THE O'CLERYS.
The O'Clery family was an ancient and honored one in Ireland. Princes,
chieftains, and warriors of the name were renowned before Charlemagne or
Alfred ascended the throne, or before any of the petty princes of the
heptarchy ruled over the barbarous Saxons. Like all the royal and noble
houses of Europe, the O'Clerys, after ages of glory and prosperity, had
their hour of decline and decay also. But it was a question whether the
virtues of this renowned house were more brilliant or conspicuous in the
zenith of its glory, or in its fallen or humbled state. The Irish church
founded by Saint Patrick never wanted an O'Clery to adorn her sanctuary
or to record her victories. The annals of the Four Masters will stand to
the end of the world as a proud monument of the services rendered to the
Irish church and to history by these illustrious annalists; and when the
deeds of the most renowned knights and chieftains of this royal house
shall have been obliterated by the merciless chisel of time, the authors
of the Four Masters' Annals will become only brighter among the shining
stars that adorn the literary firmament of old Ireland.
The martyrology of the Irish church can attest the virtues of constancy
and patriotism with which the O'Clerys bore their share of the wrongs of
Erin and of her faithful sons. Whether or not the subjects of our
narrative, the poor emigrant orphans, had any of this royal and noble
blood flowing in their veins, is a thing that we cannot genealogically
vouch. But that they were not degenerate sons of Erin, or faithless to
their allegiance to the glorious old church of their fathers, we trust
this history will amply demonstrate. At all events, the uncle of our
hero, Paul O'Clery, held a very high station in the Irish hierarchy.
Having, with eclat, finished his ecclesiastical and literary primary
studies in the colleges of his native land, he subsequently repaired to
Rome, where he won with distinction the title of "doctor in divinity and
canon law," and carried the first premium from many French, German, and
even Italian competitors. Hence, soon after his return from abroad, on
account of his learning, as well as his tried virtues, he was appointed
the vicar general of the diocese of Kil----, a promotion which, far from
exciting the envy, gained the unanimous approval, of the diocesan
clergy. During the horrors of the general landlord persecution of the
Irish Catholics, (for it is nothing else than a persecution of
Catholics,) the O'Clerys found their name on the roll of the proscribed,
and got notice to quit the homestead of their fathers. The principal
cause for this proscription by the landlord was, that Dr. O'Clery, in
the newspapers, exposed the system of cruel and barbarous extermination
which took place on the extensive estates of Lord Mandemon--a gentleman
who said he thought it far more honorable, as well as profitable, to
have his princely estates in Munster tenanted by fat cattle than by
Irish Papists. His lordship had also the mortification to learn that all
the meat, money, and clothing he had employed for the last five years
could not make one single sincere convert to his rich "law
establishment." When the "praties" were dear, and the crops failed,
there were a few, to be sure, who would profess themselves ready to "ate
the mate" on Friday; but as soon as plenty returned, the "new lights"
went out, or returned to ask pardon of God, the priest, and the people;
and Lord Mandemon and his soup were pitched to the "seventy-nine
devils." This failure, this result, so often before seen and felt, and
so certain to follow, was, in his zeal for proselytism, attributed by
his lordship to Dr. O'Clery's zeal and learning. For, whenever or
wherever he went among the peasantry to preach to them in their own
sweet and loved dialect, the "jumpers, the new lights, and the soupers"
disappeared like the locusts from Egypt when exorcised by the magic rod
of Moses. Hence the hatred with which the O'Clerys were persecuted.
Hence, also, the oath of Lord Mandemon, that he would never return to
his home in England till every Papist on his estates was rooted out.
This oath was kept by his lordship, probably the only true one he ever
swore; for in less than a fortnight he fell a victim to the cholera, and
expired on board the Princess Royal steamboat on her return to
Liverpool.
Arthur O'Clery, father to the subject of our tale, sold out a second
farm he held near Limerick, turned all his effects into money, bade
adieu to his beloved brother, Dr. O'Clery, who was averse to his
emigration, and, in the autumn, set sail from Liverpool for New York, in
the ship Hottinguer. He had all his family with him: they were
comfortably provided with all necessaries, and, besides, had one
thousand pounds, in hard cash, to start with in the new world. They were
not long out at sea, when, owing to the crowd on board, the lack of
proper arrangements, and room, or ventillation, as well as on account of
the cruelly of the inhuman captain, ship fever and cholera broke out on
board.
The number of bodies consigned to the ocean from that unlucky vessel was
from five to ten daily, and among the victims of the plague was Arthur
O'Clery. He was the only one of the cabin passengers who was attacked by
the epidemic, which, in the ardor of his charity, he contracted while
attending on, and ministering to, the wants of the poor steerage
passengers.
Sad and impressive was the scene when the Rev. H. O'Q----, a young Irish
priest on board, in the middle hold of the ship, where O'Clery had been
removed by order of the captain, called on the six hundred surviving
passengers to kneel while he was administering the rites of the church
to the benefactor of them all. Never was a call on the piety and faith
of any number of men more cheerfully obeyed. Instantaneously that mixed,
nondescript crowd--Irish, English, Scotch, Welsh, Dutch--Catholic,
Protestant, infidel--fell on their knees, and, if they did not pray,
they paid that _outward homage_ to Religion which sometimes the most
indifferent and irreligious cannot resist paying her. Infidelity is a
great coward, as well as a false guide. In her hour of ease and satiety,
she pretends to scorn the threats and judgments of the Most High, and,
like Satan in his pandemonium, to make war on Heaven; but no sooner does
the roaring of the thunderbolt shake the earth, or the vast abyss open
its devouring throat to swallow her unhappy victims, than she hides her
head in the caves of the earth, or, flying to some secure place,
abandons her votaries to the forlorn hope of trusting to the weakness of
their own minds for resources to extricate themselves from the evils
that threaten them. It was so on board the ill-fated Hottinguer. Those
who, under the influence of the security offered by the prosperous
sailing of the few first days, were bold, independent, and defiant of
danger, no sooner did they see their comrades thrown overboard, after a
few hours' sickness, than their hearts failed within them, their tone of
defiance was turned into despair, their mockery of religion ceased, and
that priest of God, whom they ridiculed, insulted, and despised for the
first few days, was now respected, confided in, and regarded by them
with sentiments bordering on religious homage.
Fervently did that priest, who thanked God that he was on hand, pray,
not that God would restore him to his wife and children,--for all hope
of recovery was now gone,--but that, in accordance with the anxious
desire of the dying man, he should have the privilege of burial in a
Christian, consecrated tomb.
"Pray, father," said he, "that, if it be God's holy will, I may be
buried in a consecrated soil. It seems to me a sort of profanation, that
the cruel fishes and those monsters of the deep, which we see leaping
around the vessel, should devour my flesh, united with, and I hope
sanctified now by, the flesh and blood of my Lord."
The priest did pray, and the people joined in that impulsive prayer of
faith, and that prayer was heard; for, though O'Clery breathed his last
on board, and, by the captain's orders, the sailors--poor fellows!--were
standing around his berth, prepared, as soon as the last breath left
him, to throw him overboard, yet he lingered for three days after; and
they reached quarantine before that pure soul quitted its tenement of
clay and winged its flight to heaven. The wife and her children had the
body conveyed to shore and interred in the Catholic cemetery of New
York, where a neat marble monument could be seen with these words
inscribed:--
_"Pray for the soul of Arthur O'Clery, whose body lies underneath.
Requiescat in pace. Amen."_
It was thus that the O'Clerys were deprived of their good and virtuous
father, and the widow of her husband; but this, as already has been
partly seen, was but the beginning of their woes; for, after their
arrival in New York, an individual, who, during the voyage, ingratiated
himself with the family by his attention around the sick man's bed,
joined them at their lodgings. But in a few days they found him gone one
morning, after their return from mass at Barclay Street Church, and with
him the canvas bag, containing the thousand pounds in gold and Bank of
England notes left by them in a trunk. Thus were six persons, strangers
and destitute in a great city, reduced from competency to poverty at
"one fell swoop" by the villany of a pretended friend and associate.
"O Lord, pity me! One misfortune never comes alone," groaned the now
poor and afflicted widow O'Clery, when she was informed by little
Bridget that the "trunk was broke open," and all the things ransacked
"through and fro."
She soon saw that all she had was gone, and concluded that Cunningham,
as he was absent from breakfast contrary to his wont, must be the thief.
The police got immediate notice; advertisements were issued, and rewards
offered, and in a day or two after Cunningham was arrested; but as none
of the money was found on his person, and as there was no direct
evidence of his guilt, the magistrate discharged him. The articles of
dress in her well-supplied wardrobe were detained, in payment of her
board bill, by the hotel keeper where she lodged in New York; and with
the few shillings that remained in her purse, she, with her children,
took passage on one of the Hudson River boats, hoping to make out
certain acquaintances of her husband, whom she heard were settled in the
vicinity of T----. The rest has been already told--namely, how she took
sick and died after great sufferings; how her children were left
destitute, and next to naked; how they were now reduced to the rank of
paupers, and secured within the precincts of the county house.
"Of all the things which we brought from home with us, we have nothing
of value now left, Bridget," said Paul, "but this silver crucifix, which
belonged to my grandfather. Glory be to God. Let us be glad that this
has been left," said he, kissing it with religious affection. "This is
all we have now left. Let us defend it."