This morning as I awoke I had the desire to visit the Friary and College on the Hill of Slane. Admittedly I thought it would be one more site I would have to pay to enter and have some sort of restricted access to certain areas – I was wrong. The stairway to the top of the west tower was the only part of the set of ruins we could not enter but the entire site was free and complete access was available.
I underestimated the impact it would have on me.
The fantastic part of this walk was it was through back roads, cow pastures and even a corn maze. Once we cleared those we were left with a path that resembled an old cobbled road. It was also the point at which the air changed and a sort of ethereal feeling came over us. It was a feeling I once had when I was much younger and deeper into a faith I have not practiced so intensely for years. Even now as I write this I am getting goose bumps.
We stood on this darkened path and gauged the senses we both were having, when suddenly some sort of bird stirred in the bushes and scared me. I truly felt like we were being watched, not by a physical presence but a spiritual one, and we began the last leg of the journey towards our destination. Once we arrived at the final gate, jumped it, and walked up a small hill we were greeted by a set of ruins one only sees in movies in America. How do you even begin to explain to others how something so old and sacred impacted you?
Jill went to the tower as I stepped into the college. Tears welled up in my eyes as I felt a long distant memory creep up in my mind. I felt connected to this place. I walked slowly through the ruins trying to picture the wooden beams that would stretch across and construct the floors upon which the priests, lay-brothers and choristers would live, work and play. How it must have been back in those times of 1512.
According to oral traditions the place was built sometime near 670 A.D. where in 674 Dagobert II, King of Austrasia in Gaul, was supposedly educated within its walls. Along with the oral tales, one medieval source also notes Ochré as having a rath in that location. A rath is a circular enclosure surrounded by an earthen wall: used as a dwelling and stronghold in former times. One other interesting characteristic is a coat of arms of both England and France within the monastery walls, which still can be seen, which causes some to wonder if perhaps it was Richard, Duke of York, who planted them there.
Whatever the oral stories hold, St. Patrick lit a fire during Easter in 433 A.D. on the hill, breaking Druidic Law forbidding any fire being lit while the festive fire was still burning in Tara. The druids warned King Laoghaire that if the fire were not put out that Ireland would be conquered. Later the Flemings would reconstruct the old tower, in 1512, only to lose it to the Reformation some 30 years later. Attempts were made to re-establish it but all ended in vain. It almost seems the druids were right.
As I stood in those very ruins I could feel the weight of the stones. I explored every inch of the place I could; walking up old stairs, ducking into tight dark places and sitting in the old area that possibly was the kitchen. In the walls that survived you could see the spots where wooden beams would rest in order to make the upper level, along with various alcoves for fires or reflection. It began to rain so I stepped into one of those alcoves and looked across the valley through a slit that served as a window.
After the rain stopped we decided it was time to head back to our hostel. We cried, we laughed and we were in awe at how something so old survived. Even though it was not a dolmen, nor Tara, nor Newgrange it was a place of sacredness. It reminded me of when I asked my friends about what they thought was sacred, or what that meant.
It would have been very sacred given the history and traditions associated with those times. It is sacred to me as I reflect and think of how different times were during St. Patrick’s time. I have read in some books where he was a druid, captured and turned Catholic priest; yet others say he was captured during some sort of raid and taken away, only to return later in his known form. Whatever the case, was he certainly knew of druidic rites and used it against them to make his case and in the end he won. From then on Catholicism would be the order of the day in Ireland until the Reformation but that is another blog.
I did not take my camera on this venture nor did I want too but given the situation I will be going back to take photographs of a place which resonates with me deeply. In a sense, I too left Ireland only to come back a different person with a deeper appreciation for this wonderful land.
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