gods, pagan customs, and pagan expressions everywhere through them; and they would not answer for a Christian people. So about six years after St. Patrick’s arrival, when Christianity had been pretty widely spread through Ireland, he saw that it was necessary to have a new code, suitable for the new and pure faith; and he advised Laeghaire [Laery], the ard-ri, to take steps to have the laws revised and re-written. The king, seeing this could not be avoided, appointed nine learned and eminent persons—of whom he himself and St. Patrick were two—to carry out this important work. At the end of three years, these nine produced a new code, quite free from any taint of paganism: and this book got the name of Senchus Mór [Shannahus More], meaning ‘Great old law-book.’

The very book left by St. Patrick and the others has been long lost. But successive copies were made from time to time, of which some are still preserved. We have also manuscript copies of several other old Irish law-books, most of which, as well as the Senchus Mór, have been lately translated and printed. As the language of those old books is very obscure and difficult, it was a hard task to translate them; but this was successfully done by the two great Irish scholars, Dr. John O’Donovan and Professor Eugene O’Curry. These translations of the Senchus Mór and the other old law-books, with the Irish texts, and with notes, explanations, and indexes, form six large printed volumes, which may now be seen in every important library.

The brehons held courts at regular intervals, where cases were tried. If a man was wronged by another, he summoned him to one of these courts, and there were lawyers to plead for both sides, and witnesses were examined, much in the same way as we see in our present law courts; and after the brehon had carefully listened to all, he gave his decision. This decision was given by the brehon alone: there were no juries such as we have now.

All parties, high and low, submitted to the Brehon Laws, and abided by the judge’s decisions; unless the party who lost the suit thought the decision wrong—which indeed happened but seldom—in which case, he appealed to the court of a higher brehon. Then, if it was found that the first had given an unjust decision, he had to return the fee and pay damages, besides more or less losing character, and lessening his chances of further employment. So the brehons had to be very careful in trying cases and giving their decisions.

The highest people in the land, even kings and queens, had to submit to the laws, exactly the same as common subjects; and if a king was wronged, he had to appeal to the law, like other people. A couple of hundred years ago, when the kings of France were, to all intents and purposes, despotic, and could act much as they pleased towards their subjects, a learned French writer on law, during a visit to England, happened to pass near the grounds of one of the palaces, where he observed a notice on the fence of a field belonging to the king:—“Trespassers will be prosecuted according to law.” Now this gave him great pleasure, as it showed how the king had to call in the aid of the law to redress a wrong, like any of his subjects; and it gave him occasion to contrast the condition of England with that of France, where the king or queen would have made short work of the trespasser, without any notice or law at all.

But if the same Frenchman had been in Ireland 1,500 years ago, he might have witnessed what would give him still greater pleasure:—not a mere notice, but an actual case of trespass on a queen’s ground, tried in open court before his eyes. In those days there reigned at Tara a king named Mac Con, whose queen had a plot of land, not far from the palace, planted with glasheen, i.e., the woad-plant, for dyeing blue. In the neighbourhood there lived a female brewy, or keeper of a hostel for travellers, who had flocks and herds like all other brewys. One night a flock of sheep belonging to her broke into the queen’s grounds, and ate up or destroyed the whole crop of glasheen; whereupon the queen summoned her for damages.

In due course the case came before the king (for the queen would not appear before an ordinary brehon), and on hearing the evidence he decided that the sheep should be forfeit to the queen to pay for the crop. Now, although the glasheen was an expensive and valuable crop, the sheep were worth a great deal more; and the people were enraged at this unjust sentence; but they dared not speak out, for Mac Con was a usurper and a tyrant.

Among the people who dwelt in Tara at this time was a boy, a handsome, noble-looking young fellow, whom the people all knew by the name of Cormac. But no one in the least suspected that he was in reality a prince, the son of the last monarch, Art the Solitary, who had been slain in battle by the usurper, Mac Con. He was wise and silent, and carefully concealed from all who he was; for he well knew that if he was discovered the king would be sure to kill him.

While the trial was going on he stood behind the crowd listening quietly; and being by nature noble and just-minded, even from his youth up, he could not contain himself when he heard the king’s unfair and oppressive sentence; and he cried out amid the dead silence:—“That is an unjust judgment! Let the fleeces be given up for the glasheen—the sheep-crop for the land-crop—for both will grow again!”

The king was astonished and enraged, and became still more so when the people exclaimed with one voice:—“That is a true judgment, and he who has pronounced it is surely the son of a king!”

In this manner the people, to their great joy, discovered who Cormac was. How he managed to escape the vengeance of the king we are not told; but escape he did; and after a time the usurper was expelled from Tara, and Cormac was put in his place. To this day Cormac Mac Art is celebrated in Irish records as a skilful lawyer and writer on law, and as the wisest and most illustrious of all the ancient Irish kings.[1]

CHAPTER IV.

HOW THE ANCIENT IRISH LIVED AS PAGANS.

When Ireland was pagan the people were taught their religion, such as it was, by Druids. These druids were the only learned men of the time, and they had in their hands all the learned professions—they were not only druids, but judges, prophets, poets, and even physicians. They were the only teachers, and they were employed to instruct the sons and daughters of kings and chiefs in whatever learning was then known. They were also advisers to king and people on all important occasions; so they were, as we can well understand, held in high estimation, and had great influence. They had the reputation of being mighty magicians, and could do many wonderful things, as our old romantic stories tell, and as the people firmly believed. They could raise a druidical or magic fog, which hid things from view, or bring on darkness in the day, like the blackest night; they could bring down showers of fire or blood, cause a snowfall even in summer, till the ground was covered half a yard deep; and bring on storms and tempests on sea or land. They could drive a man mad by their sorcery—a power which was dreaded most of all by the people in general. For this purpose the druid prepared what was called a ‘madman’s wisp,’ that is, a little wisp of straw or grass, into which he pronounced some foul, baleful verses;