Scots what Wulfilas did for the Goths, and the Slavonic apostles for the Slavs; he did not translate the sacred books of his religion into Irish and found a national church literature.... What Patrick, on the other hand, and his fellow-workers did was to diffuse a knowledge of Latin in Ireland. To the circumstance that he adopted this line of policy, and did not attempt to create a national ecclesiastical language, must be ascribed the rise of the schools of learning which distinguished Ireland in the sixth and seventh centuries.”[10]

Mainly owing to the labours of Dr. John Healy, we now know a good deal about the somewhat slow growth of the Irish schools to fame; but for our purpose it will do to learn something of them in their heyday, when at last we hear certainly of that free use of books which must have been common for some time. From the sixth to the eighth century Ireland enjoyed an eminent place in the world of learning; and the lives and works of her scholars imply book-culture of good character. 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.[11] 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.[12] 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.[13] Iona became a renowned centre of missionary work, quite over-shadowing in importance the earlier “Scottish” settlement of Whitherne or Candida Casa. 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. “Before Iceland was peopled by the Northmen there were in the country those men whom the Northmen called Papar. They were Christian men, and the people believed that they came from the West, because Irish books and bells and crosiers were found after them, and still more things by which one might know that they were west-men, i.e. Irish.”[14]

Not only to the far north, but to the Continent, did the Irish press their energetic way. In Gaul their chief missionary was Columban (c. 543-615), who had been educated at Bangor, then famous for the learning of its brethren. His works display an extensive acquaintance with Christian and Latin literature. Both the Greek and Hebrew languages may have been known to him, though this seems improbable and inconceivable.[15] In his Rule he provides for teaching in schools, copying manuscripts, and for daily reading.[16]

The monasteries of Luxeuil, Bobio, and St. Gall, founded by him and his companions on their mission in Gaul and Italy, became the homes of the most famous conventual libraries in the world—a result surely traceable to the example set by the Irish ascetics, and to the tradition they established.[17]

Other Irish monks are better known for their literary attainments than for missionary enterprise. St. Cummian, in a letter written about 634, displays much knowledge of theological literature, and a good deal of knowledge of a general kind.[18] Another monk named Augustine (c. 650) quotes from Eusebius and Jerome in a work affording many other evidences of learning.[19] Aileran (c. 660), abbot of Clonard, wrote a