Nothing that could reconcile the chiefs to the new religious departure was omitted upon this occasion.  Their new-found loyalty was to be handsomely rewarded with a share of the Church spoil.  Nor did they show the smallest reluctance, it must be said, to meet the king’s good dispositions half way.  The principal Church lands in Galway were made over to McWilliam, the head of the Burkes; O’Brien received the abbey lands in Thomond; other chiefs received similar benefices according to their degree, while a plentiful shower of less substantial, but still appreciated favours followed.  The turbulent McGillapatrick of Ossory was to be converted into the decorous-sounding Lord Upper Ossory.  For Con O’Neill as soon as he chose to come in, the Earldom of Tyrone was waiting.  McWilliam Burke of Galway was to become Earl of Clanricarde; O’Brien of Clare, Earl of Thomond and Baron of Inchiquin.  Parliamentary robes, and golden chains; a house in Dublin for each chief during the sitting of Parliament—­these were only a portion of the good things offered by the deputy on the part of his master.  Could man or monarch do more?  In a general interchange of civilities the “King’s Irish enemies” combined with their hereditary foes to proclaim him no longer Lord, but King of Ireland—­“Defender of the Faith, and of the Church of England and Ireland on earth the Supreme Head.”

[Illustration:  FONT IN KILCARN CHURCH, CO.  MEATH.]

XXII.

THE NEW DEPARTURE.

So far so good.  Despite a few trifling clouds which overhung the horizon, the latter years of Henry VIII.’s life and the short reign of his successor may claim to count among the comparatively halcyon periods of Irish history.  The agreement with the landowners worked well, and no serious fears of any purpose to expel them from their lands had as yet been awakened.  Henry’s policy was upon the whole steadily conciliatory.  Tyrant as he was, he could be just when his temper was not roused, and he kept his word loyally in this case.  To be just and firm, and to give time for those hitherto untried varieties of government to work, was at once the most merciful and most politic course that could be pursued.  Unfortunately for the destinies of Ireland, unfortunately for the future comfort of her rulers, there was too little patience to persevere in that direction.  The Government desired to eat their loaf before there was fairly time for the corn to sprout.  The seed of conciliation had hardly begun to grow before it was plucked hastily up by the roots again.  The plantations of Mary’s reign, and the still larger operations carried on in that of her sister, awakened a deep-seated feeling of distrust, a rooted belief in the law as a mysterious and incomprehensible instrument invented solely for the perpetration of injustice, a belief which is certainly not wholly extinguished even in our own day.