Not about Eve? The Forgotten Female Audience in Medieval Irish Art

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9Not about Eve? The Forgotten Female Audience

in Medieval Irish Art

Jenifer Ní Ghrádaigh

In the historiography of medieval Irish art and surviving elite material culture, there is astriking absence of women. Such a statement may appear a commonplace, given thepaucity of women in the historiography of medieval art in general.1 However, it is in factdemonstrable that Anglo-Saxon art, as currently understood, is far less gender-skewed, apoint perhaps easiest made by an examination of inscription evidence. In Anglo-SaxonEngland inscriptions of men’s names—implying sometimes ownership, or alternativelycraftsmanship or patronage—outnumber women’s threefold, across a variety of objectsand media.2 This is as nothing, however, to the Irish evidence where, within the wholecorpus of inscribed grave-slabs, shrines, reliquaries and even architecture, only fourwomen’s names have been recorded—and even these four instances are not unprob-lematic.3 Any attempt to identify the oeuvre of female artists or craftswomen in extantobjects or monuments is unlikely to succeed, as their output was concentrated on textileworks, which do not survive.4 Hitherto, the role of women as audience has hardly beenconsidered for those arts which do survive well, namely monumental sculpture andarchitecture, even though these were always intended for public consumption and use.Such blindness is as deleterious to a nuanced comprehension of the art in question, as it isto the expansion of our knowledge of medieval women. This paper will address theevidence, slight though it is, for women’s interaction with two categories of monumentalsculpture, grave-slabs and high crosses.

With grave-slabs, evidence of what might be termed ownership, or possiblypatronage, is easily proven by inscription. However, as has been noted, only threewomen’s names are known from such contexts. At Clonard, Co. Meath, a slab lost evenbefore Margaret Stokes could see it in the 1860s or 1870s bore, according to GeorgePetrie, the name ‘Meind, ingin meicc Srappan’; how far Petrie is to be relied on in thisinstance is debatable.5 Only two of the approximately 700 slabs from Clonmacnoise, Co.Offaly, probably commemorate women. The first of these asks a prayer for an unidentifiedwoman, ‘Mór: ‘ar Moer ingen Dúna [...]’.6 The second is less certain, commemorating an

1 Martin, 20122 Okasha, 19713 For three instances of grave-slab inscriptions, see below 00–00. A fourth inscription, on the

portal of the twelfth-century church at Freshford, Co. Kilkenny, remains the subject of ongoingresearch to be published elsewhere.

4 Ní Ghrádaigh, 2012a5 Macalister, 1945: 1. 396 Macalister, 1945: 1. 46

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individual named ‘Uallach’, without any patronymic. She was identified by PádraigLionard as the ‘poetess of Ireland’, Uallach ingene Muinacháin, whose death is recordedin the Annals of Inisfallen in 934.7 Lionard’s methodology in associating tomb slabswithout patronymics with individuals with relatively common names known from theannals has been widely criticised in recent years, and Uallach’s identification is by nomeans certain.8 However, the similarity between this slab and the lost slab of Odrán uaEolais, whose death is recorded in 995, is sufficient at least to warrant a tenth-centurydating (Fig. 9.1).9 If Lionard’s identification is correct, this has quite suggestiveimplications.

7 Lionard, 1960–1961: 1648 Swift, 2003; Ó Floinn, 19959 Lionard, 1960–1961: 133, figs 24.15, 24.16. It is attributed to the late-ninth century by the slab

of Suibne mac Máel Umha (d. 887 or 892); these slabs are of Ó Floinn’s Type B (Ó Floinn:1995)

10 Murphy, 2003: 23–2411 AFM 886, 921, 926; discussed briefly by Swift, 2003: 107, although she confuses their

relationship

Figure 9.1: Slabs from Clonmacnoise (after Lionard, 1960–1961).

The real question, however, is the extent to which we should take the lack ofinscription evidence as indicative that such slabs were carved almost entirely for men.There is relatively plentiful evidence for royal female death and presumably burial atClonmacnoise from the ninth century onwards. Two excavated burials of women aresomewhat later than the material discussed here, the earlier with a date range of1182–1262, and their context is difficult.10 Lack of archaeological excavation at the mostlikely place for female burial, the Nuns’ Church, which may, in any case, have beencompromised by nineteenth-century intervention, means that reliance must instead beplaced on documentary and art-historical data. Most interesting, albeit recorded in thelate Annals of the Four Masters, is the death and burial at Clonmacnoise of Land ofOsraige (d. 886), wife of (among others) Máel Sechnaill mac Máelruanaid, one ofClonmacnoise’s great patrons, while their son Flann’s daughters, Lígach (d. 921), andMuirgheal (d. 926) are also died here.11 Indeed, the founding of the Nuns’ Church at


Clonmacnoise, which remained closely tied to Máel Sechnaill’s descendents, the royalfamily of Mide, until at least the twelfth century, is indicative of continuity of femalepresence at the site. Death notices for royal women at Clonmacnoise also continue to thetwelfth century, with the death of Dearbhaile, daughter of Donnchad Ua Maeleachlainnhere in 1167 ‘after the victory of will and confession’, suggesting that she died after aperiod spent in penance at the nunnery church subsequent to her married life.12 As manyof the burial slabs do not bear inscriptions at all, this may point simply to the conclusionthat slabs intended for female burial were less likely to include writing.13 That Uallach’sgraveslab does so, if she is the poetess recorded in the annals, may reflect on her literaryskills, and potentially could be the exception that proves the rule.

However, considering the documentary evidence for royal (male) burial at the site,it is also quite notable how few of the surviving grave slabs can be identified with knownkings. Cathy Swift has posited that the lack of patronymics on most slabs suggests thatthese were intended for clerics, not laity.14 It may be relevant that Rawlinson B.488, afourteenth-century manuscript of the Annals of Tigernach which was copied from amanuscript of Clonmacnoise origin, shows what appears to be an uninscribed slab in theupper margin for the year recording Toirdelbach Ua Conchobair’s death and burial atClonmacnoise in 1156.15 Adjacent are the words ‘Lecht Toirrdelbaig hui Concobar’, butthere is no attempt to indicate that the slab itself was inscribed.16 It is identifiable as oneof Ó Floinn’s Type B slabs, albeit much simplified for this illustration, and although moreelaborate slabs were coming into vogue in the Romanesque period, it is not impossiblethat this is an accurate, if generalised, depiction. It may therefore be the case that slabscommemorating the laity were, in general, less likely to bear inscriptions, while thosecommemorating female laity were least likely of all to do so. This is, inherently, a morelikely solution than what has hitherto been tacitly assumed—largely, it would appear,through carelessness in acknowledging the side-effects of arguments advanced: namely,that grave-slabs were never carved for women. If so, however, we might have expectedthat there would be a concentration of ornamented but non-inscribed slabs in the vicinityof the Nuns’ Church, given the role it appears to have played as a place of retirement forroyal women who probably did not take formal vows.

Unfortunately, the provenance of slabs within the site is largely unknown, andGeorge Petrie’s recollection that on his first visit to the site, the stile over which he

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12 AFM 1167; A. Clon. 118013 There may also be chronological factors at work; Ó Floinn (1995) noted that approximately

one third of his Type A slabs lacked inscriptions, but that this percentage was much smaller forthe later Type B slabs. However, he was working from the published corpus, which comprisesonly 272 of the c.700 slabs extant; until the full corpus is published figures and percentages arenecessarily inexact.

14 Swift, 2003: 108–11015 Available at: http://image.ox.ac.uk/show?collection=bodleian&manuscript=msrawlb488

(accessed 20 April 2012)16 Contractions have been silently expanded


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17 Stokes, 1868: vii18 Now in the collections of the RSAI; see Ní Ghrádaigh, 200619 The name, Dichoer, is not common20 Due to the efforts of Graves and other antiquarians, a policy was adopted of placing loose

stones, primarily slabs, but also one altar stone and some architectural fragments, within thestill-roofed sacristy of the cathedral; this therefore functioned as part museum, part place ofsafety, as it was locked and placed under the protection of a caretaker. At Glendalough, Co.Wicklow, restoration works (1875–1879) saw the gathering of many slabs into St Kevin’s

clambered had been constructed from early Christian slabs, shows that many wererelocated prior to any recording and sorting in the late-nineteenth century.17 The onlyslabs whose provenance is definitively to the enclosure of the Nuns’ Church are tworecorded in his sketchbooks by James Graves.18 One of these commemorates a Mail Maire(Fig. 9.2), the name suggesting a male cleric; the other is also inscribed, although theindividual’s gender is not clear.19 The evidence is therefore at best insubstantial, at worstcontradictory, in so far as we can now judge. However, it is probable that Graves may nothave recorded all the slabs he found, as these were incidental to his main purpose: thereconstruction of the Romanesque church. Moreover, he was more concerned withpreservation than recording, and in his sketches, which were personal notes, he was likelyto have prioritised inscribed slabs over purely ornamental ones, given his own predilectionfor inscriptions.20 Even if the two slabs sketched by Graves were the only ones still at the

Figure 9.2: James Graves’s sketch ofMail Maire’s grave-slab (© RSAI)


Nuns’ Church in the 1860s, this is no guarantee that these were the only slabs originallyfrom this part of the monastic city. Stones could be robbed for building purposes withgreat dispatch: for instance, one of the missing voussoirs from the chancel arch, which wasrebuilt less than fifty years after its collapse, was recently noted in the back wall of afarmhouse to the east of the graveyard.21

In the absence of further evidence, it seems probable that the fortuitous recording ofthe Mail Maire’s graveslab at the Nuns’ Church gives a rare indication of original siting.If so, why might he have been buried here, rather than within the main enclosure? Thenunnery church is known from thirteenth-century sources to have been dedicated to theVirgin, and there is no reason to suppose this a later dedication.22 Mail Maire’s name,‘devotee of Mary’, if one taken at consecration may reflect his own particular devotion tothe Virgin, and this may explain his place of burial. Irish clerical devotion to the Virgin isvery well attested in the literary record, as is her role as intercessor with Christ; such achoice of burial site, considering the particular need for intercession at the Last Judgment,is therefore both likely, and appropriate.23

Another possibility, although the arguments for this are necessarily speculative anddepend on the identification of the correct Máel Muire, may relate to the role of the nunsthemselves. Lionard suggested an identification of Mail Maire with the scribe of Lebor nahUidre, Máel Muire mac Cuind na mBocht, who was killed by plunderers in the damliagor cathedral of Clonmacnoise in 1106.24 The style of the slab corresponds again to ÓFloinn’s Type B, but this would not necessarily contradict an early twelfth-century date.Máel Muire’s family, the Meic Cuinn na mBocht, had a long association withClonmacnoise, and his father, Céilechair, had been its bishop. So far as we know, MáelMuire and his family did not have a close connection with the nuns. However, althoughIrish sources do not expound on any specific role for nuns, elsewhere in medieval Europetheir role as keepers of memory, for both families and venerated individuals, has beenextensively explored.25 Thus the nuns of Shaftesbury were entrusted by King Æthelredwith the body of his brother, Edward the Martyr, and this may have been the impetus forthe construction, c.1001, of the small but elaborate church at Bradford to which theybriefly moved to escape Viking attacks.26 Although the annalistic reference to MáelMuire’s death is extremely laconic, and only survives in the Annals of the Four Masters,


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Church, but the less tightly clustered nature of the site has preserved a much larger number ofslabs in situ; see Harney, 2011. Graves’s interest in epigraphy is evident in one of his latersketchbooks, also now in the RSAI.

21 Ní Ghrádaigh, 2003: 20522 Manning, 200423 Harrington, 2002: 280–8224 Lionard, 1960–1961: 168. Máel Muire is identified as Lebor na hUidre’s scribe in a later

colophon, penned by Sighraidh Ó Cuirnín (d. 1388), Dublin: RIA, MS 23.E.25, p. 37; O’Neill,1984: 74; see also Kehnel, 1997: 284

25 Van Houts, 199926 Gem, 1978

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27 Kehnel, 1997: 136-7; Swift, 2003: 11628 Kehnel, 1997: 13929 Harney, 2011: 13030 T. Ó Carragáin, 2010: 249–50

his role as the scribe and compiler of Lebor na hUidre suggests he was more important,and his violent death more shocking, than is immediately apparent. As well as his father’sepiscopal office, his nephew Cormac was comarba Ciaráin from c.1096–1103, and hadundertaken large-scale repair work at the cathedral.27 The family were therefore of someimportance within the Clonmacnoise community at this time. Moreover, their interest inrecording and remembering not only the events of Ciarán’s community but also their ownfamily genealogy and history has left a substantial written legacy.28 In this context, MáelMuire’s burial and commemorative grave-slab at the nunnery church may indicate someparticular attempt to remember his martyrdom.

The evidence of burial at St Mary’s Church, Glendalough, may also be relevant.There is a concentration here of slabs and crosses of probably eleventh- to thirteenth-century date, none of which is inscribed. Although it was not as significant a place of burialas either Reefert Church, or the main site, it was certainly a valued cemetery. Thisdistinguishes it from the Augustinian foundation of St Saviour’s to the west, with whichno slabs are associated.29 Furthermore, it is possible that its foundation or rebuilding,which may not long predate c.1100, was to honour Derbforgaill of Osraige, who died atGlendalough in 1098, and whose son, Muirchertach Ua Briain, was probably responsiblefor a spate of building activity at the site in and around these years.30 Thus a nexus ofroyal women, prosperous nunnery foundations, and monumentalised burial, appear to beconnected in the tenth to twelfth centuries.

At Clonmacnoise at least, but possibly also at Glendalough, it seems that burial at anunnery church was not reserved for women only, but could also attract men, dependingperhaps either on their devotional preferences, or on the possible efficiency of nuns in theremembrance of the dead. It is also probable that royal women, whose burial sites withinthe larger monastic cities is unknown, may have tended to opt for burial at the nunneriesthemselves, as many may have ended their lives at such nunneries, albeit not as nuns. Thelack of surviving grave-slabs naming women or lay men may indicate that inscriptionswere more important for the literate clergy than the laity. This opens up the possibilitythat uninscribed slabs may be likely to commemorate women, and helps explain the lackof women’s names on grave-slabs, which is otherwise, compared with Anglo-SaxonEngland, anomalous.

This may be a classic case of the poor correlation between absence of evidence andevidence of absence. Anyone would, however, hesitate to suggest that the historiographyof Irish high crosses is curtailed by an absence of evidence, replete as it is with iconographicinterpretations based on scriptural exegesis. Here, we might bear in mind the issue raisedby Carol Farr who, as devil’s advocate has asked regarding the Anglo-Saxon crosses:‘Could not those who desire understanding of the monuments’ significance pursue their


meaning exclusively in patristic and Anglo-Saxon exegetical texts, since the sculptures’most obvious contexts are ecclesiastical, probably mostly monastic?’31 Although Farr’sresponse was a resounding ‘No’, in Ireland, historiographic traditions can be shown tohave helped solidify just such unhelpful assumptions that the high crosses’ audiences weremale, clerical and literate. Such an outlook, never explicitly stated, has been the incidentalby-product of twentieth-century fascination with iconography, and has only begun to bebrought into question by more recent interest in broader scholarly approaches.32 InAnglo-Saxon studies considerable attention is now paid to audiences of stone crosses; toissues of gender and education of those audiences; and to gendered roles as depicted andmanipulated conceptually and symbolically. Although it might be easy to critique thosescholars who have been working on the Irish material, this would be simplistic. TheRuthwell Cross has driven and continues to drive research in Anglo-Saxon stonesculpture, and the prominent role which women play on this cross has inevitably raisedquestions which slumber unanswered in an Irish context due to the more marginal andlimited visual role which women play in the Irish sculpted corpus.

Should the possible audiences for these crosses be conceived, as they have been, ashighly educated clerics? The validity of such preconceptions can be challenged by a morethoughtful response to the evidence already at our disposal, of inscriptions, and of subjectmatter. Inscription evidence seems to point to a wider milieu, for these inscriptionscommemorate kings, that is, secular patrons, as well as clerics. The most indisputable ofthese is the Cross of the Scriptures at Clonmacnoise, which its inscription indicates waserected by King Flann mac Máel Sechnaill, whose building of the cathedral is documentedin the Chronicon Scottorum.33 Flann’s architectural patronage celebrated his victory atthe Battle of Belach Mugna in 908, a victory that allowed him to proclaim himself Kingof Ireland; he then recorded this achievement on the cross he had erected before it.Raghnall Ó Floinn has presented compelling evidence that the crosses of Osraige, of whichthe Ahenny examples are by far the most famous, were similarly erected as monuments ofvictory by Cerball mac Dúnlainge of Osraige (847-888), in emulation of the crosses ofFlann’s father, Máel Sechnaill.34 In the tenth century, then, the evidence for patronage ofsuch crosses is as much secular as it is religious—it seems probable therefore, that theaudience of these crosses would similarly have been composed of royal and aristocratic,as well as clerical, men. That women could have been of the audience is, in a Clonmacnoisecontext, confirmed by the documentary evidence for royal female burial there and thedevelopment of the nunnery, with its abbesses drawn from the ranks of the same royalfamily of Meath who had erected the high crosses.

Just as compelling as documentary evidence is what analysis of the monuments’treatment of style and subject can reveal about their expected audience. In the tenth


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31 Farr, 1999: 37532 See e.g. Pulliam, below: 00-00; see also Ní Ghrádaigh, 2012b33 Manning, 1998: 72–7434 Ó Floinn, 2001: 11



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35 Cambridge: St John’s College, MS C.936 Ryan, 1983a; 199737 This is further explored in Ní Ghrádaigh, 2012b38 Neuman de Vegvar, 2007

century, with the development of scripture crosses, there is a dramatic break with thenon-narrative and largely non-figural art which dominated Irish visual and materialculture for most of the early medieval period. This is made startlingly clear by contrastingthe depiction of the crucifixion in the tenth-century Southampton Psalter,35 with that onMuiredach’s cross of c.900 at Monasterboice, Co. Louth. In the Psalter image,understanding of the significance of the event is teased out in an intellectually satisfyingway: Christ is shown as the gem of Revelation 4.3, while his robes combine the differentcolours mentioned in the Matthew 27.28 (scarlet), and John 19.2 (purple). The elaborateframe of the page, with its metalwork-derived interlace, is reminiscent of the interlaceframes of elite patens and chalices, such as those from Derrynaflan.36 During the mass,Christ’s body as bread and wine was present, framed by just such interlace. For a cleric,the presentation of Christ’s body on the page would recall this liturgical setting, andremind him of Christ’s ongoing presence and with it, encourage reflection on the truemeaning of the crucifixion image before him.37 On Muiredach’s cross, the difference isstartling. Here, the viewer is forced to crane upwards to see Christ’s naturalistic bodypinned to the cross, its subtle modelling evoking a distinctly non-theologically drivenempathetic response. Despite scholarly delight in unravelling complexities of meaningacross the different faces, the fundamentals of simple narrative are present and easilycomprehensible to anyone. This is the most compelling reason for seeing these crosses asspeaking to a larger audience.

It is when we start to look at those elements of the cross which were copied even inthe poorer monasteries, outside great ecclesiastical centres, that expected audiences canbe further explored. In Anglo-Saxon England, Carol Neumann de Vegvar has shown thatvinescroll is overwhelmingly popular, and has related this to exegesis on Christ as the TrueVine, and, within a rural context, to agriculture and crops.38 In Ireland, the enduringelements are those reminiscent of elaborate metalwork, and/or the crucifixion itself. Thesecrosses focus on the role of the cross as a sign of victory, ambiguously secular andecclesiastic, and in its jewelled form as a harbinger of judgement. Such images speak to anaristocratic secular audience above all. That aristocratic women were being addressed, aswell as their male relatives, may be evidenced by the starring role Eve plays on thesecrosses.

Eve is ubiquitous in the art of the Irish high crosses. On the shaft of Muiredach’scross the arm with which she passes the apple to Adam alluringly draws his and our eyesto her full, pendulous breasts; the serpent seems to caress her hair as it whispers in her ear,while the hand with which she covers herself seems intended as much to draw attentionas to conceal (Fig. 9.3). Admittedly, few representations of Eve are this ostentatiouslysensual, but then, few monuments within the corpus of Irish sculpture are as convincingly


sculptural as this. The ‘Muiredach Master’ as Roger Stalley has dubbed him may, then,merely be expressing in a more fully realised manner and with more accomplished artistry,conceptions of Eve implicit, if not so visibly represented, elsewhere.39 At Boho, Co.Fermanagh, and Drumcliff, Co. Sligo,40 Adam and Eve scenes feature prominently oncrosses whose decoration is otherwise relatively heavy on ornament. At Kells, the scene isfound on the Broken Cross, the Market Cross and the Tower Cross, albeit placed indifferent typological and iconographic contexts on each.41 At Castledermot, Co. Kildare,on the South Cross, they are again found on the shaft, beneath the Crucifixion.42 The sheernumber of depictions of the Temptation, second only to the Crucifixion, is quite striking.Is the explanation simply that the two are closely connected?

On the North Cross at Castledermot this certainly seems possible (Fig. 9.4): Adamand Eve are found on the cross-head, balancing Christ’s crucifixion in a theologicallydaring manner—daring, not so much for the presentation of Adam (for Christ was thesecond Adam, the theme alluded to here), but for using the scene to occupy the physicalspace reserved elsewhere for the final judgement, not the entry point of sin into the world.The literal elevation of Adam and Eve here must provoke us to question the reason fortheir prominent placement, and the implicit equation of them, not simply with Christ’scrucifixion, but with his Judgement. It is implicit, because it is an equation which isdependent on a viewer being familiar with the more common placement of Crucifixionand Judgement back-to-back as at Durrow, Co. Offaly, or indeed, Monasterboice. Adamand Eve’s placement back-to-back with the Crucifixion is not unique, as it occurselsewhere at Moone, Co. Kildare, but their elevation is.43

Eve is a ubiquitous figure, but the same cannot be said of the Virgin. Indeed, herabsence is notable. She is not uniformly absent, but her presence is seldom celebrated.Thus we find her on the south face of the base of the Moone Cross, in the Flight into Egypt,but this is no iconic portrait. This is a point which has been noted already by FrançoiseHenry, Dorothy Kelly and Jane Hawkes, and it is one of the iconographic distinctionsbetween Irish crosses and those of both Scotland and Anglo-Saxon England.44 A solitaryexception is the depiction of the Virgin and Child on the end of the south arm of the crossat Drumcliff, Co. Sligo, and two possible examples on one of the Carndonagh Pillars, anda cross fragment at Cloone, Co. Leitrim.45 In fact, in an Irish context, the Virgin is mostoften found within the context of the Adoration of the Maji.46 It is in this context that sheis sometimes coupled with Eve. Thus, at Monasterboice, Catherine Karkov has shown


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39 Stalley, 200740 Harbison, 1992: 1. 28–29; 70–7441 Harbison, 1992: 1. 100-11142 Harbison, 1992: 1. 37-4143 See further below, 00-0044 Henry, 1964: 41; Kelly, 1995: 197; Hawkes, 1997a: 107–10945 Kelly, 1993: 156–61; 1995; Grant, 199446 Kelly, 1995: 197–98

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Figure 9.4: Adam and Eve, North Cross, Castledermot, Co. Kildare (Photo: Author)

Figure 9.3: Adam and Eve, Cross of Muiredach, Monasterboice, Co. Louth (Photo: Author)



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how, on Muiredach’s cross, the entry of sin and salvation to the world are mirroredcompositionally as well as typologically. Indeed, her assessment of Eve on this cross is oneof the few sustained readings of female subject and audience in an Irish context. Eve’stemptation by the serpent is represented as a seduction, as it is also in the roughlycontemporary literary work, Saltair na Rann (the Psalter of Quatrains); further, she iscontrasted compositionally, and with symbolic intent, with the Virgin above her. Karkovalso argued that Eve may be seen here as the disobedient reader, who accepts only theobvious meaning of the text, and thus marginalises women from the subsequent OldTestament royal history which follows. She raised the interesting question as to whether,given the possibility that Monasterboice may have been a double monastery, Eve can alsobe interpreted as a metaphor for textual empowerment, for the ability of women to readand consume images.47 And, she suggested that the avoidance of any images of theAnnunciation on Irish crosses lays particular stress on Christ’s humanity and humandescent from Adam, rather than his divinity, a point which emphasises the significance ofMary’s role, but also of Eve’s.

While Monasterboice’s status as a double house is disputable, being based onreferences to nuns’ presence in a later saint’s life, there is sufficient evidence elsewhere ofnuns’ houses being widely present at male monasteries, albeit often in a subsidiary locationand playing a marginal role.48 There were nuns at both Céli Dé houses, such as Tallaghand Finglas, and larger monasteries, such as Armagh and Clonmacnoise.49 It seems a likelyproposition, therefore, that nuns may have been among the intended audience ofMuiredach’s cross, as indeed of many other crosses. However, it is worth asking whetherthe presence of nuns is a necessary requirement for positing a female audience. Given theevidence for royal secular interest, royal women should be considered as another possibleaudience.

For those familiar with the Anglo-Saxon material and Irish literary sources, wheredevotion to the Virgin is strong from Blathmac onwards,50 the paucity of depictions of theVirgin in Ireland is notable. The distinction seems to be present from the very start of theartistic record. In Northumbria, Cuthbert’s Coffin provides the earliest extant example ofthe Virgin and Child, dating to 698.51 The Book of Kells provides another earlyexample,52 but despite a likely Iona provenance, its presence in Ireland for a considerablepart of the early medieval period is potentially significant, with contemporary interactions

47 Karkov, 1995: 208, 20948 Ryan, 1931: 143 citing the Vita Sancti Boecii 10 (Plummer, 1910: 1. 90), which states that at

Búithe’s monastery he made sure the nuns were widely separated from the monks, ‘lest the fairfame of his religious for virtue should in any way be impaired’ (Monialum quoque monasteriumin remoto fieri a loco virorum ipse ordinavit, ne in aliquo fama castitatis laederetur).

49 Harrington, 2002: 106–109, 227–3050 Carney, 1964; O’Dwyer, 198851 Kitzinger, 195652 Dublin: Trinity College, MS 58



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up to the twelfth century evidenced by the so-called charters recorded within.53 The onlynoteworthy exception to the dearth of Virgin and Child depictions in monumental, publicart, the Drumcliff Virgin and Child, may be explained through Drumcliff’s Columbanconnection.54 The special association of the Columban familia with the protection ofwomen, expressed through the promulgation of Cáin Adomnáin, the ‘Law of Innocents’(of 697), and its later Middle Irish commentaries, would explain their visual developmentof iconic images of the Virgin even in the tenth century.55 Cáin Adomnáin portrays theChurch as a protector of women, and in Chapter 33 states: ‘for the sin is great whenanyone slays the mother and the sister of Christ’s mother and the mother of Christ, andher who carries the spindle and who clothes everyone.’56 Here women in general areequated, through their childbearing abilities and virtuous handiwork, with the Virgin;offence and injury to them is equated with offence and injury to Christ and his mother.This shows that medieval Insular writers’ perceptions of contemporary women wereshaped by and modulated through biblical parallels, a process which need not be seen asconfined to the Virgin alone. In particular, the mention of cloth-making is significant as,although strongly associated with the Virgin in both text and image in the Insular world,57

it is also closely associated with Eve, as shown by the illustrations to Junius 11.58 It is ofparticular interest to note that, in the Middle Irish commentaries that Cáin Adomnáinaccumulated, women were instructed to donate generously to the Church on the occasionof circuits of Columban relics in gratitude for Adomnán’s efforts on behalf of their sex.59

Thus there is a reciprocal bond created between women and the Church by means ofecclesiastical intervention in the secular sphere, leading to women’s donations to theChurch, mediated by biblical citations and equations. All of this suggests that depictionsof biblical women, while not always aimed at a female audience, could have borne strongmessages for that audience. Given the very limited range of Irish sculptural evidence, it isperhaps useful to turn first to Anglo-Saxon parallels.

In contrast to Irish crosses, the Ruthwell cross abounds with representations ofwomen: the Annunciation, the Flight into Egypt, Mary Magdalene washing Christ’s feet,and a scene which may be read both as the Visitation and, arguably Martha and Mary.Carol Farr has argued convincingly that these sculptural images speak particularly towomen, concluding that:

53 Werner, 1972; Mac Niocaill, 196154 Hawkes, 1997a: 12855 Harrington, 2002: 22856 quod grande peccatum qui matrem 7 sororem matris Christi 7 matrem Christi occidit 7 collum

unumquemque portantem 7 omnem hominem vestimentem contrivit. (Meyer, 1905: 24, 25);discussed in Ní Dhonnchadha, 2001a: 22–28; and with different emphasis in Harrington, 2002:153. Ní Dhonnchadha, 2001b: 56, suggests this part of the Cáin Adamnáin may have beenadded at Iona in 727

57 Coatsworth, 1998: 1558 Oxford: Bodleian Library, MS Junius 11, p. 4559 Cáin Adamnáin 23, 24 (Meyer, 1905: 12, 13)



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the images of women on the Ruthwell cross seem to acknowledge the presence andpower of female aristocrats, to include them as a part of the monastic and Christianideal, but their representation on the cross belongs to the early period of a longprocess of their subordination.60

This begs the question of whether the absence of women from the Irish corpus, or rather,the confinement of representations to Eve, indicates social and, ultimately gendered,considerations.

A better knowledge of medieval Irish opinion and understanding of Eve is crucial toour comprehension of pictorial visualisations of Eve. Until recently, scholars havemistakenly assumed that Irish attitudes were as critical as those known from elsewhere inthe medieval West. However, Christine Harrington has shown, by reference to Saltair naRann (c.988) and particularly by comparing this with the Latin Vita Adae et Evae fromwhich it derives, that Irish perceptions of Eve were more positive than negative.61 Eve ispraised for her beauty, for her devotion to Adam, and for her motherhood.62 Moreover,the Fall is not represented as related to carnal sin, nor is Eve a wilful temptress, but a loyalwife, and the laudatory description of Eve on her creation, not having a Latin model,shows native attitudes in the late-tenth century.63 Eve was acknowledged as the motherof humankind, and as such was honoured. Despite the richness of Saltair na Rann, it isone of the few texts which discourse on the role of Eve, who, in textual terms, is far lessrepresented than the Virgin. Attempting to explain this disparity (between the visual andliterary), audience is, arguably, crucial. Eve was foolish, but necessary, to the ancestry ofthe human race; her presence on the high crosses emphasises at once the role of women,and the danger, for them, of not paying heed to those of better judgment, their fathers,husbands, or the Church. Her maternal role was of more significance to a seculararistocracy and royalty obsessed with genealogy than it was to the ecclesiastical poets forwhom the Virgin was the more relevant model. That her role at the very beginning ofsalvation history, was not seen as entirely negative, even though it necessitated Christ’ssacrifice, is implicit in the elevation of the Adam and Eve scene to the Castledermotcross-head. Eve could be an appropriate role model; but not to a monastic audience.

Significantly, as we move into the twelfth century, and crosses begin to be carvedagain, the fundamentals which are copied remain the same: ornament, surely still chargedwith parousiacal meaning; the crucifixion, and yet again, Adam and Eve; and sometimes,donor figures (Fig. 9.5). Intriguingly, here, the issues of audience become clearer, and areclarified by location. For the sites with twelfth-century crosses are those with pretentionsto diocesan status, which, in the case of Glendalough and Tuam, were backed by powerful

60 Farr, 1997b: 60–6161 Harrington, 2002: 272–8062 Harrington, 2002: 273–74, citing Saltair na Rann, ll. 1061–7263 Harrington, 2002: 276. The Irish vernacular Saltair is more complimentary than the

Anglo-Saxon Genesis B, even though this is not as denigrating as other vernacular versions ofGenesis.


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kings whose own status depended on a successful outcome.64 The sites adorned withtwelfth-century crosses are, therefore, those presided over by clerics with an interest inChurch reform and, particularly, pastoral care. That the role of Adam and Eve shouldcontinue to be highlighted suggests that its main audience was never intended to bemonastic.

This paper has aimed to draw together some of the elusive evidence which might helpanswer questions of audience, both for the grave-slabs which were produced in suchnumbers in the tenth to twelfth centuries, and for the more elaborate high crosses. Thelack of inscriptions of women’s names on grave-slabs has been shown to require a more

64 Evidence for the dating and patronage of the Glendalough cross is ambiguous; given theunequivocally early date of the Iniscealtra cross of Cathasach, I am inclined to favour argumentsfor Muirchertach Ua Briain’s commission as part of his bid to promote Glendalough aboveDublin; see T. Ó Carragáin, 2010: 251–52. A date in the 1120s and the patronage ofToirdelbach Ua Conchobair is proposed by Ó Floinn, 2011: 101–102

Figure 9.5: Adam and Eve, twelfth-century cross, Roscrea, Co. Tipperary(Photo: Author)



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nuanced reading that hitherto accepted, while such slabs’ placement within the monasticcomplex, both in the main cemetery and at nunnery churches, has been shown to be morecomplex in gender terms than hitherto assumed. With regard to the high crosses, theubiquity of images of Eve, along with the distancing of the Virgin, only makes sense witha lay female audience in mind, especially given the less critical attitudes to Eve found inIrish literature, coupled with the implicit linking of biblical and contemporary women asevidenced by the Middle Irish commentaries to Cáin Adomnáin. That long ruminationwas not a requisite for viewing these images is a reasonable conclusion given the extremelyeasily digestable forms which become so popular, briefly, in tenth-century Irish art. Thisis not to discredit the complex exegetical readings of these crosses by iconographicscholars; this is a valid pursuit. But we ought to question the differences between public,monumental representations, and book illumination designed with a restricted, literateuser in mind. These differences are more readily explained if the audiences for these crosseswere mixed, both in terms of gender and in being both secular and religious.

AcknowledgementsThe research leading to these results received funding from the European ResearchCouncil under the European Union’s Seventh Framework Programme (FP7/2007-2013),ERC grant agreement no. 263036. I am grateful to colleagues on the project, ‘Reassessingthe Roles of Women as “Makers” of Medieval Art and Architecture’, for discussion ofmany of the issues relating to audience addressed here, particularly: Therese Martin,Alexandra Gajewski, and Stefanie Seeberg. The International Insular Art Conferencepaper from which this essay developed was carried out as part of research for the project‘Christ on the Cross: Textual and Material Representations of the Passion in EarlyMedieval Ireland (ca.800–1200)’, funded by the IRCHSS. I am grateful to formercolleagues on that project, Juliet Mullins and Richard Hawtree, for discussion oftheological and social issues pertaining to this subject. Finally I am grateful to thoseparticipants at the IIAC who provided me with feedback.


Not about Eve? The Forgotten Female Audience in Medieval Irish Art

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