Bodleian: The Book of Glendalough

Two things may be said about the Book of Glendalough. One is that it resides in the Bodleian Library in Oxford. The second thing? That we don't know for certain what or where the Book of Glendalough is. Let me explain.

First let's look at the obvious facts about the catalog entry known as MS Rawlinson B 502. It is a 166-page vellum manuscript that was composed between 1100 and 1130 CE in Glendalough in the County Wicklow. It is written in Middle Irish and Latin, and has later notes added by owners and scholars and scribes through whose hands it passed. There are two parts to it: separate works that were bound together in the 1600s. Three different scribal hands can be detected. One of the scribes seems to have been the one designated "H," the same who wrote notes into the Book of the Dun Cow.

The subject matter of the first manuscript is the Annals of Tigernach, a history of early Ireland. The second manuscript includes religious poems, a revised edition of a history called "The Six Ages of the World," a poem called a "Song for Columcille" (Columba), and more.

The reason for the uncertain identity? The Book of Glendalough was referenced by other manuscripts, with referrals to some of the texts that we find contained in MS Rawlinson B 502. But MS Rawlinson B 502's provenance and history are not carved in stone. Determining that this manuscript was the same Book of Glendalough that other manuscripts quoted has left room for debate.

Adding to the confusion is that the title "Book of Glendalough" (I am using the English translation of the Gaelic Lebar Glinne Dá Locha) was used to refer to what is now universally known as the Book of Leinster.

Taken at face value, the manuscript has been called "most important and most beautiful ... undoubtedly the most magnificent" of medieval Irish manuscripts by the 20th-century scholar Brian Ó Cuív. For more on the debate, you can read here (requires special access).

From the same century as the Book of Glendalough, tomorrow let us look at a true one-of-a-kind manuscript, the only known example in existence of the Old Dutch language, the Hebban olla vogala. See you then.

Prophetic Death

Prophetic death is a staple of mythology and legend. One classic trope is the "threefold death" in which a prophecy claims three different manners of a person's death, all of which somehow come true.

One example is a Welsh legend of Merlin, who is asked to prophesy a boy's death; he says the boy will fall from a rock. The boy is then dressed in different clothing and brought before Merlin and asked about the manner of his death; Merlin says he will hang. The boy is then disguised as a girl and brought again; Merlin prophesies drowning. Later, while on a hunt, the boy slips from a rock, is caught on a tree and suspended upside-down, with his head in a lake, where he drowns.

Diarmait Mac Cerbaill was a real historical figure, and yet we are told he suffered the threefold death of legends. According to the Life of Columba by Adomnán of Iona, he is told by an Irish seer that his foster-son, Áed Dub ("Black Áed"), will kill him; Diarmait banishes Áed Dub. Then, St. Ruadán prophesies that he would be killed by the roof beam of his hall at Tara; Diarmait has the roof beam removed and thrown into the sea.

With those dangers removed, Diarmait continues his quest to avoid death by asking druids how he will die. They predict a threefold death, "by iron, water, and fire." This would mean slain with a weapon, drowning, and burning. Further, they are him that there will be signs of his impending death: a shirt grown from a flax seed, a woolen mantle made from a single sheep, ale brewed from a single grain of corn, bacon from a sow that has never farrowed.

Diarmait, satisfied that his death by anything other than old age is unlikely, visits the hall of Banbán, where he is shown a shirt, a mantle, and bacon that satisfy the conditions of his imminent death. He decides to immediately leave the hall, but Áed Dub is waiting at the door, stabs him and sets fire to the hall. Prevented from leaving the burning hall, Diarmait climbs into a vat of ale to survive the heat. The burning hall collapses, and the roof beam, which Banbán had found in the sea and used to build his hall, falls and crushes Diarmait.

It is curious to have a prophetic and threefold death attributed to an actual person. The Annals of Tigernach, in the entry for 563, merely states "Diarmaid son of Cearbhall was killed in Ráth Bec in Magh Line by Aodh Dubh son of Suibne Araidhe, king of Ulster, and his head was taken to Cluain and his body was buried in Connere."

Adomnán, for his own reasons, was clearly embellishing. Perhaps his knowledge that Diarmait was dabbling in Christianity was the emphasis, since legend says that Áed Dub suffered a similar threefold death, which Adomnán attributes to divine justice after killing Diarmait. Adomnán would have been drawing from several sources for his Life of St. Columba, including the saga Aided Diarmata ("Death of Diarmait").

One more look at Diarmait, the king who bridged the pagan and Christian eras in Irish kingship, before we move on to something else. This next look will be from the angle of St. Ruadán.