and he sent a collar of gold to O’Neill.  About the same time Surrey wrote to inform Wolsey, that Cormac Oge MacCarthy and MacCarthy Reagh were “two wise men, and more conformable to order than some English were;” but he was still careful to keep up the old policy of fomenting discord among the native princes, for he wrote to the King that “it would be dangerful to have them both agreed and joined together, as the longer they continue in war, the better it should be for your Grace’s poor subjects here.”

Surrey became weary at last of the hopeless conflict, and at his own request he was permitted to return to England and resign his office, which was conferred on his friend, Pierse Butler,[385] of Carrick, subsequently Earl of Ormonde.  The Scotch had begun to immigrate to Ulster in considerable numbers, and acquired large territories there; the Pale was almost unprotected; and the Irish Privy Council applied to Wolsey for six ships-of-war, to defend the northern coasts, A.D. 1522.  The dissensions between the O’Neills and O’Donnells had broken out into sanguinary warfare.

The Earl of Kildare left Ireland for the third and last time, in February, 1534.  Before his departure he summoned a Council at Drogheda, and appointed his son, Thomas, to act as Deputy in his absence.  On the Earl’s arrival in London, he was at once seized and imprisoned in the Tower.  A false report was carefully circulated in Ireland that he had been beheaded, and that the destruction of the whole family was even then impending.  Nor was there anything very improbable in this statement.  The English King had already inaugurated his sanguinary career.  One of the most eminent English laymen, Sir Thomas More, and one of her best ecclesiastics, Bishop Fisher, had been accused and beheaded, to satisfy the royal caprice.  When the King’s tutor and his chancellor had been sacrificed, who could hope to escape?

The unfortunate Earl had advised his son to pursue a cautious and gentle policy; but Lord Thomas’ fiery temper could ill brook such precaution, and he was but too easily roused by the artful enemies who incited him to rebellion.  The reports of his father’s execution were confirmed.  His proud blood was up, and he rushed madly on the career of self-destruction.  On the 11th of June, 1534, he flung down the sword of state on the table of the council-hall at St. Mary’s Abbey, and openly renounced his allegiance to the English monarch.  Archbishop Cromer implored him with tears to reconsider his purpose, but all entreaties were vain.  Even had he been touched by this disinterested counsel, it would probably have failed of its effect; for an Irish bard commenced chanting his praises and his father’s wrongs, and thus his doom was sealed.  An attempt was made to arrest him, but it failed.  Archbishop Allen, his father’s bitterest enemy, fled to the Castle, with several other nobles, and here they were besieged by FitzGerald and his followers.  The Archbishop soon contrived to effect his escape.