From Life of St. Laurence O’Toole, Archbishop of Dublin (1128-1180), by M. L’Abbé Legris, English Translation, Dublin: Catholic Truth Society of Ireland, 1914; pp. 19-23.
Life of . . . .
St. Laurence O’Toole
Archbishop of Dublin (1128-1180)
by
M. L’Abbé Legris
English Translation
CHAPTER III
VOCATION — THE CLOISTER
Glendalough was not subject to Maurice’s rule. Situated a little to the south of Hy-Murray within the territory of another tribe, that of Imaile, it formed between the belligerents a sort of neutral ground. For this reason Dermot had chosen it as the place where young Laurence should remain until the exchange with his soldiers had been effected. Glendalough was also the seat of a bishopric and of an important monastery, both being under episcopal jurisdiction. Whilst awaiting Maurice’s arrival, the Bishop confided the boy to the care of his chaplain.
Those few days spent in a cloister and in the society of a priest seem to have had a decisive influence on Laurence’s future. During his prolonged absence from his home the child’s training and religious education had been wholly neglected. His young charge’s ignorance of things spiritual was soon apparent to the chaplain, and he at once applied himself to the 20 task of instructing him. “Like a wise host he looked to the wants of both soul and body. He not merely took pains to restore health, but at the same time strove to strengthen the soul. In a few days he had taught Laurence the Our Father and the first principles of faith, that is to say the Credo.” For Laurence at the age which he had then reached, and after the work wrought within him unknown to himself, perhaps, during those two years of exile, the acquisition of this knowledge no longer represented a mere exercise of memory. His mind, naturally religious, eagerly drank in these first teachings. This sudden revelation of God and of His merciful goodness to man filled him with indescribable emotion. And for this youth, from infancy the victim of hatred and il-will, what a charm in the kindliness of these priests and in the peace and calm of the cloister!
On the thirteenth day Maurice arrived filled with joy at once more beholding his child. In token of his gratitude to God, he begged the Bishop to decide by lot which of his sons should enter religion. It may be questioned whether this request was not prompted by some motive of self-interest. It but too frequently happened that the nobles sought to obtain for some member of their family elevation to a bishopric or abbacy. No career was open to their sons save in the Church or the profession of arms. But Maurice would seem to have been inspired by no other sentiment than that of gratitude for the restoration of his child. For as Glendalough was not a dependency of his tribe he could lay no claim to either of its two benefices.
Before the Bishop could reply to this petition, young Laurence, with smiling countenance, exclaimed: “That is unnecessary. If you will give your permission, father, I shall willingly become a priest. All that I have I renounce and abandon to the lovers of the 21 world.” All present rejoiced at this announcement: the father who found his desires thus easily realised, the Bishop and his clergy who had already become attached to Laurence. Taking his son by the hand, Maurice offered him to God under the patronage of St. Kevin to whom both the cathedral and the monastery were dedicated. Then committing the boy to the Bishop’s care, he begged the latter to make him a priest of God, who by his virtue and learning might prove worthy of his sacred calling.
In the youthful Laurence’s education secular knowledge and religious training went hand in hand. If somewhat confounded by the ignorance in which he had grown up, he applied himself with ardour to the study of human science, still more earnestly did he labour to profit by everything around him which could lead him to virtue. To this end nothing could be more conducive than the abode of peace, of silence, and of prayer in which he found himself. Under the fructifying action of divine grace and the enlightened and paternal direction of the Bishop, the whole of his spiritual nature grew strong and flourished like some fair young tree; the sap, long dormant, rose vigorously and spread itself in rich abundance through all the branches. It was, indeed, a marvellous springtime!
The example and the kindness of the Bishop, the fraternal affection of the older monks, contributed to his edification, and rendered him still more enamoured of cloister life. The beauty of the surrounding scenery and the hallowed memories of the saintly founder which hung around the monastery had no small share in the uplifting of Laurence’s soul to God, and helped to sustain him in his efforts to lead the life of a true religious.
The region in which lies the valley of Glendalough is regarded, and justly so, as one of the fairest in Ireland. Sheltered from the cold sea-breezes by the 22 wooded hills of Wicklow, towards the interior, the ground in successive graduated terraces becomes lower, the valleys thus formed being watered by numerous streams fed by the water-courses which scar the mountain sides. Well indeed does Glendalough merit its name — valley of the two lakes! Several streams meet in the valley, their united waters forming the river Avoca. Fair land of emerald green. “With its beautiful round tower and its ancient churches built on the shore of a lake in the middle of a verdant moraine.”1
Everywhere throughout the valley numerous memorials recall the memory of the sainted Abbot who, in the sixth century, founded the monastery of Glendalough. Built on swamps and stagnant water, a causeway, the work of St. Kevin’s hands, traverses the whole valley. Hollowed in the mountain side, a cave is shown, fashioned by the Saint himself as a retreat where, withdrawn from all intercourse with the world, he passed days and nights in prayer and penance. And what countless legends are told of the Saint — pious traditions, in which is preserved the memory of Kevin’s inexhaustible benevolence, together with his wondrous power, resulting from his stainless purity, over all Nature. We are told of the willow at his prayer producing apples which cured the sick, of the birds obedient to his voice and confident of his tenderness depositing their young in his hand, when he prayed, with his arms outstretched in the form of a cross.2
The monasteries, at that time, were becoming once more, as of old, peaceful, assured retreats for chosen souls, centres of learning and culture; within them monastic discipline again flourished. For a religious, according to his Rule, each day was divided between 23 prayer, study, and manual labour. Some of the monks were employed in the cultivation of the lands belonging to the monastery, others of greater ability were engaged in more skilled occupations: “To tend the flocks and herds, to gather the harvest, thresh and grind the corn in the small handmills; such were the more usual manual occupations. But the monasteries had also their own mechanics, goldsmiths, copyists, illuminators on vellum.”3
Apart from the liturgical chanting, music also had its place in the life of the Religious. The aptitude of the Irish for this art is well-known. The bards, in particular, excelled therein. We are told that on the occasion of their first invasion of Ireland, the English archers stood still, ravished by the harmonies which the native minstrels drew from their instruments. They knew not which to admire most, the scientific arrangement of their compositions, or the rapidity with which their fingers swept the strings, drawing forth floods of harmony. The clergy were equally assiduous in the cultivation of this art. The Bishops, the Abbots, the Saints (says Giraldus) had their harps which they carried everywhere with them. At Glendalough, amongst other relics,4 was shown St. Kevin’s harp.
Such of the religious as felt the need of withdrawing for a time into solitude to engage in more profound contemplation, and to practise greater austerities, were wont to choose lonely places not far removed from the monastery. Specially suited for such a purpose was the cave at Glendalough, hallowed by its association with St. Kevin. We cannot doubt but that Laurence, when grown to manhood, acquired the habit which he retained as Bishop of withdrawing to this remote spot, there to spend in deeper recollection and severer penance the holy season of Lent.
1 E. Reclus, L’Europe du Nord-Ouest, p. 809.
2 Giraldus Cambrensis, Topographia Hibernica, dist. ii. c. xxviii.
3 D. Gougoud, ibid., p. 96.
4 Giraldus Cambrensis, ibid., dist. iii. c. xii.