e

Rignach Rodán Ronnat Ruadán

R’ín-ach Ru-dán Rón-it’ Rúán

Sadb Samthann Sarnat Scothín Segnat Sláine

Sív Sav-han Sár-nit’ Sku-hin’ S’én-it Slan’-e

Tigernán Tírechán

T’íar-nán T’ír’-ach-án

Úallach Ultán

Úal-ach Ul-tán

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Index Abbán 160, 172 Abortion 28, 36-39, 85, 100-03, 107, 110, 121-22, 147, 194, 238 Adomnán 79 n68, 141-44, 158 Adrian IV 30, 188 Áed mac Bricc 102, 121, 218 Áengus, abbot of Clonmacnoise 97-98, 162-63, 258-59, 266 Ailbe of Killevy 63, 81-82 Ailerán the Wise 89 Aithbe damsa bés mara (Lament of the Old Woman of Beara) 19, 29, 131-32, 157, 160, 174-86, 193 Anglo-Irish/English colonists in Ireland 30, 187-88, 190, 212-14 Anglo-Normans/the English 30-31, 63, 75, 82-83, 164, 187-91, 212, 215-16 Anmchara (soul-friend) 150 Annals of Ulster 81-82, 89, 124, 139 n10, 155, 270 n4 Angela of Foligno 128 Aoife 189-90 Armagh 42-43, 46, 50-51, 54, 59, 61-62, 69, 72, 81, 84, 90, 99, 192, 200 (Map 1) Asceticism 22, 53, 55, 62, 73, 127-34, 148-49, 153-54, 159, 165 Attracta 28, 50, 157, 159-60, 164-67, 278 (February 9) Augustine 182 Ballyvourney 29, 157, 160, 170-74, 183, 200 (Map 1), 208-09 (Images 14-16) Bangor 69, 79, 162 Becnat 158 Bede 137 Beer 70, 75, 94, 110, 128, 139, 149, 225, 233, 238 Bernard of Clairvaux 91 n19, 189-90 Birgitta 87 Brendan 21, 49, 56, 113-15, 120-23, 129, 133, 144, 150, 218-19, 257, 265-66 Bríg 69-70, 78 Brignat 68, 228-29 Brigid 27-33, 41, 60-62, 65, 68-71, 78, 80, 85-112, 115, 122, 128-29, 131, 137 n5, 139-40, 150, 158-59, 164, 181, 183, 190-92, 197, 212-17, 221-24, 234-51, 266, 267 (February 1) Broccán 86, 88-90, 92 Broicsech 91-92, 94 n26, 235 Bruinnech 101-02 Caílann 158 Caillech Béirre (Hag or Old Woman of Beara) 19, 29, 175, 179-81, 200 (map 1), 210 (Image 17) Cáin Adomnáin 141-44

Cáin Lánamna (Law of Couples, i.e., married couples) 77 n59 Cainnech of Aghaboe 101, 121, 146-47, 155 Cairech Dercáin 169 n42, 258-60, 278 (February 9) Caite 158 Callan, Battle of 190-91 Canair 15-17, 22, 29, 41, 95, 119, 178, 197 Cashel, Synod of 188 Catalogus Sanctorum Hiberniae 20-22, 29, 52-54, 58-60, 83-84, 100, 112, 190, 192, 199, 212, 218-19 Catherine of Siena 76, 128, 145 céli Dé 53, 59, 140, 148-55, 181-82, 192 Charity 74, 78, 85, 87, 90, 94, 110, 126, 137, 146, 224, 242, 259, 261, 275 Christ 11, 15-16, 19, 21-22, 24-27, 33, 35, 38, 39 n69, 43-45, 48-49, 52-53, 55, 59, 68-71, 74-76, 78-79, 83, 85-87, 90, 94, 106-07, 109, 114, 117, 124-33, 136 n2, 137, 141, 146, 149 n40, 154, 159, 170 n42, 178, 182, 186, 188, 197, 216, 218, 221-22, 224-27, 230-32, 245-46, 249, 252-58, 262-66, 268-72, 275 Cíar 158, 276 (January 5) Ciarán of Saigir 21, 101, 121, 159, 218-20 Cistercians 99, 189-90 Clonbroney 80, 123, 135-36, 138-41, 146-47, 155, 200 (Map 1), 205 (Image 9), 214, 268, 270 n4 Clonmacnoise 54, 97, 129, 162, 258, 266 Cloonburren 139, 169 n42, 258 n2 Coarb 82 n75, 95, 164, 170 Cocnat 158-59 Codex Insulensis 212-14, 216 Codex Kilkenniensis 114, 212-13, 216 Codex Salmanticensis 16, 63-64, 84, 101 (Image 1), 212, 214-16 Cóemell 158 Cogitosus 88-94, 98-100, 196, 108, 110, 192, 212, 215-17, 234-51 Cognat of Urney 137, 158, 267 Coincheann 160, 281 (August 20) Coip 158, 279 (April 24 and 28) ColmCille (Columba) 21, 41, 89-90, 108, 141, 147, 218-19, 260 Colman Ela 128, 137 n5, 147 Columbanus 65, 79, 188, 216 Comgán, abbot of Killeshin 118, 255-56 Conchubhar mac Nessa 141 Conchubran 63-65, 68, 73, 75, 78-79, 82-84, 88, 106, 215 Conláed 99, 108, 234, 246, 249 Copar 152-53 Craine 158 Cranat 28-29, 115, 157, 160, 167-70, 280 (July 17) Crón of Killevy 65

306  Cróne 158, 281 (October 15) Cuach 158-59, 276 (January 8), 279 (April 29) Cú Chulainn 142, 169 Cuimíne Fota 57-59, 123, 180 Cuirithir 19, 56-58, 151, 180 Daig 97-98, 162-63 Darerca 27-28, 49, 60, 61-84, 88, 92, 99, 104-06, 111, 114, 118, 128, 139-40, 150, 158, 161, 167, 187, 191-92, 197, 202 (Image 4), 212, 214-17, 220-33, 280 (July 6) Darerca, sister of Patrick 60, 67, 95, 278 (March 22) Darlugdach 104, 277 (February 1) Dorothy Day 107, 186 Derbforgaill 189 Déisi, the 115 Demons/devil 19, 56, 70-73, 117-19, 126, 145-46, 185, 193, 221-22, 226, 229, 253-56, 260, 271 Denech 62, 74-75, 224-25 Derbfiled 158 Derlasra 70, 232-33 Diarmaid MacMurrough 31, 189-90 Dígde 19, 29, 157, 160, 173-86, 193, 276 (January 6), 279 (April 25) Dissolution 61-62, 81, 84, 167, 191 n10 “Double” monasteries 60, 97-100, 114 Druid (associated with Brigid) 88, 90-93, 110 Dubthach 91, 94 Dymphna 279 (May 15), 281 n4 Easter 21, 103 n60, 161, 218 Education 21, 24, 48, 61-62, 64, 66-68, 74, 7677, 83, 98, 113, 116, 133, 142, 148, 159, 162-64, 171, 220-22, 232, 241, 250, 253, 273, 274 n10 Eithne, daughter of Bresal of Brega, the queen of kings of Temair 179 Énda 21, 218, 259 n2 Ethne and Fedelm 48-49, 277 (January 11) Eucharist 16, 36, 48-49, 127, 129, 165, 171, 232, 258

Sacred Sisters

Giraldus Cambrensis (Gerald of Wales, Gerald de Barri) 99, 108, 111, 191 n10 Glunelath 65-66, 72-74, 77, 83, 197 Gobnait 29, 157, 160, 166, 170-74, 278 (February 11) Goddesses, indigenous Irish 85, 87, 89, 94, 97, 109, 128, 137, 139, 141, 154, 181-84 Gormlaith, daughter of Donnchad, a most charming queen of the Irish 179 Gormlaith, daughter of Flann Sina 179-80 Gormlaith, daughter of Murchad mac Finn, wife of Brian Boru (among others) 187, 189 Gregorian Reform 30, 32, 60, 83, 96, 129, 188 Guglielmites 11, 96 Hadewijch of Antwerp 145-46 Healing 28, 42, 70, 73, 89, 104, 113-14, 117-18, 120, 125, 127, 133, 157, 163-64, 173-74, 185, 221, 251, 255-56, 262, 265-66 Hell 19, 57, 104, 117, 126-27, 133, 145-46, 161, 170 n42, 183-85, 193, 254, 263 Henry II 188-90 Henry VIII 81 Ibar 62, 68, 72, 80-81, 86, 99, 105, 192, 221-23 Imbolc 103 Inis Cathaig (Scattery Island) 15-16, 29, 41, 95, 119, 201 (Image 2) Iona 90, 123, 141, 143 Ísucán 19, 130-32 Ita of Nivelles 99 Íte 19, 27-28, 69-70, 78, 104-06, 113-34, 138, 140, 144-47, 150, 153, 158, 164, 172, 183, 191, 197, 212-13, 216-17, 252-66, 277 (January 15) Jerome 114, 121, 132, 182 Jonas of Bobbio 65, 79 Junia 50 n32, 97

Faughart 68, 77, 91 n19, 105, 111, 200 (map 1), 202 (Image 5), 225 Felicitas 106 Félire Óengusso 55, 63, 84, 115, 129-31, 159-60, 170 Fínán Cam 160, 180 Finnian of Clonard 21, 28, 102-03, 121, 123, 147, 157-58, 162, 218-19 Flann, daughter of Dúngal, queen of the king of Temair 179 Fothairt, the 88-91, 94 Francis I 32-39 Fuinche of Clonbroney 138, 268, 283 (December 11)

Kells-Mellifont, Synod of 30, 96, 188-89 Kevin 21, 65-66, 72-74, 128, 197, 218 Kilcatherine 12, 180 Kildare 28, 30-32, 62 n2, 68, 70-71, 85-89, 90 n13, 96-99, 104-05, 108, 110-11, 139 n10, 188-89, 200 (Map 1), 203 (Image 6), 215, 249-51 Kilgobnait, Inis Oírr (Aran Islands) 172, 206-07 (Images 12-13) Killagh 160, 200 (map 1) Killaraght 160, 167, 200 (Map 1), 206 (Image 11) Killeedy 114-15, 118, 122, 124, 127, 132, 147, 172, 200 (Map 1), 204 (Images 7-8), 254-66 Killevy 61-69, 71, 75, 78, 80-84, 139, 167, 187, 200 (Map 1), 201-02 (Images 3-4) Kilronan 160, 164, 172, 200 (Map 1), 205 (Image 10)

Galatians 3:28 22, 25, 53, 75, 91, 197 Geoffrey, the abbot of Burton-upon-Trent 6465, 69 n31, 75 n56, 80 n71, 215

Laigin 87-90, 92-93, 221 Lasair 28, 99, 115, 157-64, 172-73, 282 (November 13)

Index

Líadain 19, 56-58, 131, 151, 160, 178, 180, 182 Liber Angeli 51, 54, 59-60, 90, 99, 179, 192 Locha 158 Loíguire 47, 161 Lúaithrenn 158, 279 (May 1 and June 8) Lupait 51, 55, 60, 67, 123, 281 (September 27) MacCaille 95-96 Macha 141-42 Maelruain 148-55 Malachy (Máel-máedóc Ó Morgair) 30 Manisternagalliaghduff (St Catherine’s of O’Conyl) cover photo, 12-13, 191 n10, 200 (Map 1), 211 (Image 19) Manson, Jamie 35-37, 39, 196 Marriage 24, 29, 32, 37-38, 47, 51, 53, 55, 57-60, 65-66, 77 n59, 78, 82-83, 91-92, 94, 100, 107, 116-17, 124-26, 133, 136-37, 152, 155, 162, 168-69, 178-82, 184, 187-89, 192, 195, 239, 257, 267 Martin of Tours 106, 137, 268 Martyrdom 45, 49, 80, 106-07, 153, 154 n59 Mary of Bethany 68 Mary Magdalene 35, 107 Mary, Virgin 26, 32, 85-88, 92, 105-06, 109, 130-32, 141-42, 158, 174, 178 Mathona 49-52, 58, 159 Medb (Maeve), Goddess 97, 128 n51 Medb (Maeve), priest 97 Medb (Maeve), queen 97, 142 Medb (Maeve), saint 282 (November 22) Mél 55-56, 60, 67, 95-96, 98 Mellifont 99 (see also Kells-Mellifont, Synod of) Mochaomhóg 113-14, 120, 125-26, 133, 258 Modwenna 63-65, 67, 75 n56, 80 n71, 82-83, 106, 215 Molaisse (Molaise) of Devenish 152-53, 159, 162 Moling 107 n76, 128, 131, 137 n5, 142 Molua 19, 77 n62, 98, 193 Monastery of Tallaght 59-60, 148-54, 159 Monenna (Conchubran’s corruption of Darerca’s nickname) 64-65, 75, 79, 82-83, 106, 215 Moninne (Darerca’s nickname) 27, 63-64, 81-82, 106, 128, 215, 220 Mór, the abbess of Kildare 31, 189, 191 Mothers/motherhood 28, 31-32, 35-36, 46, 60, 62, 66-67, 69-70, 78, 83, 86, 91-94, 101-02, 104, 114, 116-17, 122-26, 129-34, 141-42, 147, 155, 161-63, 178, 182-83, 187, 192, 195, 230, 235, 239, 253, 264, 273 Muimme 62, 113-14, 117, 121, 124, 132-34, 144, 147 Muirchú 42, 47, 88, 161 Nathea 140, 270-72 Ness, Íte’s sister 125-26 Ness of Urney 158, 281 (September 4)

307 Orbile/ Servile 77 Ordination 28, 32-36, 39, 60, 85, 94-97, 165, 221 n3 Osid 69 Pagans/paganism 27, 47-49, 78, 85, 87, 89, 90-93, 103, 109-10, 120, 122, 128, 141, 161, 165-66, 180-81, 183, 215, 248-49, 265 Palladius 43-44, 87 n3, 188 Papacy 30-39, 43-44, 167, 171, 173, 187-88, 216 Paparo, John (Cardinal) 188 Patrick 17, 21, 27-28, 31, 41-62, 65-69, 78, 84, 86-92, 94-95, 97-99, 105, 108, 119, 123, 128-29, 135, 138, 148, 155, 157, 160-61, 165, 186, 218-20, 224 Confession (Confessio) 41-45, 55, 94 Letter to the soldiers of Coroticus (Epistola) 41-45 Patronage 28-29, 31, 41, 43, 46, 85-87, 89-92, 113-14, 119-27, 133, 159, 212, 214, 232, 253-55, 264-66 Paul 22, 24-25, 69, 97, 118, 230-31 Penance 57-59, 80-81, 98, 102-04, 107, 120-27, 133, 135-36, 140, 144-45, 152, 154 n59, 179, 181-82, 227-28, 243, 257, 261-62, 264-66, 272 Penitentials 57, 102, 121-22, 147 Peregrinatio (pilgrimage/voluntary exile) 5758, 79, 121, 143-44, 148, 216, 274 Perpetua 106-07 Poetry 19, 29, 57, 63, 82, 89, 91, 108, 110, 128, 130-32, 151, 157, 160, 163-64, 169, 173-81 Poverty 33, 35-37, 70-71, 74, 92-94, 119, 137-39, 161, 165, 167, 222, 224-25, 234-35, 237-39, 245-46, 259, 268, 275 Prophecy 37, 39, 69, 88, 93, 113-15, 119-27, 130, 132-33, 138, 144, 196, 219, 223, 226-27, 229, 253, 255-58, 260-66, 268 Prosper of Aquitaine 43-44, 188 Protestants 31-32, 62, 80, 108, 111, 160, 167-68, 170-73 Purgatory 126, 145-46, 178, 271 Rape 31, 65-66, 74, 77, 189, 191, 197, 227 Ríceann 117-18, 260-61 Richard de Clare, Lord of Strigoil, better known as Strongbow 31, 189-90 Rignach 158, 162, 278 (February 9) Romans 218 Rome and the Roman Empire 30, 42, 44, 106, 189 Ronán 159, 162, 164 Ronnat 142, 158 Ruinne 158 Sadb of Kildare 31-32, 189 Sadb, priest and daughter of Medb 97 Samthann 27-28, 70, 78, 80, 104-06, 115, 123-24, 128, 135-55, 158, 161, 164, 166, 183, 187, 191-92, 197, 212, 214, 216-17, 267-75, 283 (December 19)

308  Sarnat 158, 279 (May 3) or 282 (November 9) Scathach 142 Scíre 158, 278 (March 24) Scothín 55-56, 98 Segnat 158, 283 (December 18) Senán 15-19, 22, 119, 197-98, 254 Sheela-na-gig 173-74, 183-84, 209 (Image 16, disputed) Sínech 158, 281 (October 5) or 282 (November 9) Slavery 25-27, 42-45, 52, 79 n68, 90-92, 94-95, 100, 106, 143, 197, 242, 244 Sodelb 158-59, 278 (March 29) Solas Bhríde (Brigid’s Light) 111-12 Syneisaktism 22, 50, 52-60, 97-98, 179, 194 Táin Bó Cualinge 141-42 Tara 115, 179, 252 Tírechán 42, 47-48, 50, 54, 58, 160, 165

Sacred Sisters

Úallach, daughter of Muimnechán 180 Uí Conaill Gabra 119, 124-26, 254-55, 262, 264-66 Uí Néill 87, 89-92, 283 (December 10) Ultán of Ardbreccan 89, 268 n1, 276 (January 1) Urney 80, 137-41, 158, 160, 267-68, 277 (January 25), 281 (September 4) Veil 49-50, 57, 66-67, 74, 94-95, 118-19, 165, 176, 179-81, 224, 236, 239, 253-54 “Vikings” (i.e., Norse raiders) 62, 81, 84, 108, 153, 187 Violence 24, 49, 77, 164, 197; see also rape Virago 75-76, 114, 132-33, 182 Virginity 26, 44, 49, 66, 74, 78, 82-83, 94, 99-100, 104, 121-22, 131-33, 136-37, 155, 186, 194, 236, 238, 253, 256-57, 267 Wittig, Monique 18, 39, 197

HAGIOGRAPHY BEYOND TRADITION

Sacred Sisters focuses on five saints: the four female Irish saints who have extant medieval biographies (Darerca, Brigid, Íte, and Samthann), and Patrick, whose writings—fifth-century Ireland’s sole surviving texts—attest to the centrality of women in Irish Christianity’s development. Women served as leaders and teachers, perhaps even as bishops and priests, and men and women worked together in a variety of arrangements as well as independently. Previous studies of gender in medieval Ireland have emphasized sexism and sex-segregated celibacy, dismissing abundant evidence of alternative approaches throughout the sources, including in the Lives of Ireland’s female saints. Sacred Sisters places these generally marginalized texts at its center, exploring their portraits of empowered, authoritative, compassionate women who exemplified an accepting and affirming ethics of gender and sexuality that would be unusual in many mainstream Christian movements in the present day, let alone in the Middle Ages. Maeve Callan, Associate Professor of Religion and Women’s and Gender Studies at Simpson College, received her Ph.D. in Religion from Northwestern University and her M.Phil. in Women’s Studies from Trinity College Dublin. She is the author of The Templars, the Witch, and the Wild Irish: Vengeance and Heresy in Medieval Ireland.

ISBN: 978-94-6372-150-9

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