The story-teller has travelled many times in the land of the Belgians. There he saw hotels named “The Seven Churches,” in one of which he slept. He asked how it was, that a hotel should be named after churches, and why there should be seven of them?
This was the answer, and here is the story.
After the holy Saint Patrick had left Ireland free from snakes, it was a pleasanter country to dwell in, and people were kinder to each other than ever before. There were still, however, many rough fellows still in the island, and fights between the clans were common.
Yet such was the beauty of the colleens, or young maidens, that oftentimes these warlike chiefs fell in love with the daughters of men who were their enemies. Then there was trouble in the families, for the Irish are very proud of their blood and ancestors. In those days, every tribe was jealous of the other. It was the rule, that all maidens must marry only the men, of whom their fathers approved. This was for fear they might get a spalpeen in the family.
Now there was a lovely daughter of a famous chief, who lived in a castle, with plenty of green vines growing on the walls. Her name was Eileen, and her favorite plant was the shamrock. For Saint Patrick had taught that its three parts, growing on one stem, made a true symbol of the triune Deity, whom all good people ought to worship. The life was one, the leaves were three. Eileen was a Christian maid, and the shamrock was like the voice of a friend, that spoke to her every day, saying “be faithful and pure.”
Hearing of the fame and beauty of this loveliest maid in Erin, a handsome and noble chief, in a neighboring county, sought her hand in marriage. How proud and happy he would feel, if she, as his wife, should grace his castle! Besides, an alliance, with her powerful father, would greatly add to the glory of his own name and prowess.
So, according to the ancient custom of the country, he told the wish of his heart to her father, before asking the maiden herself.
Her parents were pleased to have the chief thus propose the match, for they had already thought to marry their daughter to him, for he was also a brave warrior.
But there was one drawback. The ardent lover and would-be husband was a pagan, still under the spell of bad fairies, and the wrong kind of people, who told him not to believe in the true God. The men in whom he trusted, and whose advice he followed, would not go to church, or keep the Sabbath day. The good rulers of the church had passed a law, which they named “the truce of God”; that, at certain seasons of the year, during three days, there should be no fighting. But this pagan chief cared nothing for this law, and was very cruel in many ways. Nearly all the good people in Ireland called him a spalpeen.
Nevertheless, this chief was so rich and powerful, that Eileen’s parents insisted upon her marrying him. They hoped, too, that she, with her gentle ways, would change the brutish fellow’s disposition.
But Eileen thought that this would be like trying to tame a tiger, or a lion; for bad passions raged in him as in the wild beasts. Tigers and lions look very grand, but they are not pleasant to live with.
Seeing that her father was determined to marry her off to this cruel man, and had even named the day of the marriage, and that her mother was sewing upon her wedding dress, Eileen resolved to leave home and escape to Belgic Land, across the sea.
But how could she get away, and out of the country? She knew no ship captains or sailors. Then, as everybody knows, the coast of Ireland was studded with high, round towers, from which the sentinels could see all who came and went.
One night, weary of thinking over her troubles, she fell asleep and dreamed. And this was her dream.
A great company of fairies flew over the sea, from Belgic Land, and greeted her with welcoming hands, smiles and curtsies. They all seemed to be standing on a sod, cut from the ground, like a large garden. She recognized some of the flowers,—the marguerite daisy, with its round golden heart and white petals, like rays, or strips, around the centre; the lily, that grew along the river Lys, called the fleur-de-lys; the blue wax flower, and some Oriental plants, such as the tulip and orange blossom. Besides these, there were the hazel tree buds, the blossoms of the apple tree, and several other pretty things that grow in the lowlands of Flanders, or high up among the highlands of the Ardennes. Some had come from the East, and some from the South, but together they gave Eileen the idea that Belgic Land would make for her a charming home, because she loved flowers so dearly. They were to her, as the very thoughts of God.
In her dream also, she seemed to be out of doors, and on a high hill, overlooking the beautiful lakes of Killarney, when the fairy band, on the cloud-like garden, settled on the ground near her. The queen, or leader of the fairies, with a radiant star on her forehead, and a silvery wand in her right hand, stepped off the green sward and, dropping a curtsey, said:
“We have heard of your troubles, pretty maid, and have come to invite you to our country. You can travel on this magic sod, which will float on the water; and, in the fair weather of this coming day, you can reach our soil. Now, you must come with us.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Eileen, “but I cannot leave my shamrocks, and my chickens.”
“No, nor need you. Take them along with you. We’ll promise that you can keep them with you; or, we’ll change them into whatever form of life you may desire.”
Eileen quickly ran to the hen house, in her father’s croft, and gathered up her seven tiny chicks in her apron. This she held with one hand, while with the other, she grasped two shamrock plants, for she could not leave either of her favorites behind. She had to hurry, because the fairies can work only at night, and they all disappear at sunrise.
Returning from her father’s croft and barn, she stepped on the magic sod, and in a moment, was floating off and down towards the sea. By the time they had got well out upon the salt water, the eastern sky began to get, first gray, and then faintly red. Thereupon, the chief fairy spoke to her and said:
“We must disappear now, but we shall meet you in our Belgic land, and shall always help you. Don’t for one moment, be afraid. The sod will float you, and tomorrow night, we shall be there, on the strand, to greet you. Command us, for we love you, and will do your will. We are sure you will be happy in our country, where you are needed. Good-bye.” The chief fairy waved her wand, and at once the whole company disappeared.
Eileen looked around, over the floating garden, but every one of the fairies had vanished. There was nothing to be seen, but the flowers, the grass, and the little chicks, that were running about, as if they thought it great fun. Indeed, they were having the time of their lives; for, being so small, they thought the whole world was bounded by that sod.
Meanwhile, soft breezes were blowing, and the sun shone out, keeping her warm. She needed this, for she had come away with only the thin clothes, which she wore in the house.
Towards evening, she began to feel lonely, and cried for her mother. For the first time in her life, she was afraid. The little chicks had found some low branches of a bush; and, roosting there, comfortably had closed their eyes. They stuck their little heads under their tiny wings, and were soon fast asleep. Eileen envied them, for she was in terror, as the awful sense of loneliness, and of being so far away from home, and father and mother, came upon her. She kept wondering what they might be thinking about her. Would the fairies keep their promise? Or, would they forget? Might not the wind arise, and in the storm, would she not be drowned?
One by one, the bright planets came out, and the stars followed. Yet the larger lights seemed only to blink, and say, “what a foolish girl, to leave her home and go afar!”
Then Eileen looked at her shamrock and thought of what good Saint Patrick had taught her ancestors. After that, a sense of peace folded her like a garment. Surely, God was near.
Looking up, in the dark night, toward the south and the west, where the last faint glow of light seemed to linger, she felt happier. Next, she saw lights moving on the distant shore. She rubbed her eyes. The sparkles and gleams seemed to be gaining in brightness. Yes, it was really so. The fairies were all there and waltzing about, until, as she came nearer, they looked like a shower of tiny stars, or a swarm of fireflies.
Pretty soon, the big sod slipped up against the shore, with a little bump. In a moment more, it seemed to be a part of the country itself, and the little chicks hopped ashore. Then the fairies led Eileen into a very pretty building, which looked something like a palace, but more like a church. There, a feast was spread, and she sat down to eat heartily, and drink plentifully, while the fairies waited upon her.
Then they led her into a nicely furnished sleeping chamber. Upon a silken couch, with fine dresses near at hand, she was soon fast asleep. The fairies brought up the shamrock plants and placed them on a table of Flemish oak, very dark and fine. The little chicks were kept in a coop, with plenty of food and water, and sticks to perch on.
In the morning, she cast her eyes, upon the home-plant, that told her of her Heavenly Father’s love. Then, after praying for her father and mother, she looked out upon a lovely landscape, rich in flowers; for she was now in Flanders, where the poppies and daisies grow.
Yet when she looked inquiringly for church spires, or round towers, or grand castles, they were not there. The people, going to work, or ploughing in the soft fields, seemed poor folks. Indeed, no men or women that she saw, had any gold on their persons. This, indeed, was the Belgic Land of long, long ago.
Eileen soon found that the inhabitants needed to be told of the good news of God, which the blessed Saint Patrick had taught the Irish. While she had enough to eat and drink, and plenty of pretty clothes to wear, she thought of the many people, who were not only poor, but who did not know of the Father in heaven. Why should she dwell in a rich castle, and dress in costly garments, when others were not only without these, but were also very ignorant.
So Eileen travelled through the country, and told the Belgian people the same good news from Heaven, which Saint Patrick had brought to her Irish ancestors. Wherever she went, she took one of her shamrocks with her, and taught the same lesson.
One of her plants, which she put into the ground, became the parent of others, in many varieties, so that the fields of Flanders were green, where once was only sterile sand. Cows and sheep found food, where, of old, was nothing but waste land. In time, the city of Ghent became a floral capital, with as wonderful a market for bulbs and blossoms, as Haarlem was for tulips and hyacinths, in Holland. These were rich in all the colors, with which the Father in Heaven had tinted the blooms of the field, and the opening buds of the fruit trees.
The most astonishing change took place, wherever Eileen stayed long enough to gather a congregation of people. She patiently taught them the lesson, of which the shamrock was the symbol; and, in each of seven places, she left one of her chickens. Somehow, from the love that was left behind, by this good woman, and around each living creature, there grew up a church, and every one of these churches was given a name after the Irish princess, Saint Eileen, though often pronounced differently in Flemish. To this day, the people in seven cities of Belgium, cherish the memory of the sweet lady, who spent her life in blessing their fathers.
Yet the dream story and the fairy tale are scarce more wonderful than the historic reality of ancient Christian Ireland’s gifts to Belgium. The story-teller adds, for the benefit of older folk, that the dream story and the fairy tale are scarcely more wonderful than the historic reality of ancient Erin’s missionary gifts to Belgic Land.