The Percy Anecdotes: |
Teach me to soothe the helpless orphan's grief,
With timely aid the widow's woes assuage
To misery's moving cries to yield relief
And be the sure resource of drooping age.' ANON.
CLAUDE BERNARD, or the 'Poor Priest,' as he was called, after a youth of great gaiety, grew disgusted with the world, and devoted himself wholly to religion, and comforting the poor and unfortunate. With incredible fervour he assisted them by his charities and exhortations, stooping and humbling himself to do the meanest of services on their account. He constantly refused to accept of preferments,though many were offered to him by the court, and when Cardinal Richelieu at length absolutely insisted on his asking him for something, he made this whimsical answer: 'Sir, aftermuch study, I have at last found out a favour to ask from you. When I attend any sufferers to the gibbet, to assist them in their last moments, we are carried with so bad a bottom that we are every moment in danger of falling to the ground. Be pleased, therefore, sir, to order that some better boards may be put to the cart.' Richelieu laughed heartily, and immediately gave orders that the cart should be thoroughly repaired. His patience in solicitation was such as no circumstances, however offensive, could subdue. One day he presented a petition in favour of an unfortunate person, to a nobleman in place, who, being of a hasty temper, flew into a violent passion, and said many injurious things of the person for whom the priest interested himself. Bernard, however, still persisted in his request, and the nobleman was at last so irritated that he have him a box on the ear. Bernard immediately fell at his feet, and presenting the other, said, 'Give me a blow on this also, my lord, and grant me my petition.' The noble man was so affected by this humility, that he granted his request.
NEARLY forty years ago, his present majesty, then Prince of Wales, was so exceedingly urgent to have eight hundred pounds to an hour on such a day, and in so unusual a manner, that the gentleman who furnished the supply had some curiosity to know for what purpose it was obtained. On enquiry, he was informed that the moment the money arrived, the prince drew on a pair of boots; pulled off his coat and waistcoat; slipped on a plain morning frock, without a star; and turning his hair to the crown of his head, put on a slouched hat, and thus walked out. This intelligence raised still greater curiosity; and with some trouble, the gentleman discovered the object of the prince's mysterious visit. An officer of the army had just arrived from America, with a wife and six children, in such low circumstances, that to satisfy some clamorous creditor, he was on the point of selling his commission, to the utter ruin of his family. The prince by accident overheard an account of the case. To prevent a worthy soldier suffering, he procured the money, and that no mistake might happen carried it himself. On asking at an obscure lodging-house in a court near Covent Garden, for the lodger, he was shown up to his room, and there found the family in the greatest distress. Shocked at the sight, he not only presented the money, but told the officer to apply to Colonel Lake, living in - street, and give some account of himself in future; saying which he departed, without the family knowing to whom they were obliged.
In 1789, when the calamitous situation of his late majesty had created a sort of temporary interregnum, the Prince of Wales ordered that the poor of Westminster should be paid the annual donation at Christmas, out of his own purse, when those who had undertaken to manage the king's affairs had peremptorily refused to pay it.
In 1812, a young woman of the name of Frances Sage was under sentence of death in Newgate. A benevolent Israelite, whose compassion had been deeply excited by an enquiry into the circumstances of her crime, resolved on writing a letter to the late lamented Princess Charlotte, to supplicate her intercession for the unfortunate criminal. The letter was such as did equal honour to his head and heart. It was in these terms:
'MAY IT PLEASE YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS,
'To give a few moments' attention to the most humble advocate that ever volunteered in the cause of an afflicted family. And as I seek for no reward except the hallowed consolation of success, let your indulgence be proportional to my zeal:
'The interest which the public prints have taken in the fate of Frances Sage, a young English woman, now under sentence of death in Newgate, induced me yesterday to visit a dwelling which her crime had made desolate, and at least to pour the healing balm of condolence upon the wounds of her distracted friends.
'A finished picture of the scene I witnessed must not agonize your royal bosom. Everything proclaimed distress and desolation; one tear was forced from her parents' eyes only to make room for another, and they looked as if, at that moment, they had experienced a most melancholy confiscation of all their family honours.
'I found that the same breeze on which your welcome voice first floated on the ears of a joyful people, was burthened with the cries of this unhappy girl, for she is just your age. That the innocence of her youth had been assailed by the artifices of an accomplished villain, who had deserted her at the moment of her utmost need; that she had never before been guilty of a crime, except when she submitted to the wiles of her seducer; that an ignominious death awaited her; that no effort was making for her safety, and that she was enveloped in contrition.
'Smooth and sudden is the descent from virtue: when the despoiler of her honour had induced the first step towards degradation it was easy for him to coerce a second, but there is an elasticity in the human mind which enables it to rebound, even after a fall more desperate than hers. In such an effort, Oh! royal lady, assist her, and let the harsh gratings of her prison hinge be drowned in the glad tidings of your father's mercy. The eloquence of a Trojan monarch gained, in a hostile camp, the body of his devoted Hector; and the force of royal advocacy was evinced at the memorable siege of Calais, when an enraged and stern king had firmly set his heart upon the execution of St. Pierre. Where then is the difficulty to be apprehended, when an only daughter, and a nation's hope, asks from a generous prince and an indulgent father, the life of a fallen but repenting woman? I have known the exquisite luxury of saving life, and announcing pardon; and I beseech you to lay such holy consolation to your heart, by raising your powerful voice in the advocacy of human frailty, snatch her not only from untimely death, but also from the contagion which surrounds her, from the infectious aggregation of the vices of a prison, where precept and example are rivals in the cultivation of depravity.
'I humbly ask it for her parents, because it will heal their bleeding hearts; and for her seabeaten brother, for it will strengthen his arm against the enemies of your house; I solicit it for the empire, because she is a reclaimed subject; I ask it for the honour of that throne which you are destined to adorn; and I implore it for the sake of that God whose favourite attribute is mercy.
'Grant then this humble prayer, illustrious favourite of my prince, and may the "divinity which hedges thrones," may "He who wears the crown immortally," bless you with long, long life, and end it happy. 'JOSEPH.'
Along with this letter, the generous writer transmitted the following petition from the wretched girl herself:
'To His Royal Highness the Prince Regent,
&c., &c., &c.,
'The most humble Petition of Frances Sage,
SHEWETH,
'That, at an age when judgment was imperfect, and seduction strong, she was drawn from her father's house by the artifices of a villain.
'That degraded by her crime in the estimation of her family, when the hour of repentance came no friendly door invited her return.
'That her dependence on her seducer was increased, while his attentions to her abated; and that in a distracted hour she purchased the continuance of his protection by a breach of the law.
'That her life must be forfeited for her crime, unless that contrition which she hopes has appeased her God, may obtain for her the compassion of her prince. And that she is not now more solicitous for life, than her prayers shall ever be devout for the generous author of her pardon.
'London, Nov. 15, 1812, FRANCES SAGE.
Her Royal Highness was moved by the pathetic energy of these appeals. She made enquiry into the circumstances of the girl's case, and finding that they had been fairly and honestly represented, she did not hesitate to intercede with her royal father in her behalf, and had the happiness not to plead in vain. The life of the criminal was saved, and the worthy 'Joseph' had once more the exquisite luxury of saving life, and announcing pardon.'
Pliny the Younger, who was one of the greatest orators of his age, did not make his profession an object of gain, like the rest of the Roman orators, but refused fees from the rich, as well as from the poorest of his clients: and declared that he cheerfully employed himself for the protection of innocence, the relief of the indigent, and the detection of vice. He was the friend of the poor, and the patron of learning. He contributed largely towards the expenses which attended the education of his countrymen and liberally spent part of his estate for the advancement of literature, and for the instruction of those whom poverty otherwise deprived of a public education. He made his preceptor, Quintilian, and the poet Martial, the objects of his benevolence. When the daughter of the former was married, Pliny wrote to the father with the greatest condescension; and observing that he was rich in the possession of learning, though poor in the goods of fortune, he begged of him to accept, as a dowry for his beloved daughter, 50,000 sesterces. 'I would not,' continued he, 'be so moderate, were I not assured from your modesty and disinterestedness, that the smallness of the present will render it acceptable.'
Pliny hearing that one of his intimate friends was involved in debt, and much embarrassed, immediately took the management of his affairs into his own hands, satisfied every claim, and became the sole creditor. When his friend died, his daughter, Calvina, would have given up her father's effects; but Pliny not only forgave her all that her father owed him, but even added a considerable sum to her fortune, when she was married.
The benevolent Dr. Wilson once discovered a clergyman at Bath, who he was informed was sick, poor, and had a numerous family. In the evening he gave a friend fifty pounds, requesting he would deliver it in the most delicate manner, and as from an unknown person. The friend replied, 'I will wait upon him early in the morning.' 'You will oblige me by calling directly. Think, sir, of what importance a good night's rest may be to that poor man.'
It was said of Pisistratus the Athenian, that he was generous without profusion, and beneficent without ostentation. He had always a servant near him with a bag of silver coin; and when he saw a man look sickly, or heard that any one had died poor, he comforted the one with money, and buried the other at his own expense. If he perceived people melancholy, and on inquiring the cause found that it was poverty, he furnished them with sufficient to get bread, but not to live idly.
Wladimir the Great having embraced Christianity, was the first to introduce it generally into Russia. The mildness of its precepts softened his manners, and in some degree effaced the excesses of his youth; he was accessible to the wants of the unfortunate, and bestowed benefactions on his poor subjects. Those who were able to repair to the palace, participated in his munificence under his own eye, and were fed abundantly in tents prepared for them; carriages were employed to convey assistance to the sick in their own dwellings.
After his conversion, Wladimir, who had been hurried into many crimes by the ardour of his passions, became anxious to expiate his errors, and hesitated to punish criminals capitally. The bishops represented to him, that it was no less his duty to repress vice, than to recompense virtue: the sovereign felt the justice of this observation; nevertheless, it was with great reluctance that he could be prevailed on to allow malefactors to be executed, and several times he exclaimed 'Who am I, that I should condemn men to death?'
The Duke of Guise, who commanded the Catholic armies in France against the Hugonots, when at Rouen, narrowly escaped being killed by a soldier, who was put under arrest and carried before the duke. The soldier confessed his crime, and when asked what had influenced him in his desperate attempt, replied, 'I had determined to kill you, that I might deliver religion from one of its most powerful adversaries.' 'If your religion,' replied the duke, 'teaches you to assassinate one who never injured you, mine, agreeably to the principles of the Gospel, commands me to pardon you. Go and judge which of the two religions is the most perfect.'
It was one of the maxims of Fontenelle, that 'we ought to part with our superfluities, in order to administer to the necessities of others;' and of the delicacy of his friendship, as well as the benevolence of his disposition, the following is a striking instance. Fontenelle having heard that the celebrated Marivaux was ill, and having just reason to fear that he, who never laid by any money, might be in want of it at such an exigence, went to him, and when they were alone, told him his suspicions. 'Perhaps,' said he, with great delicacy, 'more money may be convenient for you than you have by you. Friends should never wait to be solicited; here is a purse with a hundred louis d'ors, which you must permit me to leave at your disposal.'
'I consider them,' said Marivaux, 'as received and used: permit me now to return them with the gratitude that such a favour ought to excite.'
In the hard frost of the year 1740, the benevolent Duke of Montague went out one morning in disguise, as was his favourite practice, in order to distribute his bounty to his afflicted fellow-creatures. He descended into one of those subterraneous dwellings of which there are many in London, and accosting an old woman, inquired, 'How she lived in these hard times, and if she wanted charity?' 'No,' she replied; 'she thanked God, she was not in want; but if he had anything to bestow, there was a poor creature in the next room almost starving.' The duke visited this poor object, made a donation, and then inquired of the old woman, 'If any more of her neighbours were in want ?' She said'Her left-hand neighbour was very poor, and very honest.' 'Sure,' replied the duke 'you are very generous and disinterested; pray if it is no offense, let me know your own circumstances.' 'I owe nothing,' said the good woman, 'and am worth thirty shillings.' 'Well, but I suppose a little addition would be acceptable.' 'Yes, certainly, but I think it wrong to take what others want so much more than I do.' The duke took out five guineas, and desired her acceptance of them. The poor creature was quite overcome by this mark of generosity, and when able to express herself, exclaimed, 'Oh! sir, you are not a man, but an angel.'
Antony behaved with such lenity towards those who had been engaged for Cassius, that he wrote to the Senate, requesting them to spare the shedding of blood; and requesting this honour to be allowed to his reign, that even under the misfortunes of a rebellion none had lost their lives, except in the first heat of the tumult. 'I wish,' said he, 'that I could even recall to life many of those who have been killed; for revenge in a prince hardly ever pleases, since even when just it is considered as severe.'
Adjoining the public road from Bosworth to Leicester, there was a meadow, occupied in portions by the inhabitants of the parish of Rathby; among whom it was a rule, when the grass was fit to cut, to assemble on a certain day for that purpose, by which means the mowing was performed at once. When the labour of the day was over, the remaining part was devoted to foot-ball, cudgel-playing, wrestling, and other athletic exercises; the night in music, singing, and dancing. It happened on one of these meadow-mowings, that John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, who at that period kept his court at Leicester, passed this meadow on his way to that city, and struck with the mirth and festivity which appeared to prevail among these rustics, dismounted, to inquire the cause of their merriment They informed his Grace that they had been, according to ancient custom, mowing the Ramsdale, and were, now that the labour was done, amusing themselves. John of Gaunt immediately joined them, and entered with his characteristic hilarity into the spirit of their diversions, with which he was so pleased, that before he quitted them, he told them that if they would come to Leicester on a day he appointed, he would present each of them with a ewe for their ram; also a wether, whose fleece, when sold, should annually afford them a bountiful repast.
John of Gaunt had no sooner departed, than a general consultation took place among the mowers, as to the light in which they were to consider this humorous promise; some judged, from the frolicsome manner of his joining in their sports, that it could be intended only as a joke upon them; but others, who saw no reason why such condescension should not be accompanied by a liberality equally free, determined on ascertaining the truth by repairing to the place on the day which the duke had named. Fifteen of the number accordingly set off for Leicester, and were much pleased to find his Grace punctual to his appointment; by whom they were informed that under the strict performance of articles hereafter to be named, he would give to each of them a piece of land situated in the parish of Enderby, in Leicestershire, on the banks of the river Soar, in the vicinity of an ancient burying-ground, which still retained the name of St. John's church-yard. This land, containing half an acre for each man's private use, was to be called the Boots. He also allotted another piece, to be called the Ewes, in the proportion of five yards wide and sixty long, for every person, and for their general use, he would bestow on them two acres of land to be called the Wether, also adjoining the river Soar, which, when swelled with rain, is said to 'wash the back of the Wether.' The grass of this land was to be sold at Enderby every Whit-Monday, for the purpose of defraying the expense of an annual feast, to be enjoyed by the mowers on that day. The following are the articles annexed to the possession of these munificent donations of land.
'ARTICLES.
'There shall be annually elected, by a majority, two persons, as caterers, who shall on every Whit-Monday go to Leicester, to whatever inn they may prefer, where a calf's head shall be dressed for their breakfast; the bones of which, when picked clean, shall be put into a dish, and afterwards served up at the dinner. The inn-keeper is also to provide two large rich pies, for the caterers to take home to their families, that they may be partakers of some of their festivity. Likewise, there shall be provided for every person a short silk lace tagged at both ends with silver, and when so equipped, they shall all proceed to Enderby and sell the grass of the Wether to the best bidder. From thence they shall go to the meadow, and all dismounting, each person shall take a small piece of grass from the Wether, and tie it round his tagged lace; then placing the lace in his hat, all the mowers shall remount, and ride in procession to the high cross in Leicester, and there throw their lace among the populace: from thence they must proceed in the same order to St. Mary's Church, where a sermon shall be preached for the benefit of the Hospital founded by Henry Earl of Lancaster. When the service is over, a deed shall be read by the clergyman detailing the above gift, and the church stuck with flowers. Ceremony performed, they are to return to their inn to dinner, at which the bones of the calf's head are to form one of the dishes: the day to be closed in feasting and merriment.'
The second wife of the Prince who forms the principal subject of this anecdote, lies buried in the collegiate Church at Leicester, which was founded in honour of the annunciation of the Virgin Mary, by Henry Duke of Lancaster. This lady was Constance, daughter and heiress of Peter, King of Castile and Leon.
The town of Bresse having revolted against the French, was attacked, taken, and sacked, with an almost unexampled fury. The Chevalier Bayard, who was wounded at the beginning of the action, was carried to the house of a person of quality, whom he protected from the fury of the conquerors, by placing at the door two soldiers, whom he indemnified with a gift of eight hundred crowns, in lieu of the plunder they might have lost by their attendance at the door.
The impatience of Bayard to join the army without considering the state of his wound, which was by no means well, determined him to depart. The mistress of the house then threw herself at his feet, saying, 'The rights of war make you master of our lives and our possessions, and you have saved our honour. We hope, however, from your accustomed generosity, that you will not treat us with severity, and that you will be pleased to content yourself with a present more adapted to our circumstances than to our inclinations. At the same time she presented him with a small box full of ducats.
Bayard, smiling, asked her how many ducats the box contained. 'Two thousand five hundred, my lord,' answered the lady, with much emotion, 'but if these will not satisfy you, we will employ all our means to raise more.' 'No, madam,' replied the Chevalier, 'I do not want money; the care you have taken of me more than repays the services I have done you. I ask nothing but your friendship; and I conjure you to accept of mine.'
So singular an instance of generosity gave the lady more surprise than joy. She again threw herself at the feet of the Chevalier, and protested that she would never rise until he had accepted of that mark of her gratitude. 'Since you will have it so,' replied Bayard, 'I will not refuse it, but may I not have the honour to salute your amiable daughters?' The young ladies soon entered, and Bayard thanked them for their kindness in enlivening him with their company. 'I should be glad,' said he, 'to have it in my power to convince you of my gratitude; but we soldiers are seldom possessed of jewels worthy the acceptance of your sex. Your amiable mother has presented me with two thousand five hundred ducats; I make a present to each of you of one thousand, for a part of your marriage portion. The remaining five hundred I give to the poor sufferers of this town, and I beg you will take on yourselves the distribution.'
The Chevalier having at another time learnt that the great captain, Gonsalvo de Cordova, who commanded the Spaniards in the kingdom of Naples, was in expectation of receiving a considerable sum of money for the payment of his troops, resolved to intercept it. As the treasure could not reach the place of its destination, except by two narrow passes, the Chevalier and twenty of his men lay in ambuscade in one of them, and he placed Tardieu with twenty-five men in the other.
Chance happened to lead the Spaniards through the pass in which Bayard lay in ambush, when he fell upon them sword in hand. The enemy, without considering by what a small number they were attacked, were so frightened that they precipitately fled, and left the treasure behind them. The chests were carried to a neighbouring village, and on being opened, and the contents counted on a large table, the victors found themselves in possession of fifteen thousand ducats.
Tardieu arrived at this instant! and viewing the mountain of gold with greedy eyes, he said that one half of it belonged to him, as he had a share in the enterprise. 'I agree,' replied the Chevalier, who was not pleased with Tardieu's tone of voice, 'that you had a share in the enterprise; but you were not at the taking of the money. Besides, being under my orders, your right is subordinate to my pleasure.' Tardieu, forgetting what he owed to his benefactor and chief, went immediately to complain to the general.
Every one was surprised to see a friend of the Chevalier accuse him of injustice and avarice - a man whom even his enemies extolled for his justice and generosity. The matter was heard, and Tardieu was censured for his conduct. Indeed, he became himself ashamed of what he had done. ' I am more unhappy,' said he to Bayard, 'for thus proceeding against you, than I am for the loss of what I attempted to gain. How could I be unhappy in seeing you rich? Did I not know that your fortune is always an advantage to your friends, and has been so to me in particular?'
The Chevalier smiling, embraced him, and a second time counted over the ducats in his presence. Tardieu was not master of his transports on the sight of so much money. 'Ah, you enchanting pieces!' he exclaimed, 'but you are not my property! Had I but one-half of you, I should be happy all the rest of my life!' 'God forbid,' said Bayard, 'that for so small a matter I should make a gentleman unhappy! Take half the sum. With joy I voluntarily give you that, which you should never have extorted from me but by force.' The Chevalier then assembled the garrison, and distributed the other half among them.
The Spanish treasurer who was taken in company with the convoy, and in whose presence all this passed, could not but admire so much disinterestedness; but he feared that the conqueror, after having given away everything, would reserve to himself the price of his ransom, and would consequently make him pay extravagantly. Bayard, who perceived his inquietude, soon relieved his mind. 'My trade,' said he, 'as a soldier, obliged me to take you. I will not dissemble, but assure you that I am happy on the occasion, since that success has enabled me to be of service to my companions, and what I took from you belonged to your master, who is the enemy of mine. As to everything regarding yourself, I release you with joy, you are at liberty, and may depart as soon as you please.' At the same time he ordered a trumpet to attend him to the enemy's quarters.
Richard de Berry, Bishop of Durham in the reign of Edward the Third, had every week eight quarters of wheat made into bread for the poor, besides his alms-dishes, fragments of his house, and large sums of money which he bestowed on his journeys
West, Bishop of Ely in 1562, fed two hundred poor people daily at his gates, and the Lord Cromwell usually the same number.
Robert, Bishop of Winchelsea, gave every Friday and Saturday, a loaf of bread of a farthing price to every beggar that came to his door. Stowe says, the loaf was sufficient for the day. In time of dearth there were usually five thousand applicants; and in a plentiful time, not less than four thousand loaves were distributed on a day.
One of Bishop Burnet's parishioners, who was in execution for a debt, applied to him for assistance. The bishop requested to know what would serve him and reinstate him in his trade? The man named the sum. Burnet instantly called his servant to give him it. 'Sir,' said he, 'it is all we have in the house.' 'Well, give it this poor man, you do not know the pleasure there is in making a man glad.'
An ancestor of Richard Cumberland, of the same name, who was consecrated Bishop of Peterborough in 1691, was of so humane and generous a disposition that no church revenue could ever enrich him. At the end of every year he distributed to the poor whatever surplus he found upon a minute inspection of his accounts, reserving only one small deposit of twenty-five pounds, which was found at his death in his bureau, with directions to employ it for the discharge of his funeral expenses, a sum, in his modest calculation, fully sufficient to commit his body to the earth.
It is related of Bishop Hough that he always kept a thousand pounds in his house for unexpected occurrences. One day the collectors for a public charity applied to the bishop for his contribution. He immediately told his steward to give them £500. The steward made signs to his master intimating that he did not know where to get so large a sum.
'You are right,' said the benevolent bishop 'I have not given enough, give the gentlemen a thousand; you will find it in such a place,' directing him to where the money was kept.
A French Abbe, celebrated for his wit as well as his political knowledge, was much embarrassed for the sum of five hundred louis d'ors. The Abbe was high-minded, and, being constantly at Versailles, he carefully avoided everything that might lead to the discovery of his embarrassment. Some person, however, whispered the secret to the queen, the beautiful but unfortunate Marie Antoinette. On the same evening, her Majesty meeting the Abbe at the Duchesse de Polignac's, engaged him in a party at tric-trac, her favourite game, in which she contrived in a short time to lose the sum which her partner wanted; then smilingly she rose from the table, and relinquished the game, while the astonished Abbe was lost in admiration.
Mr. Carrapeit Arackell, an Armenian merchant of Prince of Wales's Island, who, during a residence of sixteen years, had acquired a handsome competency in trade, applied by letter to the superintendent of police for permission to liberate all the prisoners from the debtors' gaol at his own charge. The application was granted, and the prisoners, who were sixteen in number, not only had their debts discharged by the generous Armenian
but were entertained at his own house, and such further assistance was afforded them as their several cases required.
Economical Charity in Humble Life
Let not any individual say, 'I am of no use in the world! I have no power to do any good!' for, as one of our poets says:-
'Circles are praised, not that abound
In greatness; but th' exactly round:
Such praise they merit, who excel
Not in high state, but doing well.'
At Hoffwyl, in Switzerland, lives a poor woman, who has devoted herself to the education and support of destitute orphan children depending on the charity of the compassionate, which is her only resource. She maintains eight; five boys and three girls. The whole cost of her establishment, including herself, is less than thirty francs (say five-and-twenty shillings) per month; of which her lodging costs four francs. The expense therefore, for each individual is scarcely three halfpence per day; yet the children are in good health, remarkably lively, fresh-coloured, and well-behaved. They are comfortably clad, and very obedient. She makes the elder teach the younger; and, no doubt, she makes them serve themselves and the younger also; of necessity imposes a habit of diligence. The name of this exemplary personage is the widow Rumph; she is seventy years of age; she has been the mother of fifteen children and has been foster-mother to thirty-two others.
When Calais was besieged by Edward III. in 1347, John de Vienne, the governor, turned out of the town every individual who did not possess a sufficient supply of provisions for several months. Men, women, and children, to the amount of seventeen hundred persons advanced in mournful procession to the English camp. Edward ordered them to be received, gave them a plentiful repast, and at their departure, distributed to each two pieces of silver. We are sorry to add that five hundred more, that were turned out, did not experience similar humanity, but perished between the walls and the camp.
Dr. Brocklesby was so assiduous in being useful to his fellow-creatures, that he was equally acceptable to the poor and the rich. When some of the former through delicacy did not apply to him, he would exclaim, 'Why am I treated thus? Why was I not sent for?'
During the siege of Paris by Henry IV. of France, the Duke de Nemours, who commanded, ordered that all useless persons should be turned out of the city. The king's council of war violently opposed giving these unhappy outcasts a safe passage, but Henry gave orders that they should pass unmolested. 'I am not astonished,' said he 'that the chiefs of the league have shown so little compassion to these poor wretches, for they are only tyrants, but I, who am their lawful king, cannot bear the recital of their calamities without being deeply touched with pity and compassion and feeling a desire to afford them relief and comfort.'
In the Lansdown Collection of the British Museum there is a MS. in the handwriting of the great Lord Burleigh, the Lord Treasurer of England in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. He calls it a meditation on the death of his lady of whom he gives the following amiable character, which, though traced with the partiality of an affectionate husband, exhibits a fine example of active beneficence.
'I ought to comfort myself,' he says, in his discourse, the orthography of which is here alone corrected, 'with the remembrance of her many virtuous and goodly actions, wherein she continued all her life, and especially in that she did of late years sundry charitable deeds, whereof she determined to have no outward knowledge while she lived; inasmuch as when I had a little understanding thereof and asked her wherein she had disposed any charitable gift, according to her often wishing that she was able to do some special act for the maintenance of learning, and relief of the poor, she would always only show herself rather desirous so to do, than ever confess any such act; as since her death is manifestly known to me, and confessed by sundry good men, whose names and ministry she secretly used; that she did charge them most strictly, that while she lived they should never declare the same to me nor to any other. And so now I have seen her earnest writings to that purpose in her own hand,
'The particulars of many of these hereafter do follow, which I do with my own handwriting recite for my comfort in the memory thereof, with assurance that God hath accepted the same in such favourable sort as findeth now the fruits thereof in heaven.
'About years since she caused exhibitions to be secretly given by the hands of the Master of St. John's in Cambridge, for the maintenance of two scholars, for a perpetuity whereof to continue:
'She did cause some lands to be purchased in the name of the Dean of Westminster, who also, in his own name, did assure the same to that college for a perpetual maintenance of the said scholars in that college. All which was done without signification of her act or charge to any manner of person, but only of the dean, and one William Walter of Wimbledon, whose advice was used for the writing of the purchase and assurance.
'She also did with the privily of the Deans of Paul's and Westminster and Mr. Adderley being free of the Haberdashers in London, give to the company of the said Haberdashers a good sum of money, whereby is provided that every two years there is lent to six poor men of certain special occupations, as smiths, carpenters, weavers, and such like, in Romford in Essex, twenty pounds a piece, in the whole one hundred and twenty pounds; and in Cheshunt and Wootham, to other six like persons, twenty marks a piece, in the whole four score pounds; which relief, by way of loan, is to continue. By the same means is provided for twenty poor people in Cheshunt, the first Sunday in every month, a mess of meat in flesh and bread, and money for drink. And likewise is provided four marks yearly for four sermons to be preached quarterly by one of the preachers of St. John's College. And these distributions have been made a long time, while she lived, by some of my servants, without giving me knowledge thereof, though indeed I had cause to think that she did sometimes bestow such kind of alms; not that I knew of any order taken for continuance thereof, for she would rather commonly use speeches with me, how she was disposed to give all that she could to some such uses, if she could devise to have the same faithfully performed after her life, whereof she always pretended many doubts. And for that she used the advice of the deans of Paul's and Westminster, and would have her actions kept secret; she forced upon them small pieces of plate to be used in their chambers, as remembrances of her good will for their pains.
'She did also, four times in the year, secretly send to all the persons in London, money to buy bread, cheese, and drink, commonly for four hundred persons; and many times more, without knowledge from whom the same came.
'She did likewise sundry times in the year send shirts, &c., to the poor people both in London and at Cheshunt.
'She also gave a sum of money to the Master of St. John's College, to procure fires in the hall of that college upon all Sundays and holidays, betwixt the Feast of All Saints and Candlemas, when there was no ordinary fires at the charge of that college.
'She also gave a sum of money towards a building for a new way at Cambridge to the common schools.
'She also provided a great number of books, whereof she gave some to the University of Cambridge, namely, the great Bible in Hebrew and four other tongues; and to the College of St. John's, a very many books in Greek, of divinity and physic, and of other sciences. The like she did to Christ Church and St. John's College in Oxford. The like she did to the College of Westminster.
'She did also yearly provide wool and flax, and did distribute it to women in Cheshunt parish, willing them to work the same into yarn, and bring it to her to see the manner of working; and, for the most part, she gave them the stuff by way of alms. Sometimes she caused the same to be wrought into cloth, and gave it to the poor, paying first for the spinning more than it was worth.
'Not long before her death she caused secretly to be bought a large quantity of wheat and rye, to be disposed amongst the poor in time of dearth, which remained unspent at her death; but the same confessed by such as provided it secretly, and therefore in conscience to be distributed according to her mind.'
The widow of a mariner who had been disabled in the wars of the Commonwealth, presented a petition to Oliver Cromwell, when Protector, in which she stated, 'that your petitioner having one only sonne, who is tractable to learn, and not having wherewith to bring him up, by reason of their present low estate, occasioned by the publique service aforesaid, humbly prayeth, that your highness would vouchsafe to present her said sonne, Randolph Beacham, to be a schollar in Sutton's hospital, called the Charterhouse.'
To this petition Oliver gave the following answer, which strongly marks his character. 'You receive from me this 28th inst. a petition of Marjeory Beacham, desiring the admission of her son into the Charterhouse. - I know the man, who was employed one day in an important secret service, which he did effectually to our great benefit, and the Commonwealth's. The petition is a brief relation of a fact, without any flattery. I have wrote under it a common reference to the commissioners, but I mean a great deal more, that it shall be done, without their debate or consideration of the matter, and so do you privately hint to * * * * *. I have not the particular shining bauble or feather in my cap, for crowds to gaze at or kneel to, but I have power and resolution for foes to tremble at; to be short, I know how to deny petitions, and whatever I think proper for outward form to refer to any officer or office, I expect that such my compliance with custom shall be also looked upon as an indication of my will and pleasure to have the thing done. See, therefore, that the boy is admitted.
'Thy true friend,
'July 28, 1656. OLIVER, P.B.'
The Prince of Conti being highly pleased with the intrepid behaviour of a grenadier at the siege of Phillipsburgh, in 1734, threw him a purse, excusing the smallness of the sum it contained, as being too poor a reward for such courage. Next morning the grenadier went to the prince with two diamond rings, and other jewels of considerable value. 'Sir,' said he, 'the gold I found in your purse, I suppose you intended for me; but these I bring back to you,having no claim to them.' 'You have doubly deserved them by your bravery, and by your honesty,' said the prince, 'therefore they are yours.'
A very respectable gentleman, who had an aversion to cards, but did not wish to seem unfashionable in a family where he often visited, and where public days for play were set apart found, himself under the necessity of playing deep. It was his good fortune, however, generally to be successful. After some years of intimacy the master of this family took him aside one day, and imparted to him the melancholy secret that his affairs were in a most embarrassed state. The gentleman expressed his concern at his friend's distress, and entreated him not to despair.
On his return home he opened a private drawer in his bureau, in which he had nightly deposited his winnings at the card tables in his friend's house: and the next day he insisted on refunding the sum this inconsiderate man and his family had lost. It was sufficient to save his friend from instant imprisonment, and to give a turn to his affairs; but he restored it only on condition that they should never play at cards again.
The late General Scott, so celebrated for his success in gaming, was one evening playing very deep with the Count D'Artois and the Duke de Chartres, at Paris, when a petition was brought up from the widow of a French officer, stating her various misfortunes, and praying relief; a plate was handed round, and each put in one, two, or three louis d'ors; but when it was held to the general, who was going to throw for a stake of five hundred louis d'ors, he said, 'Stop a moment if you please, sir, here goes for the widow!' The throw was successful, and he instantly swept the whole into the plate, and sent it down to her.
Many years since, a Mr. Bradshaw had won about £200 at a gaming table. A gentleman standing behind him exclaimed, 'How happy should I be with that sum!' Bradshaw without looking at him, handed the purse of money over his shoulder. The stranger took it, fitted himself out for India, and in a few years acquired a large fortune. On his return to England he waited on Mr. B., to whom he made himself known, and offered restitution. Mr. B., however, declined accepting it; but he soon afterwards received from the gentleman a present of much greater value.
A similar incident to the preceding is related of the Constable de Montmorency. He was at an assembly at Montpelier, where there was very high play at basset. A poor gentleman who was behind, and saw the Constable put three thousand pistoles upon a card, said softly to one who was near him, 'Oh, what a sum! it would make me easy for life!' It happened that the Constable won; when turning quick upon the gentleman who spoke, he said, 'Sir, I made that stake for you,' and gave him the six thousand pistoles.
Casimir II., king of Poland, received a blow from a Polish gentleman, named Konarski, who had lost all he possessed while playing with the prince. Scarcely was the blow given, when, sensible of the enormity of his crime, he betook himself to flight, but was soon apprehended by the king's guards, and condemned to lose his head. Casimir, who waited for him in silence amid his courtiers, as soon as he saw him appear, said, 'I am not surprised at the conduct of this gentleman. Not being able to revenge himself on fortune, it is not to be wondered at that he has ill-treated his friend. I am the only one to blame in this affair, for I ought not by my example to encourage a pernicious practice which may be the ruin of my nobility.' Then turning to the criminal, he said, 'You, I perceive, are sorry for your fault - that is sufficient; take your money again, and let us renounce gaming for ever.
Frederic one day seeing the colonel of one of his regiments very melancholy and pensive, said to him, 'You seem always uneasy: what is the matter with you? Come, tell me; among friends, you know, there should be no secrets.' Then, without giving him time to reply, he added, 'I know, colonel, that you owe two thousand crowns.' The colonel bowed assent. The king immediately turned towards a table that stood near him, and taking a purse of gold, gave it to the colonel, saying, 'Take that to pay your debts.' He then presented him with another purse.
A poor officer's widow, who was very infirm, having implored the assistance of Frederic, he answered her: 'I feel for your infirmities and poverty. Why did you not address yourself sooner to me? Indeed, there is no pension vacant at present, but you must be taken care of, as your husband was a brave man, whose loss I sincerely regret. I will every day retrench a dish at my table, which will make a saving of three hundred and sixty-five crowns, and that sum, you may depend upon it, shall be paid to you the first of next month, and continued till a pension shall be found for you, and I have given orders that the first which shall become vacant shall be given to you.'
A person applied to Frederic for a place, and was refused. A short time after he thus addressed the monarch in a letter: 'I am told, sire, that you refuse me the place I asked; I cannot believe it, for you owe it to me, and you would wish to be just. Make haste then to perform your duty, and clear yourself from injurious suspicions.' The king, surprised at this arrogance, sent for the man, and asked him what right he had to use such language, and upon what grounds he founded his pretensions? The man replied 'My claims, sire, are founded upon the right of not being left to perish, which is the first of all rights, and the most sacred of all claims.' The king made no reply, but granted him the place he demanded.
The king, during his Silesian reviews, had several times taken up his abode at the house of a curate, without ever having seen the master. One day, being in good humour, he sent for him. 'How do you do, curate?' said the king, on seeing him. 'Very badly!' 'Well, well! take patience, and you will be better in the next world.' 'I doubt that much, and even fear of doing worse there!' 'How so?' 'I will tell your majesty, if you will condescend to hear me. I have two daughters, three sons, and a little curacy. I thought I perceived some talents in my boys, and I find I am not deceived. I have employed all my fortune in their education: I sent them to school and universities, and those expenses have involved me in debts. My children have acquired some knowledge; but they are not yet provided for, and therefore cannot return me what I have advanced for them. The revenues of my curacy, instead of increasing have diminished; and I am becoming old, without seeing any hopes of paying my debts. Now, should I die without satisfying my creditors, your majesty knows, I shall be consigned to misery in the next world, without pity.'
'That is very hard, indeed,' said the king, 'but I will relieve you from this unhappy situation. How much do your debts amount to?' 'To eight hundred crowns.' 'I will pay them, if you can prove to me that your children are properly brought up. In that case I will take care of them, and increase your income.. But where are your daughters?' 'I always send them to town when your majesty comes here with your retinue.' 'Ah! that is acting prudently. Let them come and see me to-morrow.'
The next day the king had forgotten the curate's daughters, who presented themselves and insisted upon being introduced, in spite of the opposition of his domestics, to whom they declared that the king had sent for them. Frederic conversed with them a considerable time, sent for a milliner, bought them several trifles, and gave to each of them a small sum of money. The curate's sons were put into good situations, and the daughters well married, when the king felicitated himself with having made a poor curate happy both in this world and the next.
One of the king's old valets de chambre, who was addicted to drinking, often came intoxicated into the king's chamber. When he was absolutely incapable of doing his duty, the king would make him go out softly at a private door, telling him to go to sleep. He showed this complaisance to the poor creature, in order not to expose him to the raillery of the other domestics, and to save him the shame of being turned away. The king, the better to keep the matter secret, did not call any other servant to undress him.
A reduced officer in the service of Frederic, having served as a brave man in the seven years' war, constantly attended the king's levee every day, to solicit a pension. The king had often said to him, 'Have patience, for at present I can do nothing for you.' The officer would not be put off in that manner, but wherever he found the king, he besieged him with his demands. Frederic, tired with these importunities, forbade his being admitted to his presence. In the meantime there appeared a violent satire against the king, and Frederic, contrary to his usual forbearance, offered a reward of fifty louis d'ors to any person who would discover the author. The next day the lieutenant-colonel presented himself at the palace, and was refused entrance, but he insisted on being admitted, saying he had something of importance to communicate to the king. His name was therefore announced, and he was ordered into the king's presence. 'Have I not already told you,' exclaimed his majesty, as soon as he sew him, 'that I can do nothing for you at present?' 'I am not come to demand anything,' replied the officer; 'but your majesty has promised fifty louis d'ors to him who shall discover the author of the pamphlet just published against you. I am the author. Punish the culprit, but pay the reward to my wife, that she may procure bread for my hungry children.' The king, with great apparent indignation, said, 'You shall go to Spandau,' a fortress near Berlin, where all State culprits are imprisoned. 'Sire,' replied the colonel, 'I shall patiently submit to whatever punishment your majesty shall please to inflict on me, so that you but pay the promised reward to my wife.' The king told him that within an hour his wife should have it, and ordered him to wait a moment. Frederic then sat down, and wrote a letter; which handing to the officer he said, 'You will give this letter to the commandant of Spandau, and tell him that I forbid him to open it before dinner.' The king then ordered the lieutenant-colonel to be conducted to Spandau.
The officer having arrived there he delivered the letter and acquainted the commandant with the king's orders. They dined, and the poor officer was under the most dreadful apprehensions for what was to follow as grace to that meal. At length, however, the letter was opened, and the commandant read as follows:- 'The bearer of this letter is appointed commandant of the fortress of Spandau. His wife and children will be with him within a few hours, and bring with them fifty louis. The late commandant of Spandau will repair to Potsdam, where he will find a better place destined for him.' Judge how great was the mutual surprise of both parties!
A sum of £5000 stands invested for the mutual benefit of two very excellent institutions in London - the Magdalen Asylum and the Foundling Hospital. It was bequeathed to them by one Omichand, a black merchant in Calcutta, who left many equally liberal donations to other charitable institutions in all parts of the world.
Benevolent Societies in Italy.
A society of gentlemen called the Buonuomini di San Martino, has been four hundred years collecting and distributing alms among the poor who are ashamed to beg. The rank of these philanthropists and their objects of relief induce the rich to contribute, and sometimes to bequeath, very considerable supplies. All bequests are turned directly into cash nothing is funded; nothing belongs to the society except the observatory where they meet. The receipts of every year are distributed within the year to hundreds who are starving under genteel appearances; decayed gentlemen, whose rank deters others from offering relief; ladies who live in garrets, and, ashamed of their poverty, steal down to mass before daylight; industrious women, whom the failure of the silk manufacture has left without any resource: such are the objects whom those Buonuomini go weekly, privately, to visit and relieve. They were a kind of benevolent spies upon the domestic miseries of Florence, and used to search for the retreats of suffering delicacy.
The Misericordia is an institution diffused over Tuscany. At Florence it consists of four hundred men chosen promiscuously from every rank. These philanthropists volunteer their service to the sick, the hurt, and the dead. On the tolling of a bell they repair to their chapel, where they conceal themselves in long black vestments which mask the whole head and then set out with a covered litter to convey the patients to the hospital of Santa Maria Nuova. There you will find the first noblemen in Florence with their aprons and ladles following the soup which is wheeled along the wards, and dealing it out to the sick as a check on the administration of the hospital. In the same lugubrious garb they convey in the evening the corpses of the day to St. Catherine's Church, where all the dead are collected for the midnight cart and sent to the common burying-ground at Trespiano. This benevolent society has never paused for the last five hundred years, nor desisted from its fatal duties during several plagues.
The truly laudable institution of the brotherhoods in Madrid, whose sole end is to perform offices of charity to the indigent and the afflicted, has an excellence which is not to be found in many other countries of Europe, where pathetic advertisements addressed to the feelings of the public, or recommendations which the powerful interest of patronage alone can procure, are absolutely required, to effect what is done in Madrid every day, with the utmost secrecy, and without the least ostentation.
The metropolis of Spain abounds with these brotherhoods. They are more or less numerous or active. The most eminent are the holy royal brotherhood of Our Lady of Refuge, and that of Our Lady of Hope, which count the most distinguished persons among the number of their members. The former expended, in 1798, in pious offices, the sum of 526,925 reals, and the latter 74,949. The items in their annual account consist of benefactions on visiting the sick in the hospitals; expenses of sending poor sick people to the baths, and lunatics to the hospital of Saragossa; the education of poor children; suppers for the sick in the hospital; conveyance of poor patients; masses for the repose of the dead; alms, marriages of the poor; expenses for missionaries; house-rent, and weekly allowances for indigent persons, &c. These two brotherhoods never fail affording relief to distressed objects, and even purposely go in search of them.
It was a custom with Alexander the Great to oblige the captive women whom he carried along with him to sing songs after the manner of their country. He happened among these women to perceive one who appeared in deeper affliction than the rest, and who by a modest, and at the same time a noble confusion, discovered a greater reluctance than the others to appear in public. She was of perfect beauty, which was much heightened by her bashfulness. The king soon imagined by her air and mien that she was not of vulgar birth, and inquiring of the lady, she answered that she was grand-daughter to Octius, who had not long before swayed the Persian sceptre; that she had married Hystaspes, who was related to Darius, and general of a great army. Alexander, touched with compassion when he heard the unhappy fate of a princess of the blood royal, and the sad condition to which she was reduced, not only gave her her liberty, but returned her all her possessions, and caused her husband to be sought for in order that she might be restored to him.
A late Duke of Northumberland.
After the fatal attack at Bunker's Hill in America, Earl Percy gave to the widow of every soldier in his regiment who fell in the battle an immediate benefaction of seven dollars; he paid their passage home, and ordered five guineas to be given to each of them on their landing in Britain. His humanity to the sick and wounded, whom he supplied with wine, fresh provisions, &c., and his generosity to their families during their long stay at Boston, were unparalleled. He had a large tent provided for every company at his own expense to accommodate the women, and he made it a rule to receive no other servants into his family but soldiers or their wives. Though his regiment was distinguished for its admirable discipline, yet he never suffered his men to be struck; but won them to their duty by generous treatment, by rewards, and by his own excellent example, requiring no service from the meanest sentinel which he was not ready to share with them, whether as to hardship, fatigue, or danger.
The hero of Poland once wished to send some bottles of good wine to a clergyman at Solothurn; and as he hesitated to trust them by his servant, lest he should smuggle a part, he gave the commission to a young man of the name of Zeltner, and desired him to take the horse which he himself usually rode. On his return, young Zeltner said that he never would ride his horse again, unless he gave him his purse at the same time. Kosciusko inquiring what he meant, he answered, 'As soon as a poor man on the road takes off his hat and asks charity, the horse immediately stands still, and will not stir till something is given to the petitioner; and as I had no money about me, I was obliged to feign giving something, in order to satisfy the horse.'
The celebrated Mrs. Miller of Batheaston, who travelled in Italy in the years 1770, 1771, gives the following interesting account of Pere Nicolas, whose purity of manners and charitable conduct, so endeared him to the inhabitants of Lanebourg, that they looked on him as their common father, and spoke of him only by the enviable title of the Good Curate of Lanebourg.
'Pere Nicolas, who is now far advanced in years, had lived for some time in the mountains of Savoy, when his sanctity of life, his charitable and moral disposition, at length reached the ears of his sovereign, who sent for him to court. The king took such a liking to him, that, upon his entreaty, he granted a perpetual exemption to the Lanebourgians from the quartering of troops, and from furnishing either men or money for the militia even in time of war. So little did Pere Nicolas consult his own interests, that he never asked anything for himself; and although he goes to court from time to time, and is always exceedingly well received by the king, he has never in any instance sought his own promotion, but employs all the interest he has to relieve his poor neighbours and parishioners from any difficulties they may be exposed to, either by the accidents of bad seasons, storms, or above all, a threatened tax, which, by his interposition, they are free from to this day. The Lanebourgians, through gratitude, immediately after the first favour the king was pleased to bestow on Pere Nicolas, presented him with the rent of the lake for seven years. By this he made a considerable sum; but, in the year 1737, he augmented his fund, and served his country at the same time, by selling cattle to the Swiss army; which cattle he bought up cheap from the Savoyards, who with difficulty could prevent their being taken from them by the, Spaniards, and were glad to get rid of them at any price.
'Pere Nicolas dedicates his money entirely to the use of the Lanebourgians and his other neighbours, as far as it can go, in lending it to them whenever they want, in small sums, particularly at the season for purchasing cattle. He never takes any interest, nor even requires payment till they can with ease return it to him, which they rarely fail to do at the ensuing season for disposing of their corn and cattle. It is scarcely credible of how much use this one man has been, by thus devoting himself and his interests to the public good.'
The Emperor Joseph H. was generally styled the Titus of Germany; an appellation which he obtained from this general observation, that hardly a day passed over his head without being distinguished by some act or other of public munificence or private benevolence.
Joseph entertained the greatest aversion for those distinctions which tend to withhold from the most numerous portion of society advantages which ought to be common to all.
Previous to his accession to the throne, the gates of the superb promenade called the Prater were opened only to persons of distinction. Joseph wished that they should be thrown open to everybody, and caused these words to be inscribed above the entrance of the Promenade: Place of amusement; a treasure destined for everybody. The nobility immediately thronged round him, and declared that the promenade would soon be profaned and that it would no longer be fit for their enjoyment, if the vulgar were suffered to frequent it, &c.
'Gentlemen,' replied. Joseph, 'if I were determined to associate with none but my equals, I must transport myself into the vaults of the Monastery of the Capuchins, where my ancestors repose, and take up my abode with them. I love men, because they are men; I make no other distinction among them, and have no other preference for them, except that which is due to their actions. Whoever thinks well and acts honourably is entitled to my esteem. It must not be exclusively reserved for those who reckon none but princes among their ancestors.'
His majesty kept no sort of state at Vienna, but when the public acts of the empire required it, so that he frequently walked about the streets, and mixed with the populace like a private man. In one of his peregrinations through the suburbs of Vienna, he observed a crowd of persons collected round a cart loaded with fire-wood. Curious to know the cause? he questioned one of the spectators, and was informed that the Inspector of the Barrier had stopped the countryman, on suspicion of his having concealed tobacco among the wood, and insisted on his immediately unloading the cart. The countryman, who regarded this as a loss of time and a very serious labour, earnestly entreated him to permit somebody to accompany him into the city, where he could obtain satisfactory testimonies of his innocence, but the clerk would not listen to his applications, and insisted on executing the order he had received to empty the cart. The emperor, who was concealed amidst the crowd, remained for some time a tranquil witness of the dispute. He at length sent for a subaltern officer and a few soldiers from the nearest Corps-de-Garde, and ordered them to remain on the spot until the wood was entirely turned out. This being done he enjoined them, in case the peasant should be found guilty of fraud, to execute fifty lashes across his shoulders; but if he were proved to be innocent, the refractory clerk was immediately to undergo the same punishment, and to be obliged to reload the wood himself. These orders were executed. No tobacco was found, and the inspector, after having reloaded the cart of the poor countryman, who was besides indemnified for his loss of time, received the fifty lashes.
On another occasion, a boy about nine years of age accosted him thus: 'Sir, I never begged before, but my mother is dying; I must have twenty pence to get a physician; we have no twenty pence; oh! if your majesty would give us twenty pence, how happy should we be!' The emperor gave it, and asked the name and place of abode of the sick person. As soon as the boy was gone, the emperor put on a cloak belonging to one of his attendants, went to the poor woman's house, prescribed for her, comforted her, and retired. The child comes in a minute after, with his twenty pence and his doctor; the woman, surprised, said she had already had a visit, and showed the recipe; the doctor looks at it, and sees a note, with the signature of his imperial majesty, for a pension to her of fifty ducats.
Soon after his majesty's accession to the throne, an officer of his army died, leaving a wife and daughter wholly unprovided for. The poor widow drew up a memorial by way of petition to the emperor, and confided it to a person about the court, whom she thought her friend, and who promised to present it. But officiousness is seldom sincere. The courtier neglected her suit; and the poor woman had at last disposed of every article of furniture she possessed, except her bed, to which she was then confined by a fever brought on by the joint pressure of poverty and anxiety of mind.
In this forlorn situation, the daughter took a solitary walk into one of the suburbs, to be at liberty to indulge her grief alone, imploring providence to inspire her with some thought or scheme to administer to her poor mother's relief. Providence did meet her in the person of the emperor, then going one of his rounds, who observing her emotion and her tears, ordered his attendants to step aside, and coming up to her, inquires with tenderness the cause of her affliction? She had no suspicion who he was, but judging from the suite she had seen him dismiss that he must be some person of rank, replied, 'Alas! sir, what have such as you to do with the unhappy? Suffer me to pass on - your notice but humbles me the more.' 'Believe me, fair madden,' he rejoined, 'it is not curiosity, but compassion, that prompts the question. One must know before they can believe.' 'Know then,' answered she, 'that my mother lies now on her deathbed, but suffering more through grief and want than disease. We have lost my father, sir, and with him our only subsistence, which was his pay, having been enabled to bequeath us nothing but the honour of his name, for he was an officer.'
Here his majesty interrupted her. 'Why did you not set forth your case and pretensions to the emperor, to whom it gives pleasure to relieve distress?' 'We did so, sir; we drew up a memorial, and were promised to have it delivered, but are certain that it never was, because no notice has been taken of it.' 'Make out another, then,' said he, 'and bring it to this spot at the same hour to-morrow. I know the emperor, and promise to take charge of it myself. You seem to have some diffidence in me,' added he; 'so take this purse as a pledge of my sincerity, and hasten home to the relief of your afflicted mother.' Before she had time to pour forth the expression of her gratitude, the emperor was gone beyond the reach of hearing. Hastening instantly home to her mother, she related with delighted earnestness the circumstances of her adventure. The languishing invalid, however, being possessed of a quick judgment and some experience, received the account but coldly. She foresaw consequences from this rencontre, that the youthful innocence and filial piety of her daughter could have no conception of. 'My dear child,' said the widow, 'what you seem to look upon now as the earnest of good fortune may perhaps but tend to the very last degree of our wretchedness. If this money was - Oh, my child! Such is the goodness of certain people - their bounty is but the price of crime. I am not suspecting your virtue in the least, still let us die, my child, but let us die innocent. Touch not a penny of this purse.'
The next morning, at the appointed hour, the daughter repaired to the spot, with the money and the memorial in her hand. His majesty came up to her soon after, when all pale and trembling, she thus addressed him: 'There is your purse, sir, and here is our memorial. If that was given us as a snare, we return it again to you untouched; and then, as you can mean nothing with this, I shall carry it back with me unpresented.' 'My good girl,' he replied, 'your emperor lays snares for no one. Carry back both the purse and your memorial, and call at the Exchequer every quarter-day for your father's pay, which is already appointed for you during your mother's life and your own. I should perhaps,' added he, 'require his name who trifled with your distress. But, behold how kings are served,' said he, turning to his suite, 'the coldness of those who surround them to the welfare of the people, freezes the whole state to their masters, who with the utmost goodwill, and best intentions in the world, may be handed down to posterity with detestation or contempt, for want of proper means of information where or when to exert their virtues.'
Joseph travelled to Paris under the title of Count Falkenstein. M. Cotton, Professor of the Mazarine College, has published a Latin poem descriptive of this journey, in which he represents him endeavouring to conceal himself from public notice and popular applause; seeking, with unwearied assiduity, every opportunity of acquiring useful information; and instead of resorting to the proud mansions of luxury and ostentation, visiting with tears and tenderness the gloomy abodes of pale sickness and melancholy age.
At Strasburgh, Joseph visited the Military Hospitals, the one for Reduced Citizens, and the other for Foundlings. He inspected the chambers of the sick, examined their medicines and their food, and interrogated the officers of the several houses upon every article of the provisions, regulations, and expenses. On returning from these visits, he observed: 'One goes to Rome to see the production of Michael Angelo, or of Raphael. This is well enough for those who have souls only for admiration. An hospital speaks louder to those who have feeling ones. I should never enter into such places, except to officiate, if Providence had not put it into my power to relieve.'
Wherever he went, his generosity was not confined to men of distinguished merit, whom it is an honour to oblige; but his purse was always open wherever he met with a proper, though obscure, object of charity. When at Paris, going one morning into an elegant coffee-house, he asked for a dish of chocolate, he was simply dressed, and the waiters insolently refused it, under presence that it was too early. He walked out without saying a word, and went into a small coffeehouse, nick-named the One-eyed; he asked for a dish of chocolate, and the landlord answered him politely, that it would be ready in a moment. While he waited for it, as the coffeehouse was empty, he walked up and down, and was conversing on different subjects, when the daughter of the house, a very pretty girl, came down stairs: the count wished her a good day, the ordinary salutation in France, and said to her father, that it was time for her to be married. 'Alas!' replied the old man 'if I had a thousand crowns, I could marry her to a handsome young man who is fond of her; but the chocolate is ready.' The emperor having drank and paid, asked for paper, pen, and ink; the girl runs to fetch them, having no idea how they were to be employed, Count Falkenstein gave her an order on his banker for six thousand livres.
The simplicity and goodness of his character became so generally known, even in the short time he stayed in France, that at the theatre one night, when Oedipus was acted, and he was present, the following tribute of popular applause' was bestowed on him. When Jocasta speaking to her son of the journey of Laius, says:
'Ce roi, plus grand que sa fortune;
Dedaignoit, comme vous, une pompe importune;
On ne voyoit jamais marcher devant son char,
D'un battalon nombreux le fasteux rampart;
Au milieu des sujets soumis a sa puissance,
Comme il etoit sans crainte, il marchoit sans defense;
Par l'amour de son peuple il se croyoit garder:'
The whole audience burst forth in one long continued shout of applause, directed to the emperor.
Lord Brome, son of the Earl of Cornwallis, was aide-de-camp to Prince Ferdinand in the German wars, at the beginning of his late majesty's reign. He was then only ensign, but his father bought him a lieutenant-colonel's commission in General Napier's regiment, on condition of his allowing the last lieutenant-colonel, who was very old and had a large family, an annuity of £300 a year during his life. This his lordship continued to pay; and when he resigned his commission, he solicited the post for the major of the regiment, who had been many years in the service, and had a large family. When this request was granted, he declared that he would still pay the annuity to the old lieutenant-colonel out of his own private fortune.
Two young ladies of a respectable family in the west of England, were so much reduced, as to be compelled to take in needlework for their subsistence. The circumstance reaching the ear of a wealthy clergyman in the neighborhood, who had received some favour from the family, he instantly repaired to the house, and fearful of wounding their delicacy, said, 'I am informed, ladies, that you have in your apartments a most valuable picture. I see it is by the hand of a great master; and if it is not too great a favour, I entreat you to let me have it, for which I will settle an annuity of fifty pounds upon you, and it shall commence this moment.' It is unnecessary to add, that the offer was accepted.
When Mr. Cumberland, the dramatist, was on a diplomatic mission at Madrid, he was taken very ill, and was not expected to recover. In this state he was visited by the Abbe Don Patricio Curtis, an Irishman by birth but who had been above half a century settled in Spain, and preceptor to three successive Dukes of Ossuna. This excellent old man, then above eighty years of age, who was universally respected for his virtues and generous benignity of soul, lamented that Mr. Cumberland had no spiritual assistant of his own church to resort to. He then offered, if the doors of the room were secured, and he was provided with a Prayer Book, to administer the Sacrament exactly as it is ordained by the Protestant Liturgy. To this Mr. C. consented; when the venerable man read the whole of the prayers, and officiated in the most devout and impressive manner.
The following is a recent instance of those charitable offices which the pious monks of St. Bernard, from a sense of duty as well as from the locality of their establishment, are in the habit of performing. A poor soldier travelling from Siberia to the place of his nativity in Italy, set out from the village of St. Pierre in the afternoon, in the hope of reaching the monastery before nightfall; but he unfortunately missed his way, and in climbing up a precipice, he laid hold of the fragment of a rock, which separating from the mass, rolled with him to the valley below, which the poor man reached with his clothes torn, and his body sadly bruised and lacerated. Being unable to extricate himself from the snow, and night having come on, he remained in that forlorn situation till morning. The weather was uncommonly mild for the season, or he must have perished. He spent the whole of the two following days in crawling to a deserted hovel, without having anything to eat. Two of the monks of St. Bernard, on their way to the village about sunset, were warned by the barking of their dog, and descried the man at a distance, they hastened to his succour. They found him at the entrance of the hovel, where he lay as if unable to cross the threshold, and apparently in a dying state from hunger, fatigue, and loss of blood. They raised him on their shoulders, and carried him to the village, a distance of five miles, through the snow. The man was above the middle size, and robust; so that, independently of his helpless condition, it required a considerable portion of strength, as well as management, in the brethren, to reach their destination. At the village of St. Pierre, the poor traveler received every attention and assistance that his situation required.
A poor woman once sent to Mr. Beauclerc, the large paper edition of 'Caesar's Commentaries,' for which she asked ten guineas. Mr. B. gave the money; and afterwards learning that she was the widow of an officer, and in distress, he gave her twenty guineas more.
The same gentleman, on calling on one of his tradesmen, and finding him embarrassed, immediately gave him a cheque for fifteen hundred pounds, and the next day procured him as much more; which wholly relieved him from a difficulty which, though only temporary, must have ruined him.
The Abbe De Percy, some time after the commencement of the revolution in France, was obliged to fly from his living in Normandy to England. Soon after his arrival in London he was hustled in New Street, Covent Garden, and robbed of twenty guineas, which he had received but a few minutes before at Sir Robert Herrie's. With the remainder of his little property he went to Bath, where it was soon expended. In this dilemma, his countrymen there reminded him that he was related to the English Percys, and as the Duke of Northumberland was at that time there, they advised him to apply to his Grace for relief. The Abbe immediately wrote to the duke, who returned a polite answer, and requested a few days for investigation. In the meantime, his Grace wrote to Lord Harcourt, at whose house the Duc d'Harcourt resided, and inquired whether the Abbe was one of the Percys of Normandy; soon after which he transmitted to his new cousin a gold box, with a bank note enclosed in it for one thousand pounds, and a general invitation to his table, which was from that day open to him.
The character of the British Roscius has been severely aspersed, on account of his reputed parsimony, an anecdote is, however related of him by Albany Wallis, Esq., who was his intimate friend, which shows that the accusation was somewhat unjust. 'Mr. Garrick,' says this gentleman, 'was no more a fool in charity than in other matters; he knew where and how to bestow his liberality. He came to me one morning in a violent hurry, and without even his usual salutation, abruptly exclaimed, 'My dear friend, the doctor is in want, you must instantly do me a favour. Come, come, put on your hat, and without delay go to Dr. Johnson's lodgings, and present him with these bank notes, but on your life, do not mention from whom you had them.' The amount was by no means inconsiderable. In compliance with his request, I instantly waited on the doctor, and being announced, was ushered into his apartment. Having prefaced my errand with as much delicacy as possible, I presented the notes, which the doctor received with much agitation; and after a few moments wiping away the tears, he pressed my hand between his with energy, exclaiming, 'Mr. Wallis, I know from whence this comes; tell Mr. Garrick that his kindness is almost too much for me; tell him also that I shall never be able to repay this sum, much less what I have before received at his hands.' A few months after this donation the doctor died.
Earl Spencer, on the perusal of Mr. Bloomfield's 'Prometheus,' unsolicited, and indeed without any personal knowledge of the author, presented him to a valuable living in Northamptonshire.
It was a custom with Archbishop Sharpe in kis journeys generally, to have a saddle-horse attending his carriage, that in case of feeling fatigued with sitting, he might take the refreshment of a ride. In his advanced age, and a few years before his death, as he was going in this manner to his episcopal residence, and was got a mile or two in advance of his carriage, a decently-dressed good-looking young man on horseback came up to him, and with a trembling hand, and faltering tone of voice presented a pistol to his Grace's breast, demanding his money. The Archbishop, with great composure, turned round, and looking steadfastly at him, desired that he would remove that dangerous weapon, and tell him fairly his condition. 'Sir, sir,' cried the youth with great agitation, 'no words, 'tis not a time for words now, your money instantly.' 'Hear me, young man,' said the venerable prelate, 'come on with me. I, you see, am a very old man, and my life is of little consequence; yours seem far otherwise. I am Sharpe, the Archbishop of York; my carriage and servants are behind, but conceal your perturbations, and tell me who you are, and what money you want, and on the word of my character, I will not injure you, but prove a friend. Here, take this (giving trim a purse of money), and now tell me how much you want to make you independent of so dangerous and destructive a course as you are now engaged in.' 'Oh, sir,' replied the man, 'I detest the business as much as you do, I am - but - but - at home there are creditors who will not wait; fifty pounds, my lord, would indeed do what no thought or tongue besides my own can feel or express.' 'Well, sir, I take it at your word; and, upon my honour, if you will compose yourself for a day or two, and then call on me at ---, what I have now given shall be made up that sum; trust me, I will not deceive you.'
The highwayman looked at him, was silent, and went off; and, at the time appointed, actually waited on the archbishop, received the money, and assured his lordship that he hoped his words had left impressions which no inducement could ever efface. Nothing more transpired of him for a year and a half; when one morning a person knocked at his Grace's gate, and, with a peculiar earnestness of voice and countenance, desired to see him. The archbishop ordered the stranger to be introduced; he had scarcely entered the room when his countenance changed, his knees tottered, and he sunk almost breathless on the floor. On recovering, he requested an audience in private; this being granted, he said, 'My lord, you cannot have forgotten the circumstance of relieving a highwayman. God and gratitude will never suffer it to be obliterated from my mind. In me, my lord, you now behold that once most wretched of mankind; but now, by your inexpressible humanity, rendered equal, perhaps superior, to millions. Oh, my lord, 'tis you, 'tis you that have saved me body and soul, 'tis you that have saved a much-loved wife, and a little brood of children, whom I loved dearer than my own life. Here, my lord, is the fifty pounds; but never shall I find language to express what I feel, God is your witness; your deed itself is your glory; and may heaven be your present and everlasting reward.' The archbishop was refusing the money, when the gentleman added, 'My lord, I was the younger son of a wealthy man; your Grace knew him, I am sure, my name is --, my marriage alienated the affections of my father, who left me to sorrow and penury. My distresses - but your Grace already knows to what they drove me. A month since my brother died a bachelor and intestate, his fortune has become mine: and I, spared and preserved by your goodness from an ignominious death, am now the most penitent, the most grateful, and the happiest of human beings.'
Mr. Quin, the comedian, in whose dramatic corps the celebrated Mrs. Bellamy was then performing, once after the rehearsal desired to speak with her in his dressing-room. As he had always carefully avoided seeing her alone, she was not a little surprised at so unexpected an invitation. Her apprehensions made her fear that she, by some means or other, had offended the worthy man; but her fears were not of long duration; for as soon as she entered his room, he took her by the hand, and with a smile of great benignity, thus addressed her: 'My dear girl, you are vastly followed, I hear. Do not let the love of finery, or any other inducement prevail on you to commit an indiscretion. Men in general are rascals. You are young and engaging, and therefore ought to be doubly cautious. If you want anything in my power, which money can purchase, come to me, and say, "James Quin, give me such a thing," and my purse shall always be at your service.' 'The tear of gratitude,' says Mrs. B. in her Memoirs, 'stood in my eye at this noble instance of generosity; and his own glistened with that of humanity and self-approbation.'
Tobias Rustat, who was for many years Yeoman of the Robes to Charles the Second, both in his exile and after the restoration, was a benevolent man, and a munificent patron of learning; who generously feeling for youths of liberal sentiments not possessing the means to acquire a competent subsistence at the Universities, bestowed a considerable part of his fortune on young students at Oxford and Cambridge. He founded eight scholarships at Jesus College, Cambridge, for the orphans of indigent clergymen: and gave £1000 to be applied to the uses of thirteen poor fellowships at St. John's, Oxford; also a considerable sum for the augmentation of poor vicarages in Leicestershire; and an annuity to SIX widows of orthodox clergymen for ever.
The celebrated Italian singer, Farinelli, who was a great favourite with Philip the Fifth of Spain, going one day to the king's closet, to which he had at all times access, heard an officer of the guard curse him, and say to another that was in waiting, 'Honours can be heaped on such scoundrels as these, while a poor soldier like myself, after thirty years' service, remains unnoticed.' Farinelli, without seeming to hear the reproach, complained to the king that he had neglected an old servant, and procured a regiment for the person who had spoken so harshly of him in the ante-chamber. On quitting his majesty, Farinelli gave the commission to the officer, telling them that he had heard him complain of having served thirty years; but added, 'You did wrong to accuse the king of neglecting to reward your zeal.'
The Rev. Mr. L----y, who was Rector of Livermore in Suffolk, received a visit from a farmer, who came to pay some arrears for tithes, and of whom he inquired concerning his family. The farmer's wife had just given birth to her tenth child, which he told the rector, adding jocosely, 'As you have a tenth part of my other produce, sir, I suppose I must bring you my tenth child.' 'No,' replied the good pastor, 'I am a bachelor, and cannot undertake the charge of an infant; but I can do what will perhaps be much more agreeable to you.' He then returned the farmer the whole of his tithes, amounting to nearly a hundred pounds, towards the support of the child.
A poor Negro walking towards Deptford, saw by the roadside an old sailor of a different complexion, with but one arm and two wooden legs. The worthy African immediately took three halfpence and a farthing, his little all, from the side pocket of his tattered trousers, and forced them into the sailor's hand, while he wiped the tears from his eye with the corner of his blue-patched jacket, and then walked away quite happy.
Licinius having raised a numerous army, endeavoured to wrest the government out of the hands of his brother-in-law, the Emperor Constantine. His army being defeated, Licinius fled with what forces he could rally to Nicomidia, whither Constantine pursued him, and immediately invested the place, but on the second day of the siege, the emperor's sister entreated him with a flood of tears, by the tenderness he had ever shown to her, to forgive her husband, or at least to grant him his life: he yielded to her request, and the next day Licinius finding no means of making his escape, presented himself before the conqueror and throwing himself at his feet, yielded to him the purple, and the other ensigns of sovereignty. Constantine received him in a very friendly manner, entertained him at his table, and afterwards sent him to Thessalonica, assuring him that he should live unmolested as long as he raised no new disturbances.
The Island of Rhodes suffered great damage by an earthquake, two hundred and twenty four years before Christ, the walls of the city with the arsenals, and the narrow passes in the havens, where the ships of the island were laid up, were reduced to a very ruinous condition, and the famous Colossus was thrown down, and entirely destroyed. The loss occasioned by this earthquake amounted to an immense sum and the Rhodians, reduced to the utmost distress, sent deputations to all the neighbouring princes, to implore relief. An emulation worthy of praise, and almost without a parallel in history, prevailed in favour of that deplorable city; and Hiero and Gelon in Sicily, as well as Ptolemy in Egypt, peculiarly distinguished themselves on the occasion. Hiero and Gelon contributed above a hundred talents, and erected two statues in the public place, one of which represented the people of Rhodes, and the other those of Syracuse; the former were crowned by the latter, to testify, as Polybius observes, that the Syracusans thought the opportunity of relieving the Rhodians a favour and obligation to themselves. Ptolemy supplied them with three hundred talents, one hundred thousand bushels of corn, and a sufficient quantity of timber for building ten galleys of ten benches of oars, and an equal number of three benches, besides a prodigious quantity of wood for other buildings, all which munificent donations were accompanied with three thousand talents for restoring the Colossus.
Antigonus, Seleucus, Prusias, Mithridates, and all the princes, as well as cities, signalised their liberality; and even private persons emulated each other in sharing in this glorious act of humanity; and historians record, that one lady, whose name was Chryseis, furnished alone one hundred thousand bushels of corn. Rhodes, in consequence of such liberality towards it, was soon re-established in a more opulent and splendid state than before.
Previous to the reign of Joseph the Second, ignominious punishments were unknown among the Likanians and Croatians of the mountains, and it was no small difficulty to substitute them for others of a more barbarous nature. The emperor one day reviewing the Likanians in Gospich, their principal district, he said to the colonel, 'These brave fellows, I know, are beaten unmercifully; let this treatment be discontinued.' 'Sire,' replied the colonel, 'I can assure your majesty, that twenty-five strokes of a cane are nothing to a Likanian; nay, he would submit to receive them for a glass of brandy.' The emperor, who was incredulous, soon had a proof of the veracity of this statement. A soldier had been sentenced to receive one hundred strokes; the emperor arrived when he had undergone half the punishment, and remitted the rest. To his extreme mortification, the culprit immediately burst into a laugh at the extravagant clemency of his sovereign.
When the ship Hercules was wrecked on the coast of Caffraria, in 1796, a party of twenty-four of the crew, who had escaped on shore, after travelling several days, and suffering great privations, reached a farm belonging to one Jan du Pliesies, who fortunately was a settler of the best order, and what was still more important, was of a humane and generous disposition.
On hearing of their disaster, and their request for relief to thirty-six of their comrades, who had been unable to keep up with them, his countenance betrayed evident marks of sensibility. He said no time should be lost in sending to their assistance; and immediately directed two of his sons to harness eight oxen to a waggon, with injunctions to travel all night to the spot that the guides described. Twenty-three were thus rescued, who were found near a wood, and had given up all hopes of relief. The preceding day, thirteen of their companions had separated from them, and it was not then known where they had strayed, but they all got in safety too.
Du Pliesies now sent messengers to his friends, desiring their assistance in conveying the mariners to the Cape. Several immediately came, and behaved with the greatest tenderness and liberality, offering accommodation in their own houses until the crew should be sufficiently recovered for the journey, when they would take the first opportunity of conducting them thither. The benevolent du Pliesies provided the crew with a waggon, and two sets of oxen, eight in each set; two or three Hottentot drivers, and provisions to serve until they reached the next settlement. One of his sons, completely armed, also attended them, and he gave them a letter of recommendation to other settlers, which ensured them almost equal hospitality.
Captain Hauffer, a Swiss officer, who was dangerously wounded in one of the actions which took place when the French entered his unfortunate country, was left bathed in his blood on the field of battle. A French officer who happened to pass, perceived him, and observing some signs of life, assisted him, and cried out, 'Courage, my dear fellow, courage!' Hauffer at these words, like one awaking from the sleep of death, opened his eyes, and fixing them attentively on the officer, said with a feeble voice, 'Tis not courage, but strength, I want.' The Frenchman, delighted and affected by this answer gave orders immediately to have the officer's wounds dressed, and every possible care taken of him. He was in consequence carried to Wadmschwyll, and in a little time was entirely cured of his wounds.
Sir Walter Farquhar calling one day on Mr. Pitt, the premier observed him to be unusually ruffled, and inquired what was the matter? 'Why, to tell you the truth,' replied Sir Walter, 'I am extremely angry with my daughter. - She has permitted herself to form an attachment to a young gentleman, by no means qualified in point of rank or fortune to be my son-in-law.' 'Now, let me say one word in the young lady's behalf,' returned the minister. 'Is the young man you mention of a respectable family?' 'He is.' 'Is he respectable in himself?' 'He is.' 'Has he the manners and education of a gentleman?' 'He has.' 'Has he an estimable character?' 'He has.' 'Why, then, my dear Sir Walter, hesitate no longer. You and I are well acquainted with the delusions of life. Let your daughter follow her own inclinations, since they appear to be virtuous. You have had more opportunities than I have of knowing the value of affection, and ought to respect it. Let the union take place, and I will not be unmindful that I had the pleasure of recommending it.' The physician consented, the lovers were united, and the patronage of the minister soon gave old Sir Walter no cause to regret the event.
An English gentleman residing at Lyons, who seemed to be a great favourite with his companions, brought himself into sudden distress by an unlucky run at play. He was arrested while entertaining several of his countrymen at dinner. Not one of them interfered in his favour; but when he retired from the room, a valet-de-place, who had lived with him for two years, offered him a purse containing more than the debt for which he was arrested, telling him that as he had earned that money by the English, it could not be better employed than by saving a gentleman of that country from disgrace. The offer was accepted, and the English gentleman soon afterwards repaid the sum, with the addition of a handsome present.
Some years ago, a poor clergyman of the name of Parslow died in the very act of preaching a charity sermon in Welbeck Chapel. He left a widow and eleven children behind him to lament his loss. As Mr. Parslow was a curate of the Bishop of Chichester, this worthy prelate immediately commenced a private subscription for his family. So liberal were the donations, that they not only afforded sufficient to pay off the debts of the deceased, amounting to upwards of £300, but left a surplus equal to the purchase of £6,000 of stock, which was invested in the hands of trustees, for the benefit of the unhappy widow and children. Nor was this all; most of the children were placed in more or less advantageous situations; one being equipped as a writer, and sent to India; another admitted into the Charter-house, and a third, a youth of seventeen, placed as a clerk in the Navy Office. Not long after, the late Mr. Spencer Perceval gave to the latter the appointment of Naval Officer of Barbadoes, the emoluments of which are estimated at nearly £2,000 per annum.
A British officer, who went to Portugal with Sir Arthur Wellesley, received three different wounds at the battle of Talavera; and along with many other wounded soldiers, to the number of five hundred, fell into the hands of the French, and was sent off to Madrid. On their arrival at the bridge at the entrance of the city, the escort halted for some time; and as soon as the Spaniards were apprised that they were British prisoners they came to them, and showed the most unbounded tokens of kindness. Had the guard permitted, they would have loaded them with presents; many of them ran in and put money into their hands. At Madrid they were attended in a convent by Spanish surgeons and nurses, who treated them with the utmost kindness. The inhabitants flocked round the hospital; and when they could get at any of the windows, they gave them money, bread, vegetables, and indeed every thing that could contribute to their comfort. Even after several genteel people were taken into custody by the sentries for their attentions to the prisoners, the ladies and gentlemen used frequently to send old men and women with money, which they threw in at the windows.
As the men recovered from their wounds, they were removed to prison, and allowed by the French only brown bread and water; but there the beneficence of the Spaniards followed them, and supplied them so abundantly with every kind of eatables, that the men sold their surplus bread to the French soldiers at a penny per loaf. When the prisoners were afterwards removed to Segovia, they experienced similar kindness and attention.
An English officer who was serving in Portugal, under Sir John Moore, had the misfortune to lose his wife, who left him with three beautiful children, all in a state of infancy. When thus bereft, he was under orders to march with his regiment to Spain. Divided between a sense of public and private duty, he scarcely knew what to do. He was advised to apply to Sir John Moore for leave to carry his children to England, but in this lee met with a refusal. The generous Portuguese nobleman in whose house he was billeted, saw and pitied his distress. 'Never mind, my dear friend,' said he, 'cease to grieve, unfortunate Englishman; leave your infants with me; behold my three daughters; they shall each discharge the duties of a mother to one of your infants, and I will be a father to the whole.' 'So we will, my dear father,' exclaimed the daughters; while the captain, overpowered by such an act of beneficence, hastened out of the room.
The Emperor of Morocco, Muley Yezzid, proceeding with a large army against the province of Abda, was informed that the merchants of Mogadore had supplied his rebel subject, Abdrahaman, with ammunition. Enraged at this report, he issued an order to the governor of Mogadore, charging the greater part of the European merchants with treason, and ordered their immediate decapitation. The governor suspecting that the order had been issued in a moment of irritation, humanely delayed its execution, though at the peril of his own life, in the hope that it might be countermanded, or that the result of a battle would render it unnecessary. Soon afterwards, news arrived at Mogadore that the two armies had met and fought, and that the emperor had vanquished his enemies, but was himself dangerously wounded. This induced the governor still further to delay the execution, and the day following, news came that the emperor had died of his wound. The merchants of Mogadore were thus saved from an untimely death.
Diderot was once so much reduced as to be obliged to expose his library for sale at Paris. Prince Galitzin, the Ambassador of Catherine of Russia at the Court of France, hearing of the circumstance, sent for Diderot, and requested him not to proceed in the sale, at the same time making him a handsome present. Prince Galitzin immediately acquainted his imperial mistress with Diderot's distress, when she ordered his Excellency to pay him the full value of his library, and allow him the exclusive use of it during the remainder of his life; and the more effectually to relieve his necessities, she appointed him her librarian, with a pension of fifteen hundred livres per annum.
In the retrograde movements made by the British army in Spain, after the battle of Talavera, a medical officer belonging to the 23rd Light Dragoons, was with some brother officers made prisoners at Placentia, and conducted to Madrid. While there, by the exercise of his professional skill, he rendered such service to the French wounded, that Bonaparte, upon his subsequent arrival in France, not only gave him his liberty without exchange, but presented him with a gratuity of twelve hundred francs from the public purse. The prisoners, both Spanish and English, after remaining at Madrid two months, early in October, 1809, marched for France, under a strong escort appointed to convey them to the frontiers. In passing over the Sierres de Guardarama, by St. Ildefonso, to Segovia the attention of this officer was attracted by the interesting appearance of a little boy, about six or seven years old, riding in a waggon, apparently under the care of a Spanish woman, who appeared to act the part of a mother to him. Observing that there was something in the child's countenance and complexion which indicated that he was a native of a more northern climate than Spain, he asked a few questions in Spanish, and to his surprise was answered in the same language; but, upon further inquiry, it appeared that he was under the protection of the French officer commanding the escort: that he was the orphan child of a Serjeant M'Cullen, of the 42nd Regiment (Highlanders), who fell in the battle of Corunna; and that the mother, in the retreat from Salamanca upon Lugo, had died upon the road, through excessive privations and fatigue, when the poor child fell into the hands of the enemy's advanced guard, fortunately commanded by this humane officer. Upon learning this story, which was fully corroborated on every hand, the British prisoners unanimously petitioned the French officer to give up the child to them, as its more natural protectors, that they might forward it to England, where its forlorn case would claim for it an asylum from some humane institution. The French officer, however, refused to part with the boy, but promised to take care of him and use him well, and the English, in their own destitute situation as prisoners of war, had of course for the present no alternative but to submit. On their arriving at Tolosa, in the Pyrenees, an order met them, which directed that the English prisoners should be marched into France, but the Spanish conducted to the fortress of Pampeluna; and the French officer who had taken the child under his protection, being ordered upon the latter duty, the British officers with much regret parted from the little orphan. Not long after, a Captain H***, of the 23rd light dragoons, on passing through Tolosa, found the child in the most forlorn condition, forsaken by both his foster-father and mother. The former, it appears, had found a difficulty in conveying his prisoners to Pampeluna, as ordered, from the enterprising spirit of the Spanish Guerillas under Espoz y Mina; and the Spanish woman, dreading their resentment for attaching herself to a Frenchman, had fled. Under such circumstances, Captain H*** had, without hesitation, brought the child with him to Paris, where he now providentially met the very officer who had been the first to identify and interest himself for it, just obtaining his passport for London: it was agreed, therefore, that the poor little boy should go to his native land with him, and Captain H*** wrote letters to the War Office, to the Duke of York, and also to the Marquess of Huntly (the colonel of the 42nd regiment), on the subject. Arriving in London with his little orphan, Mr. *** immediately left the letters at the Horse Guards and Richmond House, and that same evening received a note, intimating that the Duke of York would be happy to see him and his little protegee on the following morning at ten o'clock; accordingly they went to York House at that hour, and were very graciously received. The Duke of York condescendingly conversed with the child in German and French, both of which languages, as well as Spanish, he had learnt; the first he had acquired from his foster-father, the second from a Saxon servant, and the last from the Spanish woman. His Royal Highness was altogether so much pleased with the child, and so affected with his interesting story, that he resolved to put him into the Military Asylum, under his own patronage. He had about this time resigned the office of commander-in-chief, but with that humanity and condescension for which his Royal Highness is distinguished, be wrote a letter to Sir David Dundas, drawing his notice to the circumstance, with a view that the parties might, with the least possible delay, be furnished with the necessary certificates, and pursue their respective interests. At length nothing was wanting for the admission of the child into the school for soldiers' orphans, but a certificate from the Marquess of Huntly; when Mr. * * * and the poor little fellow, in proceeding one morning to Richmond House for this document, overtook, near the Horse Guards, a serjeant of the 42nd regiment, with a letter in his hand, addressed to the Marquess of Huntly. Under an impression that the man might give him some information which would assist him in his interview with the Marquess, Mr. * * * inquired whether he had served in the late campaign in Spain, and being answered in the affirmative, then asked if he knew his comrade, Serjeant M'Cullen, who was killed at Corunna? The man, evidently much agitated, replied that he knew no comrade of that name killed at Corunna; but begged to know why the gentleman asked this question? 'Because,' said Mr. ***, 'this is his orphan child, whom I found in Spain.' He was soon interrupted with the simple but emphatic exclamation of 'Bless your honour, sir, I am the man! it's my child!' Then turning to the child, who had still a faint recollection of his father, he was deeply affected. The feelings of each party may be better imagined than described. It afterwards proved that the unsealed letter which the soldier was carrying to the Marquess of Huntly, was from Colonel Stirling, commanding the regiment, then lying at Canterbury, informing him that Serjeant M'Cullen was not (as supposed) killed at Corunna, but wounded, and got safe off; and that he had sent the man to London, that he might personally answer any questions which might be put to him. The child was placed in the Military Asylum.
During the residence of Lord Byron at Venice the house of a shoemaker was destroyed by fire; and every article belonging to the poor man being lost, he was, with a large family, reduced to a most pitiable condition. The noble bard having ascertained the afflicting circumstances of this event, ordered a new and superior habitation to be immediately built for the sufferer, in addition to which he presented the unfortunate tradesman with a sum equal in value to the whole of his lost stock in trade and furniture.
The philanthropic Howard paid great attention to the poor cottagers on his estate at Cardington, near Bedford, he encouraged their habits of industry, visited them in sickness, and relieved their distresses. The cottages that were falling to ruins he rebuilt on a more convenient plan; and allotted to each a little flower garden in front, and a piece of ground behind for the cultivation of potatoes, still not raising the low rents at which they had previously been let. His relative, the late Samuel Whitbread, Esq., who had an estate in the same village, seeing how Mr. Howard had contributed to the relief, the welfare, and the comfort of his fellow creatures, rebuilt several cottages soon after, with the same benevolent views; so that Cardington, which was at one time only the abode of poverty and wretchedness, was converted into one of the neatest villages in the kingdom; exhibiting all the pleasing appearances of competence and content, the natural rewards of rural industry and virtue.
In the month of October, 1815, the Mary, of Glasgow, was stranded near Balbrigan, in Scotland. On the vessel filling, the unfortunate seamen lashed themselves m the shrouds and every attempt to relieve them proved ineffectual from the heavy swell and surf. Two days afterwards, Lord Gormanstown, who had been made acquainted with the shipwreck, offered two hundred guineas to six gallant fellows, if they would venture to rescue the seamen from their perilous situation They immediately pushed off in a stout boat, and at the great hazard of their own lives, brought the whole crew on shore, though almost in a lifeless state. Mr. Filgate, of Lowther Lodge, added twenty guineas to the handsome reward of his lordship.
Mr. Rosenhagen, who was domestic steward of the Duchess of Munster, used to relate as a fact, within his personal knowledge, that when the Earl of Nithsdale made his escape out of the Tower, the night before he was to be executed, the deputy-lieutenant of the Tower, as soon as it was known, went to St. James's to acquaint the king with it, and to vindicate himself from any remissness or treachery in his conduct. His majesty was entertaining himself with a select party of the nobility, and it was with difficulty the lieutenant gained admittance; when, with some alarm and concern, he told his majesty that he had some ill news to acquaint him with. The king said directly, 'What! is the city on fire or is there a new insurrection?' He said that neither was the case, but told his majesty of Nithsdale's escape. The king most humanely replied, 'Is that all? It was the wisest thing he could do, and what I would have done in his place. And pray, Mr. Lieutenant, be not too diligent in searching after him, for I wish for no man's blood!'
On the 26th May, Mr. William Tewksbury, of Deer Island, and his son, Abijah R. Tewksbury, a lad seventeen years old, were at work on the eastern part of Point Shirely, near Winthorp's Head. About four p.m. a boy came running from the Point, and informed him that a pleasure-boat had upset in a direction between Deer Island and Long Island.
Without waiting for farther information, he immediately took his son into his canoe, set a small foresail, and run through Pulling's Point Gut, towards Broad Sound. The wind was so high that, with the smallest sail, the canoe nearly buried itself under water. Having relieved her, he stood in a direction for Long Island, nearly half a mile, without discovering any indication of the object of his search.
He then observed his wife and children on the beach of Deer Island, running towards Sound Point. This induced him to keep on the same course, and in a short time he discovered the heads of several men in the water; and as they rose and fell on the sea, he was impressed with the belief that there were more than twenty buffeting the waves, and contending against death. Being perfectly aware of the little burthen and very slight construction of his canoe, which was one of the smallest class, the wind blowing a violent gale, his apprehensions for his son's and his own safety had almost caused him to desist from the extreme peril of exposing his frail bark to be seized on by men agonised to despair in the last struggles for life. He, however, prepared for the event, took in his sail, rowed among the drowning men, with a fixed determination to save some, or perish in the attempt. By an exert