The Percy Anecdotes: |
'If my abilities were equal to my wishes, there should be neither pain nor poverty in the universe.' ADDISON.
THE decisions of the Areopagites of Athens, have long been famous for their wisdom. The learned Phocius, in his Bibliotheque, expatiates with delight on one decision, which shows that it was a wisdom tempered with an admirable spirit of humanity. The Areopagites were assembled together on a mountain, with no other roof than the canopy of heaven. A sparrow, pursued by a hawk, fled into the midst of them for refuge; it took shelter in the bosom of one of them, a man naturally of a harsh and repulsive disposition, who taking hold of the little trembler, threw it from him with such violence, that it was killed on the spot. The whole assembly were filled with indignation at the cruelty of the deed: the author of it was instantly arraigned as an alien to that sentiment of mercy so necessary to the administration of justice, and by the unanimous suffrages of his colleagues, was degraded from the senatorial dignity which he had so much disgraced.
Alvarez, in his History of China, gives the following anecdote of one of its emperors. When riding out one day, the emperor met a procession conducting some malefactors to punishment. His majesty stopped, and inquired what was the matter? On being informed, he immediately burst into a flood of tears. The courtiers in attendance endeavoured to comfort his majesty, and one among them addressed him in these words: 'Sire, in a commonwealth there must be chastisements - it cannot be avoided, so have the former kings, your predecessors, commanded it to be, so have the laws ordained it, so doth the government of the state require it.' The emperor replied, 'I weep not to see these men prisoners; nor do I weep to see them chastised. I know very well that the good without rewards are not encouraged, that without chastisement the wicked are not restrained; that correction is as necessary to the government of a kingdom, as bread is for the nourishment and sustenance thereof. But I weep because my time is not so happy as that of old was, WHEN THE VIRTUES OF THE PRINCES WERE SUCH, THAT THEY SERVED AS A BRIDLE TO THE PEOPLE, AND WHEN THEIR EXAMPLE WAS SUFFICIENT TO RESTRAIN A WHOLE KINGDOM!'
Alphonsus, King of Naples and Sicily, so celebrated in history for his clemency, was once asked why he was so favourable to all men, even to those most notoriously wicked? 'Because,' answered he, 'good men are won by justice; the bad by clemency.' When some of his ministers complained to him on another occasion of his lenity, which they were pleased to say was more than became a prince: 'What, then,' exclaimed he, 'would you have lions and tigers to reign over you? Know you not that cruelty is the attribute of wild beasts - Clemency that of MAN?'
The city of Cajeta having rebelled against Alphonsus, was invested by that monarch with a powerful army. Being sorely distressed for want of provisions, the citizens put forth all their old men, women, and children, and shut the gates upon them. The king's ministers advised his majesty not to permit them to pass, but to force them back into the city; by which means he would speedily become master of it. Alphonsus, however, had too humane a disposition to hearken to counsel, the policy of which rested on driving a helpless multitude into the jaws of famine. He suffered them to pass unmolested; and when afterwards reproached with the delay which this produced in the siege, he feelingly said, 'I had rather be the preserver of one innocent person, than be the master of a hundred Cajetas.'
Alphonsus was not without the reward which such noble clemency merited. The citizens were so affected by it, that repenting of their disloyalty, they soon afterwards yielded up the city to him of their own accord.
When Nertobrigia was invested by Q. Caecilius Metellus, the Roman pro-consul, Rhetogenes, a chief lord of the place, came out and surrendered himself to the Romans. The inhabitants, enraged at his desertion, placed his wife and children whom he had left behind, in the breach which the legionaries were to mount. The Roman general hearing of this, and finding that he could not attack the city without sacrificing them, abandoned a certain conquest, and raised the siege. No sooner was this act of humanity known through Tarraconian Spain, than the inhabitants of the revolted cities strove who should first submit to him; and thus was a whole country recovered by one humane act.
Cardinal Mazarine once observed to Don Louis de Haro, prime minister of Spain, that the humane and gentle conduct of the French government had prevented the troubles and revolts of that kingdom, and that the king had not lost a foot of land by them to that day; whereas the inflexible severity of the Spaniards was the occasion that the subjects of that monarchy, wherever they threw off the mask, never returned to their obedience but by the force of arms, as sufficiently appears in the example of the Hollanders, who are in the peaceable possession of many provinces that not many years ago were the patrimony of the King of Spain.
'This placed Caesar among the gods.' MAR. AURELIUS.
Julius Caesar was not more eminent for his valour in overcoming his enemies, than for his humane efforts in reconciling and attaching them to his dominion. In the battle of Pharsalia he rode to and fro, calling vehemently out, 'Spare, spare the citizens!' Nor were any killed but such as obstinately refused to accept of life. After the battle, he gave every man on his own side leave to save any of the opposite from the list of proscription; and at no long time after he issued an edict, permitting all whom he had not yet pardoned, to return in peace to Italy, to enjoy their estates and honours. It was a common saying of Caesar, that no music was so charming to his ears, as the requests of his friends, and the supplications of those in want of his assistance.
When Avidius Cassius had revolted from the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, and attempted to seize the government, the Empress Faustina, in a letter to her husband, pressed him to pursue the accomplices of Cassius (who had been killed by a Centurion) with the utmost severity. The emperor did not, however, suffer the entreaties of his wife to make him swerve from the path of humanity, and he returned her the following answer: 'I have read your letter, my dear Faustina, wherein you advise me to treat the accomplices of Cassius with the utmost severity, which you think they well deserve. This I look upon as a pledge of the love you bear to your husband and children, but give me leave, my dear Faustina, to spare the children of Cassius, his son-in-law, and wife; and to write to the senate in their behalf. Nothing can more recommend a Roman emperor to the esteem of the world than clemency: this placed Caesar among the gods; this consecrated Augustus; this procured to your father the title of Pius. I am grieved even for the death of Cassius, and wish it had been in my power to save him. Be therefore satisfied; and do not abandon yourself to revenge. Aurelius is protected by the gods.' Some friends of the emperor openly blamed his clemency, and told him that Cassius would not have been so generous, had fortune proved favourable to him. To this he immediately replied, 'We have not lived nor served the gods so ill, as to think they would favour Cassius!'
Titus Vespasian, the emperor, was deservedly called the Darling of Mankind. In taking upon him the supreme pontificate, he declared that his whole object in assuming so high a priesthood was, that he might be obliged to keep his hands free from the blood of all men. From that time forth, saith Suetonius, he never was the author of, or consenting to, the death of any man, although he had often too just cause for revenge. He was wont to say, that 'He would rather perish himself, than be the ruin of another.'
Four thousand Greeks, who had been made prisoners by the Persians, were subjected to all the cruelties and mutilations that Persian tyranny could inflict. The hands and feet of some, the noses and ears of others, were cut off; after which, their faces were branded with hot irons. Alexander, on approaching Persepolis, saw these men, and could not refrain from tears. He assured them they should again see their families and native country. 'Alas!' answered they, 'how will it be possible for us to appear publicly before all Greece, in the dreadful condition to which we are reduced; a condition still more shameful than unhappy? The best way to bear misery, is to conceal it; and no country is so sweet to the wretched, as an oblivion of their past calamities. They therefore entreated that they might be permitted to end their days among those who were accustomed to their misfortunes. Alexander granted their request, and gave to each of them three thousand drachms, five suits of men's clothes, the same number of women's, two couple of oxen to plough with, and a quantity of corn to sow. He also commanded the governor of the province to protect them and to exempt them from all taxes and tributes.
The Emperor Nero, whose name has long been a synonyme for cruelty, was, during the first five years of his reign, comparable even with Augustus himself in the princely virtues of pity and compassion. When once requested to set his hand to a writ for the execution of a malefactor, he exclaimed, 'Quam vellem me nescire literas!' 'How much do I wish that I knew neither how to read nor write'
When Henry IV. of France was advised to attempt taking Paris by an assault before the King of Spain's troops arrived to succour the leaguers, he absolutely protested against the measure, on the principle of humanity. 'I will not,' said he, 'expose the capital to the miseries and horrors which must follow such an event. I am the father of my people, and will follow the example of the true mother who presented herself before Solomon. I had much rather not have Paris, than obtain it at the expense of humanity, and by the blood and death of so many innocent persons.'
Henry reduced the city to obedience without the loss of more than two or three burgesses, who were killed. 'If it was in my power,' said this humane monarch, 'I would give fifty thousand crowns to redeem those citizens, to have the satisfaction of informing posterity, that I had subdued Paris without spilling a drop of blood.'
When the Romans had ravaged the province of Azazene, and seven thousand Persians were brought prisoners to Amida, where they suffered extreme want, Acases, Bishop of Amida, assembled his clergy, and represented to them the misery of these unhappy prisoners. He observed, that as God had said 'I love mercy better than sacrifice,' he would certainly be better pleased with the relief of his suffering creatures, than with being served with gold and silver in their churches. The clergy were of the same opinion. The consecrated vessels were sold, and with the proceeds, the seven thousand Persians were not only maintained during the war, but sent home at its conclusion with money in their pockets. Varenes, the Persian monarch, was so charmed with this humane action that he invited the bishop to his capital, where he received him with the utmost reverence, and for his sake conferred many favours on the Christians.
A poor Macedonian soldier was one day leading before Alexander a mule laden with gold for the king's use; the beast being so tired that he was not able either to go or sustain the load, the mule-driver took it off, and carried it himself with great difficulty a considerable way. Alexander seeing him just sinking under the burden, and about to throw it on the ground, cried out, 'Friend, do not be weary yet; try and carry it quite through to thy tent, for it is all thy own.'
After the dispersion and destruction of the Spanish Armada in 1588, Joan Comes de Medine, who had been general of twenty hulks, was, with about two hundred and sixty men, driven in a vessel to Anstruther in Scotland, after suffering great hunger and cold for six or seven days. Notwithstanding the object for which this fleet had been sent, and the oppressive conduct of the Spaniards to the Scottish merchants who traded with them, these men were most humanely treated. Mr. James Melvil, the minister, told the Spanish officer first sent on shore, that they would find nothing among them but Christianity and works of mercy. The Laird of Anstruther, and a great number of the neighbouring gentlemen, entertained the officers, and the inhabitants gave the soldiers and mariners kail pottage and fish; the minister having addressed his flock as Elijah did the King of Israel in Samaria, 'Give them bread and water.'
The soldiers of Peter the Great, the Czar of Muscovy, were no sooner masters of the town of Narva, than they fell to plundering and committing the most enormous barbarities. The Czar ran from place to place, to put a stop to the disorder and massacre. He even turned upon his own victorious, but ungovernable troops, and threatened them with instant death if they did not immediately desist from rapine and slaughter, and allow quarter to their vanquished foes. He actually killed with his own hands several Muscovites who did not obey his orders.
The Empress Catherine I. of Russia carried humanity to a degree seldom equalled in the history of nations. She had promised that during her reign nobody should be put to death; and she kept her word. She was the first sovereign in modern times that ever showed this regard to the human species. Malefactors were now condemned to serve in the mines and other public works; a regulation not less prudent than humane, since it renders their punishment of some service to the state. In other countries, they only know how to put a malefactor to death with the apparatus of an execution; but are not able to prevent the execution of crimes.
The Emperor of Germany, Joseph II., had once a petition presented to him in behalf of a poor superannuated officer, who lived with a family of ten children, in an indigent condition, at some distance from Vienna. The emperor inquired of several old officers whether they knew this man, and received from all of them an excellent character of him. His majesty gave no answer to the petition, but went, without any attendants, to the house of the poor officer, whom he found at dinner, with eleven children, upon some vegetables of his own planting. 'I heard you had ten children,' said the emperor, 'but here I see eleven.' 'This,' replied the officer, pointing to the eleventh, 'is a poor orphan I found at my door; and though I have done all I could to engage some persons, more opulent than myself, to provide for him, all my endeavours have proved in vain; I have therefore shared my small portion with him, and brought him up as my own child.' The emperor admired the noble and generous humanity of this indigent man, to whom he discovered himself, and said, 'I desire that all these children may be my pensioners, and that you will continue to give them examples of virtue and honour. I grant you 100 florins per annum for each of them, and 200 florins additional to your pension. Go to-morrow to my treasurer, where you will receive the first quarter's payment, with a commission of lieutenancy for your eldest son. Continue to be your children's careful tutor, and I will henceforth be their father.' The old man, with all his family, threw himself at the feet his sovereign, which he bedewed with tears of gratitude. The emperor shed tears himself, and after giving some small presents to the children, retired. When he joined his retinue, he said to Count Coleredo, 'I thank God for this days favour. He hath guided me to discover a virtuous man in obscurity.'
One arm of the Danube separates the city of Vienna from a large suburb called Leopold-stadt. A thaw inundated this suburb, and the ice carried away the bridge of communication with the capital. The population of Leopoldstadt began to be in the greatest distress for want of provisions. A number of boats were collected and loaded with bread; but no one felt hardy enough to risk the passage, which was rendered extremely dangerous by large bodies of ice. Francis the Second, who was then emperor, stood at the water's edge; he begged, exhorted, threatened, and promised the highest recompenses, but all in vain; whilst on the other shore, his subjects, famishing with hunger, stretched forth their hands, and supplicated relief. The monarch's sensibility at length got the better of his prudence; he leaped singly into a boat loaded with bread, and applied himself to the oars, exclaiming, 'Never shall it be said that I made no effort to save those who would risk their all for me.' The example of the sovereign, sudden as electricity, inflamed the spectators, who threw themselves in crowds into the boats. They encountered the sea successfully, and gained the suburb just when their intrepid monarch, with the tear of pity in his eye, held out the bread he had conveyed across at the risk of his life.
Thomas Fuller, so celebrated for his great memory, had once occasion to attend on a Committee of Sequestration sitting at Waltham in Essex. He got into conversation with them, and was much commended for his powers of memory. 'It is true, gentlemen,' observed Mr. Fuller, 'that fame has given me the report of being a memorist; and if you please, I will give you a specimen of it.' The gentlemen gladly acceded to the proposal; and laying aside their business, requested Mr. F. to begin. 'Gentlemen,' said he, 'you want a specimen of my memory, and you shall have a good one. Your worships have thought fit to sequestrate a poor but honest parson, who is my near neighbour, and commit him to prison. The unfortunate man has a large family of children; and as his circumstances are but indifferent, if you will have the goodness to release him out of prison, I pledge myself never to forget the kindness while I live.' It is said that the jest had such an influence on the committee, that they immediately restored the poor clergyman.
The last words of this patriotic monarch are memorable for the noble moral for kings which they contain. 'I have aimed at justice,' said he to those around him; 'but what king can be certain that he has always followed it? Perhaps I have done much evil of which I am ignorant. Frenchmen! who now hear me, I address myself to the Supreme Being and to you. I find that kings are happy but in this - that they have the power of doing good.'
This illustrious scholar, compelled to fly from his own country by the blood-seeking animosity of a priestly cabal, whose vices he had made the theme of his satire, sought refuge and protection under Henry VIII. of England. His appeal to that monarch was couched in terms of great pathos and elegance. 'Look not,' said the poet, 'with an unrelenting countenance upon the humble advances of a man whose soul is devoted to your service; one who, a beggar, a vagrant, and an exile, has endured every species of misfortune which a perfidious world can inflict. A savage host of inveterate enemies pursues him, and the palace of his sovereign resounds with their menaces. Over mountains covered in snow, and vallies flooded with rain, I come a fugitive to the Athenian altar of Mercy and exhausted by calamities, cast myself at your feet. Alas! London was not the Athens the fugitive sought, nor Henry the Pericles whose generosity was to succour him. But who can wonder that, after sacrificing to the axe that beauty on which he once reposed with delight, neither the misfortunes of greatness, nor the eloquence of genius, should have been able to make the least impression on the heart of the savage Henry.
A poor widow, encouraged by the famed generosity of an ecclesiastic of great eminence, came into the hall of his palace with her only daughter, a beautiful girl of fifteen years of age. The good divine discerning marks of extraordinary modesty in their demeanor, engaged the widow to tell her wants freely. She, blushing and in tears, told him that she owed five crowns for rent, which her landlord threatened to force her to pay immediately unless she would consent to the ruin of her child, who had been educated in virtue; and she entreated that the prelate would interpose his sacred authority, till by industry she might be enabled to pay her cruel oppressor. The bishop, moved with admiration of the woman's virtue, bid her be of courage; he immediately wrote a note, and putting it into the hands of the widow, said, 'Go to my steward with this paper, and he will give you five crowns to pay your rent.' The poor woman, after a thousand thanks to her generous benefactor hastened to the steward, who immediately presented her with fifty crowns. This she refused to accept, and the steward, unable to prevail on her to take it, agreed to return with her to his master; who, when informed of the circumstance, said, 'It is true I made a mistake in writing fifty crowns, and I will rectify it.' On which he wrote another note, and turning to the poor woman whose honesty had a second time brought her before him, said 'So much candour and virtue deserves a recompense, here I have ordered you five hundred crowns; what you can spare of it, lay up as a marriage portion for your daughter.'
In a parish in the immediate vicinity of Dublin, the catholic curate was lately called on to administer the solemn rites of religion to a family in the last stage of typhus fever. On entering the hovel, he found them, in number six or seven persons, male and female, lying on a truss of straw scattered on the moist and muddy floor. The agonies of death were coming fast upon them. The confessions of each of them were to be heard. Lest one should overhear the confession of the other, he stretched himself on the straw, while the wretched sufferer breathed his or her transgressions into his ear. Thus inhaling the poison of their respiration, and separating them from each other successively, at the risk of his own life; he completed his sacred functions. What an union of humanity and religious feeling does the conduct of this curate exhibit?
Lord Mansfield, on making a report to the king of the conviction of Mr. Malowny, a catholic priest, who was found guilty in the county of Surrey of celebrating mass, was induced, by a sense of reason and humanity, to represent to his majesty the excessive severity of the penalty which the law imposed for the offence. The king, in a tone of the most heartfelt benignity, immediately answered 'God forbid, my lord, that religious difference in opinion should sanction persecution, or admit of one man within my realms to suffer unjustly; therefore issue a pardon for Mr. Malowny, and see that he is set at liberty.'
The virtue of humanity is one which his majesty was always particularly careful to instil into the minds of his children.
On one occasion at breakfast, whilst the king was reading a newspaper, one of the younger branches of the family, looking up in the queen's face, said, 'Mamma, I can't think what a prison is.' Upon its being explained, and understanding that the prisoners were often half starved for want, the child replied 'That is cruel, for the prison is bad enough without starving; but I will give all my allowance to buy bread for the poor prisoners.' Due praise was given for this benevolent intention, which was directed to be put in force together with an addition from their majesties, and thus many a heart was relieved that never knew its benefactors.
The six companies, or bodies corporate, of the City of Paris, set on foot, in the month of October, 1788, a subscription for the relief of the sufferers by a dreadful hailstorm, which had ravaged a part of the country, and totally destroyed all the hopes of the husbandmen. To the honour of these companies no less than 50,000 livres were collected in a short time and placed in the hands of M. Neckar, in order to be applied to the purpose for which they were subscribed. M. Neckar, on receiving the money, directed it to be sent to the Treasury. 'To the Treasury, my lord!' exclaimed the bearer. 'Yes, sir,' replied M. Neckar; '50,000 livres will do well for the Treasury, from which I drew yesterday 150,000 livres, to be distributed among the same husbandmen whom it is your object to relieve; feeling assured that the Treasury could never suffer from an advance made on the credit of the humanity of Frenchmen.'
The late Mrs. General Lascelles, when more celebrated as Miss Catley the singer, was once entreated to contribute to the relief of a widow, whose husband had left her in a very distressed situation. She gave her a guinea, but desired to know the poor woman's address; and in three days called upon her with near fifty pounds, which she had in the interim collected at a masquerade in the character of a Beguine (a begging Nun).
A captain Finucane, of the Gloucestershire Militia, died at Brighton, in the autumn of 1800. The troops stationed there attended his funeral, and nothing could be more mournfully impressive than the procession to his grave. The chief mourner walked with a charming boy in each hand, the one seven, the other eight years old, sons of the deceased. Fortunately for these infants, and the disconsolate mother, the Prince of Wales happened to be a spectator of the touching scene. His highness felt like a man for their bereavement, and like a prince he endeavoured to assuage its bitterness, by adopting the boys as his own.
The Delft, one of the Dutch ships taken at the battle of Camperdown, was in so shattered a state, that after the greatest exertions for five days to keep her from sinking, all hope of saving her was given up. The English prize officer called aside Mr. Hieberg, who had been first lieutenant of the Delft, and who remained on board along with a number of the sick and wounded prisoners, who were not in a condition to be removed, and represented that it was impossible to save all: that he intended at a certain signal to throw himself with his men into the long boat, and he invited Hieberg to avail himself of the opportunity to effect his escape. 'What!' exclaimed Hieberg, 'and leave these unfortunate men? (pointing to his wounded countrymen, whom it had been necessary to bring on deck, as the hold was already full of water.) No, no! go, and leave us to perish together.' The English officer, affected by the generosity of Hieberg's answer, replied, 'God bless you, my brave fellow; here is my hand; I give you my word, I will stay with you.' He then caused his own men to leave the ship, and remained himself behind to assist the Dutch. The Russel soon sent her boats to their succour, which brought off as many as could leap on board them. The boats lost no time in making a second voyage with equal success. The Delft was now cleared of all but Hieberg and the English officer, with three subaltern Dutch officers, and about thirty seamen, most of them so ill from their wounds as to be unable to move. While still cherishing the hope that the boats would come a third time to their assistance, the fatal moment arrived, and on a sudden the Delft went down. The English officer sprang into the sea, and swam to his own ship; but the unfortunate Hieberg perished, the victim of his courage and humanity.
The Abbe Dupaty, who, after the commencement of the French Revolution, made particular inquiry into the manner in which the administration of the Galleys had been conducted during the old regime, furnishes us with the following among other affecting particulars.
'I looked over the Register of the Galleys. Children of thirteen years of age, sentenced to the galleys for having been found with their fathers engaged in smuggling! Yes, thus I read - for having been found with their fathers!! I saw many of these children, and tears gushed into my eyes; my breast hurried with indignation, nor could I appease my feelings, but with the hope of not dying before I had exposed all the crimes of our criminal legislation!
'A singular circumstance plunged the galley slaves on one occasion into the most profound despair. The Intendant of the Marine received orders to separate the deserters, the smugglers, and the malefactors into three classes. One would have imagined that criminals of such different casts would have blessed this separation: but the contrary was the case; all the galley slaves looked on each other in the same light, for misfortune, like death, reduces all men to a level. Many bitter tears of the heart flowed in abundance at the thought of the separation. What a subject for meditation! how wonderful are the yet unexplored recesses of the human heart!'
The hospitality of the convent of St. Bernard, and the unwearied humanity of the monks, on every occasion that can possibly call for its exercise, have long been proverbial; and numerous instances occur every season, of persons saved by their interference, or relieved by their bounty. In the year 1818 alone, the meals furnished to travellers by this convent amounted to no fewer than 31,078.
An enterprising English party, consisting of men and women, took shelter in the convent of St. Bernard during a fall of snow. The monks fed them and their horses as long as they could, giving up their bread to the beasts, when they had no more crude grain to bestow on them. The guests had then no other alternative but that of departing: but how were they to get the horses over the snow, which was yet too soft to support them? The ingenuity and activity of the monks found an expedient. They turned out with their servants, and placing blankets before the animals, which were carried forward and extended afresh, as soon as passed over, conducted men, women, and beasts in safety over their mountain.
The breed of dogs kept by the monks to assist them in their labours of love, has been long celebrated for its sagacity and fidelity. All the oldest and most tried of them were lately buried, along with some unfortunate travellers, under an avalanche; but three or four hopeful puppies were left at home in the convent, and still survive. The most celebrated of those who are no more, was a dog called Barry. This animal served the hospital for the space of twelve years, during which time he saved the lives of forty individuals. His zeal was indefatigable. Whenever the mountain was enveloped in fogs and snow, he set out in search of lost travellers. He was accustomed to run barking until he lost breath, and would frequently venture on the most perilous places. When he found his strength was insufficient to draw from the snow a traveller benumbed with cold, he would run back to the hospital in search of the monks.
One day this interesting animal found a child in a frozen state, between the bridge of Dronaz and the ice-house of Balsora; he immediately began to lick him: and having succeeded in restoring animation, by means of his caresses, he induced the child to tie himself round his body. In this way he carried the poor little creature, as if in triumph, to the hospital. When old age deprived him of strength, the Prior of the Convent pensioned him at Berney by way of reward. After his death, his hide was stuffed and deposited in the museum of that town. The little phial, in which he carried a reviving liquor for the distressed travellers whom he found among the mountains, is still suspended from his neck.
In the days of John, King of Atri, an ancient city of Abruzzo, there was a bell put up, which any one that had received any injury went and rang, and the king assembled the wise men chosen for the purpose, that justice might be done. It happened that after the bell had been up a long time, the rope was worn out, and a piece of wild vine was made use of to lengthen it. Now there was a knight of Atri who had a noble charger which was become unserviceable through age, so that to avoid the expense of feeding him, he turned him loose upon the common. The horse, driven by hunger, raised his mouth to the vine to munch it, and pulling it, the bell rang. The judges assembled to consider the petition of the horse, which appeared to demand justice. They decreed that the knight whom he had served in his youth, should feed him in his old age, a sentence which the king confirmed under a heavy penalty.
When the Archduke Charles was on his way from Bohemia, to take the command of the Austrian army, he met near the scene of action a number of wounded soldiers who had been abandoned by their commander on the road, for want of horses to draw their carriages in the retreat. The prince, who on many occasions has exhibited striking instances of humanity, immediately ordered the horses to be taken from several pieces of cannon that were already retreating, saying, 'The life of one brave man is better worth preserving than fifty pieces of ordnance.' When General Moreau, into whose hands the cannon thus abandoned had fallen, heard of the motive that had prompted the sacrifice, he ordered the whole to be restored, observing that he should be unworthy of being the opponent of his imperial highness, if he took any advantage of so noble an act of humanity.
The Emperor Joseph II. walking one day on the Prater at Vienna, met a young woman who seemed in great distress. He inquired the cause, and found that she was the daughter of an officer who had been killed in the imperial service, and that she and her mother had supported themselves by their industry, but were now unemployed. 'Have you received no assistance from the government?' said the emperor. 'None,' was the reply. 'But why not apply to the emperor? he is easy of access.' 'They say he is avaricious, and such a step would then be useless.' The monarch immediately gave the young woman some ducats, and a ring, telling her, that he was in the emperor's service, and would serve her if, with her mother, she would come to the palace on a certain day. The appointment was kept, and the young woman recognised her benefactor in the person of the emperor, who bade her not be alarmed, as he had settled a pension on her and her mother, adding, 'At another time, I hope you will not despair of a heart that is just.'
Mr. Morier, in his Journey through Persia, relates an anecdote of the Serdar of Ecrivan, which is highly creditable to him, and shows that the most brutal of men are sometimes capable of a humane or generous action. The Serdar, who amuses himself from the windows of his palace in shooting the asses of the peasants who happen to be going along the road, in one of his predatory excursions into Georgia made prisoner, and placed in his harem, a Georgian maid who had been betrothed to a youth of her country: the youth followed her to Ecrivan, and having made known his arrival to her, they managed to escape for a short distance: but their steps were traced, and they were brought back. The lover was ordered to leave Ecrivan; and as he was crossing the Zengui, a river which flows between high precipices, his mistress espied him from the top of one of the banks, and immense as the height was, threw herself down, determining either to join him, or die in the attempt. Her fall was broken by the intervention of some willows, and she was taken up much bruised, though not dangerously hurt. To the honour of the Serdar, he did not carry his tyranny farther, but restored the couple to each other, gave them their liberty, and protection to return to their homes.
In the year preceding the French Revolution, a servant girl in Paris had the good fotune to gain a prize of fifteen hundred pounds in the lottery. She immediately waited on the parish priest, and generously put two hundred louis d'ors into his hands, for the relief of the most indigent and industrious poor in the district, accompanying the donation with this admirable and just observation, 'Fortune could only have been kind to me, in order that I might be kind to others.'
About the year 1735, a pamphlet was published, entitled 'The Cure of Deism.' The author, Mr. Elisha Smith, had the misfortune to be confined in the Fleet Prison for a debt of two hundred pounds. Fortunately for him, Mr. Benson, then auditor of the Imprest was much pleased with the work. He inquired who was the author; and on learning his circumstances, not only sent him a very flattering letter, but discharged the whole debt fees, &c., and set him at liberty. This was the same Mr. Benson who erected a monument in Westminster Abbey to the memory of Milton; and who gave one thousand pounds to Mr. Dobson, of New College, for translating Paradise Lost into Latin. He always preferred Johnson's Latin Psalms to Buchanan's. It was in allusion to these facts that Pope dragged Mr. Benson into the Dunciad:
'On two unequal crutches propp'd he came
Milton on this, on that one Johnson's name '
Dr. Johnson, in his tour through North Wales, passed two days at the seat of Colonel Middleton of Gwynnagag. While he remained there, the gardener caught a hare amidst some potato plants, and brought it to his master, then engaged in conversation with the Doctor. An order was given to carry it to the cook. As soon as Johnson heard this sentence, he begged to have the animal placed in his arms: which was no sooner done, than approaching the window, then half open, he restored the hare to her liberty, shouting after her to accelerate her speed. 'What have you done?' cried the colonel; 'Why, Doctor, you have robbed my table of a delicacy, perhaps deprived us of a dinner.' 'So much the better, sir,' replied the humane champion of a condemned hare; 'for if your table is to be supplied at the expense of the laws of hospitality, I envy not the appetite of him who eats it. This, sir, is not a hare fer ae naturae, but one which had placed itself under your protection; and savage indeed must be that man, who does not make his hearth an asylum for the confiding stranger.'
The late Mrs. Achmet, the actress, was found at night, when an infant, enclosed in a basket in one of the streets of Dublin. A gentleman hearing the child's cries, humanely took it home, and resolved to rear it up as his own offspring. He spared no expense in giving his protegee an accomplished education; and at a suitable period conferred upon her at the altar his own name of Achmet.
Baron Von Stackelberg, in going from Athens to Thessalonica in an armed vessel, was taken by some Albanian pirates, who immediately sent the captain of the vessel to the former place, demanding 60,000 piastres for the baron's ransom, and threatening that if not paid, they would tear his body to pieces. They obliged him, at the same time, to write to Baron Haller, and another friend, to acquaint them with the demand. The time fixed by the pirates had elapsed, and Baron Stackelberg, who had become extremely ill, was expecting a cruel death, when the humane and generous Haller, who had borrowed 14,500 Turkish piastres at 30 per cent., appeared. The pirates refused to take less than the sum demanded. Haller offered himself as a hostage instead of his friend, if they would prolong his life, and suffer him to recover from his sickness. This noble deed contributed to convince the pirates that no larger sum could be obtained; they accepted it, and Haller returned to Athens with the friend whom his humanity had preserved.
A poor clergyman settled in London on a curacy of fifty pounds per annum, with a wife and numerous family, was known to Dr. Fothergill. An epidemic disease, at that time prevalent, seized upon the curate's wife and five children. In this scene of distress he looked to the Doctor for his assistance, but dared not apply to him, from a consciousness of not being able to pay him for his attendance. A friend, who knew his situation, kindly offered to accompany him to the Doctor's house, and give him his fee. They took the advantage of his hour of audience; and, after a description of the several cases the fee was offered, and rejected, but a notice was taken of the curate's place of residence. The Doctor called assiduously the next and every succeeding day, until his attendance was no longer necessary. The curate, anxious to return some grateful mark of the sense he entertained of his services, strained every nerve to accomplish it; but his astonishment was not to be described, when, instead of receiving the money he offered, with apologies for his situation, the Doctor put ten guineas into his hand, desiring him to apply without diffidence in future difficulties.
Dr. Hugh Smith, another eminent physician, made it a rule never to take a fee from any inferior clergyman, any subaltern officer, or any public performer judging these to be professions which could little spare their money. Why were not poor authors included?
During the great scarcity, or rather high price, of provisions in 1800, the Earl of Warwick distinguished himself for his humane interposition between the farmers under his immediate influence, and the starving poor. Finding his injunctions disregarded, he sent the following circular letter to his tenants: 'This is to acquaint you that I view your past and present conduct with abhorrence. After the total disregard which you have already shown to my particular request, it would not become me to renew it, if I had not been compelled by the miserably distressed condition of the poor, actually starving. I therefore hereby declare it to be my unalterable resolution, to provide another tenant for the farm you now occupy as soon as I can legally do so, unless you will directly engage to bring your grain to market, and to sell it there at such reasonable price as may enable your fellow creatures to exist, while it leaves you more profit than you have any title to claim as a tenant. 'WARWICK.'
Bonaparte, when Emperor of France, ordered letter boxes to be fitted up in all the churches of Paris, where the virtuous poor, without their delicacy being wounded, could, as they passed, deposit a note expressive of their wants. These boxes were only opened by the higher clergy, who were sworn to secrecy, and the wants of the parties were thus relieved without any of the humiliating circumstances of a public application.
Monsieur le Compte de Polignac had been raised to honour by Bonaparte; but, from some unaccountable motive, betrayed the trust his patron reposed in him. As soon as Bonaparte discovered the perfidy, he ordered Polignac to be put under arrest. Next day he was to have been tried, and in all probability would have been condemned, as his guilt was most undoubted. In the interim, Madame Polignac solicited and obtained an audience of the emperor. 'I am sorry, Madame, for your sake,' said he, 'that your husband has been implicated in an affair which is marked throughout with such deep ingratitude.' 'He may not have been so guilty as your majesty supposes,' said the countess. 'Do you know your husband's signature?' asked the emperor, as he took a letter from his pocket, and presented it to her. Madame de Polignac hastily glanced over the letter, recognized the writing, and fainted. As soon as she recovered, Bonaparte, offering her the letter, said, 'Take it; it is the only legal evidence against your husband; there is a fire beside you.' Madame de P. eagerly seized the important document, and in an instant committed it to the flames.' The life of Polignac was saved; his honour it was beyond the power even of the generosity of an emperor to redeem.
When Lavalette had been liberated from prison by his wife, and was flying with Sir Robert Wilson to the frontier, the postmaster examined his countenance, and recognised him through his disguise. A postilion was instantly sent off at full speed. M. de Lavalette urged his demand for horses. The postmaster had just quitted the house, and given orders that none should be supplied. The travellers thought themselves discovered, and saw no means of escaping, in a country with which they were unacquainted, they resolved upon defending themselves, and selling their lives dearly. The postmaster at length returned unattended; and then addressing himself to M. de Lavalette, he said, 'You have the appearance of a man of honour, you are going to Brussels, where you will see M. de Lavalette; deliver him these two hundred louts d'ors which I owe him, and which he is no doubt in want of,' and without waiting for an answer, he threw the money into the carriage and withdrew, saying, 'You will be drawn by my best horses; a postilion is gone on to provide relays for the continuance of your journey.'
In the year 1786, an order came to Mr. Simpson, the keeper of Norwich gaol, to send three female convicts under sentence of transportation to Plymouth. One of these unfortunate females was the mother of an infant about five months old, which she had suckled from its birth. The father of the child was likewise a felon, under a similar sentence. He had repeatedly expressed a wish to be married to the woman, and was much distressed at the order for her removal. Application was made to the Secretary of State, to permit him to accompany her, but without success. When Mr. Simpson arrived with his party at Plymouth the captain of the hulk refused to take the infant, saying he had no order to take children. Neither the entreaties of Mr. Simpson, nor the agonies of the poor woman, could prevail on the brutal captain even to permit the babe to remain till instructions from government could be received. The gaoler was therefore obliged to take the child, and the frantic mother was led to her cell. Determined if possible to restore the child to its parents, Mr. Simpson set off for London, carrying the infant all the way in his arms. When he reached town, he hastened to the office of Lord Sidney, the Secretary of State, but was denied admittance. But humanity is not to be restrained by forms, and Mr. Simpson, after waiting attendance for several days, at length saw Lord Sidney descend the staircase, to whom he made so pathetic an appeal that his lordship instantly gave orders that the child should be restored to its mother, and that the father should accompany them, directing at the same time that they should be married before they went on board. Mr. Simpson afterwards saw his lordship's direction carried into effect, and after travelling seven hundred miles with the child on his lap, returned home, amply rewarded by the approval of his own heart for all the trouble and solicitude he had undergone.
When Catherine of Medicis had persuaded Charles IX. to massacre all the Protestants in France, orders were sent to the governors of the different provinces, to put the Hugonots to death in their respective districts. One Catholic governor, whose memory will ever be dear to humanity, had the courage to disobey the cruel mandate. 'Sire,' said he, in a letter to his sovereign, 'I have too much respect for your majesty, not to persuade myself that the order I have received must be forged, but if, which God forbid, it should be really the order of your majesty, I have too much respect for the personal character of my sovereign to obey it.'
My friend F. thus writes me, July 12, 1788. 'One instance of courage exerted in the cause of humanity, is more interesting to me (and so I know it is to you) than all the details of all the sieges and battles that ever happened since the creation of the world. Tuesday last presented a memorable' confirmation of this truth in the neighbourhood of St. Cloud, where, while a young man of the name of Francis Potel, twenty-two years of age, was at work in the fields, with his father and brothers, a cart with six persons in it was accidentally overset, and fell into the river. Moved by the cries of the seemingly devoted victims, he instantly plunged into the wafer, and being an excellent swimmer, brought one of them safely on shore. He then returned to save, if possible, the rest. In this attempt he was equally successful, though he experienced more danger, for on reaching two more of the party (a woman and a man), the former unfortunately seized him by the hair, the latter by the arm, and with both, in their despairing struggles, he thus sank to the bottom. At length, however, he rescued himself from their grasp; when having again reached the shore, and perceiving the unhappy creatures again floating upon the surface of the water he boldly plunged back to their relief, and brought them also on shore, though not without a perilous struggle, which lasted at least three quarters of an hour. Overcome with fatigue, he now found himself obliged to desist from his godlike enterprise. On this, his father, though much advanced in years, resolutely plunged in, and had the good fortune to save another woman and a boy. Of the whole number, only one little girl was drowned; and she, it is supposed, must have sunk under the horse, which, together with the cart, had sunk to the bottom of the river. An action like this requires no comment, for to a breast of sensibility amply does it illustrate its own glory.'
As the Caliph Omar, the successor to Mahamet, was on his way to Jerusalem, to take possession of that celebrated city, he met with a number of unfortunate men, who were bound fast to trees, and exposed to all the rigours of a vertical sun. The caliph inquired of them, wherefore they had been condemned to undergo so dreadful a torment? they answered that they were poor debtors, unable to satisfy their creditors. Omar immediately ordered them to be unbound; and having sent for those to whom they were indebted, he addressed them in these words: 'Cease to torment these poor men. Do not require of them more than they can perform, for I have often heard the prophet say, do not make men suffer affliction, for such as afflict men in this world, will most surely be punished in the next.'
The Emperor Angustus dining one day with Publius Vedius Pollio, a slave happened to break a crystal vase, and was immediately condemned by his master to be thrown to the lampreys, which he kept in a fish pond, and fed with human flesh. The slave threw himself at the feet of Augustus, and besought a less horrid death. The emperor knowing that by the Roman law masters possessed the most absolute authority over their slaves, interceded for him, but in vain. He then ordered all the crystal vases to be brought to him from the side table, and broke every one of them himself. Pollio was mortified, and the slave's life preserved.
It may here be remarked, that the Romans were very costly in their vases and drinking cups, which were often made or ornamented with precious stones. One that held only three pints and a half, cost six hundred and forty-five pounds, and Petronius broke one worth three thousand four hundred and fifteen pounds, on purpose to disappoint Nero.
In the year 1731, as an African youth, called Job Ben Solomon, son of the high priest of Bundo in Forta, was travelling on the south side of the Gambia, he was robbed, seized, and sold as a slave to an American captain, who carried him to Maryland.
Job, on his arrival in Maryland, was sold to a planter, who finding him a youth of very distinguished abilities, treated him with great respect, and at the expiration of twelve months undertook to forward a letter of Job's own writing, in the Arabic tongue, to Mr. Oglethorpe in England, whose fame as a friend of humanity pointed him out as the likeliest person to effect the restoration of an unfortunate captive to his native country.
Mr. Oglethorpe, on receiving the letter, immediately sent out instructions for the ransom of Job, and his conveyance to England.
Job soon after arrived in this country, and was introduced to court, where he was generously received by the royal family, and most of the principal nobility, who honoured him with many marks of their favour.
After he had continued in England about fourteen months, Job resolved to return to his native land, from an earnest desire which he had to see the high priest, his father.
On his leaving England, he was loaded with presents from the royal family, the nobility, and the African Company; the latter of whom ordered their agents on the African coast to show him the greatest attention.
Job arrived at James Fort on the 8th of August, 1734, at which time Mr. Moore, then in the service of the African Company, was at that place. A relation of what followed after the first interview between Mr. Moore and Job, has been published by the former, and from it we extract the following very interesting account.
'Job having a mind to go up to Joar to talk to some of his countrymen, went along with me.
'We arrived at the creek of Damofeusa; and having some old acquaintances at the town of that name, Job and I went there together.
'In the evening, as we were sitting under a great tree, there came six or seven of the very people who three years before had robbed Job, and sold him unto slavery.
'Job affecting not to know them, asked them some questions about himself, which they answered according to the truth.
'At last he inquired how the king, their master, did? They answered that he was dead. "Dead!" exclaimed Job, "how did he die?" "Among the goods," replied they, "for which he sold poor Job to the American captain, there was a pistol, which the king used commonly to wear suspended by a sling about his neck, and the pistol being loaded, one day accidentally went off, and the balls lodging in his throat, he presently died."
'Job was so transported at the close of this story, that he immediately fell on his knees, and returned thanks to Mahomet, for making his persecutor die by the very goods for which he sold him unto slavery.
'Job then turning to Mr. Moore, said, "You see now, Mr. Moore, that God Almighty was displeased at this man's making me a slave, and therefore made him die by the very pistol for which he sold me. Yet ought I to forgive him, because had I not been sold, I should neither have known anything of the English tongue, nor have had any of the fine useful and valuable things I have brought with me, nor have known that there is such a place in the world as noble England; nor such good and generous people as Mr. Oglethorpe, Queen Caroline, the Duke of Cumberland, the Duke of Montague, the Earl of Pembroke, Mr. Holden, and the Royal African Company."'
The Duke of Orleans, on being appointed Regent of France, insisted on possessing the power of pardoning. 'I have no objection,' said he, 'to have my hands tied from doing harm, but I will have them free to do good.'
Louis XV., when before the walls of Menin, in Flanders, was told that if he chose to risk an attack, the place would be taken four days sooner than it otherwise would be. 'Let us take it then,' replied he, 'four days later. I had rather lose these four days, than lose one of my subjects.'
During the mock trial of Louis XVI., he was asked what he had done with a certain sum of money, a few thousand pounds. His voice failed him, and the tears came into his eyes at the question; at length he replied, 'Jaimais a faire des heureux.' 'I had a pleasure in making other people happy.' He had given the money away in charity.
During the siege of Fort St. Philip, a young lieutenant of marines was so unfortunate as to lose both his legs by a chain shot. In this miserable and helpless condition he was conveyed to England, and a memorial of his case presented to an honourable board; but nothing more than half-pay could be obtained. Major Manson had the poor lieutenant conducted to court, on a public day, in his uniform; where, posted in the anteroom, and supported by two of his brother officers, he cried out, at the king was passing to the drawing-room, 'Behold, great sire, a man who refuses to bend his knee to you, he has lost both in your service.' The king, struck no less by the singularity of his address, than by the melancholy object before him, stopped, and hastily demanded what had been done for him to protect them; but basely sold them for slaves. Fortunately for the two princes their betrayer died on his passage home, and the officers related the circumstance when they arrived. On hearing this, government sent to pay their ransom; and on their being brought to England, they were placed under the care of the Earl of Halifax, who caused them to be kindly treated, and well educated. They were afterwards introduced to his majesty, and proved themselves worthy of the kindness they experienced. These facts gave rise to a short poem, supposed to be addressed from the prince in England, to Zara at his father's court, from which we select a passage:
'The wretch, the sordid hypocrite, that sold
His charge, an unsuspecting prince, for gold,
That justice marked, whose eyes can never sleep
And death commission'd smote him on the deep.
The generous crew their port in safety gain,
And tell my mournful tale, nor tell in vain;
The king with horror of th' atrocious deed
In haste commanded, and the slave was freed.
No more Britannia's cheek, the blush of shame
Burns for my wrongs, her king restores her fame.
Propitious gales to Freedom's happy shore
Waft me triumphant, and the prince restore.
M. Boudon, an eminent surgeon, was one day sent for by the Cardinal du Bois, Prime Minister of France, to perform a very serious operation upon him. The Cardinal on seeing him enter the room, said to him, 'You must not expect to treat me in the same rough manner as you treat your poor miserable wretches at your hospital of the Hotel Dieu.' 'My lord,' replied M. Boudon with great dignity, 'every one of those miserable wretches, as your eminence is pleased to call them, is a prime minister in my eyes.'
A veteran worn out in the service of France, was reduced without a pension, although he had a wife and three children to share his wretchedness. His son was placed at L'Ecole Militaire, where he might have enjoyed every comfort; but the strongest persuasion could not induce him to taste anything but coarse bread and water. The Duke de Choiseul being informed of the circumstance, ordered the boy before him, and inquired the reason of his abstemiousness. The boy, with a manly fortitude, replied, 'Sir, when I had the honour of being admitted to the protection of this royal foundation, my father conducted me hither. We came on foot; on our journey, the demands of nature were relieved by bread and water. I was received, my father blessed me, and returned to the protection of a helpless wife and family. As long as I can remember, bread of the blackest kind, with water, has been their daily subsistence, and even that is earned by every species of labour that honour does not forbid. To this fare, sir, my father is returned; therefore while he, my mother, and sisters, are compelled to endure such wretchedness, is it possible that I can enjoy the bounteous plenty of my gracious sovereign?' The duke felt this tale of nature, gave the boy three louis d'ors for pocket-money, and promised to procure the father a pension. The boy begged the louis d'ors might be sent to his father; which, with the patent of his pension, was immediately done. The boy was patronized by the duke, and became one of the best officers in the service of France.
When Sir Walter Mauny returned to the camp of the victorious Edward, with that mirror to patriots, Eustace St. Pierre, and his fellow hostages, the monarch inquired, 'Are these the principal inhabitants of Calais?' 'They are,' answered Mauny, 'not only the principal men of Calais, but the principal men of France, if virtue has any share in nobility.' 'Were they delivered peaceably?' inquired Edward. 'Was there no resistance, no commotion, among the people?' 'None in the least, sire. The people would all have perished, rather than have delivered the least of these to your majesty; but they are self-delivered, self-devoted, and come to offer their inestimable heads, as an ample equivalent for the ransom of thousands.' Edward was secretly piqued at this reply of Mauny; but he knew the privilege of a British subject, and suppressed his resentment. 'Experience,' said he, 'has ever shown, that lenity only serves to invite people to new crimes. Severity at times is indispensably necessary to compel subjects to submission. Go.' he cried to an officer, 'lead these men to execution.' At this instant a sound of trumpet was heard throughout the camp. The queen had just arrived with a reinforcement of gallant troops from England. Sir Walter Mauny flew to her majesty, and briefly informed her of the particulars respecting the six victims. As soon as Philippa had been welcomed by Edward and his court, her majesty desired a private audience. 'My lord,' said she, 'the question I am to enter upon is not touching the lives of a few mechanics, it respects the honour of the English nation, it respects the glory of my Edward, my husband, my king. You think you have sacrificed six of your enemies to death. No, my lord, they have sentenced themselves. The stage on which they would suffer, would be to them a stage of honour; but to Edward, a stage of shame; a reproach to his conquests; an indelible stain on his name.' These words flashed conviction on the soul of Edward. 'I have done wrong, very wrong!' he exclaimed; 'let the execution be instantly stayed, and the captives be brought before us.' St. Pierre and his friends soon made their appearance; when the queen thus addressed them: 'Natives of France and inhabitants of Calais, you have put us to a vast expense of blood and treasure in the recovery of our just and natural inheritance; but you have acted up to the best of an erroneous judgment, and we admire and honour in you that value and virtue by which we are so long kept out of our rightful possessions. Noble burghers! excellent citizens! though you were tenfold the enemies of our person and our throne, we can feel nothing on our part, save respect and affection for you. You have been sufficiently tried. We loose your chains; we snatch you from the scaffold; and, we thank you: for that lesson of humiliation which you teach us, when you show us that excellence is not of blood, of title, or station; that virtue gives a dignity superior to that of kings; and that those whom the Almighty informs with sentiments like yours, are justly and universally raised above all human distinctions.' 'Ah, my country!' exclaimed St. Pierre; 'it is now that I tremble for you. Edward only arms our cities; but Philippa conquers hearts.'
Peter the Great made a law in 1722, that if any nobleman beat or ill-treated his slaves, he should be looked upon as insane, and a guardian should be appointed to take care of his person and of his estate. This great monarch once struck his gardener, who being a man of great sensibility, took to his bed, and died in a few days. Peter, hearing of this, exclaimed, with tears in his eyes, 'Alas! I have civilized my own subjects, I have conquered other nations; yet I have not been able to civilize or to conquer myself.'
A Good Soldier no Executioner.
On the occasion of the infamous massacre of St. Bartholomew's, many of the governors of provinces refused to execute the orders sent to them of destroying all the Protestants. The Viscount d'Orthe had, in particular, the courage to write from Bayonne to Charles IX. that he found many good soldiers in his garrison, but not one executioner; and begged him to command their lives in any service that was possible.
'Why drew Marseilles' good bishop purer breath
When nature sicken'd and each gale was death?' POPE.
M. de Belsunce, Bishop of Marseilles, so distinguished himself for his humanity during the plague which raged in that city in 1720, that the Regent of France offered him the richer and more honourable See of Laon, in Picardy; but he refused it, saying, he should be unwilling to leave a flock that had been endeared to him by their sufferings. His pious and intrepid labours are commemorated in a picture in the Town Hall of Marseilles, in which he is represented in his episcopal habit, attended by his almoners, giving his benediction to the dying and the dead that are at his feet. Father Vanniere, in his Praedium Rusticum, alludes to the good bishop in these lines:
'Vitae qui Praesul et auri
Prodigus, assiduis animos et corpora curis
Sustinuit, mortem visus calcare metumque
Intrepido vadens per strata cadavera passu.'
'Profuse of life, and prodigal of gold,
The sacred pastor tends his sick'ning fold;
Repose of body and of mind disdains,
To calm their woes and mitigate their pains;
Bravely despises death and every fear,
With holy rites their drooping hearts to cheer;
Vast heaps of dead without dismay he views
And with firm step his gen'rous way pursues.'
But perhaps the most touching picture extant of the bishop's humane labours, is to be found in a letter of his own, written to the Bishop of Soissons, Sep. 27, 1720. 'Never,' he says, 'was desolation greater, nor was ever anything like this. Here have been many cruel plagues, but none was ever more cruel: to be sick and dead was almost the same thing. What a melancholy spectacle have we on all sides! we go into the streets full of dead bodies, half rotten through, which we pass to come to a dying body, to excite him to an act of contrition, and give him absolution. For about forty days together, the blessed sacrament was carried everywhere to all the sick, and the extreme unction was given them with a zeal of which we have but few examples. But the churches being infected with the stench of the dead flung at the doors, we were obliged to leave on, and be content with confessing the poor people. At present I have no more confessors. The two communities of the Jesuits are quite disabled, to the reserve of one old man of seventy-two years, who still goes about night and day, and visits the hospitals. My secretary and another lie sick; so that they have obliged me to quit my palace, and retire to the First President, who was so kind as to lend me his house. We are desolate of all succour; we have no meat; and whatsoever I could do going all about the town, I could not meet with any that would undertake to distribute broth to the poor that were in want. There is a great diminution,' he adds, 'of the mortality; and those that hold that the moon contributes to all this, are of opinion that we owe this diminution to the decline of the moon. For my part, I am convinced that we owe all this to the mercies of God, from whom alone we must hope for relief in the deplorable condition we have been in so long a while.'
At the battle of Poictiers, fought in the year 1356, the English army, commanded by Prince Edward, did not amount to twelve thousand men, while that of the French, under King John, exceeded sixty thousand. Notwithstanding so great a disproportion in point of numbers, the courage of the English, and the good conduct of the prince, gained the victory. The French forces were completely defeated; and King John, with many other persons of rank, was taken prisoner. Here commences the real and truly admirable heroism of Edward; for victories are vulgar things, in comparison with that moderation and humanity displayed by a young prince of twenty seven years of age not yet cooled from the fury of battle, and elated by as extraordinary and unexpected success as had ever crowned the arms of any commander. He came forth to meet the captive king with all the marks of regard and sympathy; administered comfort to him amidst his misfortunes; paid him the tribute of praise due to his valour; and ascribed his own victory merely to the blind chance of war, or to a superior providence, which controls all the efforts of human heart and prudence. The behaviour of John showed him not unworthy of this courteous treatment. His present abject fortune never made him forget that he was a king. More touched by Edward's generosity than by his own calamities, he said, that notwithstanding his own defeat and captivity, his honour was still unimpaired; and that though he yielded the victory, it was at least gained by a prince of the most consummate velour and humanity.
Ail the other miseries of mankind have no parallel to the calamities of the plague. The sympathy which relatives feel for the wounded and the dying in battle, is but the shadow of that heart-rending affliction inspired by the ravages of pestilence. Conceive in the same house the beholder, the sickening, and dying. To help is death! to refuse assistance is inhuman! It is like the shipwrecked mariner striving to rescue his drowning companion, and sinking with him into the same oblivious grave. In 1813, such was the virulence with which the plague raged at Malta, such the certain destruction which attended the slightest contact with the infected, that at last every better feeling of the heart was extinguished in a desire of self-preservation; and nobody could be procured to perform the melancholy offices which make up the funeral train of sickness and death. In this woeful emergency, a band of daring and ferocious Greeks came over to the island, and clad in oiled leather, volunteered their services with very happy effect; but their number was so small that recourse was obliged to be had to some French and Italian prisoners of war, for assistance. What will not man for liberty perform! Tempted by the promise of a handsome reward and their liberation, at the disappearance of the plague, numbers of these unfortunate captives engaged in the perilous task of waiting on the sick, burying the dead, cleaning and whitewashing the infected houses, burning their furniture, &c. Providence appeared to have taken these children of despair under its special protection; few of them comparatively fell victims to their humane intrepidity. Mr. Murdo Young, in his notes to his poem of Antonia, mentions that he saw some of them, when duty led them near the prison where they had left their less enterprising companions confined, climb up to the chimney tops of the infected houses; and being
'Free from plague, in danger's dread employ,
Wave to their friends in openness of joy.'
In the summer of 1819, the yellow fever committed dreadful havoc among the British troops in Jamaica, particularly among some regiments recently arrived. The contagion, like that at Malta, was so virulent that nobody could attend on the sick without becoming infected by it; and great numbers fell victims solely to their humanity, in administering to the wants of their afflicted comrades. The soldiers at length, appalled at the inevitable destiny which awaited every man who entered the hospital as an assistant, refused in a body to supply the service of the sick any longer. Their officers represented to them in moving terms the claims which every soldier in affliction has on his brothers in arms. After a short pause, four privates of the grenadiers steps forward, and offered their services. Two of these in a short time fell under the pestilence, and the other two instantly withdrew their assistance. In this hopeless state of things, Colonel Hill, of the 50th regiment, heroically exclaimed, 'Then, my men, we must change our coats; since I cannot find a man in my regiment to attend a sick soldier, I must do it myself' Many days had not elapsed ere this noble-minded officer was himself attacked with the malady, and added one more to the number of its victims. Colonel Hill was the oldest officer in the corps, and had served for forty seven years.
At Abo, in Finland, a dog that had been run over by a carriage, crawled to the door of a tanner in the town; the man's son, a lad of fifteen years of age, first stoned, and then poured a vessel of boiling water on the miserable animal. This act of diabolical cruelty was witnessed by one of the magistrates, who informed his brethren of the fact. They unanimously agreed in condemning the boy to punishment. He was imprisoned till the following market day; then, in the presence of the people, he was conducted to the place of execution by an officer of justice, who read to him his sentence. 'Inhuman young man! because you did not assist the animal that implored your aid by its cries, and who derived its being from the same God who gave you life; because you added to the torments of the agonizing beast, and murdered it, the council of this city has sentenced you to wear on your breast the name which you deserve, and to receive fifty stripes.' He then hung a black board about his neck, with this inscription: 'A savage and inhuman young man!' And after inflicting on him twenty-five stripes, he proceeded: 'Inhuman young man! you have now felt a very small degree of the pain with which you tortured a helpless animal in its hour of death. As you wish for mercy from that God who created all that live, learn humanity for the future.' He then executed the remainder of the sentence.
In the year 1782, the war-chief of the Wyandot tribe of Indians of Lower Sandusky sent a young white man, whom he had taken prisoner, as a present to another chief, who was called the Half-king of Upper Sandusky, for the purpose of being adopted into his family in the place of one of his sons who had been killed the preceding year. The prisoner arrived, and was presented to the Half-king's wife, but she refused to receive him; which according to the Indian rule, was in fact a sentence of death. The young man was therefore taken away, for the purpose of being tortured and burnt on the pile. While the dreadful preparations were making, and the unhappy victim was already tied to the stake, two English traders, Messrs. Arundel and Robbins, moved by feelings of pity and humanity, resolved to unite their exertions to endeavour to save the prisoner's life, by offering a ransom to the warchief; which, however, he refused, saying it was an established rule among them to sacrifice a prisoner when refused adoption; and besides, the numerous war captains were on the spot to see the sentence carried into execution. The two generous Englishmen were, however, not discouraged, and determined to try another effort. They appealed to the wellknown high-minded pride of an Indian. 'But,' said they, 'among all these chiefs whom you have mentioned, there is none who equals you in greatness; you are considered not only as the greatest and bravest, but as the best man in the nation.' 'Do you really believe what you say?' said the Indian, looking them full in the face. 'Indeed we do.' Then, without speaking another word, he blackened himself, and taking his knife and tomahawk in his hand, made his way through the crowd to the unhappy victim, crying out with a loud voice, 'What have you to do with my prisoner?' and at once cutting the cords with which he was tied, took him to his house, which was near that of Mr. Arundel, whence he was conveyed in safety.
While Mr. Park was waiting on the banks of the Niger for a passage, the king of the country was informed that a white man intended to visit him. On this intelligence, a messenger was instantly despatched to tell the stranger that his majesty could not possibly admit him to his presence till he understood the cause of his arrival, and also to warn him not to cross the river without the royal permission.
This message was accordingly delivered by one of the chief natives, who advised Mr. Park to seek a lodging in an adjacent village, and promised to give him some requisite instructions m the morning. Mr. Park immediately complied with this counsel; but on entering the village, he had the mortification to find every door closed against him. He was, therefore, obliged to remain all the day without food, beneath the shade of a tree. About sunset, as he was turning his horse loose to graze, and expected to pass the night in this lonely situation, a woman returning from her employment in the fields, stopped to gaze at him; and observing his dejected looks inquired from what cause they proceeded? Mr. P. endeavoured, as well as he could to make known his destitute situation. The woman immediately took up his saddle and bridle, and desired him to follow her to her residence, where, after lighting a lamp, she presented him with some broiled fish, spread a mat for him to lie upon, and gave him permission to continue under her roof till morning. Having performed this beneficent action, she summoned her female companions to their spinning, which occupied the chief part of the night, while their labour was beguiled by a variety of songs; one of which was observed by Mr. Park to be an extemporaneous effusion, created by his own adventure. The air was remarkably sweet and plaintive, and the words were literally the following: 'The winds roared, and the rain fell. The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring him milk, no wife to grind him corn.' Chorus. 'Let us pity the white man; no mother has he to bring him milk, no wife to grind him corn.'
Abolition of Capital Punishments.
'May the new Continent, accustomed to receive from Europe that illumination which her youth and inexperience require, serve in her turn as a model to reform the criminal jurisprudence, and establish a new system of imprisonment in the old world - severe and terrible, yet humane and just.' DUKE DE LIANCOURT.
Formerly in Pennsylvania death was the penalty for a great variety of offenses; but in the year 1791, a change in the penal code took place, and, with the exception of premeditated murder, every crime heretofore capital, is now punished by a period of confinement, a certain portion of which is solitary. The good effects of this system have been extraordinarily manifessed, by a vast diminution both in the number and in the atrocity of the crimes committed. From January, 1789, to June, 1791, the number of crimes under the old system was 592, of which nine were murders; from June, 1791, to March, 1795, the number under the new system was 243, among which there was not one case of murder!
A discharged convict, who had been one of a desperate gang that had long infested Philadelphia before the alteration of the system, called afterwards on one of the inspectors of the prison, and addressed him in the following terms: 'Mr. -, I have called to return you my thanks for your kindness to me while under sentence; and at the same time to perform a duty which I think I owe to society. You know my conduct and my character have been once bad and lost, and therefore in most matters what I might say would have little weight; but it is of the feelings of bad men and abandoned characters that I wish to speak to you; and on that point I believe you will allow that I may know as much as most people. Be assured then, sir, on the word of one who has offended greatly, but who has suffered for his guilt, and profited much by his suffering, that if you steadily pursue your present plan, you will soon have neither burglaries nor robberies to complain of in Philadelphia.' The man then proceeded to describe the sentiments entertained by his old associates in iniquity, and the views and plans on which they commonly acted, and concluded in these words: 'The certainty that when detected they must suffer the punishment which the laws have annexed to their offence, and that long and solitary confinement make part of that punishment, does ten times more to deter them from crime, than all the hangings with which you before attempted to intimidate them. They fear going to the devil at once, a great deal less than being left for days, and months, and years, to the silent torture of their own consciences.'
'Father!' said the Indian chief, Captain Pipe, to the British commanding officer at Detroit in 1801, 'here is what has been done with the hatchet you gave me (handing a stick with a scalp on it). I have done with the hatchet what you ordered me to do, and found it sharp. Nevertheless, I did not do all that I might have done. No, I did not. My heart failed within me. I felt compassion for your enemy. Innocence (women and children) had no part in your quarrels; therefore I distinguished - I spared. I took some live flesh (prisoners); which while I was bringing to you, I spied one of your large canoes, in which I put it for you. In a few days you will receive this flesh, and find that the skin is of the same colour with your own. Father! I hope you will not destroy what I have saved. You, father, have the means of preserving that which with me would perish for want. The warrior is poor, and his cabin is always empty; but your house, father, is always full.'
When Edward the Confessor had entered England from Normandy to recover the kingdom, and was ready to give the Danes battle, one of his captains assured him of victory, adding, 'We will not leave one Dane alive.'
To which Edward replied, 'God forbid that the kingdom should be recovered for me, who am but one man, by the death of thousands. No: I will rather lead a private life, unstained by the blood of my fellow men, than be a king by such a sacrifice.' Upon which he broke up his camp, and again retired to Normandy, until he was restored to his throne without bloodshed.
Frederick the Great of Prussia, during his last illness, endured many restless nights, which he endeavoured to soothe by conversing with the servant who sat up with him. On one of these occasions, he inquired of an honest young Pomeranian from whence he came? 'From a little village in Pomerania.' 'Are your parents living?' 'An aged mother.' 'How does she maintain herself?' 'By spinning.' 'How much does she gain daily by it?' 'Sixpence.' 'But she cannot five well on that?' 'In Pomerania it is cheap living.' 'Did you never send her anything?' 'O yes; I have sent her at different times a few dollars.' 'That was bravely done; you are a good boy. You have a deal of trouble with me. Have patience. I shall endeavour to lay something by for you, if you behave well.' The monarch kept his word; for a few nights after, the Pomeranian being again in attendance, received several pieces of gold; and heard to his great joy and surprise, that one hundred six dollars had been settled on his mother during her life.
The Prince de Montbarey presented a list of young gentlemen who were candidates for vacant places in the military school of Louis XVI. of France. In this list were a great number who were strongly recommended by persons of the highest rank, along with some who were wholly destitute of such recommendation. The king observing this, gave an instance of that goodness of heart which he exhibited on so many occasions. Pointing to the latter, he said, 'Since these have no protectors I will be their friend;' and instantly gave the preference to them.
A nobleman advised a French bishop to make an addition to his house of a new wing in the modern style. The bishop immediately answered him, 'The difference, my lord, that there is between your advice and that which the devil gave to our Saviour is, that Satan advised Jesus to change the stones into bread, that the poor might be fed; and you desire me to turn the bread of the poor into stones.'
Ethelwold, Bishop of Winchester, in the time of King Edgar, sold the sacred gold and silver vessels belonging to the church, to relieve the poor people during a famine, saying, that there was no reason that the senseless temples of God should abound in riches, while his living temples were perishing of hunger.
Butler, Bishop of Durham, being applied to on some occasion for a charitable subscription, asked his steward what money he had in the house. The steward informed him there were five hundred pounds. 'Five hundred pounds!' said the bishop; 'what a shame for a bishop to have such a sum in his possession!' He ordered it all to be immediately given to the poor.
The Prince of Mecklenburg Strelitz being on a visit to the Prince of Orange in the year 1792, the latter took him to Scheveling, to see the departure of the vessels destined for the fishery. The spectacle is thought a grand one in Holland; and the seamen vie with each other on the occasion in parade and dexterity. The Prince of Orange was standing near the water's edge as the vessels were about hoisting sail, when a boy on board one of them, in his eagerness to exhibit some feats of activity, fell overboard. The Prince of Orange no sooner saw this than he instantly plunged into the water, with the view of saving the boy. The generous effort was unfortunately unavailing, and the prince himself was in the utmost danger of being drowned. At length, having been rescued with difficulty, some of his attendants asked him why he thus hazarded a life so valuable to the public? The prince replied, 'At the instant the boy fell in, I felt as much interested to save him as if he had been my brother.' The prince afterwards settled a handsome pension on the parents of the boy.
Hawke, the noted highwayman, one evening stopped a gentleman, and bade him deliver his money; the latter protested that he had none, but he was flying from his creditors in order to avoid a gaol. Hawke pitying his unhappy situation, inquired how much would relieve his wants? He was answered, thirty guineas. Hawke then directed the gentleman to go to a house not far distant, and wait until nine o'clock next morning, and he would bring him something that would relieve him. The gentleman went; and before the time expired, Hawke made his appearance, and presented him with fifty guineas, saying 'Sir, I present this to you with all my heart, wishing you well. Hesitate not, for you are welcome to it.' The generous highwayman having done this, immediately took his leave.
While the celebrated Dr. Garth was one day detained in his carriage in a little street near Covent Garden, in consequence of a battle between two females, an old woman hobbled out of a cellar, and begged of him for God's sake to take a look at her husband, who was in a mortal bad way, adding, 'I know you are a sweet-tempered gentleman, as well as a cute doctor, and therefore make bold to ax your advice, for which I shall be obliged to you as long as I live.' The doctor, whose good nature was equal to his medical skill, quitted his carriage immediately, and followed the old woman to her husband, but finding that he wanted food more than physic, sat down, and wrote a cheque on his banker for ten pounds, which he presented to the wretched couple.
When the late Duke of Northumberland (then Lord Percy) was with the army at Cork previous to his departure for America, he observed a fine boy in the ranks as a cadet, on which he asked his name and connexions. The boy answered, 'My lord, I am the son of an old officer who, after many years' service both abroad and at home, is now a captain in the royal household near Dublin: I am his third son, and my two elder brothers are now in the army.' His lordship felt so much at seeing such a boy in the ranks, that he instantly wrote to his agent, Sir William Montgomery, to purchase for him an ensigncy in the fifth regiment. The commission was obtained; and at Bunker's Hill, Brandies wine, &c., his lordship's ensign behaved with a degree of courage that reflected honour alike on the regiment, and on the patron who introduced him to it.
In the battle of Zutphen, fought in the cause of liberty against the tyrant Philip of Spain, Sir Philip Sidney displayed the most undaunted and enterprising courage. He had two horses killed under him, and whilst mounting a third, was wounded by a musket shot out of the trenches, which broke the bone of his thigh. He had to walk about a mile and a half to the camp; and being faint with loss of blood, and parched with thirst, he called for drink, which was instantly brought him; but as he was putting the vessel to his mouth, a poor wounded soldier, who happened to be carried by him at that instant, looked to it with wistful eyes. The gallant and generous Sidney took the bottle from his mouth without drinking, and delivering it to the soldier, said, 'Thy necessity is yet greater than mine.' Sixteen days afterwards the virtuous Sidney breathed his last, in the thirty second year of his age.
In the year 1783, a poor woman in Dungannon, Ireland, went to a house where oatmeal was sold, and offered to pledge an essential article of female dress for some oatmeal for herself and children, of which she had four, one of them at her breast. The shopkeeper was not at home, and his wife refused to let the poor woman have any, but at night and when in bed, told her husband of the circumstance, adding that she feared the family was in a distressed situation. The husband got out of bed instantly, and hastened to the poor woman with a bowl of oatmeal; but it was too late. The unfortunate woman was dead in her wretched cabin, the infant sucking the corpse, and the other children crying around her!
The fire at Radcliffe, in July, 1794, was more destructive, and consumed more houses, than any conflagration since the memorable fire of London in 1666. Out of one thousand two hundred houses where the fire raged, not more than five hundred and seventy were preserved. The distress of the miserable inhabitants was beyond description, not less than one thousand four hundred persons being thrown on the public benevolence; nor was it slow in their support. Government immediately sent one hundred and fifty tents for the wretched sufferers. The city subscribed £1000 for their relief, and Lloyds £700. The East India Company also gave £210. But more remarkable traits of that universal charity which is almost peculiar to this country, were exhibited on the Sunday immediately after the fire. On that day the collection from the visitants who crowded to see the encampment amounted to upwards of eight hundred pounds, of which £426 was in copper, including thirty eight pounds, fourteen shillings, in FARTHINGS! Each a poor man's mite!
During the reign of the Empress Maria Theresa, a great scarcity of provisions prevailed in Bohemia, and multitudes of famishing people flocked to the capital, Prague, imploring relief. The governor of the city wrote to the court at Vienna, that the misery of the poor people was at length driving them to acts of turbulence and outrage, which he had not a sufficient force either to prevent or suppress. The Empress Queen immediately despatched General Count Dalton to take the command at Prague, to which several regiments were ordered to repair by forced marches. As soon as the Count found himself sufficiently reinforced, he ordered all the cannon on the ramparts to be turned against the city; and having so disposed his troops that it was impossible for any of the disaffected to escape, he walked alone into the midst of some thousands of them who were assembled together and addressing them with his hat in his hand, observed, that it was not by criminal modes they should seek relief, because by so doing they must necessarily draw on their heads the vengeance of government; he desired, therefore, nay, he begged that he might not be reduced to the fatal necessity of ordering his troops to disperse them. The people listened to the Count with great attention, and replied to him with a coolness which surprised him. They said, his artillery and his troops had no terrors for them; that what he threatened them with as rigour, they would consider as mercy, for a speedy death with a cannon ball, was infinitely preferable to the lingering death which they were suffering by famine. The Count was melted even to tears. He then addressed them again, and told them his heart bled for them, but it was his duty to preserve the peace of the city, and he would be censured if, by his forbearance and compassion, that peace was destroyed; he therefore entreated them as it were for his sake, to disperse, assuring them that he would immediately transmit a faithful representation of their distresses to the queen, from whose goodness they had reason to expect every kind of relief.
The people, whom the dread of death could not move, were filled with gratitude for the general's conduct; they instantly began to disperse, every man cheering him as he passed, and exclaiming, long live Dalton!
The representation which the Count sent to Vienna, drew tears from the empress. 'Good God!' exclaimed she, 'what have my poor people been suffering, without my knowledge! to what cruel miseries have they been exposed, through the ignorance I was in of their deplorable situation! How greatly am I indebted to the moderation and humanity of Count Dalton, who has saved me from the guilt of being the butcher of my poor starving subjects, and who has painted in such moving colours those distresses, which others whose duty it was to make them known to me, carefully concealed from my knowledge, representing the rising of the people as the effect of a seditious disposition!'
Her majesty immediately despatched eight hundred waggons loaded with corn to Prague; and sent a letter of thanks to General Dalton, in her own handwriting, on his meritorious behaviour on this trying occasion.
Juan de Esquivel, the first governor of Jamaica, was sent by Diego Columbus, son of the great Columbus, in 1509, with about seventy men, to enforce his claim to the government. He was one of the few Castilians who, amidst all the horrors of bloodshed and infectious rapine, were distinguished for generosity and humanity. One eminent instance of this is allowed by Herrera. About the time that he sailed from Hispaniola, to take possession of his new government of Jamaica, his competitor, Ojeda, was on the eve of his departure to the Continent. Ojeda violently opposed the intended expedition of Esquivel, and publicly threatened that if he should find him at Jamaica he would hang him up as a rebel. Ojeda in his voyage was shipwrecked on the Coast of Cuba, and in danger of perishing for want of food. He implored succour from the very man whose destruction he had meditated. Esquivel, thus acquainted with the sufferings of his enemy sent an officer to conduct him to Jamaica, received him with the tenderest sympathy, treated him with kindness, and provided him with the means of a speedy and safe conveyance to Hispaniola. How truly might it be said, that under him 'the ravages of conquest were restrained within the limits of humanity!' It is pleasing to add, that Ojeda was not ungrateful to his benefactor.
An Aga of the Janizaries having been engaged in a rebellion, fled from Damascus, and took refuge among the Arabian nation of the Druses. The Pacha was informed of this, and demanded him of the Emir, threatening to make war on him in case of refusal. The Emir demanded leave of the Sheik, Talbouk, who had given the fugitive shelter, but this Sheik indignantly replied, 'When have you known the Druses deliver up their guests? Tell the Emir, that as long as Talbouk shall preserve his beard, not a hair of the head of his supplicant shall fall.' The Emir threatened him with force, Talbouk armed his family. The Emir dreading a revolt, adopted a method practiced as judicial among the Druses. He declared to the Sheik, that he would cut down fifty mulberry trees a day, until the Aga was given up. He proceeded as far as a thousand; but Talbouk still remained inflexible. At length the other Sheiks, enraged, took up the quarrel, and the commotion was about to become general, when the Aga reproaching himself with being the cause of so much mischief, privately made his escape, without the knowledge even of the noble-minded Talbouk.
In the time of the Caliphs, when Abdallah, the shedder of blood, had murdered every descendant of Ommich within his reach, one of that family, named Ibrahim, the son of Soliman, had the good fortune to escape and reach Koufa, which he entered in disguise. Knowing no person in whom he could confide he seated himself under the portico of a large house. Soon after the master of the house arriving, followed by several servants, alighted from his horse, entered, and seeing the stranger, asked him who he was? 'I am an unfortunate man,' answered Ibrahim, 'and request from thee an asylum.' 'God protect thee!' replied the host, 'enter, and remain in peace.' Ibrahim lived several months in this house without being questioned by his host. But astonished to see him every day go out on horseback, and return at a certain hour, he ventured one day to inquire the reason. 'I have been informed,' said his host, 'that a person named Ibrahim, the son of Soliman, is concealed in this town; he slayed my father and I am searching for him in order to be revenged.' 'Then I know,' said Ibrahim, 'that God has purposely conducted me to this place: I adore his decree, and resign myself to death. God has determined to avenge the offended man: thy victim is at thy feet.' The host, astonished, replied, 'O stranger, I see thy misfortunes have made thee weary of life; thou seekest to lose it, but my hand cannot commit such crimes.' 'I don't deceive thee,' said Ibrahim; and he proceeded to explain the occasion on which the affair happened, and all the circumstances attending it. A violent trembling then seized the worthy host; his teeth chattered as if from intense cold; his eyes alternately sparkled with fury and overflowed with tears. At length, turning to Ibrahim, 'Tomorrow,' said he, 'destiny may join thee to my father, and God will have retaliated. But as for me, how can I violate the asylum of my house? Wretched stranger! fly from my presence. There, take these hundred sequins; begone quickly, and let me never behold thee more!'
A Negro of one of the kingdoms on the African coast, who had become insolvent, surrendered himself to his creditor, who, according to the established custom of the country, sold him to the Danes. This affected his son so much, that he came and reproached his father for not rather selling his children to pay his debts; and after much entreaty, he prevailed on the captain to accept him, and liberate his father. The son was put in chains, and on the point of sailing to the West Indies when the circumstance coming to the knowledge of the governor, through the means of Mr. Isert, he sent for the owner of the slaves, paid the money that he had given for the old man, and restored the son to his father.
After the celebrated battle of St. Quentin, a Spanish officer of rank wrote to the Duke de Guise, to request him to deliver up to trim one of his slaves, that had fled to the French camp with one of his finest war-horses. The duke immediately sent back the horse, and wrote to the Spanish officer, saying, he would never see the occasion of putting chains again upon a slave who had become free by putting his foot into the kingdom of France.
A poor priest came one day to this monarch when he was at his devotions in the church, and told him that the bailiffs were about to arrest him for a sum he was unable to pay. The king immediately ordered him the money; saying, 'You have chosen your time to address me very luckily. It is but just that I should show some compassion to the distressed, when I have been entreating God to have compassion upon myself'
A poor woman complained one day to the same monarch, that the priests would not inter her deceased husband in holy ground, because he had died insolvent. 'Good woman,' said he, 'I did not make the law, I assure you. Here is some money to pay your husband's debts, and I will order the priest to bury him as you wish.'
Louis IX., after his captivity among the Saracens, was, with his queen and children, nearly shipwrecked on his return to France, some of the planks of the vessel having started. He was requested to go on board another ship in company, and escape the danger; but he refused, saying, 'Those that are with me, most assuredly are as fond of their lives as I can possibly be of mine. If I quit the ship, they will likewise quit it; and the vessel not being large enough to receive them, they will all perish. I had much rather entrust my life, and the lives of my wife and children, in the hands of God, than be the occasion of making so many of my brave subjects suffer.'
At the siege of Oran, in Africa, Cardinal Ximenes led the Spanish troops to the breach, mounted on a charger, dressed in his pontifical robes, and preceded by a monk on horseback, who bore his archiepiscopal cross. 'Go on, go on, my children,' exclaimed he to the soldiers, 'I am at your head. A priest should think it an honour to expose his life for his religion. I have an example in my predecessors, in the archbishopric of Toledo. Go on to victory.' When his victorious troops took possession of the town, he burst into tears on seeing the number of the dead that were lying on the ground; and was heard to say to himself, 'They were indeed infidels, but they might have become Christians. By their death they have deprived me of the principal advantage of the victory we have gained over them.'
Queen Caroline, consort of George II., being informed that her eldest daughter (afterwards Princess of Orange) was accustomed, at going to rest, to employ one of the ladies of the court in reading aloud to her till she should drop asleep; and that on one occasion the princess suffered the lady, who was indisposed, to continue the fatiguing duty until she fell down in a swoon, determined to inculcate on her daughter a lesson of humanity. The next night the queen, when in bed, sent for the princess, and commanded her to read aloud. After some time her royal highness began to be tired of standing, and paused, in hopes of receiving an order to be seated. 'Proceed,' said her majesty. In a short time a second pause seemed to plead for rest. 'Read on,' said the queen again. The princess again stopped, and again received an order to proceed, till at last, faint and breathless, she was forced to complain. 'Then,' said this excellent parent, 'if you thus feel the pain of this exercise for one evening only, what must your attendants feel who do it every night? Hence learn, my daughter, never to indulge your own ease, while you suffer your attendants to endure unnecessary fatigue.'
When Stanislaus, King of Poland, was driven from his dominions by Charles XII. of Sweden, he took refuge in Paris, where he was supported at the expense of the Court of France. Some persons complained to the Duke of Orleans, then Regent, of the great sum of money which this exiled monarch's support cost, and wished that he should be desired to leave France. 'Sir,' replied the duke, nobly, 'France has been, and I trust ever will be, the refuge of unfortunate princes; and I shall most certainly not permit it to be violated, when so excellent a prince as the King of Poland comes to claim it.'
It will to some appear singular, that the Slave Trade should have originated in an act of humanity; yet such was the fact, and exhibits an instance of one of the best and most humane men being guilty of cruelty, when his mind was under the influence of prejudice. Barthelemi de las Casas, the Bishop of Chiapa, in Peru, witnessing the dreadful cruelty of the Spaniards to the Indians, exerted all his eloquence to prevent it. He returned to Spain, and pleading the cause of the Indians before the Emperor Charles V. in person, suggested that their place as labourers might be supplied by negroes from Africa, who were then considered as beings under the proscription of their Maker, and fit only for beasts of burden. The emperor, overcome by his forcible representations, made several regulations in favour of the Indians; but it was not until the slavery of the African Negroes was substituted, that the American Indians were freed from the cruelty of the Spaniards.
In the year 1794, when the English and French troops were contending in St. Domingo, the former landed at Cape Tiburon, and defeated a very superior French force. On this occasion, an English sailor, named Allen, belonging to the Penelope, distinguished himself by his generous gallantry. Instead of returning to his ship with the boats, according to orders, after the troops were landed, the sailor jumped on shore, and seizing the firelock of a wounded soldier, swore that he too would have a dash at the brigands. But it was necessary the troops should follow up their success, and it being found impossible to take all the wounded men along with them, there was no alternative but to leave them on the beach, exposed in a dark night to the risk of being massacred by a savage enemy. The honest tar perceiving this, declared that it would be a more pleasing task to save the lives of these poor suffering men, than to kill half a score of rebels. He therefore plunged into the water, all the boats having pushed off, and by hard swimming reached the Hound sloop, laying near a mile from the shore, from which he was sent to his own ship, commanded by Captain (now Admiral) Rowley. The captain being informed of the situation of the wounded men, manned his barge, and brought them all off himself. Allen, the sailor, was reprimanded for his breach of discipline but rewarded with five pounds for his humanity.
It is a prevailing folly to be ashamed to shed a tear at any part of a tragedy, however affecting. 'The reason,' says the Spectator, 'is that persons think it makes them look ridiculous, by betraying the weakness of their nature. But why may not nature show itself in tragedy, as well as in comedy or farce? We see persons not ashamed to laugh loudly at the humour of a Falstaff, or the tricks of a Harlequin, and why should not the tear be equally allowed to flow for the misfortunes of a Juliet, or the forlorneness of an Ophelia?' Sir Richard Steele records on this subject a saying of Mr. Wilks the actor, as just as it was polite. Being told in the green-room that there was a general in the boxes weeping for Juliana, he observed with a smile, 'And I warrant you, sir, he'll fight ne'er the worse for that.'
Extract of a letter from a lady in Jamaica, dated June 14, 1765.
'I cannot help relating to you, on account of its singularity, a circumstance which happened to me not long ago in the midst of my distresses, which affected me greatly at the time, nor do I think I shall soon forget it.
'One morning taking an airing along the piazzas leading from Kingston to the fields, an old negro who was sitting there dressing his sores begged alms of me. I passed by him without taking any notice of him; but immediately reflecting on the poor fellow's situation, I turned back and gave him a bit, telling him at the same time that I had got but a few more remaining to myself.
'Some days afterwards having occasion to walk the same way, I again saw the same negro. As I was passing him he called after me, and begged earnestly to speak to me. Curious to hear what the man had to say, I turned back, when he delivered himself to the following effect. That as soon as I had left him the other day he concluded from what I had said when I relieved him, that I was myself in distress, it grieved him much to see a lady in want, nor could he have been happy without seeing me again. He then pulled out a purse, containing as he said, twenty-eight doubloons, and begged me to take it, telling me that he had collected this by begging, and that he could beg more to make him live; but that a lady could not beg, but must die for want of yam, yam, if she had no money. I thanked the poor fellow for his generosity, and told him that I had got more money since I saw him, and that I did not want it. I then asked him how his master suffered him to beg, seeing he was so old? He told me, that now he could work no more, his master had turned him out of doors to beg or starve; that he had been a slave from his infancy, and that his sores had been occasioned by constant hard labour. After giving him a