CHAPTER IX.
CHURCH OFFICERS PECULIAR TO IRELAND.
In order to complete the description of the peculiarities of the Irish Church, a few words must be said on some Church officers which seem to have been found only in Ireland.
The head of every monastery is sometimes called the abbot of the place, but still more frequently he is designated the Coarb of the founder. This title arose from the tribal organization. Coarb means inheritor or successor. Thus, the Abbot of Iona was Coarb of Columkill. The same title would be taken by the Abbot of Derry, or Kells, or Swords, or of any other Columban monastery. The Abbot of Clonmacnois was Coarb of Kerian; the Abbot of Armagh was Coarb of Patrick; and similarly, the head of every establishment was called after the first founder. Sometimes the head of the chief community of any order was called Arch-Coarb. This signified that he was the inheritor not only of the tribal rights of the founder, but that he had also authority over all the lesser places where the same rule was followed. Thus the idea of succession rather than of locality was that which was prominent in their minds. In other countries, the opposite rule held. The names of our own parishes and dioceses, for example, are simple territorial distinctions, and have no suggestion in them of each ecclesiastic carrying on the work begun by his predecessors. In Ireland, however, not only was this idea of inheritance kept in view, but they seem to have thought that other Churches were all formed on the same model. Even the Pope is spoken of as Abbot of Rome and Coarb of Peter, as if he were the head of an establishment in Rome similar in character to one of the monastic schools of Ireland. The Coarbs were elected in the same manner as the secular chieftains. Chiefs and kings obtained their positions by election, but the hereditary principle was so far recognised that no one could be elected who did not belong to the ruling family. In the same manner, every member of the community had his voice in the election of coarb, but was restricted in his choice to one of the family of the founder.
The community itself was generally called a 'family.' We have this term used as late as the year 1203, when the 'family of Derry' went over to help the 'family of Iona' in one of their disputes. Here again, it is needless to remark, we have the system of clanship showing itself. Every tribe was regarded as a family bearing the name of its first chief, and in the same way every religious establishment was a family bearing the name of its first founder.
The business affairs of the brotherhood were in the hands of the Erenach and the Economist. The former, who is often erroneously called an Archdeacon by those who forget that such an office was unknown in the ancient Irish Church, used to manage the outlying farms, which were sometimes let to beytaghs or Church tenants. They were the dispensers of hospitality, and in some cases distributed the alms of the community. The economist apportioned his work to each inmate of the monastery, and was bursar and general business man. He was not always a popular officer. When a brother was fond of reading and study, he did not care to be sent off to cut timber or engage in farm work. The economist, however, had to be obeyed, and no one was allowed to shirk his share of the manual labour.
The Anmchara or 'soul friend' was one of the most remarkable institutions of the Irish Church. It has been often assumed that the office was simply that of confessor, and its existence has been appealed to as showing that auricular confession and priestly absolution were both practised in the early Irish Church. Such a view is reduced to an absurdity by the story already given about Saint Aidan. When his life was written it was not considered impossible that the office should be held by a woman. And all that we know of soul friends leads us to the same conclusion. They were advisers, not confessors; and they gave guidance and direction, not absolution. It is highly probable that Irish teachers of that age would have called Deborah the soul friend of Barak. The position she occupied was exactly that which the soul friends of old occupied. A few examples will be the best way of explaining the kind of service that they rendered.
After the battle of Cooldreeny, and when Columba had been excommunicated by the Synod of Teltown, he sought his soul friend for advice, and it was he who suggested the missionary work which was begun and set forward in Iona.
We have another example in the life of Fintan or Munna, founder of Taghmon in the County Wexford. He was one of the many visitors at Iona, and arrived there shortly after the death of Columba. To journey as far as Iona had long been the great desire of his life, and one would have thought that the undertaking was not of such tremendous magnitude but that he might fairly have made the journey on his own responsibility. He, however, thought it better first to have recourse to his soul friend, Colum Crag, and 'take advice from his better counsel'; and it was only when he had 'laid his mind open to him,' and had received his consent and encouragement, that he began the journey. We are told that as the two were discussing the matter together, some of the brethren from Iona arrived. On being asked about their journey, they answered, 'We have lately landed from Britain, and this day we have come from Derry.' 'Is your holy father, Columba, well?' asked Colum Crag. But they, bursting into tears, exclaimed with great sorrow, 'The patron is indeed well, for a few days ago he departed to Christ.'[1]
Another interesting example of a soul friend having been consulted is given in an old manuscript, at present in the library of Trinity College, Dublin. One of the minor kings, Fiacha by name, who lived in the middle of the seventh century, was killed by his own people, and his brother Donnchadh 'came upon them in revenge; but he stayed his vengeance until he should consult his soul friend, the Coarb of Saint Columkill, to whom he sent a message to Iona, to ask his advice on the case.' The answer, brought back by two confidential clerics, was a strange one. Donnchadh was advised 'to send sixty couples of the men and women of the offending tribe in boats out upon the sea, and then leave them to the judgment of God. The exiles were accordingly put into small boats, launched upon the water, and watched so that they should not land again.' A curious development of the story is that the 'two confidential clerics,' instead of going back to their abbot, as of course they would have done if vows of obedience were then in force, 'determined to go of their own will on a wandering pilgrimage,' and eventually followed the fortunes of the castaways, who had landed safely on an island.[2]
A very remarkable 'soul friend' was Maelsuthain O'Carroll, who lived in the early years of the eleventh century. He was himself a chief, and for a great part of his life had lived as an ordinary petty king. In his later years, however, he was an inmate of the abbey at Innisfallen, in one of the Lakes of Killarney, and became soul friend to the famous Brian Boru. The Four Masters tell us that he was chief doctor of the Western world in his time, and that he died after a good life. His handwriting is still to be seen in the Book of Armagh. He was manifestly a very learned man, and seems to have been employed as scribe and historian by Brian Boru. Being a man of the world, he may well also have been adviser as to matters of state. But with regard to the good life with which the Annalists credit him, the evidence seems to be all the other way. His immoralities were notorious—so much so, that it is difficult to see how he could have been soul friend with spiritual advantage to any one.
In many ways there is considerable resemblance between the soul friends and some of the prophets of whom we read in the Old Testament. They were, it is true, quite unlike such men as Elijah and Isaiah and Jeremiah, but they were consulted much in the same way as Nathan was consulted by David and Micaiah by Ahab and Jehoshaphat. Like Samuel, they sometimes suggested that a war should be undertaken, and at one time it seems almost to have become a rule not to engage in battle until their opinion as to the merits of the contest had been obtained. In the story of the battle of Kilmashoge, as related by the Four Masters under the year 917, the soul friend plays much the same part as would have been taken by one of the old Hebrew prophets. The Irish leader, Neal Glunduff, was incited to attack the Danish invaders by his soul friend, who prophesied victory, accompanied the army into the field, and when the fortunes of war were going against his countrymen, refused to give Neal a horse to carry him away from the battle.
All these instances, and many more that might be quoted, show us how different the soul friend was from a confessor. The office was simply what the name implied, and was very far indeed from carrying with it the ideas of auricular confession and priestly absolution. As an example of the kind of confession that was really practised in the Irish Church, and the doctrine of absolution that was preached, we may take the story of Fechnus, as related by Adamnan: 'He (Fechnus) confessed his sins in the presence of all who were there. The saint then, shedding tears likewise, said to him, "Arise, my son, and be comforted. The sins which thou hast committed are forgiven, because, as it is written, a contrite and humble heart God does not despise."'[3]
It is a question of considerable difficulty to determine how far the ancient Irish Church succeeded in making its influence felt on the people in general. The monastic form, while in one way a source of strength, because it joined men together in a holy brotherhood, yet was in another way a source of weakness, since it left those who were outside bereft to some extent of that leaven of goodness which the presence of even a few earnest and good men would have given them. The battles which were waged continually between the different tribes would make us suspect that the Gospel of peace had made but small progress in melting the hearts of the barbarian warriors; and when we find the Christian communities also joining at times in the fray, we are almost ready to conclude that the Church itself was corrupt, and had altogether failed in its mission. It is a subject, however, on which mistakes may easily be made. Many of the old battles that are duly recorded by the Annalists, would now be regarded as mere faction fights, and are only magnified by their antiquity into acts of national warfare. It must always be remembered, too, that much of the disorder of the age is due to the system of government. When a small country is divided into a large number of independent or semi-independent kingdoms, it is almost certain to have wars and fightings without end. Even the personal loyalty of the subjects, though an estimable quality in itself, would only help the disorder, because it made them ready to follow their leader in blind obedience, making his quarrel their own, without pausing to enquire as to the rights and wrongs of the question.
On the other hand, the Church was in many cases the helper of the weak, the asylum of the fugitive, the arbiter of justice. As an illustration of how the Church interposed at times to secure justice between the different tribes, we may take the case of what was called the Boromean tribute. This was a tribute of cows which the King of Leinster was required to pay every third year to the monarch of Ireland. It was originally imposed in the first century of our era, as a punishment for the disgraceful conduct of the King of Leinster at that time. But for centuries afterwards it was exacted, and was from time to time the fruitful cause of war and bloodshed. The injustice of continuing the imposition for an offence personal in the first instance, and committed so long in the past, seems never to have been considered, until the matter was taken up in the latter part of the seventh century by Saint Moling, who had founded a monastery in the County Carlow. This Leinster Christian effected what the Leinster armies were unable to accomplish. He brought the monarch to see that the tax was unjust, and ought to be abolished. Accordingly Finachta the Festive, in the year 680, decreed that the tribute would be no longer required, and thus what had been the cause of more civil war than anything else in the whole history of the nation, came to an end. Strange to say, when the king on this occasion consulted his soul friend, he was advised by him to continue the tax; but happily he had enough good sense to disregard the evil advice, and do that which was just and right. This was all the more remarkable, as the ecclesiastic whose guidance he followed belonged to the tribe of his enemies.
A powerful weapon in the hands of the Church, and one not unfrequently employed, was what may be called the 'ecclesiastical curse.' The most remarkable instance in which this was used was the case of the royal palace and city of Tara, and it will illustrate well the great power which it enabled the Church to wield. The king, Dermot—the same monarch who fought with Saint Columba—took prisoner and afterwards condemned to death a brother of Saint Ruan of Lorrha, in the County Tipperary. The judgment was unjust, and the cause was warmly taken up by the prisoner's saintly kinsman. But reasoning and entreaty were alike in vain, and the sentence was carried out. Saint Ruan immediately repaired to Tara, and 'laid his curse upon it'; the result being that the whole place was deserted, the Feast of Tara, which was one of the national institutions, was discontinued, and it ceased from that time to be the royal residence.
It must have been this institution of the ecclesiastical curse that Giraldus Cambrensis had in his mind when he penned the curious chapter in which he sets forth how the saints of Ireland appear to be of a vindictive temper. The explanation that he gives is a remarkable one, and is perhaps worth quoting in this place. 'As the Irish people,' he says, 'possessed no castles, while the country is full of marauders who live by plunder, the people, and more especially the ecclesiastics, made it their practice to have recourse to the churches, instead of fortified places, as refuges for themselves and their property; and by Divine Providence and permission, there was frequent need that the Church should visit her enemies with the severest chastisements; this being the only mode by which evil-doers and impious men could be deterred from breaking the peace of ecclesiastical societies, and for securing even to a servile submission the reverence due to the very churches themselves from a rude and irreligious people.[4]
Finally, it deserves to be noticed, as bearing on the influence of the Church, that it was a very usual thing for kings and other great men, after having spent the greater part of their life in warfare and in managing the affairs of state, to retire at length and finish their days in one of the monasteries. Though thus retired from the world, they would be far from losing their influence. The young king would naturally consult his father in cases of emergency; the youthful warriors would take counsel with those who had been the leaders of a former generation, and this would be in many instances almost the same as taking counsel with the abbot and bishop, so that the influence of the Church would be very powerful indeed. How much in this way it moderated violent passions, and promoted the cause of justice and goodness, it is not easy for us now to estimate; but the Church which has left such an excellent record as a missionary organization, and in which the Word of God was so much studied and honoured and prized, cannot have been other than a great power for goodness. We shall hereafter see how it promoted art and learning and civilization to an extent that we would never have imagined if we only thought of the barbarism and lawlessness which overspread the country at a later age.