IRISH ARCHEOLOGY is as yet in its infancy. It is not a quarter of a century since the first appearance of any rational-minded attempt to elucidate the antiquities of the country. Something has been done for the architecture and other ancient structures. For the literature and history of the country hardly anything has been effected. The latter in particular is a hopeless puzzle. No one can clearly distinguish the mythological from the genuine in Irish history; can point out where the distant mountainranges end and mere cloudland commences. The whole of the ancient history is chaotic and obscure. Who was the lady Cæsar, who Partholanus, who Nemeth and his sons? What meaning has the story of the "Fir-bolgs" and their treble division, and who were their strange conquerors, themselves subdued by a people represented as less noble, though it was the descendants of the latter that told the aale, exalting another race above

their own forefathers? Is there any historical truth in these early passages, or do they represent truth under a veil of fable, and if so, what truth? Some say there is no truth in them at all; some that they mean this thing, others that they mean that.

Coming down later, the haze and obscurity remain, and still no one can clearly point us out what we are to believe and what reject. When did the King of Tara extend his authority over the other tribes? What powers were possessed by the House of Ir in the north-the Red Branch-and what is the meaning of that war, filled with legends, which they waged against the tribes of Connacht; and how is it that Connacht plays a more important part in the history of that time than does Meath, with its Ard-Ri? Was Meave fabulous or real, or was she a war-goddess? Who were the gods and who were the goddesses of the ancient Irish? Has all remembrance of the Pagan state passed

out of Irish literature; or did it remain transfigured and disguised in all that mass of bardic tales and poems and topographies that has come down to us, dealing with the Milesian Pagans and the predecessors of the Milesians? All is vague, chaotic, and utterly unsatisfactory.

Sometimes a contemptuous writer dashes his pen through all the bardic accumulations as nonsensical rubbish; more often we find them detailed with laborious and disagreeable minuteness. Even the Danish period is vague and obscure. On the one hand we have the bardic account, representing them as swarming over the whole island, and Turkesius, the Danish king, exacting tribute from all the tribes of Erin. On the other we have the strange fact pointed out by Mr. Joyce, that there are not in Irish nomenclature half-a-dozen names of Danish origin, and half of these have been given to us by the English, and learned from the Danes by them, such as Ulster and the correlatives.

To show the exceedingly shallow and unphilosophical mode in which Irish history has been written I would call attention to what is apparently a huge popular fallacy perpetually repeated, although the historical facts on which it is supposed to be founded, should suffice to displace it in the minds of the least thoughtful student. The battle of Clontarf is supposed to have been a great battle in which the Irish and the Danes were opposed, in which the latter were crushed, and their power in Ireland utterly destroyed. As a fact, the Danes in the time of Brian Boróm were not a great invasive power, but a colonizing people, with strong colonies planted here and there, and, of course, forming a strong factor in the petty wars of the time. The battle of Clontarf was fought against the Danes of Dublin, not against a great invad

ing army which Brian had driven back from the country until they stood at bay, and made their last fight at Clontarf. The Danes had been, at an earlier period, an invading power, descending on the coasts at many points, pouring inland, breaking up the old organizations and septal systems, themselves under different commanders and in different divisions, fighting with one another as readily as with the native Irish. In the time of Brian the Danes had melted away into the body of the Irish, or been driven away. But they had succeeded in planting a few prosperous towns which kept up the Danish character. Brian, who had usurped the title of Ard-Ri, desired to bring Dublin under subjection and tribute to himself. Dublin however, refused, and, backed by some Leinster chieftains and promises of defection from Malachy, King of Meath, an ally of Brian, resolved to revolt.

These were the causes that led to the battle of Clontarf; it will be easily seen how very different they are from those that are put forward in Irish histories, and which lie deep in the popular imagination.

Then it is also believed and asserted without hesitation, that Brian, though slain in the battle, conquered the Danes utterly, and broke for ever their dominion over Ireland. Putting aside the fact that the Danish dominion in Ireland, if it could ever have been called by that name, had passed away of itself as it passed away in England; let us consider the historical basis of this notion that Brian was victorious in the battle. As Brian and the DalCas marched northwards, he despatched one of his sons against the territories of the revolted chieftains in Leinster, hoping, perhaps, that he would be able to detach from the people of Dublin their Leinster allies for the protection of their own homes. With the remainder

of his troops he marched to Dublin and fought, and did not win the battle of Clontarf.

Before Brian assumed the ArdRiship, the Province of Meath had been that which was regarded as the royal province. The descendants of Neill of the Hostages had divided into two powerful septs. One of these occupied Ulster, the other, the southern Hy-Neill, occupied all the centre of Ireland. These two tribes divided the Ard-Riship between them, and exacted the king's tributes from the remainder of Ireland. Of late, however, the southern HyNeill were growing less powerful. In their struggles with their northern kinsmen they were obliged to rely more and more on the southern tribes, which were now fast consolidating under the warlike and energetic Dal-Cas, who occupied Clare and Limerick as their patrimony, and extended their authority over Tipperary, Kerry, and Cork. With the growing weakness of the southern Hy-Neill, and the growing consolidation of the south-west under the leadership of the descendants of Cas, the ambition of the latter increased. Having made kings of the southern Hy-Neill they resolved to make kings of themselves. Malachy, the Prince of Meath, having been raised to the dignity of ArdRi by the sword of Brian, was forced or persuaded to surrender the title to Brian, who vindicated it by force of arms over the whole country, and marching into Ulster destroyed and burned to the ground the palace and city of the northern Hy-Neill. Now, for the first time for centuries, the southern Irish put forward their claim to the Ard-Riship, and in Brian and the Dal-Cas they had leaders who were equal to the hazardous attempt. It was under these circumstances that Brian marched from Kincorágh to subdue a coalition entered into against him by the tribes of Leinster and the

Danes of Dublin, the latter assisted by their kinsmen from Man, the Orkneys, and other places where the Danes had settlements.

It seems that Malachy, the King of Meath, and ex-Ard-Ri, though he was brought to Clontarf by Brian as an ally, did not strike a blow, but held his troops aloof, biding the issue of the fight. The first thing which we would note in this battle is that the aged Brian was himself slain, a thing which would seem incredible, on the supposition that his troops were victorious. The story goes that a flying Dane chanced to enter his tent, and there slew him. How a flying Dane could break through a king's body-guard, or find the king at such a moment in his tent, is hard to understand. The death in the same battle of three of Brian's sons is not so remarkable or

suggestive, as the young princes would naturally be in the front of the battle. Still it is remarkable enough that the southern chieftains should have suffered any of those upon whom they all depended for the restoration to the south of its military and political predominance, to be found in posts of great danger. On the supposition that the Southerns were routed, it is easy to understand the death of Brian and of the young princes.

Immediately after the battle, we find the remaining sons of Brian marching southwards, whether that march be deemed a retreat or a triumphant return. Having been joined by Morough, the eldest son, who had been devastating Leinster, they marched back through Ossory. Now, had they routed the Danes and their allies at Clontarf, Brian having died, the first step would naturally have been to proclaim one of his sons Ard-Ri; and, having crushed the Dublin confederacy, have hastened to establish their authority over the whole island. The Southerns, however, put for

ward no candidate for the chiefkingship, but went sullenly back again to the Shannon.

But more than this, the people of Ossory rose against them on their return, who were submissive to them erewhile when they were marching to Dublin. Had the Dal - Cas triumphed at Clontarf, re-established their sway over all the east of Ireland, and filled the country with the fame of their great success, it is incredible that a small unsupported nation like the Ossorians would have attacked the triumphant army. On the other hand, it is easy to understand their conduct, if we believe that the Dal-Cas and the great southern confederacy, of which Brian and his sons were the head, had been defeated at Clontarf, and that the broken and dispirited remnant lessened by death and desertion, cowed by misfortune, embarrassed with the wounded, were making their way home as fast as they could.

There is also another suggestive circumstance. The Dal-Cas, ere they struck for the throne-to use our own idiom-had first to conquer the south-west of Ireland, and bind it in a great confederacy under their headship. The Owen-Acta, a tribe of equal dignity with themselves, contended for the sovereignty of Munster with them, and the DalCas had to fight many battles ere they beat down opposition and reduced the descendants of Owen to subjection to the descendants of Cas. But immediately after the battle of Clontarf, the Owen-Acta resumed their pretensions, and on the march homewards the latter revolted from the sons of Brian, and with their own troops separated from the main body, and made their way to Cashel by themselves, intent on raising a widespread revolt against the DalCas.

Now, on the supposition that Brian had conquered at Clontarf,

it is impossible to understand this revolt. The Owen-Acta had been conquered, and the supremacy of Munster passed to the Dal-Cas. Not only by their force and skill had the Dal-Cas subdued Munster, but they had put forward a candidate for the kingship of all Ireland, and their chieftain had received the tributes and homage due to ArdRi from all the tribes of the island with the exception of the northern Hy-Neill, and these he had invaded and chastised. In the elevation of their leading tribe-the Dal-Casall the tribes of the south-west of Ireland must have felt themselves exalted, honour and emoluments so unwonted poured in upon them. At Kincorágh, in the halls of their chief, they saw the chieftains of tribes, who had hitherto held them in subjection, bringing tributes to the south, in which many of them participated directly, and all indirectly. It is, therefore, utterly impossible that those tribes, who, when the Dal-Cas owned but their own patrimonial territories, had been forced to submit to them, who when the Dal-Cas ruled only Munster remained subject, who, when Brian was only the insecure and doubtful monarch of the island, remained faithful, should have risen in revolt immediately after a great victory by which the Dal-Cas had crushed utterly the strong coalition formed against them in the west of the island, and which we would naturally expect would have the result of attaching the Ard-Riship permanently to the family of Brian. However, not one of the sons or kinsmen of Brian was proclaimed Ard-Ri, and Malachy, their enemy, who, though a supposed ally, took no part in the battle of Clontarf, resumed the title of High-King of all Erin, and the Dal-Cas sank from their unwonted height, at least for

a season.

One of Brian's allies in the battle

of Clontarf was the King of Connacht. He was slain in the battle, as well as his suzerain, another proof that the Dal-Cas were not victorious. This King of Connacht had a chiefpoet, whose name I do not recall at present, but a copy of verses purporting to have been written by him are still preserved, and may be found in the second volume of O'Curry's "Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish." In these verses the poet represents himself as coming to Atha Cliah-the ford of the Hurdles-to the city of the children of Harált, the reddeners of spears, and begging the body of his master. "My king," he says, "does not come of a vulgar, a spurious race," and the whole poem is one of deference and flattery, besides letting slip the cardinal fact that the body of the King of Connacht, the ally of Brian, remained in the hands of the enemy. Now, if this poem be genuine, and if the fact stated in it be true, it all but demonstrates that the Dal-Cas and their allies were beaten in that battle. If they were not able to prevent the body of a chieftain so great as the king of a province from falling into the hands of the Danes, it is reasonable to suppose that the latter were left in possession of the field.

Now, although this poem may not be genuine, and I am a slow believer in the genuineness of ancient Irish poetry, it was at all events written by some person a long time ago, who does not appear to know, what we all know nowadays, that Brian and his allies routed the Danes at Clontarf. This poem is written by one who flatters the Danes, and implores of them to render up his master to him for burial, so that in any event its historical value for the purpose of our present inquiry is not destroyed. I have not fallen upon any ancient writing which represents the body of Brian as having

fallen into the enemy's hands, but we may be certain that it did. Had Brian been murdered by a fugitive Dane in his own tent, the Dal-Cas would have remained in possession of it, and they would have borne it home with them. They did not, however, bear it home, for Brian was buried at Armagh, which was not his family burial-ground. It seems that the Dubliners, not devoid of magnanimity, though, perhaps, it was the doing of the King of Meath, the treacherous ally, resolved to give the remains of the monarch of Ireland an honourable burial, and had them interred in their most honourable burial place— namely, at Armagh.

There is one last circumstance on which I would touch. There is an ancient legend which represents the well of St. Brigid in the vicinity of Cincoragh as being filled with blood on the day of the battle of Clontarf, in this supernatural way declaring to the people what was then taking place. It seems improbable that ideas so frightful would have been in the minds of the southern Irish, and especially among the tribes of the Dal-Cas, associated with an event which should have established their sovereignty over Ireland, and could not but have been greeted with delight and exultation wherever the Dal-Cas dwelt or wherever their authority extended. The mere fact that a very aged monarch was slain in the victory would not seem to me to be a sufficient cause for the origin of this legend, which represents the most sacred of the holy wells of the South as teeming with human blood. On the other hand, the slaughter of the Dal-Cas and their allies, the breaking of the sovereignty, and all the evil that followed from that disaster, would seem to furnish a more reasonable origin for that legend. From all these reasons, then, it seems to me certain that Brian was defeated at