A gentleman of Marseilles, named Remonsat, shortly before his death, desired that his numerous family might be assembled about his bed. As he was now an old man, he had children who had been long married and who now had children of their own. There were sons and daughters who were married, and who had two daughters, and one son about nine years old, who was so much of a cripple as to be obliged to walk with a crutch. The old gentleman acknowledged the delight which his children had afforded him by their affection and attachment, and especially for the tender love which they bore to one another. “But,” continued he, “I have a secret to disclose, which will remove one of you from this circle. So long as I had any hopes of living I kept it from you, but I dare not violate your rights in the division of the property which I leave you. One of you is only an adopted child—the child of the nurse at whose breast my own child died. Shall I name that child?” “No, no,” said they with one accord, “let us all continue to be brothers and sisters.”
What a noble and beautiful example of disinterestedness! How often do we sigh for opportunities of doing good, whilst we neglect the openings of Providence in little things, which would frequently lead to the accomplishment of most important usefulness! Dr. Johnson used to say, “He who waits to do a great deal of good at once, will never do any.” How many of my readers do you think would have acted towards their brothers and sisters in the same way?
It is related by St. Jerome, that “the blessed apostle John, living at Ephesus to extreme old age, was with difficulty carried to church in the arms of his disciples, and being unable to make a long discourse, every time they assembled, was wont to say nothing but this: ‘Little children, love one another.’ At length, the disciples and brethren who attended, tired of hearing so often the same thing, said, ‘Sir, why do you always say this?’ Who then made this answer, worthy of himself: ‘Because it is the Lord’s command; and if that alone be done, it is sufficient.’”
THE GERALDINES.
A NARRATIVE OF PERSECUTION BY HENRY THE EIGHTH.
Among the many acts of severity practised against his nobles by Henry VIII, few are more remarkable than the terrible persecution suffered by Fitzgerald, Earl of Kildare, and his unhappy family. This nobleman, whose second wife, Lady Elizabeth Grey, was a daughter of the Marquis of Dorset, and first cousin to the king, was for some time favored at court, and had been made Lord Deputy of Ireland; but the country being much disturbed, he was summoned to answer for this before the king in council, and proceeded to London, leaving his eldest son to administer the Irish affairs in his absence.
But on reaching the court, Fitzgerald was committed to the Tower; and his son, exasperated by a false report of his father’s being beheaded, broke into open rebellion. Succeeding for a short time, but afterwards reduced to difficulty, Thomas Fitzgerald received a promise of pardon; and confiding in this, he surrendered himself to Lord Leonard Grey, brother of his step-mother, the Countess of Kildare. His five uncles, who had taken part with him in the rebellion, also submitted, and the whole six were conveyed to London; but in spite of the remonstrances of Lord Leonard Grey, who declared his honor pledged for their safety, they were all hanged at Tyburn.
The Earl, worn down by these heavy sorrows, died in the Tower; an attainder was issued against him (after his death), and his lands and goods declared forfeited to the crown. Not content with this cruel injustice, the king sought by all means to get into his power the young heir of this unhappy house, Gerald Fitzgerald, then not more than twelve years old; but his evil designs were frustrated by the zeal and affection of the martyred earl’s foster-brother, a priest named Leverous, to whom the boy had been confided for education. When this good man received notice that the brother and uncles of his ward had been sent to England, he became fearful for the young Gerald’s safety; the child was then lying ill of the small-pox, but intrusting the care of his nursling to no arm less zealous than his own, he wrapped him up warmly, and as carefully as he could, and carried him by night to the house of his sister, where he was nursed in concealment till quite recovered. But, justly judging that the child would not be safe with any one known to be connected, however humbly, with his own family, the good priest removed him successively into the territories of two or three different Irish chieftains, by whom he was sheltered for nearly twelve months; after this he contrived to place the boy in the protection of his aunt, the Lady Eleanor, widow of a chieftain named Macarty Reagh. Now this lady had been long sought in marriage by O’Donnel, lord of Tyrconnel, whom she had hitherto refused; but hoping to secure an efficient protector for her nephew, she now consented to an immediate marriage, and taking Gerald with her to her new home in Donegal, she hoped he would here remain in safety.