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Updated: June 3, 2025
It is said that on one occasion while visiting his master, Finnian, he undertook to make a clandestine copy of the abbot's Psalter.
We could see the faint outline of sweet Slievenamann from our windows the mountain of the fair women of Feimheann, celebrated as the hunting-ground of the Finnian Chiefs. 'One day Finn and Oscar Followed the chase in Sliabh-na-mban-Feimheann, With three thousand Finnian chiefs Ere the sun looked out from his circle.
"But," said Finnian in bewilderment, "there is an error here, for you have recited two different genealogies." "Different genealogies, indeed," replied Tuan thoughtfully, "but they are my genealogies." "I do not understand this," Finnian declared roundly. "I am now known as Tuan mac Cairill," the other replied, "but in the days of old I was known as Tuan mac Starn, mac Sera."
But Tuan pleaded: "Let the past be content with itself, for man needs forgetfulness as well as memory." "My son," said Finnian, "all that has ever been done has been done for the glory of God, and to confess our good and evil deeds is part of instruction; for the soul must recall its acts and abide by them, or renounce them by confession and penitence.
Long we lived in ease, and we saw new animals grow, the bear, the wolf, the badger, the deer, and the boar. "Partholon's people increased until from twenty-four couples there came five thousand people, who lived in amity and contentment although they had no wits." "They had no wits!" Finnian commented. "They had no need of wits," Tuan said.
Finnian, the Abbott of Moville, went southwards and eastwards in great haste. News had come to him in Donegal that there were yet people in his own province who believed in gods that he did not approve of, and the gods that we do not approve of are treated scurvily, even by saintly men. He was told of a powerful gentleman who observed neither Saint's day nor Sunday.
"And I am that man," his companion affirmed. Tuan shaded his brow with his hand, and he remembered backwards through incredible ages to the beginning of the world and the first days of Eire'. And Finnian, with his blood again running chill and his scalp crawling uneasily, stared backwards with him. "Tell on, my love," Finnian murmured "I was alone," said Tuan.
The great door was swung wide, and two of his servants carried Finnian into the house, for the saint could no longer walk or stand upright by reason of the hunger and exposure to which he had submitted. But his frame was tough as the unconquerable spirit that dwelt within it, and in no long time he was ready for whatever might come of dispute or anathema.
Ireland, as the most remote situation, would be especially inviting to the fugitives; and we can thus understand the story which is found in the Acts of St. Senanus, how fifty monks, "Romans born," sailed to Ireland to learn the Scriptures, and to lead a stricter life; and were distributed between St. Senan, St. Finnian, St. Brendan, St. Barry, and St. Kieran.
The gentleman, however, did not give in without a struggle: he thought that when Finnian had grown sufficiently hungry he would lift the siege and take himself off to some place where he might get food. But he did not know Finnian. The great abbot sat down on a spot just beyond the door, and composed himself to all that might follow from his action.
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