St Manchán: genocidal nut job & resident of gorgeous Romanesque shrine

Over the past few days I’ve been posting some photos I took of St Manchan’s shrine in the National Museum of Ireland. They have been particularly well received (for the beauty of the object, rather than any photographic ability of mine), so I thought I might collect them together with a few words to provide context.


St Manchán mac Silláin was an early Irish saint. He is believed to have founded the monastery of Liath Mancháin in AD 645, on land provided by St St Ciarán of Clonmacnoise. The site lies in the modern townland of Lemanaghan, near Pollagh in County Offaly.

One of the best known stories about St Manchán is that he was amongst a group of religious types who gathered to pray and fast in AD 664/665. The reason for this pray-fest/fast … enlightenment? … peace? … kindness and goodness towards the world in general? ... not at all! These holy rollers were praying (at the request of joint high-kings Diarmait Ruanaid and Blathmac) that their god would send a plague to kill off a large portion of the lower classes of Irish society ... to weed out their numbers ... basically. Ironically, the Yellow Plague that arrived carried off St Manchan, along with fellow conspirators St Féchín of Fore and St Rónán mac Beraig … and if there isn’t a socialist moral in there, you’re really not looking hard enough! After his death, Manchán was remembered for his wisdom, knowledge of religious scripture and (astoundingly) for his generosity.


Despite being party to attempted genocide, Manchán is best remembered today for the exquisite Romanesque tent-shaped shrine containing his relics. It was created in 1130 in Clonmacnoise, Co. Offaly. The main structure of the shrine is of yew wood, covered with bronze plates. Each of its sides bears a large Greek (equal-armed) cross and a striking collection of cast figures.

 Like many early shrines and reliquaries, it was long used to swear oaths and it was reputed to have the ability to cure illness. The shrine remained at St Manchan's monastery at Lemanaghan until the 18th century. At that time the church and monastic buildings had fallen into ruin and the artefact was moved, first to the church at Cooldorrough, and in 1860, to its current home at Boher church.


Thus, the artefact on display in the National Museum in Dublin is a replica, not the original. Nonetheless, it still conveys the splendour and beauty of what it must have looked like in its heyday.
Note:

The story about St Manchán’ death survives from two sources. The first is in the Latin Life of St Gerald of Mayo (who did not partake in the genocidal pray-fest, and so survived) and in the notes to the hymn Sén Dé in the Liber Hymnorum.

Sources:
Location: Pollagh, Co. Offaly, Ireland

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Always remember to draw the swastika turning to the right": Some thoughts on swastika directionality in Early Medieval Irish Art

Image
Swastikas are, for a number of reasons, endlessly fascinating symbols. Like all symbols, they are only invested with the meanings we give them. Otherwise they are just little shapes and drawings that mean nothing in and of themselves. Owing to its long history and brief (if traumatic) association with Nazism, the swastika probably has a stronger resonance than most. You won’t spend long on the internet attempting to discuss the swastika before someone, trying to be helpful, notes that the Nazi version rotated counter-clockwise (elbows pointing left) and was bad, but the good Buddhist/Hindu version rotated clockwise. They may be trying to be helpful, but they are invariably wrong. It’s true that the version Adolf Hitler designed for the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei only went one direction: counter-clockwise. What’s wrong is that not all other ( i.e. non-Nazi) swastikas turn the opposite direction (elbows pointing right). Rather than dutifully plod through a debun...
Read more

The dreaded first test post!

Image
An irregularly updated blog about archaeology and related madness! ... might just be good! ** I'm always looking for guest writers! So if you have something that you want to say about archaeology, please get in touch! ** [** If you like any of the posts on this blog, please consider making a small donation. Each donation helps keep the Irish Radiocarbon & Dendrochronological Dates project going! **] <A HREF="http://ws.amazon.co.uk/widgets/q?rt=tf_sw&ServiceVersion=20070822&MarketPlace=GB&ID=V20070822%2FGB%2Frobmchaarc-21%2F8002%2Fb7e77064-bfea-4ba8-954d-a415ec05ad0c&Operation=NoScript">Amazon.co.uk Widgets</A>
Read more

Three Billboards Outside University College London: A case of approved plagiarism by Prof Andrew Bevan et al.

Image
Introduction The oft-recited adage is that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Going by this logic, there can be no higher praise from an academic than outright plagiarism of your work. I have had recent cause to be on the receiving end of just such praise and I can assure you, dear reader, that it doesn’t feel like a compliment at all. In fact, it sucks. I decided that, rather than meekly accept it, I was going to fight back for the recognition due to my work. To this end, I reached out to the two universities involved (University College London and Plymouth University) and the publishing journal (PNAS) and asked them to initiate investigations into the conduct of their employees/authors. I trusted that these institutions would be keen to ensure that their academics adhered to the highest standards and that any deviation would be met with swift correction. I was wrong and my trust was sorely misplaced. Until now I have only really discussed this issue with my cont...
Read more