The order for the destruction of relics broke this silence, and sent a passionate thrill of opposition through all breasts, lay as well as clerical.  When the venerated remains of the golden days of the Irish Church were collected together and publicly destroyed, especially when the staff of St. Patrick, the famous Baculum Cristatum, part of which was believed to have actually touched the hands of the Saviour, was burnt in Dublin in the market-place, a spasm of shocked dismay ran through the whole island.  Men who would have been scandalized by no other form of violence were horror-stricken at this.  Differences of creed were so little understood that a widespread belief that a new era of paganism was about to be inaugurated sprang up all over Ireland.  To this belief the friars, who, though driven from their cloisters, were still numerous, lent their support, as did the Jesuits, who now for the first time began to arrive in some numbers.  Even the acceptance of the supremacy began to be rebelled against now that it was clearly seen what it was leading to.  An order to read the new English liturgy was met with sullen resistance—­“Now shall every illiterate fellow read mass!” cried Archbishop Dowdal of Armagh, in hot wrath and indignation.  Brown, the Archbishop of Dublin, was an ardent reformer, so also was the Bishop of Meath, but to the mass of their brethren they simply appeared to be heretics.  A proposal was made to translate the Prayer-book into Irish, but it was never carried into effect, indeed, even in the next century when Bishop Bedell proposed to undertake the task he received little encouragement.

The attempt to force Protestantism upon the country produced one, and only one, important result.  It broke down those long-standing barriers which had hitherto separated Irishmen of different blood and lineage, and united them like one man against the Crown.  When the common faith was touched the common sense of brotherhood was kindled.  “The English and Irish,” Archbishop Brown wrote in despair to Cromwell, “both oppose your lordship’s orders, and begin to lay aside their own quarrels.”  Such a result might be desirable in itself, but it certainly came in the form least likely to prove propitious for the future tranquillity of the country.  Even those towns where loyalty had hitherto stood above suspicion received the order to dismantle their churches and destroy all “pictures and Popish fancies” with sullen dislike and hostility.  Galway, Kilkenny, Waterford, each and all protested openly.  The Irish problem—­not so very easy of solution before—­had suddenly received a new element of confusion.  One that was destined to prove a greater difficulty than all the rest put together.

[Illustration:  INITIAL LETTER FROM THE BOOK OF KELLS.]

XXIII.

THE FIRST PLANTATIONS.