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. 57-72.
Life of . . . .
St. Laurence O’Toole
Archbishop of Dublin (1128-1180)
by
M. L’Abbé Legris
English Translation
CHAPTER VIII
THE CONQUERORS AND THE CONQUERED (1171-1179)
War is ever attended by ruin and desolation. But when the conquered refuse to accept defeat, to yield submission to the conquerors, then, indeed, the evils of warfare are prolonged, and the suffering of the vanquished people grow greater the longer the struggle is continued.
In 1172 Dublin once more beheld an Irish army encamped under its walls. Henry, at his departure, had entrusted the government of the country to Hugh de Lacy. The following year saw the King in Normandy struggling with serious difficulties. In urgent need of men, he recalled from Ireland Hugh de Lacy and the picked troops left under his command. To Strongbow 58 he committed the defence of the country, associating with him Raymond as second in command.
No sooner had the English army been recalled than the Irish once more rose in rebellion.1 Having retaken Meath, Roderick O’Connor laid siege to Dublin. Summoned to Strongbow’s assistance, Raymond hurriedly sailed from England with fifteen vessels, and at once, on landing, marched to Dublin. Roderick, not venturing to give him battle, withdrew his army.
But no reverses could tame the spirit of the Irish; never would they submit patiently to see the soil of their native land trodden by the stranger. If it were no longer possible to fight openly against the enemy, then would they lie in ambush amongst the thickets, and attack him as he passed unsuspecting. Unsubdued and rebellious, they preferred to turn brigands and live by plunder, cherishing as they did the same hostile feelings towards those who submitted to the strangers as they did towards these latter themselves. The east of Ireland had been conquered, but it was far from being subdued. Of this Laurence was afforded ample proof on one occasion, whilst travelling across Leinster, on his way to Wexford. The roads, as was well known, were unsafe. A few persons, amongst them an English soldier, and a scribe with his wife and son, asked to be allowed to join Laurence and his clergy on the journey. As they were passing the entrance to a wood, twenty-four men suddenly appeared from amongst the undergrowth where they had lain concealed. “Deliver up to us the king’s soldier,” they said, addressing the Archbishop, “and you and your clergy shall be free to continue your journey.” Laurence refused, and the highwaymen, becoming furious, attacked the party, killing the scribe. They brandished their pikes and were about to run the 59 soldier through when Laurence, turning his horse, dashed right between them. His horse, pierced with pike-thrusts, fell, but the soldier, profiting by the momentary diversion, made good his escape. Enraged, the bandits next attacked the Archbishop and the priests, heaping upon them every possible indignity. At last, despoiled of everything, the travellers were allowed to proceed. When he reached the neighbouring town Laurence summoned his assailants to appear before him and to sue for pardon, threatening them with excommunication if they refused. Two of the number obeyed and accepted the penance imposed upon them. The rest of the band refused to submit, and the Archbishop, accordingly, declared them excommunicated. The outlaws received their sentence with derision, carrying their impiety so far as to parody the formula of excommunication. “Let us,” they jeered, “in our turn, excommunicate the Archbishop.” And then, wrapping themselves in the hides of stolen oxen, in mockery of the sacred vestments, with burning branches in their hands instead of tapers, they marched to the river in which, with loud yells and cursing the priests, they extinguished the flaming torches.
Such impious deeds never go unpunished. Most of the blasphemers died shortly afterwards.2
The conquerors, always ready to press heavily on the vanquished, treated the people no better. When the soldiers did not receive their pay, as most often happened, they levied it themselves from the inhabitants.3 After a few years of such government one can easily imagine the state of misery to which the country was 60 reduced. In Dublin, it is true, the mercantile community had resumed relations with the outside world, but, at the same time, there were crowds in the city wholly destitute, whilst in the surrounding districts the misery was even still greater.
St. Laurence, deeply grieved by his people’s distress, devoted to their relief everything at his disposal. For three years he supported five hundred poor persons in the city, and about three hundred more in the different parts of his diocese, causing to be distributed amongst them food, clothing, everything necessary for existence.4 Numbers of women, unable to feed their children, left them at the door of the Archbishop’s dwelling, or in those places through which he should pass. Thus it was that whilst the distress lasted he had upwards of two hundred children to provide for. He committed them to the care of the officials of his household and of his stewards, charging them to provide for their maintenance. He also sought to interest on their behalf the more affluent among his people. In order to make room for others, as the children grew up, each one, by his directions, received a small wooden cross, and furnished with this as a recommendation from their Archbishop, they were sent forth to solicit, throughout the diocese, help from the charitable. The veneration in which the Saint was held procured for these children substantial aid from some, from others assistance and advice in gaining a livelihood for themselves.
61Whilst the saintly Archbishop seemed to be wholly absorbed in these weighty cares, at the same time, aided by the strangers lately settled in the city, he was providing for the spiritual wants of the inhabitants by the erection of churches. Thanks to the lavish generosity of Strongbow and of his seneschal, Raymond, who was also his brother-in-law, the rebuilding of the Cathedral was begun. The lives of the knights of those days, men of rude and violent manners as they were, often present to us the most striking contrasts. We see them fired with the lust of battle and intoxicated with victory, greedy for pillage, plundering churches and carrying off reliquaries and other sacred objects; and then again we beheld these same men, when once inspired by the sentiment of religion, devout to the Saints, venerating their relics, generous to their shrines. Strongbow, on his first coming to Ireland, had plundered those most venerated of sanctuaries, Glendalough and Kildare.5 And now, ever magnificent in his gifts, he endowed them in perpetuity. He also founded the Priory of Kilmainham, gave donations to the Priory of All Saints, and the Abbeys of St. Mary and Glendalough. Through his exertions and the liberality of his family the Archbishop was enabled to undertake the building of a stone cathedral in the Romanesque style of architecture, then universally admired.
At that period a church built entirely of stone must have been a great novelty in Ireland. Up to the time of St. Malachi almost all Irish churches were small buildings without any pretensions to beauty. When, on his return from Rome, Malachi, charmed with the 62 order and beauty of the Romanesque churches which he had seen in France, would fain have introduced this new style of building into Ireland, he met with nothing but incredulity and raillery. “We are Irish, not French,” said the people. “What folly, this is! Where are you going to get the money for such a work?”
The conquerors took no heed of these prejudices. Accustomed to see the Offices of the Church carried out in the great Norman and English cathedrals, they had nothing but contempt for the poor, insecure churches in Ireland. They wished to erect in the new metropolis an edifice of vast and harmonious proportions, which would last to all time. Beginning, as was usual, with the apse, the new church consisted of a choir with chapels radiating as from a centre, and a transept, with a central tower. St. Laurence was not destined to complete the work, the nave being added by one of his successors, Archbishop Luke.
The cathedral was dedicated to the Holy Trinity. The Archbishop, in his turn, now desired to erect a church in honour of the Blessed Virgin. The Canon of Eu, relating a miracle worked by the Saint, shows him to us appealing to the rich merchants of the city for funds to carry out his intention. They had embarked with him on a vessel sailing for England with a very valuable cargo. Suddenly there arose a violent storm. The sea, lashed into fury, threatened every moment to engulf the vessel. The terrified passengers gathered round the Archbishop, calling him their father, their protector, and imploring him to intercede with God for their deliverance from the danger which threatened them. Calm and unmoved, even when the tempest was at its height, the Saint replied: “Do not fear. None of you shall perish. Take my advice, and by your pious offerings propitiate Heaven. We are building a church in Dublin, as you 63 know, in honour of the Blessed Virgin Mother of God. Devote to its completion part of the wealth which He has given you. The tempest is going to abate. Neither you nor your property shall be lost.” Instantly all laid their generous offerings at the feet of the Archbishop. The angry waves subsided, calm fell over the sea, and the passengers united in fervent gratitude to God, Who, at the prayer of His minister, had delivered them from deadly peril.
This was not the only occasion upon which St. Laurence’s intercession was invoked during storm. On a previous voyage to England the ship in which the Archbishop had taken passage sailed from Dublin in the company of three other vessels. Midway across a hurricane burst upon them. The sailors, unable to steer the ships owing to the terrific seas which swept the decks, seeing themselves in momentary danger of shipwreck, resigned themselves to death. But one of them, filled with confidence, turned to the Archbishop, exclaiming, “My Lord, we are lost! save us by your holy prayers.” The Saint kneeling down, prayed with uplifted hands that God, in His mercy, might deliver them from their imminent danger. Scarcely was his prayer ended when the storm ceased, the angry waves became calm.
Henceforth wherever Laurence went the fame of his sanctity preceded him. That he was a saint had long been the belief of the people, and they were strengthened in their conviction by those priests whose position in the Archbishop’s household brought them into daily intercourse with him. Could they not testify to the power of his intercession manifested before them on many occasions? They told how, whilst yet Abbot of Glendalough, Laurence, by laying his hands upon the sick had cured them, and on other occasions had forced perjurers to reveal the truth. 64 Once these priests had seen the Archbishop’s steward brought to him so seriously ill that the physicians declared his case hopeless. He was suffering from dropsy, and was swollen almost beyond recognition. The Saint imposed hands on him, praying for him as he did so; then, turning to those around, he said: “Take him home. When he is well he will resume his work.” That night he grew better, and in a week he presented himself, perfectly cured, before the Archbishop to express his gratitude.
On another occasion the parish priest of Saint Martin was stricken suddenly with some strange malady; for three days he remained unconscious and to all appearance lifeless. Those around him, convinced that he was dead, were already making preparations for his burial when the Archbishop arrived. The Saint had particular love for this priest to whom he had afforded the means of studying for the priesthood, placing him on the Cathedral staff after his ordination, and later, appointing him to the care of a parish in Dublin. Deeply moved at beholding his friend’s condition the Archbishop shed tears, and addressing the apparently inanimate form, he said: “Ah! thou, too, no doubt wouldst have wished to speak with me before leaving this world. But God’s will be done.” Then kneeling, he prayed silently. All at once, as if awakening from a deep sleep, the priest sat up, seemingly astonished to see so many people around his bed. Then he spoke: “God is my witness,” he said, “that my soul had already left my body, and that the bad angels were contending with the good for its possession, when I perceived my Lord Archbishop Laurence kneeling and humbling praying for me to God and His glorious Virgin Mother. His prayer has touched the Lord, Who has commanded that my soul should re-enter the body.”
65The Saint, in his humility, would not allow him to continue, and he forbade him, under pain of excommunication, ever to speak of the matter again.
People believed that those who hindered the Saint in the exercise of his charity would surely incur the punishment of Heaven. It chanced that one of his household had merited the gallows. The wretched man was seized and dragged to the place of execution; he was already at the foot of the gibbet when the Archbishop was apprised of what had happened. Instantly he hurried to the scaffold, hoping to save the life of his servitor. But the executioner, seeing him coming and determined that the culprit should not escape, in all haste he cut off his head. It may have been that the Archbishop, in his regret at having failed to save the unhappy man, reproached the executioner. Be this as it may, as he was returning to Dublin with some friends, the officer of justice fell on the bridge and broke his thigh, dying of the injury shortly afterwards. The veneration in which the Archbishop was held led the people to regard his death as a Divine punishment.
The country, though conquered, was not subdued; seldom did peace prevail for any length of time, hostilities breaking out afresh on the smallest pretext. Ever anxious for his people’s welfare, the Archbishop exerted all his influence to maintain peace between the Irish and English. For this purpose, on one occasion, he journeyed to the extreme end of his diocese, taking with him, in addition to his chaplain, his nephew, Thomas, Abbot of Glendalough, and two of his suffragans. At the entrance to a little village they dismounted for the purpose of chanting the Divine Office. One of the peasants, approaching St. Laurence, said to him somewhat rudely: “My lord, your presence here should not be made known by the number of your gentlemen-at-arms, but rather by your deeds of charity to the poor 66 and the afflicted. There is, in the church here, a noble lady who is possessed by an unclean spirit; lately she has become mad. You must go to her and pray that the Lord may deign to cure her.”
Laurence wished his nephew to go to the unhappy woman’s assistance, but he refused, not daring to cross the threshold of the church, certain as he was of being received with a storm of abuse. In like manner the Bishop of Kildare declined to go, making the same excuse. He did not possess, he alleged, sufficient virtue for the driving out of demons. Urged by the Saint’s entreaties the other Bishop, Clement, repaired to the church. He was tall of stature and bald. Scarcely had he entered within the sacred edifice, when the woman cried out: “What do you want with me, you ugly bald-pate?” at the same time flinging at him a stone. Trembling and humiliated, Clement returned to the Archbishop. “Since it must be so,” said the Saint, “I shall go. I shall visit this woman possessed, in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” On reaching the church he made the sign of the cross over the woman, and without paying the least attention to the abuse which she heaped upon him, he caused her to be bound, and then imposing hands on her made the sign of the cross on her breast, at the same time forcing her to swallow some holy water; he then knelt, and offered a brief but fervent prayer, after which he withdrew. Three days afterwards, on his return, he again passed through the village, where he was met by the woman, perfectly healed. Kissing the Saint’s feet and hands, she returned thanks to God in sending to her His servant, that through his intercession she might be delivered from the power of the evil spirit. In her humble gratitude she begged the Archbishop, with his suite, to pass the night at her house.
67The fame of his sanctity had spread to the English Court, whither the Archbishop now found himself obliged to proceed on matters concerning his diocese.
As Archbishop in a city which, quite as much as by the election of the conquerors as by the course of events, had been made the capital of the new kingdom, Laurence seemed better fitted than any other to treat with the King concerning the interests of the Church in Ireland. Henry received him with every mark of veneration and overwhelmed him with attention. He was aware of the attitude of conciliation adopted by the Archbishop in these later years, and was grateful to him. When, in October, 1175, the envoys of the King of Connaught arrived at Windsor to treat of the conditions of peace, Henry expressed his desire that the Archbishop of Dublin should assist, together with the English Bishops and Barons, at the negotiations and that he should sign the treaty.
Raymond, Seneschal of Ireland, had just succeeded in forcing the King of Limerick to surrender. Frightened at the appearance on his frontiers of this officer, who, where there was a prospect of profitable pillage, thought little of violating those contracts to which his master had pledged himself, Roderick hastened to send as his deputies, together with his chancellor, the Archbishop of Tuam and the Abbot of Saint Brendan. Roderick did homage for his kingdom to Henry whom he acknowledged as his suzerain. He also engaged to cause an annual tribute to be paid by all his subjects; and as pledge of his fidelity would deliver such hostages as the King might demand. This treaty proved the correctness of Laurence’s views with regard to the futility of resistance, and his conviction on this point became stronger than ever. Only four years had elapsed since the coming of the King of England, and now the Ard-Righ was compelled to acknowledge himself 68 his liege-man. Above all things, the people must be spared the horrors of being forced into submission at the point of the sword.
On the occasion of one of his visits to England, St. Laurence unexpectedly met the King at Canterbury. The fame of St. Thomas à Becket as a martyr had spread rapidly, and people thronged from all parts to his tomb. Laurence joined in this universal veneration for him who had died a martyr’s death in defending the liberties of the Church. Having assisted at the singing of the Night Office by the religious, he remained until the hour for his Mass in prayer before the tomb of the Saint. For a mind such as that of Laurence, naturally given to meditation, and accustomed to draw a moral from the events of life, what solemn lessons were preached from that silent tomb. In the stillness of the night a voice seemed to issue from it, proclaiming the martyr’s greatness. He who lay there, glorious in death, had known the keenest of anguish, caused by his four years’ struggle against his King, the friend of other days. Fearless defender of the Church, he had suffered exile and a persecution of which all connected with him were equally the victims. Scarcely had he returned to his diocese when he was stricken down on the very steps of the altar by the hand of the assassin. On the column near by was still to be seen the stain where his blood, mingled with his brains, had bespattered the marble. But that blood shed in her defence had won the victory for the Church. The King, the instigator of the murder, had been seen to kneel on that very spot, baring his shoulders to receive from the hands of the priests the lashes appointed as his penance for the crime. He had revoked the Constitutions of Clarendon and had humbly submitted to the Pope, acknowledging himself his vassal.
How long would this humble submission last? And 69 what was it in reality? “A mere expedient to extricate him from a desperate position, a momentary yielding to weakness which would vanish with the passing of the storm.”6 Was he not already acting towards the Church of Ireland in precisely the same way as he had done in England? Quite recently, during the council held at Windsor, he had appointed to Waterford a Bishop whom Laurence, on his return, would be obliged to present for consecration to the Archbishop of Cashel. In his eyes the Bishops were merely his officials in the spiritual order. No communication with Rome was permitted them except under his supervision. Similarly, when the Papal Legates arrived in England they could not legally fulfil their mission until they had taken at the King’s hands an oath binding them to do nothing contrary to his pleasure while that mission lasted.
Very cleverly Henry availed himself of the opportunity afforded on the occasion of the reforms decreed in 1171 at the Synod of Cashel, to pose before the Pope as the restorer of ecclesiastical discipline in Ireland. The statement of the existing evils drawn up by the Bishop of Lismore for presentment to the Synod had been taken to Rome by the Archdeacon of Llandaff together with the letters from the King and the Bishops.
In his replies the Pope attributed to the King the whole merit of these reforms.7 In their turn, when they reached Ireland, the Papal Legates, tutored at the English court, never ceased to preach to the Bishops and people the necessity of complete submission to the authority of the King.8 And now 70 grieved at beholding the state of servitude to which the Church was reduced, and filled with anxiety for the future, St. Laurence fervently implored the holy martyr to obtain for him light and strength in that day when he should be called upon to protect the Church against the encroachments of the Crown.
The religious had requested the Archbishop of Dublin to celebrate High Mass on the following morning. An enormous congregation already filled the church, when at the appointed hour St. Laurence, robed in his pontifical vestments, advanced to the foot of the high altar. On his appearance many amongst the congregation remarked audibly that a saint was in their midst. At that moment a man stood up, crying out: “Then let us make a martyr of him”; and before any one could stop him, he rushed through the crowd brandishing a huge club with which he struck the Archbishop a violent blow on the head. Stunned, the Saint fell to the ground. For an instant the people seemed turned to stone, then recovering themselves they seized the madman, whilst the attendant clergy, horror-stricken, gathered round the prostrate form of the Archbishop, who lay unconscious on the altar steps. In a few moments Laurence, coming to himself, raised his head and asked for some water, which he blessed, and then requested that the wound on his head might be washed therewith; this was done, and immediately the blood ceased to flow. Seemingly none the worse of his injury the Archbishop then celebrated solemn High Mass; but to the end of his life he retained the mark of the blow which he had received.
71Cardinal de Bonnechose, who, in July, 1876, presided at the examination of the Saint’s remains which took place in the Collegiate Church of Eu, states that there was visible “on the Saint’s head a depression, which, according to the medical experts, must have been caused by the fracture of the skull resulting from the blow which he received in Canterbury Cathedral.”
But for the intercession of Laurence the madman would have paid dearly for his terrible act. The King talked of putting him to death, but at the Saint’s entreaty he was pardoned.
On one occasion when returning from a visit to the King, St. Laurence was detained in Wales by contrary winds. Near where he was staying was the castle a wealthy nobleman in which a chapel in honour of the Blessed Virgin had recently been erected. In one of the side walls of this chapel a cell had been built for a recluse who wished to take up his abode therein. The Bishop of the diocese being absent the chapel had not yet been consecrated. Meanwhile the hermit had taken possession of the cell.
One night, in a dream, he saw Our Lady. “Why do they delay,” she asked, “to consecrate my chapel?” “Because,” answered the hermit, “the Bishop has been absent for a long time.” “It is not he,” responded the Blessed Virgin, “who will consecrate it. The Archbishop of Dublin for whom I waited to perform this ceremony is here. Tell him that until he has done this, he will not have a favourable wind for his return to Ireland.” Laurence, when approached by the owner of the castle, at first refused to consecrate the chapel, as to do so would be a breach of the canonical laws. But when the words of Our Lady were repeated to him he no longer hesitated, and he obeyed what he regarded as a command from Heaven by performing the consecration ceremony on the following 72 day. That same evening the wind changed, and the Archbishop was enabled to embark for Ireland, where he landed safely after a pleasant voyage.
Some months later (May, 1176) the death occurred of Strongbow, his niece’s husband, at that time Governor of Dublin. His followers for some time observed secrecy with regard to the Earl’s death. The English forces, under Raymond’s command, happened at the time to be absent on an expedition in South Munster. It was to be feared that when the Earl’s death became known the people who hated him would give expression to their hatred by some violent outbreak. For to him they attributed, and with good reason, the loss of their national independence. It was Strongbow who, having made himself master of Dublin by his sudden and unexpected assault, had wholly put to rout the Irish forces assembled under the walls of the city and had stamped out every attempt at resistance. When at last the news did become known the people felt positive satisfaction in regarding this death as Heaven’s just and speedy retribution for Strongbow’s sacrilegious plundering of the shrines most deeply venerated.
Basilia, Strongbow’s sister, announced the death to her husband, Raymond, in these enigmatical terms: “That big molar tooth from which I suffered so much has fallen out. If you care for me, or for yourself, return at once.” On Raymond’s return to Dublin the Earl’s death was made known and his obsequies took place, at which the Archbishop presided. With the Saint’s consent Strongbow was buried before the crucifix in the cathedral, the erection of which was due to his liberality. Ever filled with the spirit of peace Laurence would retain no memories save those of the princely generosity by which the Earl sought to make amends for the humiliations inflicted by the conquest
1 “Omnes fere terrae illius principes regi sibique rebelles invenit.” — Giraldus Cambrensis, ibid., l. II. c. i.
2 Laurence undertook the education of the scribe’s son while he lived and always retained him amongst the number of his clergy; he also provided for the murdered man’s wife.
3 “Consumptis autem in brevi thesauris, quos secum comes attulerat, deficientibus quoque stipendiis, familia comitis nihil in proedis ut assolet, proficere poterat.” — Giraldus Cambrensis, ibid., l. II. c. i.
4 “Per triennium cotidie ad suam recepit eleemosyam.” — Vita, IIa. c. xvii. The chronology of the Canon of Eu is faulty here. Jean d’Abbeville, in the second part of his panegyric, only mentioned a few miracles. The Canon, who follows him step by step, relegates to the end those omitted by Jean d’Abbeville. Thus he records, after the Lateran Council (1179), a famine which lasted at least three years. Now, at the very most, there was but an interval of one year between Laurence’s return to his diocese and his exile. It would be better also to place the incident of his meeting with the bandits as occurring in the first years of the occupation of Leinster by the English.
5 In the malady of which he died in 1176, people saw the Divine punishment for his sacrileges. Under this date we read in the The Annals of the Four Masters: “The English Earl died in Dublin of an ulcer which perforated his foot, a punishment inflicted by Saints Brigid, Columbkille, and others, whose churches he had pillaged.”
6 Luchaire, Les Royautés Vassales, p. 146.
7 “Ad extirpandum tantae abominationis spurcitiam, divina inspirante clementia tuum animum erexisti.” Patr. Lat. t. cc., col. 883.
8 “Vivianus, legationis vice per Hiberniam fungens, convocata Dubliniae epis coporum synodo, jus Anglorum regis in Hiberniam, et summi pontificis confirmationem viva voce publice protestatur, tam clero quam populo, sub anathematis interminaatione destricte praecipiens et injungens, ne ab ejus aliquatenus fidelitate, ausu temerario, resilire praesumant.” — Giraldus Cambrensis, ibid., l. II. c. xix.