Voyage of St Brendan

tr. O’Donoghue, 1893

6. The Island of St. Ailbe

The island of St. Ailbe

THE brethren got the boat ready, and set sail forth into the ocean, while all the birds sung in concert: “Hear us, O God our Saviour, the hope of all the ends of the earth, and in the sea afar off.” After this St. Brendan and his brethren were tossed about to and fro on the billows of the ocean for the space of three months, during which they could see nothing but sea and sky, and they took refreshment only every second day. One day, however, an island came into view, not far off; but when they drew near the shore the wind drove them aside, and thus for forty days they sailed round about the island without finding a landing-place. The brethren meanwhile besought the Lord with tears that He would vouchsafe to help them, for their strength was almost exhausted because of their great fatigue; and when they had thus persevered in frequent prayer for three days, and in fasting also, at length they found a narrow creek fit to receive one boat, and beside it two fountains, one foul and the other limpid. When the brethren hastened to take some of the water, the man of God said to them: “My children, do nothing that may be unlawful. Take nothing here without the leave of the venerable fathers who are on this island, and they will freely give what you would take by stealth.”

When all had landed and were considering in what direction they should go, there came to them an old man, wasted from extreme old age, whose hair was white as snow and his face pellucid like glass. He prostrated himself thrice, before he went to embrace the man of God, who, raising him up from the ground, embraced him, as did all the brethren, in like manner. Then this aged man, taking the holy father by the hand, led him to the monastery, about a furlong distant, when St. Brendan stood at the entrance, and asked his guide whose monastery this was, and who was its superior. He put to him various questions in this way, but could get no reply, only manual signs, indicating silence with much gentleness. As soon as the holy father recognised that silence was the rule of the place, he cautioned his brethren: “Restrain your tongues from much talking, lest the monks here may be scandalized by your foolish speeches.”

After this, there came forth to meet them eleven monks, in their habits and crosses, chanting the versicle: “Arise, you holy ones from your dwellings, and come forth to meet us; sanctify this place; bless this people, and vouchsafe to guard us, thy servants, in peace.” The versicle being ended, the abbot embraced St. Brendan and his companions in due order, and in like manner his monks embraced the brethren of the holy man. When the kiss of peace was thus mutually given and received, they conducted them into the monastery, according to the custom in western countries; and the abbot and his monks proceeded to wash the feet of their guests, and to chant the “New Commandment.”

Then he led them all into the refectory, in strict silence; and when they had washed their hands he gave them a signal to take their seats, when one of the monks, on a given signal, rose up and supplied the table with loaves of bread of marvellous whiteness and roots of delicious flavour. The monks had taken places at table alternately with their guests, in due order, and between each pair a whole loaf was served, when the ministering brother set before them also some drink. Father abbot, in much cheerfulness, pressed his guests: “Brothers, from the fountain, out of which to-day you wished to drink stealthily, make now a loving cup in gladness and in the fear of the Lord. From the other fountain of foul water, which you saw, are the feet of the brethren washed, for it is always tepid. Those loaves of bread which you now see before you, we know not where they are prepared, or who brings them to our cellar; but we know well that, by the free gift of God, they are supplied to us, as an alms, by some obedient creature of His; and thus is fulfilled in our regard the words of divine truth: ‘Those who fear God want for nothing.’ Here we are twenty-four brothers, having each day twelve loaves for our support, one loaf for two brothers; but on Sundays and great festivals the Lord allows us a full loaf for each brother, so that of what remains we may have a supper; and now, on your advent, we have a double supply; thus it is that from the days of St. Patrick and St. Ailbe, our patriarchs, for eighty years until now, Christ provides us with sustenance. Moreover, neither old age nor bodily infirmities increase upon us here, neither do we need cooked food, nor are we oppressed with heat or distressed with cold; but we live here, as it were, in the paradise of God. When the hours for the divine office and for Mass arrive, the lamps in our church, which, under God’s guidance, we brought with us from our own country, are set alight, and burn always without growing less.”

When the repast was over, and they had thrice taken some drink, the abbot gave the usual signal, and all the brethren, in great silence, rose from table, giving thanks to God, and preceded the fathers to the church, at the door of which they met twelve other monks; who readily bent the knee, as they passed. Then St. Brendan said: “Father abbot, why have not those monks dined with us?” “For your sakes,” said the abbot, “as our table could not seat us all together. They will now take their meal, for through God’s holy will they shall want for nothing. We will now enter the church and sing vespers, so that the brethren who are now dining, may sing the office afterwards in proper time.” When vespers had concluded, St. Brendan took heed of the structure of the church: it was a perfect square of equal length and breadth, and in it were seven lamps, so arranged that three of them hung before the central altar, and two before each of the side altars. All the altars were of crystal, and the chalices, patenas, cruets, and the other vessels required for the Divine Sacrifice were also of crystal. Around the church were ranged twenty-four benches, with the abbot’s seat between the two choirs of monks in rows on either side. No monk from either choir was allowed to intone the chant of the office, but the abbot; and throughout the monastery no voice was heard, nor any sound whatever; but if a brother needed anything, he went to the abbot, and on his knees made signs that he wanted aught; and then the father wrote on a tablet what God had intimated to him to be needful for the brother.

While St. Brendan was pondering all these things, the abbot said to him: “Father, it is now time to return to the refectory, that all may be done with day-light, as it is written: ‘He who walketh in the light, stumbleth not.’ So it was done, and when all things were completed in due order of the daily routine, all hastened with alacrity to complin. Then the abbot intoned the versicle: “Incline unto my aid, O Lord,” invoking at the same time the Most Holy Trinity; and they subjoin the antiphon: “We have sinned; we have acted unrighteously; we have worked iniquity; Thou, O Lord Christ, who art all mercy, have pity on us. In peace unto the selfsame, I will sleep and take my rest;” and they proceed to chant the office of complin.

When the office had concluded, the brethren went to their cells, taking their guests with them; but the abbot remained with St. Brendan, in the church, to await the lighting of the lamps. The saint asked the father abbot about the rule of silence they observed; how such a mode of intercourse in a community was possible to flesh and blood. The abbot, with much reverence and humility, replied: “Holy father, I declare before the Lord, that during the eighty years that have passed since we came to this island, none of us has heard from the other the sound of the human voice, save only when we sing the praises of God. Amongst us twenty-four brothers, no voice is raised; but signs are made by the fingers or the eyes; and this is permitted only to the elder monks. None of us, since we came here, have suffered any infirmity of body or mind, such as may be fatal to mankind.” Upon this St. Brendan said with many tears: “Vouchsafe, I beseech thee, father abbot, to let us know whether we are permitted or not to abide here.” The abbot rejoined: “You are not permitted, for such is not the will of God; but why do you ask me, when God had revealed to you, before you came to us, what you must do? You must return to your own country, where God has prepared for you, as well as for your fourteen companions, the place of sepulture. Of the other two monks, one will have his pilgrimage in the island of the anchorites; but the other will suffer in hell the worst of all deaths;” and these events afterwards came to pass.

While they were thus conversing, behold, as they looked on, a fiery arrow, passing in through a window, set alight all the lamps that hung before the altars, and passing out through the same window, left the lamps burning. Then St. Brendan inquired who would extinguish those lamps in the morning, and the abbot replied: “Come, and see the secret of all this: you observe those tapers burning in the vases; yet none of them is consumed, nor do they grow less, nor do any ashes remain in the morning, for the light is entirely spiritual.” “How,” said St. Brendan, “can a spiritual flame thus burn in a material substance?” “Have you not read,” said the abbot, “of the burning bush, near Mount Sinai, which remained unconsumed by the burning?” “Yes,” said the saint, “I have read of this; but what analogy has it to this case?”

When they had thus remained on watch until morning, St. Brendan asked permission to depart from the island, but the abbot replied: “No, O man of God, you must celebrate with us the festival of our Lord’s Nativity, and afford us the joy of your company until the Octave of Epiphany.” The holy father, therefore, with his brethren, remained until that time, on this Island of St. Ailbe.

The Abbey of St. Ailbe

So forth they hie with glee
The abbot and his company,
When, lo! they found a wond’rous spring,
From whence two streams their waters fling,
The one was foul, the other bright—
Much gazed the faithful at the sight;
But faint were they, so blithe they go
To slake their thirst: “No, brothers, no,”
Brandon out cried; “first seek and know
If this strange spring be wholesome drink.”
Affright they hastened from the brink,
Tho’ sorely pained with thirst;—then nigh
An old man came, and when his eye
Glanced on St. Brendan, and he saw
The holy freres, with mickle awe
He prostrate fell, and kissed the hands
Of the abbot, who now bade him stand,
And soothly tell by word or sign
Where were they. Well could he divine,
Although he spoke not what was said,
And joyfully and swiftly led
The abbot and his companie,
With care and all humilitie
Unto an abbey, fair and good
(Beneath the moon none holier stood)
The abbot of that saintly place,
With honour due his guests to grace,
Caused bring forth from his treasurye
Relics of rich orfeverie —
Crosses and shrines, and caskets fair,
With amethysts beset, and rare
Open-wrought gold, most rich y-chased,
And precious gems all featly placed
Around, and censers fair y-dight
Of solid gold, and jewels bright,
And vestments rich, not wrought alone
With silk, but many a priceless stone,—
Garnet and ruby, sardonis,
Topaz and jasper precious,
Gleamed on the clasps most gorgeously.

Anglo-Norman Trouvere.