victory, a victory the reverberation of which rang through the whole Scandinavian world, rejoicing Malcolm of Scotland, who without himself striking a blow, saw his enemies lying scotched at his feet, so scotched in fact, that after the defeat of Clontarf they never again became a serious peril.  Yet as regards Ireland itself what was the result?  The result was that all those ligaments of order which were beginning slowly to wind themselves round it, were violently snapped and scattered to the four winds.  As long as Brian’s grasp was over it Ireland was a real kingdom, with limitations it is true, but still with a recognized centre, and steadily growing power of combined and concerted action.  At his death the whole body politic was once more broken up, and resolved itself into its old anarchic elements again.

[Illustration:  INTERIOR OF CORMAC’S CHAPEL, CASHEL. (From a Drawing by Miss M. Stokes.)]

It would have been better far for the country had Brian been defeated, so that he, his son Morrogh, or any capable heir had survived, better for it indeed had he never ruled at all if this was to be end.  By his successful usurpation the hereditary principle—­always a weak one in Ireland—­was broken down.  The one chance of a settled central government was thus at an end.  Every petty chief and princeling all over the island felt himself capable of emulating the achievements of Brian.  It was one of those cases which success and only success justifies.  Ireland was pining, as it had always pined, as it continued ever afterwards to pine, for a settled government; for a strong central rule of some sort.  The race of Hy-Nial had been titular kings for centuries, but they had never held the sovereignty in anything but name.  Pushing their claims aside, and gathering all power into his own hands Brian had acted upon a small stage the part of Charlemagne centuries earlier upon a large one.  He had succeeded, and in his success lay his justification.  With his death, however, the whole edifice which he had raised crumbled away, and anarchy poured in after it like a torrent.  A struggle set in at once for the sovereignty, which ended by not one of Brian’s sons but the deposed King Malachy being set upon the throne.  Like his greater rival he was however by this time a very old man.  His spirit had been broken, and though the Danes had been too thoroughly beaten to stir, other elements of disorder abounded.  Risings broke out in two of the provinces at once, and at his death the confusion became confounded.  As a native rhyme runs: 

     “After Malachy, son of Donald,
     Each man ruled his own tribe,
     But no man ruled Erin.”