Hard questions over Book of Kells are an unavoidable side-effect of student demo
The law of unintended consequences is possibly the only guaranteed rule of human experience. Good intentions lead to knockon effects and blowback, as do bad ones. All wars produce unintended consequences, but who would have thought genocide in Gaza would direct attention towards ownership of the Book of Kells?
There is no question that Trinity College Dublin has done a fine job done in safeguarding this cultural masterpiece. The manuscript, which was at risk of loss or deliberate destruction by religious zealots in the Cromwellian regime, has been in safe hands at Trinity since the 17th century. But people have begun to wonder why it isn’t housed in the National Museum, where access is free to all.
This marvel of ninthcentury genius, craftsmanship and imagination is a national treasure. However, it costs €18.50 to view it in the Old Library, and €25 for a ticket that includes the Book of Kells Experience, a new interpretive centre.
Around €17m a year is generated from the book and other manuscripts in Trinity’s collection – revenue that defrays conservation and security costs. Trinity staff, students and alumni are entitled to free entrance with up to two guests, but why not extend the principle of free admission to everyone living in Ireland? Restrict charges to tourists. This precious artifact will continue to raise significant revenue.
The question of Trinity’s ownership wouldn’t be in the public eye but for a fiveday student “encampment for Palestine” that blocked access to the Book of Kells as a means of raising awareness about Trinity’s investment portfolio. Students had been protesting about fees, but pivoted to demand divestment from Israeli companies and suppliers.
Initially, Trinity’s position was a handwashing exercise – its representatives claimed it did “not choose the companies the fund managers invest in”. This lofty disclaimer did not withstand scrutiny. It is not difficult to move funds within an investment portfolio. The students were correct to highlight the matter.
By Wednesday, sense prevailed and the authorities backed down. They realised adverse publicity was damaging the university’s reputation. Hats off to the students for strategic, peaceful and effective activism. There was never any risk to the Book of Kells, and tourist disappointment doesn’t come close to comparison with the horrors happening in real time in Gaza.
Demonstrations that don’t cause some kind of a nuisance don’t work – that’s the reality. Disruptive tactics infuriate some people and amuse others, but there’s no doubting their value in driving social change: they attract publicity and raise public awareness. From the Dunnes Stores antiapartheid campaign to the civil rights movement to the suffragettes, protesters have caused inconvenience, but acted on the right side of history.
In fairness to Trinity, it didn’t involve the gardaí and no attempt was made to remove the protesters from the campus. This compares favourably with confrontations at US colleges, where suspensions were announced and police deployed – around 2,000 protesters, including lecturers, have been arrested there.
But let’s return to the Book of Kells’ ownership. This magnum opus of calligraphy and illumination written in Latin contains the Four Gospels and combines figures of people and animals, some mythical, with ornate Celtic artwork. A book fitting its description was called “the work of an angel, and not of a man” by 12thcentury writer Gerald of Wales.
The manuscript’s artwork exerted a powerful influence on the Celtic revival. Its magnificence was cited as proof that early Ireland was civilised, rather than populated by barbarians.
The book’s name derives from the Abbey of Kells in Co Meath, its home for centuries. Work on the manuscript probably began on the island of Iona in Scotland and was completed in Kells at the start of the ninth century. Despite Viking raids, it remained in Kells until the 1650s.
A Cromwellian attack on the Kells church in 1653 led to the building being used as a horse barracks by 1655. The manuscript was sent elsewhere for safekeeping, possibly to a hereditary relickeeper or the Anglican Bishop of Meath’s residence.
Now we jump ahead to 1661, when a rather unsavoury individual named Henry Jones, who was responsible for the death of Oliver Plunkett, was named Bishop of Meath. A former member of the Cromwellian army, he had become vicechancellor of Trinity College, but stood down on his appointment to the bishopric.
As Bishop of Meath, he became legal custodian of the book – which is not the same as legal owner. Around this time, he presented it and the Book of Durrow to Trinity.
This is a murky period in history. We do not know precisely how the manuscript came into Bishop Jones’s possession. All we can be certain about is that the Catholic diocese of Meath – suppressed by this time – was its last legal owner before it was given to Trinity.
Arguably, Trinity College does not have a right to the Book of Kells, but nor does the State. It is not tenable to suggest it should be part of the National Museum’s holdings. In fact, legal ownership would appear to lie with the Catholic Church. Kells has lobbied for the book’s return. Has its case been considered?
Some might say Trinity has earned ownership by its diligent conservation. The Book of Kells and Book of Durrow are jewels in an important family of manuscripts held there – our only books from the first millennium – and Trinity has built up expertise in maintaining them. But artifacts can and do change hands wrongly. Recently, the European Court of Human Rights determined that Italy is the rightful owner of an ancient Greek statue, Victorious Youth, held by the J Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, in a dispute that has carried on for years.
Clearly, we need to have a conversation about ownership of the Book of Kells, uncomfortable though that will be in some quarters.
‘All we can be certain about is that the Catholic diocese of Meath was the book’s last legal owner before it was given to Trinity College. Kells has lobbied for the book’s return. Has its case been considered?’