the cathach
St. Columba was famed for his studious occupations. Educated first by Finnian
of Moville, then by another tutor of the same name at the famous school
of Clonard, he journeyed to other centres for further instruction after
his ordination. From youth he loved books and studies. He is represented
as reading out of doors at the moment when the murderer of a young girl
is struck dead. In later life he realized the importance of monastic records.
He had annals compiled, and bards preserved and arranged them in the monastic
chests. At Iona the brethren of his settlement passed their time in reading
and transcribing, as well as in manual labour. Very careful were they to
copy correctly. Baithen, a monk on Iona, got one of his fellows to look
over a Psalter which he had just finished writing, but only a single error
was discovered. Columba himself became proficient in copying and illuminating.
He could not spend an hour without study, or prayer, or writing, or some
other holy occupation. He transcribed, we are told, over three hundred copies
of the Gospels or the Psalter - a magnification of a saint's powers by a
devout biographer, but significant as it testifies to Columba's love of
studious labours, and shows how highly these ascetics thought of work of
this kind. On two occasions, being a man as well as a saint, he broke into
violence when crossed in his love of books. One story tells how he visited
a holy and learned recluse named Longarad, whose much-prized books he wished
to see. Being denied, he became wroth and cursed Longarad. "May the books
be of no use to
you," he cried, "nor to any one after you, since you withhold them." So
far the tale is not improbable, but a little embroidery completes a legend.
The books became unintelligible, so the story continues, the moment Longarad
died. At the same instant the satchels in all the Irish schools and in Columba's
cell slipped off their hooks on to the ground.
A quarrel
about a book, we are told, changed his career. He borrowed a Psalter from
Finnian of Moville, and made a copy of it, working secretly at night. Finnian
heard of the piracy, and, as owner of the original, claimed the copy. Columba
refused to let him have it. Then
Diarmid, King of Meath, was asked to arbitrate.
Arguing that as every calf
belonged to its cow, so every copy of a book belonged to the owner of the
original, he decided in Finnian's favour. Columba thought the award unjust,
and said so. A little later, after another dispute with Diarmid on a question
of monastic immunity, he called together his tribesmen and partisans, and
offered battle. Diarmid was defeated. For some reason, not quite clear,
these quarrels led to Columba's voluntary exile (c. 563). He sailed from
Ireland, and landed upon the silver strand of Iona, and to the end of his
days his work lay almost entirely amid the heather-covered uplands and plains
of this little island home. Iona became a renowned centre of missionary
work. Pilgrims went thither from Ireland and England to receive instruction,
and returned to carry on pioneer work in their own homeland. Thence went
forth missionaries to carry the Christian message throughout Scotland and
northern England. Perhaps, too, here was planned the expedition to far-off
Iceland.