Insula Sanctorum et Doctorum; Or, Ireland's Ancient Schools and Scholars

by John Healy

Now to return to Cormac Mac Cullinan. He became King of Munster in the year A.D. 900, when, as the Annals of Ulster tell us, there was a ‘change of kings’ at Cashel, viz.: Cormac Mac Cullinan in the place of Cenngegain, that is Finnguine—the former term was, it seems, a nick-name of the previous king, who became unpopular and was deposed by the tribesmen. Next year he was murdered, but it was by his own kinsmen.

There is no doubt that Cormac was, as we have said, a bishop at this period. He was not Bishop of Emly, for the See was then filled. Neither was he Bishop of Lismore, as some writers have asserted, for his namesake, the Bishop of Lismore, lived until A.D. 1119. It is not necessary, indeed, to assume that he had any See. Hitherto he seems to have been a man of studious habits, as he certainly was a man of great learning. Being a member of the royal family of Munster, it would, so to speak, be the right thing to make him a bishop; but, in all probability, he spent most of his time in retirement at Disert-Diarmada, and was no doubt reluctantly called to the throne, as next in blood, by the revolution which deposed his predecessor.

All our annalists agree in representing Cormac as both a pious and learned prince; but we cannot call him either a great king or a great saint. That he was a just man according to the ordinary standard, he gave proof soon after his accession to the throne of Munster. The old rule of alternate succession between the Eugenian and Dalcassian lines had, as the learned Cormac was well aware, been scandalously violated. He resolved, so far as he could, that justice should be done when his reign would come to an end. Calling around him the chiefs both of Desmond and Thomond, he reminded them of the ancient rule of alternate succession, and confessing that the Eugenian line hitherto had enjoyed more than they were entitled to of the sovereign power, he besought the princes of his own house to consent to the succession of a Dalcassian prince to the throne of Munster. The princes of Desmond listened in respectful silence, and pretended to assent to the proposed arrangement, but afterwards declined to carry it out.

The seven years’ reign of Cormac was full of stirring events. The first or second year of his reign was marked by “the expulsion of the Gentiles from Ireland, i.e., from the fortress of Ath-Cliath,” as the Annals of Ulster express it. They had, for some years, been losing ground on the eastern coasts, but at this period met with such a crushing disaster from Cearbhall, King of Leinster, that all the foreigners fled from Dublin, half-dead with terror, having left most of their ships behind them. It was the beginning of the ‘forty years’ rest,’ which poor Ireland then enjoyed from their perpetual incursions. No doubt colonies of Danes still remained in the great sea-port towns, which they had built; but they were too much broken down by defeat to risk any new enterprises, and gladly confined themselves within their walls, spending their time rather in trade and commerce than, as hitherto, in war and rapine.

No sooner, however, did the native princes once more breath freely, than they turned their arms against each other. Flann Sionna, son of Maelsechnaill, was then King of Ireland. He had already reigned more than twenty years as Ard-righ; and what is more wonderful still, he was destined to reign sixteen years more, and, strangest of all, to die in his bed. He was a restless and ambitious prince, and seems to have inherited all the ancestral jealousy of the South of Ireland. In A.D. 904 he made a wanton raid into Ossory. Next year he led a hosting against Munster, and in conjunction with Cearbhall, King of Leinster, he plundered all the Golden Vale, from Gowran to Limerick. The men of Munster were now fairly roused, and even the Bishop-king was put upon his mettle. He levied a great army, and marched northwards to meet the troops of Flann and his allies in a fair fight. The rival hosts met on the same field of Magh Lena, which had witnessed the great battle between Conn the Hundred Fighter, and Eoghan Mor. Once more it was North and South arrayed against each other in fratricidal strife, whilst Danish colonies still held all the ports of the kingdom. Of old the North was victorious at Magh Lena; but now fortune favoured the men of Munster. Flann and his allies were completely defeated, and driven off the field. Not content with this victory, the King-bishop crossed the Shannon, and marching into the very heart of Connaught defeated and plundered the Connacians, who were allies of Flann. The hostages of the western provinces were carried off in triumph, and the fleets of Munster sailing up from Killaloe plundered the islands of Lough Ree.

So far no blame can be thrown on the King-bishop. He had merely defended his own territories, and chastised the insolence of an aggressive foe. But the victors were now grown wanton from success, and resolved to carry their triumphant arms into Leinster, as they had already done into Connaught. The pretext for this wanton invasion was the recovery of the old Borrumean tribute, which, it was alleged, the Leinster men had not paid for 200 years, and which the chiefs of Munster were now determined to exact. Cormac was himself entirely opposed to this unjust war. He felt, no doubt, that this alleged non-payment of the tribute was merely a pretext for a war of conquest. But his subjects were full of confidence from previous success; and, moreover, he was urged on to battle by his evil genius, Flaithbeartach, abbot of Inniscathy, a member of the royal house of Munster, and subsequently King of Cashel.

This restless ecclesiastic was the real author of all the evils that followed. He seems to have been a headstrong and impetuous man, fond of strife and prodigal of blood.

Cormac’s greatest fault was weakly yielding against his own better judgment to the counsels of this evil adviser, who urged him to prosecute a war which Cormac in his own conscience believed to be unjust. The Leinster King had sent an embassy to Cormac offering to submit the questions at issue to the decision of a friendly conference—meantime asking a cessation from arms, and offering to give as a hostage the abbot of Cormac’s own monastery of Disert-Diarmada. Cormac was willing to accept these terms; but the abbot of Inniscathy spurned them and declared he would alone fight the Leinster men. “Then,” said Cormac, “I will not desert you, but I feel the issue of this battle will be fatal to me and mine.” Thereupon he made his will, leaving rich gifts in gold and vestments to many churches, and desiring that his body should be buried, if possible, at Cloyne; if not, in Disert-Diarmada, where he was educated, and had spent so many quiet and happy years before he was called to bear the burden of a crown.

The battle was fought at Ballaghmoon, close to the ancient Campus Albus, where the great Synod was held in A.D. 630 with reference to the Paschal question. On this historic field the old quarrel of North against South was once more to be fought out. Flann, the King of Erin, and Cathal, son of Conor, King of Connaught, came to aid the King of Leinster with all their forces. On the other side were, besides Cormac and his chiefs, Ceallach, King of Ossory who, like Cormac himself, had suffered much from Flann’s previous incursions, and other subordinate kings. From the first the tide of battle turned against the South. The gallant chieftains of Leath-Mogha would not desert their king, but they had no stomach for the fight. Ceallach of Ossory fled ingloriously from the field, and it is said that one Munster prince, a friend of the king, turned his horse’s head from the foe, crying out bitterly, “It is a battle brought on by clerics—let the clerics fight it out.” Cormac’s horse, it is said, slipped in the blood pools, and fell upon his rider, who was thereupon seized and beheaded by a soldier of the North, on a stone which is still shown at Ballaghmoon. The nobles of the South fell thick around him, and the White Field was made red with the blood of the men of Munster. Amongst the slain were several abbots and other ecclesiastics who had followed the King-bishop to the field, but Flaherty, abbot of Inniscathy, the author of all the mischief, succeeded in effecting his escape.

The head of Cormac, after the battle, was carried by some soldiers to King Flann, but he rebuked them for their brutality, and ordered the body of his fallen foe to be sought for on the field of battle, and buried with the head at Disert-Diarmada, which was not far from the fatal field.[448]